“Hi Lloyd. Been away. Now I’m back.”

So said Jack Torrence to Lloyd the Bartender in The Shining. And so say I to you, my awesome readers, after a long, long absence from writing on Arsenal. Today, I’ve drummed up a very long, but sectioned, biographical account of my watching Arsenal, in Australia (hence the early hours), since my last article.

For your convenience, you can jump to whatever section you’re most interested in – or just read the whole thing. Enjoy!

Out of the Cup
Villans distract to draw
Denilson destroys the faith
Addicted to losing: the Chelsea debacle
Diaa-by!
Porto disastrous, Sunderland adequate
Stoke Part 1: The Ramsey incident
Stoke Part 2: A win of champions
Bendtner’s Burnley Blushes
Porto destroyed
How difficult is our run-in?

Out of the Cup

Wenger’s tossed the Cup, we hear. Sent out his kids, he’s lost the plot, lost the cup, lost all that’s valuable to the fans. Winning breeds winners, they say. Keep the momentum, play the first team.

Of course, everyone conveniently forgets that the first team have struggled at Brittania, so the result may have just been the same (evidence proved by our conceding an early goal in the Ramsey-Shawcross match). More to the point, we had Big-British Sol Campbell in the defence, and even he struggled against the Delap Special.

It was also patently obvious to those following our twisting, turning league campaign that, of all prizes, the most difficult of them was the most attainable. The league remained the focus, and from a personal note, I got over this loss pretty quickly.

Villans distract to draw

The start of the Fixtures from Hell – and a largely uneventful first half passes me by. At half time, I jet off to work, where’re I’m cooped up on the regs desk, away from any televisions. The only one I can see, from an angle, is showing Citeh vs the Mancs.

Frustrating time. Every now and then, I hear the Villa-supporter at work shout and groan, but it’s Arsenal who hit the post twice, so text updates tell me. Have to put up with the smugness of Man Utd supporters who blast Tevez for leaving the club. Go figure.

Denilson destroys the faith

Up the coast with family, and preparing to watch football with my Man U-supporting uncle, Tony. Tony taught me much of what I know about football – everything apart from ‘the Arsenal thing’, which I picked up myself. One of the few I will listen to, as he’s your typical Australian baby boomer who won’t touch internet news, apart from the racing form. As a result, he doesn’t fall into the media’s football hype, and makes his judgement solely on what he sees, based on experience of watching/listening to football since the 1950s, with a sprinkling of Manc bias.

In short, Tony rates Arsenal’s chances. We both think Ancelotti is an overrated manager and he says Arsenal are the biggest threat to his side this season. It’s very satisfying to find a bastion of sanity in a Manc’s body.

But that doesn’t make me any happier when the defence lets Nani squeeze through to lob Almunia, and I’m practically livid when Denilson refuses to follow Rooney’s run. Before Rooney’s made it anywhere near our box, I’m already screaming “follow that bastard!”. No luck. Denilson can’t hear me from London. We’re down and out, and it’s not even half time.

Park makes it 3-0. By now I’m brooding in the corner, letting Tony celebrate – how can you argue? We’re piss poor, a total shambles compared to the awesome team of character we saw not two weeks ago at Bolton. Vermaelen scores a consolation goal – if anything, at least he deserved it – but 3-1 flatters the losing hosts.

Addicted to losing: the Chelsea debacle

Somehow, the Man U loss puts things in a new light. We were supposed to win that one after they fluked a win at Old Trafford in August. Instead, all our frailties are seemingly laid bare, all that faith put in Denilson by the manager looks delusional, all our effort this season is going up in smoke.

I know we are going to lose to Chelsea. I do not expect a win in a million years. Not in the reverse-jinx-I’m-a-believer-Nick-Hornby way. Arsenal will not beat Chelsea. Period.

Yet still I get up at a ghastly hour. Still I put on the kettle, knowing what’s coming. The script is written. Drogba will eat us for breakfast again.

And from predicting it all, there’s a grim, grim satisfaction out of watching us lose. I’ve never felt that before. I feel disgusted with myself, yet vindicated, yet sick, yet turned on. Maybe this is how Myles Palmer lives with himself. It’s not a way I’d want to live.

Send a text message to my Liverpool-supporting mate. Tell him to play us on the break, give our fullbacks hell and treat conceded corners like goal kicks.

Diaa-by!

If only Liverpool had taken my advice. Without Torres (injury) or Gerrard (form), they’re nothing. Arsenal put more effort in than usual. Diaby and Gallas are immense – the latter pulling off a superb last ditch tackle on N’Gog. Cesc shoots at Reina, Rosicky’s fed through but fluffs his lines – one of those days?

Not at all. Rosicky scuttles down the right flank before hitting a brilliant cross for Diaby to head in. I jump out of my chair, arms raised, screaming! YESSSSSSS!!!

It’s not the neighbours who are startled. It’s all my work colleagues, more used to the mundane of rugby league, Aussie Rules, or cricket – who bump coffee off of desks, stop what they’re doing, and scornfully check to see me resume my seat.

Guilty satisfaction remains the best kind.

Porto disastrous, Sunderland adequate

Oh my days. Long have I had a Denilson-moment in my faith in Fabianski. When Arsenal signed the kid, he came with plenty of youtube videos showing some out-of-this-world saves pulled off in the Polish leagues.

We’ve never seen anything close to that since he’s been at Arsenal, and with the rise of Wojciech Szczesny, there may not be a future for him, sadly. A poor, poor, poor handling of a tame Porto cross from the right, fumbled into his own goal, before a disastrous mix-up with Campbell to handle the ball from a backpass. What’s worse? Turning your back to the ball – we all know what happened.

On the bright side, something genuinely stirred inside of me when Campbell headed in our away goal. Watching the big man celebrate is watching someone who genuinely loves the club. Yes, he used to be Spurs’ captain. Yes, he left us on the ropes when he buggered off to Belgium, but now his head seems concerned only with ending Arsenal’s season on a high. Good to have you back, Sol.

The Sunderland game was far more sedate than the Porto anger – Eboue showed some tremendous skill to dominate Sunderland, feeding Bendtner for an easy finish. It was heart-in-mouth stuff for most of the match with our inability to put the game to bed. But we got there in the end, with only our second penalty of the entire season (yes, they’re all out to get us!) scored by Captain Fabtastic.

Stoke Part 1: The Ramsey Incident

Arsenal are going to win the league. And they are going to win it for Aaron Ramsey.

Ryan Shawcross, bless his good nature, jumps into a 50:50 challenge with the young Welshman. Ramsey goes down. The cameras pan to the ref, who is surrounded by visibly distraught Arsenal players – Fabregas is furious, Vermaelen’s head is in his hands, and only one thing comes to mind: Eduardo. All over again.

Yes, Shawcross was going for the ball. But it was easy to see it was always going to be close, so why lunge for it like you’re going to smack that ball out of the stadium? Shawcross got nothing of the ball, and everything of Ramsey’s hard work this season. A young player goes off, an English player turns on the tears when he knows the cameras will be on him after the red, and you know the rest.

I’ll take this moment to wish Ramsey all the best in his recovery, a warning for Shawcross that when (not if) something like this happens again we’ll be all over him for it, and a mighty salute to the Arsenal bloggers who outdid themselves in churning up all the details of this dirty player’s career.

Stoke Part 2: A win of champions

Meanwhile, there was a tough fixture centred on the emotional whirlwind. Arsenal’s first team, this time, succumbed to another bombing throwin which Danny Pugh finished with ease. But where most would have written us off, Cesc Fabregas, the gladiator he is, stepped up to the plate.

In came a delightful cross for Nicklas Bendtner to finish – not at all easy – and we were level. After a 10-minute period after Ramsey’s injury, Arsenal grabbed the game by the scruff of the neck. Stoke were never in it. Yet it took us until the 90th minute to force a penalty (2 in 2 games!), which Fabregas, visibly emotional, stepped up to finish. The world’s best young midfielder then ran onto Rosicky’s parried shot to feed Vermaelen, who scored his EIGHTH goal of the season. Watching him and Sol Campbell celebrate was easily one of the moments of our season.

Bendtner’s Burnley blushes

“One Aaron Ramsey” read RedAction’s huge banner, telling all who watched that this was the new impetus behind Arsenal’s season. Arsenal’s intent was clear early on, but our big Danish striker simply couldn’t hit the target, missing two workable chances to put the home side in front.

It was Samir Nasri’s job to hit a lovely lob to Cesc Fabregas, who nutmegged the keeper to get the ball rolling. Yet Bendtner continued to exasperate, with chance after chance after chance falling his way to finish off the game.

It was a study in Newtonian physics: for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. For all Bendtner’s glorious inability to finish, Burnley would counter it with one chance, one goal. A big header sliced Silvestre and Vermaelen apart, and Nugent dinked it over a stranded Almunia. 1-1.

But one man – yet another under amazing pressure from all and sundry – put up his hand to be counted. Little Theo Walcott zipped up the right wing, cut back in (something he must do more often) and unleashed a daisy cutter into the net. Cue pandemonium, cue vindication, cue Theo! Theo! Theo!

Bendtner was taken off after another miss, but the crowd gave him a better send-off than I unwisely would have. How wise that send-off proved to be against Porto. Arshavin danced his way from the right wing into Burnley’s box, and smashed the third goal beyond Jensen with ferocious venom.

Porto destroyed

Late night at the ABC again – the graveyard shift has major plusses and drawbacks – a good dose of responsibility in keeping the website running into the wee hours of the night, but a killer on the social life. It’s the trade-off in journalism, but there’re not that many who will put their health on the line to follow it up with football.

Get home at 1:30am. Straight to bed. Alarm is set for 5:30am, just before kickoff time. Of course, walking home in the dead of night is enough to keep the blood pumping, but pesky fruitbats swooping at you all the way keeps the heart rate up. Toss and turn for half an hour before dozing off.

Alarm sounds, throw phone across the room for the sake of the missus, slink out into the lounge. TV on, kettle on, Arsenal-mode totally on. Huge match – thoughts of PSV a couple of seasons ago keep swimming in my mind, coupled with Porto drawing 2-2 at Old Trafford last year.

Scramble in the box, Arshavin seems to have lost it – Bendtner! YEEEEEEEEEESSS!!!! Neighbours all having heart-attacks like pedestrians besieged by bats! Get in there, B52! Crowd appreciative, but game far from over. One away goal can cock it all up.

Brother stumbles out of his room, clearly not meaning to be up this early. Grumpily starts making coffee. Tells me to stop screaming, gets a reply that clearly doesn’t satisfy him. Three minutes later, screams again as Arshavin lays waste to Fucile and feeds Bendtner’s second. YEEESSSSS!!!!!

Half time. Brother reckons I should go to hell. SBS pundits reckon I should go back to bed. Extreme fatigue makes me momentarily agree, then remember we’re still an away goal from extra time.

Must have dozed off, as Nasri scores a goal I’d struggle to on a playstation. Unbelievable dinking, dribbling, finishing. What a goal. Ballistic skill. Arshavin continues his rampant display by feeding Eboue brilliantly who finishes with goofy style for 4-0. There’s a strange satisfaction out of seeing him score.

Eboue makes a run, gets fouled by the sick-of-life Fucile. Bendtner steps up and scores. Hattrick. More strange satisfaction. It’s great when players respond to over-the-top criticism.

Great win. Pundits are lapping up Bendtner – careful now! It’s a message sent to the big guns, alright. But as always, it remains one game at a time.

How difficult is our run-in?

Hull away, West Ham at home. Birmingham away, Wolves at home. Tottenham and Wigan away, Man City at home. Blackburn away, Fulham at home.

That is a difficult run-in. The only way Arsenal can afford to look at that run of games is “major challenge.” In fact, the only one I see as remotely easy is the very last one – Fulham at home. If that game is going to count, we’d have to still be in the thick of a title race, in which case, rhythm and momentum should carry us over the line.

But Hull, Birmingham, Wigan and Blackburn will scrap for their lives at their place. Hull is one of those games where they are a pretty poor side, but football logic dictates they’ll make it tight. Birmingham have impressed quite a few this year and find themselves in eighth place, and Wigan will be technically efficient and hard-workers as ever. Blackburn we know all about with their Walrus manager.

Tottenham away could be the most daunting North London Derby in living memory. I put them as favourites for that fourth place (happy times, Spurs. Whether you’ll even make it past the qualifying phase is another worry), but to secure that, they’ll need at least a point against us. Perhaps three. It will be blood and thunder, and one with an awful, awful amount to lose.

Similarly, West Ham cannot be written off, even at the Emirates. The big game comes in the form of Manchester City. At this point, I’m actually feeling positive about that game. I think their style of play could fall right into our favour. But they remain a danger because of the calibre of players they have at their disposal. Perhaps not so much with their manager or team-bond, but talent will always remain as talent.

If we do go on and somehow win this league, it will have been by no means easy. We will have beaten the smaller teams (something essential to winning, which we’ve been told every season prior, but conveniently forgotten this year), and shown more consistency than our much-fancied rivals.

But it can only be done one game at a time. What a fascinating season we have left.

Come on, Arsenal!!!

Be sure to let me know your ‘journey’ so far this season, in what has been an absolute roller-coaster ride, in the comments. Be cool! Do it!

Filed under: Arsenal, Blogging, Champions League, English Premier League, FA Cup