In short, a lot of players stepped up to the plate against West Ham – I’ll start with our regular boo-boys Denilson, Almunia and Eboue, who so often are victims of the fans’ ire. Denilson was everywhere against West Ham and his good performance as a shielding midfielder was capped by his opening goal. Eboue, another candidate for ‘Arsenal’s most improved player’ alongside Alex Song, gave the Hammers’ leftback hell as he tormented them with his sneaky dribbles throughout the match.

And Almunia was surely the toast of London with an emphatic penalty save off the usually-assured Diamanti.

Of course, there should never have been a penalty in the first place, when Franco went down easier than a starving call-girl while Vermaelen had eyes for nothing else than the ball. The inept linesman made the call with the referee a full 50 metres behind the ball, who could never have seen the ‘tackle’. Arsenal are appealing the incident, though despite Vermaelen’s innocence, it’s an uneasy course of action with the FA quite capable of labelling the appeal ‘frivolous’, and extending the ban.

But Vermaelen was professionalism personified as he walked off without any protestations (try that out sometime, John Terry), and it set up the platform for a man-of-the-match performance from Alex Song. Forced to deputise as a centreback, Song and Sol Campbell dealt with every West Ham attack comfortably, only letting one chance from Carlton Cole through, who hit the outside of the post.

With 10 men, Arsenal showed plenty of character to not only score a second goal (Fabregas from the penalty spot after Upson handballed), but to play West Ham off the park for the majority of the match. It was a top notch performance, and while Manchester United won their game against a pitiful Liverpool side, it shows how close the run-in is now, with us topping the table for 24 hours.

Chelsea are the first to have blinked, and if we can win all our games (which is pretty much what it will require to win this thing), Manchester United will be under all sorts of pressure to do the same.

Which brings me to the headline of today’s blog…

Manchester United’s next fixture is a tricky trip to a resurgant Bolton side who have demonstrated as much flair in attack as ugly aggression in the tackle. While their loss to Everton the other day will have done them no favours, they remain an uneasy fixture at the Reebok, and it will be interesting to see how the Trotters rock up to that match.

The big news, however, is Wayne Rooney’s niggly knee. He will surely be rested on Saturday and it will be interesting to see if his support act (aka, Manchester United) can cope without 70 per cent of their entire side.

While the absence of one Englishman will make the headlines, the inclusion of another could pose an Arsenal scriptwriter’s dream premise – little Jack Wilshere smacking one in to deny United the points.

Next season, we could see Wilshere sneak around 15 appearances for Arsenal as his burgeoning talent comes through. For now, he’s enjoying a productive loan spell for Bolton and has already gotten off the mark in the goals department.

We’ll have our eyes firmly fixed on how Arsenal handle a daunting trip to Birmingham ourselves.

But in an open plea to our on-loan boy wonder: Do us a favour, Jack!

Thoughts, well-wishes and job offers in the comments.

Above is the well-publicised leak (thank you Arseblog) of either a commemorative shirt being released next season, or our actual kit for next season. As feedback goes, people will be clamouring for it if it is the real thing (there are many pages linking to how this is actually a fake), and I for one will be ordering it immediately if it proves to be the real McCoy.

On to the blog, and today I’m dealing with the Felipe Melo spiel – more to the point, how I feel the club should be resorting to transfer rumours in some sick, twisted fantasy of mine.

Arsenal need to publicly tap up Felipe Melo – even if the debate lingers over whether we need to reinforce central midfield.

Since the Patrick Vieira-Real Madrid fiasco of 2002, Arsenal have long appeared a soft touch when it comes to staving off reported interest in the club’s players.

After Vieira left, Spanish papers targeted Thierry Henry, who eventually left for Barcelona (credit to him last night after getting a start against Stuttgart ahead of that idiot, Zlatan). After Thierry, we’ve never heard the end of Cesc-to-Barcelona headlines.

Late this season, rumours have circled around Roma’s pursuit of Gallas, who allegedly also want Eboue and Vermaelen.

I know a lot of Gooners are proud of the way Arsenal conducts itself off the pitch – there’s always been a touch of class about the red and white and Wenger’s behind-closed-doors transfer policy has been nothing but by-the-book.

Surely now, it’s time to fight fire with fire. Time to unsettle a few players, offer suggestive quotes about wanting certain players and get players and backroom staff in on the act. If Wenger feels too strongly about his principles in this regard, people like Cesc, van Persie and Arshavin – players the press will listen to – should surely start blabbering on, mischievously, about Lionel Messi this, De Rossi that, until those bastard clubs decide to shut their collective traps.

We might not need Felipe Melo – but Juventus are just one club who have given us grief over our coveting our players publicly. Is it time Arsenal dished some dirt straight back, despite the Juve chairman’s wishes?

Wishful thinking. But still – would you prefer to see Arsenal fall to the dark side of transfer politics, or keep their clean, classy image they’ve done so well to maintain of late?

Perhaps I’m getting all Colonel SS Hans Landa on you, here, but allow me this simple analogy. Arsenal’s season seems to have been directed by the all powerful God of Cockroaches. You can lob grenades at us, you can declare nuclear war, you can bring down the Iron Curtain on our hopes and dreams, but Arsenal’s grubs will keep on prevailing.

The cockroaches scurry to Old Trafford in August. Through their sheer numbers, they disgust the Manchester girls into squealing about the place. One pint-sized Russian cockroach gets half-stepped on by a Scottish lump, who for labeling’s sake, we’ll call Darren Fletcher.

Yet still this marvel of animalia blasts a shot at girly-girl Ben Foster, who cannot find the tissues in time to pick the ball out of the net. Oily wings flutter, Manchester goes silent, and the pest inspectors are called in.

They resort to drugging one of the more maligned members of the cockroach brigade, who goes by the name of Abou. Poor Abou starts running in circles, and can’t remember which way he’s supposed to head the ball.

Meanwhile, Microwave Wayne does a cruel experiement to the rare albino cockroach, Almunia Manuelus, slicing him up and sending him every which way.

Yet the cockroaches lived on.

November comes. Winter sets in. While mere humans fester in their caves, huddling for warmth, the Arsenal scrape a minimalist existence. Infuriated by the infestation in the town’s north, a band of mercenaries head up from West London to put an end to our invertabrate ways.

Will our children ever forgive us? General Ancelotti makes the big decision that could alter living conditions in London for 60 years: He drops the Drogba on the Emirates.

Desolation. Title-chase? Long gone. Surely now, Arsenal Stadium lies in ruins?

A scratching is heard. On an outcropping of rubble, a small feeler emerges. Then another, then one more. Slowly, the insects emerge again, emitting a faint green glow. If anything, the cockroaches seem better than ever.

Even nuclear fallout could not stop them. From December to January, Arsenal lay waste to all and sundry, and have the choicest bits of breadcrumbs to choose from.

But one day, the cockroaches decide that they’re bored of the all the white bread on offer, and look to Birmingham’s horizon for some softer sour dough. The Villans get word, and man the barracades. Despite their best efforts, Arsenal fail to make the breakthrough, and are held at bay by Aston Villa.

Behind the scenes, the pest shop boys are called into action again.

Again, Wayne brings his trusty microwave and gives the cockroaches a deep, long fry. General Ancelotti drops the Drogba on his own Bridge (such is the levels of desperation), and yet, for all that, Arsenal return unscathed **.

Even some emotionally-unbalanced kid from the north tried to snap off the legs of one cockroach. But if anything, that just made the cockroaches angrier.

Now on a winning streak of five league games, the Arsenal brood is swarming over hapless opponents who can do little more than sit back, man the barricades and stomp, stomp, stomp.

This run of fine form has seen the rapid evolution of individual cockroaches. Shorn of “spinal” players like Fabregas, van Persie, Gallas and Alex Song, the Arsenal swarm has embraced invertebratehood, scraped for its existence and accumulated the three-pointers when it mattered most.

While everybody’s darlings, the Mancs and Chavs of the world, occupy their minds by thinking like hawks (they look in the barn, in the attic, in the cellar…everywhere they would think to hide), but the rats of this world (and by rats, I mean Arsenal cockroaches, not David Bentley) continue to damn well hang in there.

The pint-sized Russian cockroach, still smarting from being stepped on by some Scottish lump, has found slippery ways to weave between stomping defenders. The once-drugged Abou has come out of his stupour and finally knows which way to run.

And out of the ashes, a new frontman has emerged – Nicklas Bendtner. The Great Dane. Surely the Cockiest of them all?

**One cockroach, Denilson, has admittedly not quite been himself since the microwave incident.

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.

Click here to view the embedded video.

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.

Click here to view the embedded video.

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.

Click here to view the embedded video.

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!

In short, it’s been a time where I’ve been swamped by work and other commitments to leave me completely unable to find the time or summon up the energy to blog. It’s hard enough getting up at absurd hours to watch Arsenal (and I haven’t missed a single match), but to then find the time to write about it is a skill I have to give Andy from ArsenalFCBlog full credit for – it ain’t easy.

But that’s just excuse making. Those with any backbone would ask what am I going to do about it? In short, Third-Gen will, for the umpteenth time, have to reinvent itself and provide something shorter, sweeter, and more to the point than it has before.

I seriously, seriously love The Arsenal, as much as the next Gooner. I would hope this blog’s inactivity wouldn’t cast that in doubt – there’re far more fans who watch, rather than write, afterall.

So what changes can you expect? Simply put, the blog seems better designed for regular posting, but not frequent posting. Three times a week, rather than once a day.

I very much feel that nothing must be changed with regards to Third-Gen’s match reports, as to me the effort put into them was obvious enough, and many readers shared their appreciation.

Guest blogs will continue to fill the void, and articles inbetween match days will be more succinct opinion on concerns surrounding Arsenal.

Goals and assists will remain on the page (and will be updated soon), as will the Hype Metre. But there will be a simplification of other odds and sods that will streamline the clutter (or the ‘lived-in look’, as some have called it) and make my job a little bit easier.

A huge apology for my absence. What is more than handy compensation is that this season, for Arsenal, has been anything but boring. And you can expect an article tomorrow on the story of 2010, from my biographical perspective.

Finally, many thanks to the likes of SKAGooner, Jamie Sanderson and Martin Cafferty who have regularly checked up on where the hell I am and for just being champions in general.

Now it’s my turn to win back your favour.

PS: Nasri rules.

If you were realistic before going into this game, you knew that there was pretty much only one likely result yesterday, and it wasn’t in favour of Arsenal.

Arsenal succumed to a physically imposing Stoke City who sensed a chance for an ‘upset’ and duly took it. Arsenal did not cover themselves in glory at all – all three of their goals, from the highlights I’ve seen, looked defendable – but with an average age of 2 years and 9 months spread across the squad, you get what you pay for.

I know there will be some mightily pissed at this result, seeing the cup as a definite target the club could win, and certainly an easier one than the Premiership or Champions League.

But Wenger simply could never win this argument. And given what we have ahead of us, I think, he did the right thing. He sent in players he genuinely believes in, but they just could not deliver the goods.

We can go on about who’s not good enough to wear the shirt – Vela, I’m looking at you – but it’s worth considering that Liverpool and Manchester United went out to rubbish sides with their first choice line-ups.

Arseblogger makes the point that it’s down to the side to put this result well behind them in time for our trip to Villa Park. A repeat of the hangover after our 4-0 pasting at Old Trafford in 2008 will not do at all.

Discussions must remain solely on that game. With our league form, we can win it. Perhaps, in a bizzare way, it’s more winnable than the FA Cup, given how many easy fixtures the bankrolled likes of Chelea and Man City are handed.

We have a mountain to climb, and the FA Cup is a distraction now put aside for this season.

One day we will have a squad capable of taking on multiple campaigns, where the FA Cup can be given its proper dues.

But when running on tight resources, you prioritise. It’s a new, harsh reality of modern football.

Thoughts on the upcoming fixtures, and perenial underperformers Vela and Theo Walcott, tomorrow.

But feel free to leave your opinions in the comments.

You can follow TheSKAGooner on his twitter feed, @TheSKAGooner, as well as catch his comments on a number of Arsenal blogs.

In the meantime, why not subscribe to the following Third-Gen syndications:

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If you’ll kindly indulge me for a moment, I’d like to mention that the Kansas State men’s basketball team defeated the University of Texas basketball team last night 71-62. Big deal, right? Read on, fellow Gooners…

I graduated from Kansas State quite a while ago. I’m an equally fervent supporter of KState athletics as I am a diehard Gooner. Kansas State was ranked 10th in the nation going into last nights game. Texas was the number 1 ranked team in the country – and we beat them soundly.

It was an ugly game. Physical. A lot of ‘hack and slash’. One local reporter went so far as to say the game had “all the finesse of a tractor pull.” With Kansas being a very agricultural state here in the US, the analogy was appropriate.

But in that ugly game was a sense of beauty for a very young team in Kansas State coming against very large odds to beat the best team in the country. It was, as we like to call things here, a ‘lunch pail’ win. Not pretty, not flashy, but tough, gritty and full of heart.

If this sounds any bit familiar it’s because this season Arsenal are finally learning how to win the lunch pail games -and oh, what a beautiful thing that is.

In American football we often have commentators refer to a specific type of player as a “lunch pail guy.” He’s tough, he might not be the most athletic guy on the field, but he performs. He does the dirty work and his efforts are always critical to the team winning.

Arsenal play arguably the most beautiful football on the planet and certainly the most beautiful in the Premiership. We have Captain Fabulous, we have Eduardo, we have Arshavin, van Persie and Theo.

We have such a wealth of attacking options, when healthy, that it’s almost unfair.

Witness the pounding we put on Everton to open the season, the 3-0 drubbing we handed to the Sp*ds, the 6-2 embarrassment we shoved down the throats of Blackburn – when the engine is going, it’s beyond anything the rest of the football world can match.

But wither Theo? Wither van Persie? Bendtner, Rosicky and Cesc? Where are the players so integral to those monster scores and the 4-3-3 formation that had opened up our offense earlier this season? We’re still running that formation.

We’re still getting the goals, to the tune of leading the league in scoring and potentially on pace to break the century mark. How is this possible with so many pieces missing?

Something truly amazing is happening at The Arsenal this season and it should be very scary to the rest of the Premiership and opponents in the Champions League: Arsenal have become a lunch pail team.

None of our attackers – from Arshavin, Eduardo, Rosicky or Nasri – are playing their natural role. Yet the goals keep coming. When Almunia hoofs it the length of the pitch, Shava gets clattered endlessly up front. He never wins possession on those – but he steps in and does the dirty work. Eduardo has played out wide, which is fine when van Persie or Bendtner are in the middle to provide a target or draw attention from the defenders, allowing Eduardo to move freely into the box.

The full value of these offensive geniuses is not realized but neither Eduardo nor Arshavin have voiced a single complaint. Neither has made comments either publicly or whispered to a journo that they’re unhappy. There’s work to be done – lunch pail work that will yield no high praise from pundits and seemingly yields little praise from many an Arsenal supporter. It’s work the team needs, and it needs it from Eduardo and Arshavin, especially during the current injury hash.

Perhaps we don’t score in lots of 6 per match presently, but on the goals come nevertheless. But WHY do they come?

The 4-3-3 formation, with van Persie up front, Shava and Eduardo or Bendtner on the wing and a midfield of Cesc, Denilson and Song is perhaps the most dangerous lineup in England, perhaps Europe. But we’re fielding a patchwork formation, held together by athletic tape and Arsene Wenger’s prayers. But while our optimum lineup sees free-flowing football, the current line-up requires lunch pail work. It requires that the TEAM put in the effort, no matter where they are on the pitch or what position they’re asked to line up in.

It requires Arshavin to forgo goals and flashy assists in trade for getting battered about the pitch. It requires Cesc to grow into a goal scorer. It requires Diaby, Denilson, Craig Eastmond or whoever we can find, to fill in for Song. It requires Eduardo to take on wing duties that draw the full attention of defenders, instead of having a target man in the box to draw them off.

It requires lunch pail football.

Arsene Wenger, when interviewed for his 60th birthday, talked about being a manager and the difference between winning and losing. Winning, he said, was easy. It’s the easiest thing for a manager. Losing is harder. Playing free-flowing football, scoring 6 goals in a match is easy when you have all, or most of your optimum lineup. Winning 2-0 away to Bolton, when the team has to reach down, play a different brand of football and find goals from difficult circumstances, is hard.

Lunch pail football is hard. It’s not the norm for Arsenal. But the development to actually play lunch pail football might just be the key – the one aspect of growth for this team – that leads us to ending a 5 year trophy drought.

Three cheers for lunch pail football and the growth of The Arsenal.

But first, there’s the matter of our repeat fixture with Bolton after a tetchy but character-filled 2-0 at the Reebok. After their hair-pulling antics, I can only ask for the same scoreline as a bare minimum, out of pure, immature spite towards the orclings.

2-0 will be enough to send Arsenal top of the league on goal difference and that should be an excellent boon going in to our fixtures from hell at the end of the month.

The squad, as always, looks thin on the ground, but we should see Denilson and Clichy come return to the squad in place of Eastmond and Traore, while Theo Walcott should make the bench.

The young English winger cannot be rushed back into action and must be used sparingly until fully ready to go. We might get distracted by the big games on the horizon but there are the ‘easy fixtures’ to finish off too, and Walcott could be a new and effective weapon against the Wigans, Fulhams and Burnleys of the world, which is important too.

The backline has an historic look to it while a midfield three of Diaby, Fabregas and Denilson should be enough to dominate the Trotters. As a result, Rosicky will have  a chance to play a more advanced role alongside Arshavin and Eduardo.

As the headline suggests, to win this game, Arsenal have to be a foxy, ferocious Amazon – spear throwing, growling, one-breasted forces of nature, all the while looking fantastic while doing so.

They must be beguiling – luring the opposition into it’s realm of faux-dominance, before countering with rip-snorting breaks, pissing off the patriarchal Lancashire folks with their delusions of superiority.

And like all dominant vixens, Arsenal must finish on top. In all forms of the word.

Apologies for the break – I don’t enjoy leaving the blog on the lurch, but family commitments kept me away. Match report tomorrow, and following close behind, another guest post by TheSKAGooner.

To keep you tickled, though, check out ADifferentLeague who rate Third-Gen as the fourth best Arsenal blog around. It’s nice to know the work is appreciated – time to get that ‘regular’ rating up, though!

Here’s to a table-topping performance. Onward!

But first, to a little transfer speculation – also, if you haven’t read it already, there was some serious news in Angola involving Emmanuel Adebayor. Read the reaction to it here.

We’ve been linked rather spuriously to Sol Campbell after the big man has spent the last eon training with us after walking out on Notts County earlier in the season.

Wenger has been characteristically coy about the prospect of signing him, which I hope is a giveaway that he won’t be signing a defender who, great though he once was, has lost more than a few yards of pace since leaving Portsmouth.

Campbell’s main redeeming feature is his awesome prowess in the aerial battle. But signing a defender for this reason alone ignores the fact that Gallas and Vermaelen have been coping very well in this field and have put to bed a traditional weakness of ours. Sure, we need depth desperately in defence, but I really cannot fathom Campbell as the answer.

I said Wenger’s coy response was hopefully a giveaway into his not signing Sol. Given the man is available on a free, he’s free to choose from any suitors for his signature, and that includes us. I would warrant that Arsenal are at the front of his preferences, were we actually interested.

Whenever Arsenal had a chance to sign a big player (like Arshavin) whose signature was contested by other clubs, Wenger goes into his shell, plays mind games with the press, and no-one knows which way he’s going with it.

With Campbell, there’s no need for that. Were we to put in an offer for him, I cannot fail to see him choosing someone over us. Except maybe Spurs if his sole aim was to beat the American Samoan record for own goals scored in a match. I think it was 34? (Correction: Madagascan, and it was 149).

I would hope that we are in for better, younger, more athletic defenders than Sol. Like Vieira, his best days are long gone. His memory should remain as an awesome defender who – a walkout against West Ham aside – gave some extraordinary service to the club that will not be matched again.

To the Everton game, and I hope you’re all lighting your shrines, praying to your deities and avoiding the cracks in the pavement to ensure we actually have a game on today.

The team is as you were for the mid-week game that never was, only with Nasri on the right flank in Rosicky’s place. Cold weather makes for nervy hamstrings, and as long as Nasri is fit and in form (which he is), he should start.

Everyone else is as you were and on paper, this is a team that should see an Everton side as depleted by injury as we are. You never know in football, but there you have it.

Not too in-depth an analysis, obviously, but my mind is so numb from a lack of football that I just want to enjoy a home game without too much intellectual rigour. This might call for a beer or two but, because I’m travelling in the morning, it will be dark, lonely sobriety for me.

It does seem like ages since we last played a game. Stupid Europe and their silly cold weather. Apart from Israel, which I hear is having a heatwave. Where are all the global warming advocates when you need them?

Right. I’m off to pack some suitcases, get a bit of FIFA into my system, plug in the laptop to the telly and get some Red and White action into me. See you in the blog tomorrow!

An armed gang in Angola opened fire last night on the Togo national side’s bus, injuring four personnel and killing the driver, with players huddling under their seats for 20 minutes, avoiding the gunfire.

Premier League chiefs are already making enquiries into players’ safety, and I’m sure Arsenal are making the proper phone calls to make sure Emmanuel Eboue and Alex Song are locked up safe.

Among those on the Togo bus was ex-Arsenal forward and fans’ pantomime figure, Emmanuel Adebayor. And already, I’ve seen some quite unsavoury things said on Facebook and Twitter, hinting towards the Adebayor-chant being adapted crudely with the words “shoot him some more.”

Let me be the first to say that if any such chant is even murmured at the Emirates on April 24 relating to this terrible incident, I will be embarrassed to be an Arsenal fan. This is not me jumping on my high horse come April to look cool and aloof – this is me stating my position from the off.

This is a human tragedy, not a sick football joke. Knee slides, touting yourself to ‘bigger’ clubs, shirt burning and all the other football ire pales into insignificance compared to the bigger, nastier parts of life out there.

So please – if the vocal reception as expected for Adebayor is going to be riotous at the Emirates in April – stick to the football. Not the tragedy.

Here’s hoping the Togo team and its players can recover from an horrific incident.

Everton preview to come later. Keep it civil in the meantime.