Sending it Back

An odd sort of weekend, really. Started Saturday morning with a 15 minute wait in a cafe, leading to us walking out just as the little woman deigned to come over and take our order. Later, to lunch at Spiazzo in Crouch End, which turned out to be an even bigger farrago. To begin with, we waited around 40 minutes between garlic bread and pizza, which was bad enough. However, when we asked the waitress how much longer she thought the order would take, the response was:

'Well, we're very busy - it's lunchtime you know. Anyway, we had to cook for people who came in before you...'

'Also,' said my Isness, 'There are people who came in after us who have received their food already.'

The waitress finally, begrudgingly, said she was on it - yeah, right. The pizzas arrived, served in 'artisan' fashion on bread boards, and I couldn't help noticing that my youngest wasn't eating with any gusto, which I put down to the large amount of garlic bread she had eaten (back in the distant past) and the length of time we had waited, which can often dull the heartiest of appetites. But I discovered that in actual fact the pizza had started to absorb some of the wood's aroma, giving it a rather unpleasant varnish taste. I tried one bite, and was instantly put off.

Then (it gets worse) my daughter asked for a glass of water, which the waitress brought over. In mid-pass between my daughter and the miserable woman with the apron on, the heavy pebbled bottom of the glass simply dropped off, and its entire contents spilled over the table and into the laps of both of my daughters. Luckily, there were no glass shards and no-one hurt, but this was still something of a calamity. Well, the waitress then proceeded to accuse my daughter of knocking the glass against the edge of the table, and for me this was the last straw. I shouted that this was not the case, and that I resented her saying it was. For this, an amount was deducted from the bill. Nonetheless, I will never set foot in the place again. 'kthxbai.

Later that evening, on the recommendation of one or two friends, we went to see Life of Pi. Though I have not read the book, which perhaps means that the comments to follow will do some injustice (as well as maybe displaying my own literary prejudices) to Ang Lee's effort, I absolutely hated it. That said, I believe that if you have seen this piece of nonsense, I feel sorry for you. If you haven't, please do not waste your time and money. There are so many things wrong with it that I almost don't know where to begin. Firstly, it is utterly pointless. After over two hours (though I admit that I walked out with 30 minutes still to go) the viewer is none the wiser as to what the thing is supposed to be about. There is almost no acknowledgement of the realities of life, with the story set in some fantastical hippy bubble of funny names and exotic fruits and flowers - a cosy world divorced from the poverty, racism, disease and struggle endured by so many in the world. The set-up of a ferocious tiger (whether it be a symbol or not) somehow stuck on a lifeboat while a young man builds a raft to float alongside for 7,000 days (or however long it is) and ultimately trains the feline is too ludicrous to countenance. Nonsense of the highest order, most egregiously demonstrated by the ridiculous flying fish/tuna scene. The whole thing, one feels, was purely put on to demonstrate the excellent CGI skills of the effects guys. In short - shite.

Finally, I was a little concerned about facing the Gooners on Sunday, and feared that we may have only just managed to scrape a draw. This fear proved totally unfounded, though a combination of their second half efforts, and a definite slow-down from our boys almost caused a few flutters in the second half. It was a surprisingly niggly match, with Arsenal setting the tone early on, culminating in Mr Dean losing control and making decisions based largely on crowd reaction. Vinnie's sending-off, though perhaps understandable with the way the game is going, was still absolutely ridiculous. I don't hold out much hope of the card being rescinded, with this - added to the list of absentees - causing some concern about the next few matches. And the Rags go marching on. Twats.

Stealth

I attended a health & safety briefing which was all about Fees For Intervention (FFI). This is a measure put in place by the Health & Safety Executive to charge companies for their inspectors' time (and other things, such as any expert reports, etc.) which are required after discovery of a material breach of health & safety legislation. As with many of the areas of modern life, this is part of the current agenda of everything having a price, while nothing has any value. Of course, there's the usual ill-thought out justification for gradually stripping away those areas of the state which are actually of any use, but precious little thought of how this might affect those who a) work at the HSE and will undoubtedly lose their jobs and b) ordinary workers in other businesses who are sure to see a decline in safety standards as a result of this privatisation.

We must all remember the bleating about red tape Britain, supposedly strangling those brave entrepreneurs who are pushing back the frontiers of trading and so on and so forth. My fear is that stealthily cutting away at the hugely important - and extremely hard-won - legislation erodes protection for the individual worker. We may hear about the probation service being contracted out; we are all too painfully aware of the commoditisation of the health service, but there are so many other things going on beneath the news radar which are steadily hacking at this country while it is already on its knees pleading for mercy.

However, lest anyone think: 'Hey, this is not a football blog!' I will update on the City situation. Bad news that Kun's injury comes at a time when Yaya is in Africa, and that it is more serious than first thought, as well as (I suppose) Nasri not being available. Bad news that these events coincide with a visit to the Library, but we must keep positive. I think the word is #believe, but I do struggle with some of that stuff. I fear at best a draw against the Gooners, and we could well end up losing it. Still, there's the FA Cup to look forward to, and if Palace can see off those pesky Potters, there might be a chance to go and see City again towards the end of the month. Only time will tell.

Symmetry

Although, quite rightly, one could say that Arsenal and City are diametrically opposed, I felt a strange sense of symmetry yesterday. The draw was (just about) a fair result, and - sad to say - exactly the outcome I was expecting. Despite taking until the 82nd minute, I felt it was inevitable that they would equalise, just as I was sure that the Rags would (cheat and...) turn over Liverpool. The Gooners are continuing their always commendable rehabilitation and gradually gelling into a team which will be among the top 5 come May. I said this before the season started, and I have no reason to change my view now. With a relatively comfortable group in the Champions League, they will take morale boosts from their efforts there, and should make short work of the lesser teams in the Premier. Spurs hold no fear for them, and games against the Rags and Chelsea will make all the difference to the finishing line-up.

City are in some ways at the other end of the spectrum, having spent zillions (largely on Arsenal players, of course) though give the same impression of a team in transition. Some of the summer signings are looking questionable at the moment, I have to say, while a few of the regulars are really struggling to play as we know they can. However, I reckon there were more positives than negatives coming out of Sunday's clash: Dzeko looks a better player than before, and was unlucky not to score; Hart is in fine form; Yaya is just stunning, and looks leaner than last season, without losing any of his awesome power. Tevez aside (he's not short of commitment, but seems lacking a goal threat) the worries are (as ever) at the back for us, where we combine the casual and the kamikaze with alarming frequency. Still, it makes for some exciting football, and I have always said that this is what matters. If I were to choose an ideal starting XI, as the team stands now, for a top Premier League match, it would be as follows:

Hart

Zabaleta
Kompany
Clichy
Garcia
Barry

Milner
Silva
Yaya

Tevez
Agüero

Not wishing to jinx anything, and the Capital One Cup really is not any sort of priority, but I think that we'll pick up some goals and some confidence when we play Villa. Hard to believe, but they look worse than last season, and whichever team Bobby decides to field against them shouldn't find it too much of a challenge to overcome. My prediction: 3-0 or 4-1 City.

Not just anybody

Meaning no disrespect to the Paralympics, which I always enjoy watching, it seems somehow fitting that the end of the Olympic Games coincides with the Community Shield. Finally, the season is starting and, for once, City can head into it more in expectation than in hope.

The annual Guardian prediction column has us as favourites. I hesitantly agree, and think that we really should be living up to the hype this year. No signings yet, but not too much panic, except perhaps in central defence should we be without Kompany for any reason. Agger I'm not sure about, though everyone seems to think he's a decent player. As for the opposition, I believe that Liverpool have finally settled on being a second tier club; their ambition severely curtailed by the harsh economic reality they are facing. Chelsea will be a threat - always will while big Roman is digging into his pockets - though I don't believe that Di Matteo is the real deal. I think I said this before, but Arsenal will be better than last season, with or without Van Persie. Spurs I'm not sure about. Again, a good squad, but light in attack. The Rags?

Ah, the Rags. I'm not expecting great things from them, but they will be there or thereabouts, because they still have a great deal of talent, and a point to prove. Another couple of seasons, unless something unexpected happens, and a decline will set in. That's what I think. So, my prediction for the top 10 in full:

1. City
2/3. Chelsea
3/2. Rags
4. Arsenal
5. Spurs
6/7. Everton
7/6. Liverpool
8/9. Newcastle
9/8. Fulham
10. Anyone else from the rest with Soton at the foot

Crashing Bore

His intentions were good enough, I think. There was little or no malice in him. It was merely that everything he said somehow came out both tedious and insulting. It is a frustrating trait, common unfortunately to many, that people don't listen to you when you say something. They are either waiting for you to affirm their own feelings on a particular subject, or are too keen to get their little joke in. So, we had stayed in an extremely rustic wooden 'barn' the night before. Creature comforts (i.e., a toilet) were in short supply, and the freakishly warm weather had long departed, leaving a freezing night, which was not ameliorated by the gaping holes in the walls. We had hunkered down and nested for the night on the floor in front of the wood burning stove, so were not feeling particularly jaunty as a result when we arrived at the house the next morning. People were asking how we had slept in the barn, and we replied that it had been bloody cold.

"I bet you warmed up, pretty quick, eh?" he nudge-nudged, touching my shoulder. I smiled. What can you do? The next morning, we arrived again, this time no less tired, but having suffered not quite so much from the cold, due to a rise of two or three degrees in the ambient temperature.

"How did you sleep last night?"
"OK. Not great, but at least it wasn't so cold."
"Well, you get used to the cold after a while, don't you?"
"Maybe, but it wasn't anywhere near as cold as the night before."
"I bet you still found a way to keep out the cold though, eh?"

Sigh.

After the exertions and the sadness, London - with its toilets and heating - beckoned once again, and then a trip to Littlehampton which meant that there were only Twitter updates for the Arsenal match. Balotelli had already been in the news for crashing his car into some kid, and allegedly crashing his cock into a couple of prostitutes, so it was inevitable that he should again be the focal point of yet another crushing 90 minutes of football, resulting in a Gooners win, and annoying references from their fans to the Poznan. As I didn't see the match, have not (and will not) watched MOTD2, and cannot bring myself to read a newspaper report of the game, I don't know if Mario was entirely at fault for us losing. It can't help of course to get sent off, but from what I saw on the MCFC Twitter feed (I hold this ridiculous 'together' hashtag largely responsible for the decline in our fortunes as a matter of fact) we were lucky not to have conceded 2 or 3 before their goal went in.

Ten points the gap to Arsenal now, and not inconceivable that it will be chipped away by season's end. Never mind the fucking Rags clinching the title at the Etihad, we could even drop to third spot. Good old City.

Siberian Khatru

Ups and downs are what life is made of. The pleasure/pain principle (which is quite difficult to say without tripping over your tongue - try it) is a force to be reckoned with, and tosses us around on winds we cannot control.

After the down of Chelsea came the up of Arsenal on Sunday. A good game, though I missed most of it (catching up on the execrable MOTD2 later) thanks to the timing of the annual visit from my friend who lives in Japan (Frank Cannon, Chuck Waggon, String, Victoria N Principal, among others - for those in the know. See his ghosted blog post from exactly a year ago for further information) meaning I had to leave the comfort of the pub, where a bunch of Gooner twats were playing a drinking game with some kind of forfeit every time the ball went out of play or a yellow card was handed out. I couldn't quite suss what the forfeit was, but a glass with money in it was passed from person to person each time one of the above happened. It couldn't have been simply that the person left with the glass at the end of the half had to buy the drinks, because that wouldn't have exactly been the rowdiest game ever invented, but they didn't appear to be taking a drink each time. Maybe they were in for the long haul, sticking around for the La Liga match and slowly and deliberately getting absolutely smashed. They did make a point of jeering City at every opportunity, though from what I could see we were all over them (with the odd exceptional save from Hart) in the first half.

A disappointing capitulation from QPR against the Rags earlier in the day had made a win even more important for us, and I was pleasantly surprised that we came through so well. If Arsenal possessed someone else with even an approximation of the potency of Van Persie, and if we didn't have the excellent Hart between the sticks, then things could well have turned out differently. I felt that Kün was a little unlucky, with an excellent take-down before shooting just over the bar, and Nasri - for once - had a (largely) decent game. Zaba was magnificent, as was Vinnie, and things are - still - looking good. So there was pleasure.

Next up, the pain of a visit from the Potters before we head into the festive fixture calendar. I will do my best to post again before the fat man comes down the chimney, but in case I don't, I'd like to wish you all (you sellers of replica watches and generic viagra, you purveyors of fake designer bags and iPhone unlockers, you SEO optimisers and all the rest) a very merry Yule.

Golden

To the Emirates on Tuesday night for the pleasure of a Carling Cup quarter-final tie and my first opportunity to watch City in the flesh for two seasons. I was pleasantly surprised by the talent on display, expecting a more junior side to be fielded. Yet we were treated to AJ, Zaba, Nasri (boo!), Big Nige and Edin (among others) and a slightly less stellar line-up from the Gooners. Oxtail-Soup impressed, but there wasn't a great deal else to cheer about on their side.

No faulting the effort, but the first half didn't deliver on quality. A fairly morose first half was balanced by a bit more fire in the second, and of course that great goal from Kun to cap it off.


The City fans were in magnificent voice in their corner ('You are our feeder club!' a definite favourite chant) however, and things picked up in the second half. The goal, when it finally came, was superbly made and nicely scored. Two or three passes after Arsenal softly let one of their corners go and it was nestling in the net. Seated as I was in the Clock End (though there is no clock) my match night experience was friendly enough, Arsenal fans a good representation of the diversity of the area, and my 'in' with the locals affording me some closer contact than I would normally have had. There was a slightly annoying woman behind me who kept quietly saying 'Moneybags!' in a pathetic attempt at baiting.

A bit rich coming from a fan of a club where beer and food are outrageously priced. £3.90 for half a litre of Carlsberg and £5 for a bloody hotdog! So I didn't bother eating anything.

Pre-match package was the Away Boys in the Eaglet; a sub-Happy Mondays duo who lamely substitute the names of Arsenal related bollocks for chorus hooks in pop songs. The pub was a good one, retaining the local feel that is so sadly ebbing away along with the other elements of the lifeblood that used to be known as British character. It served reasonably priced beer in glass glasses, and there were no security guards standing at the door asking to see your season ticket before letting you squeeze into the shithole while paying over the odds for the privilege.

Call me nesh if you will, but I was glad that the game didn't go into extra time, even though I have never seen a penalty shoot-out live.

Tight squeak

Fresh from my sojourn in Shropshire, it was not the ideal way to watch such a crucial match as the one at Anfield. I heard of Gary Speed's death from Diana In Heaven, who always seems to be ahead of the curve when it comes to dead people, and is usually very amusing, though there was only a 'what the fuck?' appended to Speedo's sudden appearance in the firmament yesterday. His death did not seem to overshadow the game though, and it looked like a fair old battle.

Mario proved yet again that a reputation will always precede and follow you, with the second challenge being - to say the least - more than harshly punished. I never did like Skrtel particularly; along with Lucas Leiva, one of those proficient and dull players which aren't going to recall the great days of LFC long past. Not an ideal day to watch a match, because we were having a little festive food and drink party at home, so it was all about furtive sneaking into the bedroom to listen to the radio between bouts of socialising.

Anyway, we stuck at it, and - thanks to the fabulous Joe Hart, retained our unbeaten league record. It's possible that, despite Hart's late heroics, we could perhaps have fashioned a win if we'd made more of some earlier chances, and if Lescott hadn't stuck out that bloody leg. Overall, I think I'm happy with a 1-1 at Anfield, especially as the Rags were so laughably held to the same scoreline at the Swamp, and especially after what I hear was a pretty poor show in Napoli during the week - a game which again escaped my close attention, sitting as I was in a pub in Shrewsbury which did not have the necessary evil of Sky Sports. It was with much glee that I overheard some dickhead Enfield Rag rant about how United were all over Newcastle, and should have destroyed them; how City have always been 'Shitty' for him, not a football club, just money... blah blah blah. Fucking wanker.

The ludicrous scheduling of matches, where a long and largely unnecessary break for international matches is followed by terrible fixture congestion means that (at least some form of) City schlep down to London on Tuesday night to play (at least some form of) Arsenal. And I will be in the crowd on that night, mingling with the unwashed Gooners' offspring, sitting on my hands. Not the offspring, of course.

Here we go

Yesterday to Broomfield Park for a birthday picnic with some very good friends. Naturally, I wore my City shirt and played a bit of cricket - thankful that my friends were sporting enough to rescind my run-out decision because the ball clearly didn't touch the tree before I rounded the plastic tennis ball container.

Prior to that, I was caught up (having forgotten it was on) in the madness of traffic as a result of the Emirates Cup, stuck on a 259 on the Seven Sisters Road for what seemed an eternity, not helped by the fact that the driver seemed to be doing everything humanly possible to slow the journey down. At one point he even deployed the wheelchair ramp when there was:

a) no-one in a wheelchair waiting to get on, and
b) no-one at all waiting to get on!

He was Mr Nice, stopping once he had set off to let on any old stragglers. Add to this the interminable crawl along the road and through the Finsbury Park bottleneck in temperatures up in the high twenties and you have a recipe for frustration, let me tell you.

But the point of it all is this: the football season is just around the corner (unless you're a Jocko, in which case, it's already history) and today's Graun carried the first of their Premier League reviews - all about Arsenal, who are predicted to finish 5th. Next weekend sees the Community Shield, with another chance to watch us take on the Rags, and today's post brings me to my predictions for the season ahead. My City shirt draws some attention in the Highbury/Holloway area, but not too much, yet the chap in the Turkish supermarket (clearly obsessed with the beautiful game) seemed very pleased to see me there - Gooner/Galatasary though he is. His eyes lit up, and he spoke of our seven strikers, admitting that Kun is a tidy prospect, showing some love for Dzeko, and adding that Tevez still held the key to our success. Mostly sentiments with which I agree.

So, my two cents if you will.

Un-controversially, I would say that Chelsea are going to be good this season. The Rags will be there or thereabouts. Yawn. Spurs will not have as good a season as last year, Arsenal (despite the lack of transfer activity in the inward direction so far) will have a better one. Liverpool won't do a lot. Everton will be the usual conundrum, though not likely to finish much above 7th. Villa will be lower-middle, Blackburn and Bolton slightly flattered by the new boys. Here goes with the table then:

1.   Chelsea
2.   City
3.   Rags
4.   Arsenal
5.   Spurs
6.   Everton
7.   Liverpool
8.   Bolton
9.   Stoke
10. Fulham
11. Blackburn
12. QPR
13. Villa
14. Newcastle
15. Sunderland
16. West Brom
17. Norwich
18. Wigan
19. Wolves
20. Swansea

Of course, I may be wrong. Here are my predictions for last season (with the actual finishing position in brackets).

1.   Chelsea (2)
2.   Rags (1)
3.   Arsenal (4)
4.   City (3)
5.   Liverpool (6)
6.   Spurs (5)
7.   Villa (9)
8.   Everton (7)
9.   Bolton (14)
10. Blackburn (15)
11. Fulham (8)
12. Brum (18 - ha!)
13. Stoke (13)
14. Wolves (17)
15. West Ham (20. Oh dear)
16. Wigan (16)
17. Sunderland (10)
18. West Brom (11)
19. Newcastle (12)
20. Blackpool (19)

You can see from that that I was in a few instances only one place out, but it still means that I correctly guessed only the finishing positions of Stoke and Wigan, which is not an impressive strike rate by anyone's lights. Better luck next time, eh?

Charmed I'm Sure

There's bound to be enough news (digital and hard) spewed out about the Arsenal match that my puny voice will melt into the background, Take this guff, spouted by Paul Hayward in the Guardian today:
"To see Jô starting in a wide position ahead of Adam Johnson was the clearest proof that Mancini has his own clear ideas about who can be relied upon for the most daunting assignments. Johnson, who eventually replaced Jô on 65 minutes, has slipped from that list. Some pure talent has been sacrificed in favour of greater toughness and cohesion. With City so well‑placed in the league on the homeward stretch Mancini, who has increased the attacking quota, is within his rights now to advance by stealth, especially as all his major rivals display vulnerability."

But all that crap (and there's more, so much more, of it, let me tell you) aside, it wasn't the greatest performance ever put on by a City team, was it? Either Martin Tyler or Andy Gray made the bullshit statement that Joe Hart - as well as being a good goalkeeper - was also born lucky as the ball bounced once again off both posts and somehow ended up not in the net off Walcott's pretty boots. A combination then, of Hart's luck and Arsenal's profligacy in front of goal allowed us to come away with a point and avoid a potential banana skin.

Yet it was going forward that we most disappointed. Once Yaya had fucked himself (it must be tiring after all to carry those sacks of money around) with that one barnstorming run in the first half, we never looked to be at the races, and the second half - though never plumbing the depths of the game against the Rags - was a dour grind. Mr Hayward's burbling above notwithstanding, the presence of Jô in our team is continually exasperating, and it's difficult to see what possible value a player such as he could bring to any club. Tevez looked out of sorts, curiously subdued, and though De Jong's presence grew steadily he was also quiet in the opening stages, when it looked as if we were going to take a right tonking. Hart - lucky or not - gets my vote for man of the match, and that of course speaks volumes for the overall performance of the team, although Zabaleta again put on a great show, and should never have been red carded for that fracas with Sagna.

So, looking at the Rags up the top, and with Chelsea and Spurs slipping up, I think it must be seen as an opportunity lost. And that's without even going into the area of 'customer satisfaction' with the paltry entertainment served up to the City fans.

Fiddling About

The end of another decade. Happy new one.

Having almost recovered from my illness (the worst I've had for many a year) and whilst hallucinating powerfully in my sleep (think epic 2 hour dream timescales involving spiking Xeni Jardin's vegan noodle soup with parmesan cheese and my mum being arrested for trying to break into a Government building, to worrying about the mess a dead goose leaves if not cleaned off the carpet quickly enough, and you will see what I mean) due to the intake of Champix I have been fiddling about with the layout of this thing. Hope you like it.


I was concerned that things were getting a little stale and that I was almost being held to ransom by my own creation, so I am actively considering which direction to take. Any suggestions gratefully received.

In the meantime, City till I die of course, and things are looking good for 2011 in that regard, despite our inability to put more than one past Holloway's corsairs. I just can't believe that that twat Neville got away with murder again yesterday, and shurely there must be shome jushtice somewhere in the world. Onward to the Emirates for the first real test we'll have faced for quite a few weeks.

Star

Sorry, but I'm not going to say thanks to Goonersworld for this image.

When I first saw him, I thought he was a lookalike. I assumed that someone who looked very much like Bacary Sagna was having a drink in my local. It was a few minutes later, when I overheard someone talking excitedly on the phone, that I realised it really was Sagna. What on earth he was doing drinking in a none too salubrious (I don't mean to be insulting - it's OK, just not China White, if you know what I mean) pub on the Cally?

Within a very short time, I began to realise what it must be like to be a celebrity. Monsieur Sagna had not a moment's peace to finish his bottle of Coke, to continue his conversation (in French) with his mate, to watch Chelsea bang yet another one in, or to ignore the woman who sat next to him. He was almost continuously plagued by people asking for autographs or pictures with the (terrified) kids in Emirates shirts, and took it all in a fairly good-natured - if occasionally surly - way. I could see that he was a little annoyed at being interrupted while watching the first Anelka goal, and offered a very cursory handshake while looking at the TV screen, but every other incursion into his privacy was dealt with politely and patiently. He was offered some words of advice on football tactics by an elderly man with no teeth, wearing a baseball cap, and only solemnly blinked his rather unusual eyes in response.

Sagna is - though this is Gooner heartland, so perhaps not wholly representative - a relatively minor superstar, and yet he was not able to enjoy more than a minute or two's peace.

Soulless Dancer

Thanks to ukfootballtoday for the image

Bring back Sparky. What a non-event. What a load of bollocks. It was a bore fest par excellence. With reasonable expectations, though perhaps tellingly without the apprehension which normally plagues me on the occasion of big matches, I watched the first half in the local, but unusually for this reliably solidly Gooner-ite establishment, there was hardly a ripple of excitement. Nobody seemed to give a shit, engaged as they were in conversations about horses or so-and-so around the corner. There was the occasional yelp of ‘Go on Nasri! Put it through!’ followed by a sotto voce groan of dismay, but that was it. Maybe it’s something to do with Arsenal capitulating in the last 10 minutes at Wigan last week, giving them the feeling that there is less to play for, and that we are programming ourselves (and I do not exclude myself from this bout of forgetfulness. Let’s hope it doesn’t prove to be too egregious) to wait for the big showdown on the 5th of May. Who knows? But, given the way those bastards at Villa can play I think we are sorely mistaken if that is the case. Whatever, I made my way home again and watched the rest of the match (it came in fits and starts, but it didn’t really make any odds) via Iraq Goals.

A team as hesitant as the Gunners were on Saturday should have been there for the taking, with old man Sol at the back susceptible to a burst of speed from the likes of Bellamy or Johnson and a dodgy Pole in goal. But it was not to be. The former – as is nearly always the case – at least tried, though with precious little end result; while the latter had a dreadful game, as some were saying no doubt rendered nervy by the presence of Capello and the possibility of being offered a plane ticket to South Africa in June. Even so, he looked about as convincing as Walcott. Kompany clipped a couple of balls over the top which on another day might have done the trick, but it was not to be. Tevez had nary a touch, and it was depressing indeed to see Barry picking the ball up near the halfway line and then passing it back or across, while his Arsenal counterpart was doing pretty much the same thing for the entire game.

At least we were rarely troubled by the intricate build-up play and ponderous through balls from the North London outfit, despite the efforts of Vieira to drop us in the shit, and it’s a strange day indeed when we say we can be confident in our back line. At no point was there a sign of my apprehension returning, and I was never subjected to the jitters when Arsenal “advanced”. Even in the seventh minute of injury time, I did not think we were in danger of conceding. Yet we were a few galaxies away from threatening Fabianski ourselves. All very disappointing, and not the City I have grown up with.

It says it all that the reports in the papers are all about Given’s dislocated shoulder (strange that there should be two such injuries in a single weekend. Who says that the supernatural doesn’t play a part in the beautiful game?) and the young Faroese goalie (he did play one game for Wrexham I hear, and so the barren windswept, whale blubber strewn landscape he saw at the Racecourse Ground must have seemed a bit like home) and hardly mention the match at all. I suppose – as a side note – it is interesting that a team with City’s well publicised and seemingly limitless resources find themselves in such dire straits with a key player (much as I like Shay BTW, I have to say that the constant descriptions of him as ‘probably the best keeper in the Premier League’ are something of an overstatement. He never makes the top 10 in the Opta stats table) at this crucial point in the season. Does this reflect lack of planning or a small pool of available talent on which to draw? All the while, little Joe keeps bouncing around in the Brummegam net, making his own strong case for a trip to the World Cup in June. Ah well.



I think we can definitely do something against Villa before the Spuds cruncher, but not if we play with the same mentality we showed on Saturday. In any case, I would sooner watch us lose in style than put myself through another 90 minutes of shite like the Arsenal game.