Body of the Arsenal. Dead and bloaty.
Body of the Arsenal, no shots, no goals,
you looked like a team, lying in surrender.
Their rough struggling side ran at you
and made the win leap from the depth of the earth.
You were lone in a tunnel. The bovver fled from you,
And Norwich swamped you with its Holty invasion.
To survive yourself you played like absolute weapons,
Without arrow in your bow, or stone in your sling.
But the hour of Schalke falls, and I love you.
Body of French, of Welsh, of eager Lego-head Spaniard.
Oh the fumbles of the goal! Oh Italian eyes of absence!
Oh the hamstrings of the Alex! Oh the boss’s voice, slow and sad!
Body of the Arsenal, I will persist in your grace.
Your slips, your pointless poxy corners, your runs into nothing!
Winless Norwich where the really short flight goes
and weariness follows, and the infinite ache.
This was Neruda’s first draft, before the woman one. He liked passing football. Not a lot of people know that. There’s little point rehashing yesterday, because it really was that shit. Like so shit. Like, it was painful to watch shit. And if Norwich hadn’t seemed unable to score more, they would have scored more. Big if, I know. But I think it was fairly obvious to all we weren’t going to score yesterday.
Or maybe ever again. Fortunately (I guess?) this is post-international break of neverendification, so we go straight back into it on Wednesday against Schalke, who beat Dortmund 2-0 this weekend. Ha ha ha. Then again, looking at the recent form of opponents clearly means nothing if last night’s performance is anything to go by. We like to break all sorts of wrist-slitty records don’t we? Oh heyyyyy, not won at all this season? Never mind fellas, we can sort you out! Not scored a goal ever in your life, ever? Well guy have we got the team for you. I bet you’ve never tried a shot outside of the box in your career, eh? Well why don’t you take a wild swipe at ours, I’m sure we can sort something out! It’s pretty gutting, because I thought we were beyond that sort of performance. I mean, let Norwich score yeah. We’re Arsenal. Everyone scores on us. We’re a big fat ponytailed goal slag in that respect. But at least look even SLIGHTLY dangerous in return, it’s the least you can do.
Poxy, is the only way to describe it. Little sense putting any more effort into a blog on a match that had less effort in it than ET had normal-shaped-head genes. If they couldn’t be arsed, nor can I. I did think of one point yesterday, about Carl Jenkinson. He was about the only player that wasn’t embarrassing (alongside Arteta, probably). I mean he tries. A lot. Much as the constant banging on from people about him being a huge fan got boring about six months ago – he’s a professional footballer player playing very very well, not a fucking competition winner – maybe the fact he looked better than everyone else is because he looked bothered about whether we won or not. The rest looked a little like they were all thinking ‘It’s OK, no biggie. There’ll be an excuse for us somewhere and we’ve a match on Wednesday so there’s little sense getting worked up.’
Hideous. If they flew up there, I hope they walked back, or flew EasyJet. You’d have expected Arsene to have thrown some bombs in some places at half time but if he did, they didn’t work. You’d also be expecting the man whose captain-like qualities we talked about so much when he wasn’t captain to have given it a bit of welly also. This season I see a captain looking less like a captain than almost all of the others on the pitch.
Which is good.
So that’s that. POOR. But let’s get right back on the horse. In as much as it was shit, it was out of the blue. That means it’s not looked likely the rest of this season. Obviously it’s looked totally likely at least once every season for about five years but you know. Opinion really swings among certain fans in light of a defeat. It’s funny to see, particularly among grown men. But anyway. I’ll allow them to mull that over while I’ll prefer to call it a bad day. And hey, don’t wind yourself up by looking at the table will you? It means nothing, at all, in the slightest, until a few months’ time away. Nothing nasty in the comments please, I’ll block you harder than a left-footed Podolski shot. Obviously there would be no sense blocking you like a right-footed Podolski shot as such a thing has never been seen on this earth before.
But still I will not fall to the misery! You WILL win on Wednesday and everyone will change their fickle little minds once again. It’s the nature of the beast. The nature of this beast was only beastly if a retired hamster is considered a beast. You can atone for your sins starting Wednesday. Do it or I’ll write more shit poetry. I don’t know what further warning you need.