We’re off on our travels and once more it’s Arsenal. You know the way.
Off down the M6/M1 (other motorways are available) again and it’s Arsenal again. Why we’ve got two away games over the holiday, and why we’re playing Arsenal so soon after the last time, is a mystery known only to the man who presses the buttons on the Premier League computer but here we are so may as well make the best of it.
At least we’re playing the easiest team in Europe to write about. If ever there was a club in the right place at the right time it was Arsenal. A middling, sometimes successful, north London entity with a reasonable sense of entitlement, along came Fever Pitch and Arsene Wenger. Then football came home, north London turned into Islington and tens of thousands of media, creative and D-list celebrity residents discovered footie and looked for a club that was as far up its own arse as they were.
Luckily they could walk to it and they’ve all lived happily ever after, apart from when they go three weeks without winning, at which point they start looking at the league table and wondering if their mate Giles can get them tickets for Chelsea.
Arsenal have got a manager who’ll be looking for a new job soon, if they haven’t learned from what happened last time. Then again, if they do get rid of him he won’t be as lucky as his predecessor when he’s looking. Their players are the usual collection of overpaid mercenaries who’ll be having a word with our bench and wondering if there’s any chance of passing Damian Vidagany’s number to their agent.
Our players will be the usual collection of unbeatable Gods of Football, straining every sinew to continue the recent run. At the end of the match their supporters will be looking up Aston on their iphones, wondering if you can get there on the Northern Line and asking their mate Toby who’s just opened a studio in Digbeth if he can get them tickets.
