To go or not to go. That really was the question. Watching a game where you couldn’t care less who wins is a bit like kissing your sister, unless you’re a Norwich fan. On the other hand, the new stadium is still going through the honeymoon phase with me, and I would quite cheerfully spend a small fortune to go and just watch the grass grow. Does anyone still miss Highbury?

Added to this was the pull of watching a few players who have been in the news lately, and it never hurts to get a bit of first hand info as it helps you decode the crap a lot of journos come out with, and, by default, the agents who feed them the stories. No conflict of interest there.

The first player you noticed when they all ran out on the pitch, was, however, our very own Gilberto. Not new to us, by any means. The fact that he is the very antithesis of Ashley Cole means you have to admire the bloke. Industrious, and seemingly unselfish, you have to warm to his attitude. It’s one of life’s mysteries that someone who can’t tackle without giving a foul away, and at times finds it physically impossible to make a ten yard pass, should prove to be so invaluable to his side. It’s the same at international level, where his manager obviously puts a lot of faith in him. He played the whole 90 minutes in exactly the way you’d expect.

Of more immediate interest were the two Argentinian boys, who’ve pledged their whole future, at least until Christmas, to West Ham. I must confess to a real pang of jealousy when I found out they’d signed for them. You know the feeling. One of your mates gets off with some woman you’ve had your eyes on for ages and you’re sick. What’s West Ham got that we haven’t? How come we never get players like that? Totally irrational if you ever decided to stop and think about. The more the details of the deal started to emerge, it was becoming increasingly obvious that the boys from the Boleyn had entered into a pact with the devil. That’s their choice, but are the players any good?

Of course the papers describe them as world class. When was the last time any player was described as anything else? The first thing that strikes you is that they are both midgets. I wouldn’t say Tevez’s legs are short, but I’m sure his arse hits the kerb every time he steps off the pavement. Pretty quick, bearing in mind he has to make two strides to every one for a normal size adult. He’s definitely got an ‘attitude’. A mixture of Lou Macari and Paul Dickov with a bit of amphetamine thrown in. I can’t quite picture him fitting in down at Chadwell Heath with the other ‘appy ‘ammers, but there you go.

Mascherano is a couple of inches taller, and at least a couple of yards slower. The best way to describe him would be ‘tidy’. I couldn’t help thinking of Alan Ball and Alan Hudson when they came to the Arsenal, nearer the end of their careers. World Class over ten yards. Mascherano takes the ball off the back four, gives it to another midfield player and then stands around to admire his work. I can’t honestly remember him venturing over the halfway line to do anything of note. A bit ordinary if I’m honest. Would you want either at the club? Not particularly. All that angst about them going to our neighbours, was a complete waste of energy. Note to self: Arsene knows. Note to Alan Pardew: What were you saying about foreign players messing up the English game?

Proceedings livened up near the end when Julio Baptista came on. Comparisons with a brick sh*thouse are not unfounded. Try and imagine Gilberto with a bucket load of steroids and you’ve got some idea. If he bumped into you down at your local, you would stay bumped into. He immediately took up a position on the right wing, which was a bit bizarre as he is built like Joe Frazier. Some nice touches but didn’t quite get into it. As long as he doesn’t whinge about missing his mum’s paella, he’ll do as far as I’m concerned.

Brazil won 3-0. At times they looked as good as Arsenal, but they’ll need to work on it to reach those giddy heights, I’m afraid. Argentina were just Argentina.

Oh, and at the end we had a number of pitch invasions. The response from the ‘security’ was nothing short of pitiful. When everyone realised how easy it was to get on the pitch, more and more people thought they’d have a go. At one stage, a kid who looked like an extra from ‘Grange Hill’, virtually went round and befriended the entire Brazilian team, completely unchallenged. The boys and girls in orange anoraks just gawped into middle distance with their arms folded. I even saw one steward move out of the way to let them past. The police were also practising a non-interventionist policy, which was pretty understandable as it was Sunday and they deserve a rest, so the whole match could have easily ended in farce. I dread to think how much Arsenal pay for security. Note to Keith Edelman: You’re not getting value for money.