Fozzy 
The editor’s post-Villa editorial piece had me in tears – for the second time this week. I kept myself together during and after the Blackbum game because I was more enraged than upset at being forced to watch such an inept performance. The false hope was that the players were saving themselves for the midweek Germans. How wrong did that turn out to be? The welling-up was due to the fact that we simply didn’t compete (players’ fault) and had no apparent game-plan (Wenger’s fault).
Then came the Villa game. The third game in a week where we constantly fannied around getting nowhere and if it wasn’t for Orville* being in the right place at the right time – twice – and Happy Jack’s* drive, determination and all-round sheer enthusiasm for the three points, we could have easily been staring down the barrel.
So why it is that when we take a free kick on the halfway line, everybody in red turns into a Denilson-esque* character? The ball is all too frequently passed sideways, and the player receiving the ball who wasn’t expecting the pass is hounded by an opponent who is more up for it. The ball is therefore passed backwards as the only safety option. The ball ends up with one of the two centre-halves, who promptly passes it sideways to the other centre-half, who promptly passes it back to Chesney*. Chesney then takes aim and hoofs the ball straight back to the halfway line within a few yards of where the free kick was taken in the first place. Only, if Happy Jack* doesn’t get on the end of it, the opposition is off on a run.
Do we bust a gut to salvage something? Not if your name’s Diabolical*, you don’t. He was a prime example of carrying on in the true Deckchair* tradition by jogging back without a care in the world while the opposition attack us at pace. Fortunately, he’d been removed from the fray by the time Villa scored their equaliser, so I can’t blame him for that one. But the malaise had spread to his teammates, and the score was 1-1. We could see it coming and the bottle of blood-pressure tablets had run out long ago.
Can anything be done to allow us to sneak into fourth spot before the end of the season? The short answer is not if we carry on with this attitude because that bloke who looks like a monkey from down the Lane will have a field day next Sunday. However, I do have a solution. Wenger needs to do two things. Firstly, prevent anything resembling a Denilson-esque* move and instruct his players to pass the ball forward. The first person who needs to commit to that is Wiggy*, who is allowing games to pass him by rather than attempting to impose himself. Secondly, prevent anything resembling a Hleb-esque* pass when we do reach the edge of the opposition’s penalty area. We have become the pass masters of not shooting when we have sight of the target. Watching Hleb used to drive me mad, and now we are doing it all over again, getting into their penalty area, them passing it sideways, then passing it back, then chipping it to the other wing, then back to the halfway line. Then we start all over again.
If Happy Jack* can do it, and really attack with the ball, why can’t the others? The Romford Pele* wasn’t exactly the most skilful bloke in the world, but at least he gave it a go. Clumsey* is born in the same mould, so why can’t he do the same? An obvious player who can run with the ball and really frighten other teams is The Ox*. What the hell has happened to him this season? The poor bloke’s development has gone backwards and, when Wenger does play him, he’s out on the wing and gets lost. The same can be said for Ebouseless-With-A-Syrup*. Only, he manages to lose the ball as well as getting lost and is not able to shoot straight. Earlier today, when I was busting for a wee, I rushed into the loo and missed the bowl by a good yard. I now know how he feels. The opposite wing to The Ox* (or Ebouseless-With-A-Syrup*) is Walnutt*, who now believes he’s a striker. And if he really thinks that he is a striker, then I’m a Dutchman (oh, what have I just said?).
Glossary of terms:
Orville – Santi Cazorla
Happy Jack – Jack Wilshere
Denilson-esque – Deckchair
Chesney – Szczesny
Diabolical – Diaby
Deckchair – Denilson
Wiggy – Arteta
Hleb-esque – Hleb (almost as overrated as Dalglish)
The Romford Pele - Ray Parlour
Clumsey – Ramsey
The Ox – Oxlade-Chamberlain
Ebouseless-With-A-Syrup – Gervinho
Walnutt – Walcott
