Arsenal - Can Titi and Co. Repel The Russian Tank?

[Bernard's briefs]

I began this lengthy preamble on Tuesday on the pretext that I couldn¹t send
a piece out to all my Gooner pals which was largely devoted to the Irish
debacle in Switzerland and somewhat devoid in Arsenal content. But by the
following day, it occurred to me that I¹d traversed on another tangent and
few might be interested in my rambling thoughts on the sordid events which
have sullied the sport in recent weeks. I wasn¹t going to bother sending it
but in the end I decided that having spent so long in the writing of it, I
would at least finish it this morning and leave it to your discretion
whether to delete it, or not (on the off chance you might have nothing
better to do?). Meanwhile normal service will be resumed on Monday
________________________________


Hi All

You'll have to forgive me but for once I am glad to report the lack of
Arsenal content in this week's piece, because apart from Sol Campbell's
sortie to Soho Square last week for a £20,000 slap on the wrist, it is a
relief that for once the Arsenal haven't been associated with any of the
shameful shenanigans, the details of which have been all too gleefully
splashed across the tabloids these past couple of weeks (although I have
seen the rumours that Jermaine Pennant was in the car with Leeds player
who's supposedly accused of some more depraved behaviour).

Again my apologies of I am at all inaccurate but I am happy to admit that I
rarely get past the back pages of the tabloids and the little I have gleaned
to date from either of these incidents comes from the brief text messages
I've received from those whose pleasure it is to pander such gossip (you
know who you are :-) !!)

Then again I've just seen pictures on the news of the fracas at half-time in
Turkey, where (in case you haven't seen them) apparently Ashley Cole is the
target of some abuse (no doubt racial) and it is Emil Heskey directly behind
Ash who reacts and attempts to lean over the Arsenal player to land one on
the person responsible for the insult. Thankfully it doesn't look like
either of the Arsenal players are culpable of any indiscretion, as Sol looks
like he's attempting to get his bulky frame in between the hotheads to calm
them down.

However it would appear from the recent spate of disgraceful incidents that
some young footballers have got everything they have ever dreamed of so
young, that they can no longer get their kicks from normal everyday
activities, like buying a £100 grand Ferrari, or going out on the town with
a bevy of star shagging beauties!

Nevertheless I refuse to pass judgement on specific incidents. We don¹t know
if those involved are guilty as hell and should therefore be kicked out of
the game for good, or to what extent the victims were Oagent provocateurs¹
looking to make a killing with such an easy mark as many of our footballers
are, motivated principally by the thought of flogging such a scandal to the
red-tops. While I would be full of remorse if I should cause offense to some
innocent victims, my cynicism is a sad reflection on our society today.

And if some football players are indeed guilty of dreadful criminal acts, I
honestly hope they feel the full force of the law. Yet to my mind the media
also has some guilt to bear because while they might be duty bound to report
the news I find it absolutely despicable the way they seem to revel in such
a gloating fashion over a young stars fall from grace. It is a sad
reflection on our society because their ability to delight in such drivel is
a direct result of our insatiable greed for such salacious gossip

Perhaps the FA have got it ass about tit and their random drug testing
policy should be used to ensure that drug taking is mandatory! Just think,
if all the Premiership managers could rely on their youngsters to be smoking
the odd spliff on a Saturday night, they could count on the fact that they
wouldn't be galavanting around town, getting pissed out of their heads and
into deep doo-doo but would be vegetating in front of the TV and crashing
out for a nice early night?

On the subject of which, I find the whole Ferdinand furore somewhat
farcical. Considering the amount of recreational drug use in society these
days, who are we kidding to think that all these young wealthy professionals
in the prime of their lives are actually living like monks, with none of the
nefarious habits of the vast majority of their peers.

Obviously if they want to perform at the peak of their capabilities, they
can't afford to abuse their bodies. Yet from the way the system was
portrayed in a recent TV programme, the visits by the drug testers are
anything but random and the scenario that has been reported with Rio (where
his mobile phone was switched off once he left the club) was referred to as
though it was a common occurrence. It was said that it is not unusual for
clubs to get notice of a visit and where they are aware that certain players
might have indulged in recreational drug use, they simply suggest that it
would be best that they don't appear at the training ground on the day.

There might be some who will be shocked if the system is being abused in
this way. However according to my warped principles there is a fundamental
difference between a system set in place to maintain a level playing field
by preventing drug cheats and one which might ruin the careers of
recreational drug miscreants because they are unable to live their lives
according to laws which millions of others aren't prepared to abide by, or
even agree with.

Unlike athletics and other sports where young athletes are liable to fall
prey to corrupt coaches who might encourage them to take all sorts of
strange steroids and untested concoctions which might result in their balls
shriveling up before they've had a chance to use them, or worse still, send
them to an early grave, as far as I am aware, their isn't a culture of
chemically improved performances in football (in this country at least)

I don't know this for a fact and I could be way off the mark. For we did
hear quite a lot about Wenger dosing his players on large quantities of
Creatine when they won the double in 98 and like any big business, football
is now so success oriented that there must be plenty of temptation for
managers to resort to absolutely any means to gain a slight edge over the
competition.

Perhaps players increased longevity in the modern era is a result of
specialized dietary and fitness techniques but I can't help wonder
occasionally, as the pace of the game gets ever faster and the likes of
Sherringham, Shearer continue to compete at the highest level for the entire
ninety minutes. In the knowledge that all most players want to do is to
continue playing for as long as humanely possible, it would be easy to
understand what might motivate them to resort to 'mothers' little helper' in
order to maintain their levels of performance.

It might be somewhat naive of me to believe that football, with it's
multimillion pound stakes, hasn't been permeated by the all pervasive
influence of the drug cheats. Nevertheless, even if it has, the
dissemination of information via the internet has ensured that the
technological advances are so readily available that as in most other
sports, it would be easy for the cheats to always remain one step ahead of
the testers, with masking agents and the like.

Consequently although I remain convinced otherwise, whether performance
enhancing drugs are, or are not prevalent in British football is not the
question because the only players I am aware of who have been caught out in
recent times, are those who've been guilty of using recreational drugs.

Our modern young stars are such massive role models these days that they do
indeed have a major responsibility to set an example to all those kids who
worship the very ground they walk on and who are only too keen to imitate
their heroes. However considering the sort of larrikins the likes of Rio
Ferdinand likes to 'large it up' with, I for one am not so naive to believe
that if he decries the use of drugs in public, it doesn't mean he hasn't
been known to indulge in private.

[Bernard's briefs]

We can't possibly imagine how hard it must be for our sporting heroes to
maintain total abstinence from drugs and booze, when they can't go out and
socialize in public without a whole host of liggers literally sticking
temptation under their very noses, because they want to be able to boast
about snorting cocaine with their new superstar best mate.

What's more if these young footballers should have the misfortune to be
caught out by the drug testers, we can hardly label them as cheats when
whatever they¹ve indulged in is more likely to be a performance disaster
than a performance enhancer.

Even if Rio is indeed not quite such an innocent in this whole affair and
his disappearance wasn¹t due to a dreadful memory but was a deliberate
attempt to avoid detection because he knew he would fail the test, a
ridiculously lengthy ban still wouldn¹t be a reason to get the flags out.
Especially for us Gooners. Considering his recent fallible form, the FA
would be doing us few favours if they prevented him playing for Utd.

But it is the principle that bothers me most. In the current parlance, a
Oluvved up¹ centre back might be improving his extracurricular nocturnal
ratings (not that I profess to any expertise in such matters - perhaps it¹s
not for me to say but I should qualify by stating with perhaps as much
expertise as anyone who has been practicing for 25 years but I can¹t confirm
the potency of any performance enhancing pills in this respect :-) !!) but
he¹s more likely to be a liability to his team mates if he¹s keener on
getting his rocks off with his opponents than the ball off them!

Joking aside, yes I can¹t argue that Ferdinand should be punished, in order
that he and the rest of the profession should be reminded that even if there
is no Ocheating¹ going on, should they fall prey on the rare occasion to
the temptations all around them, they must remember that their position of
such privilege comes with the responsibility of having to set an example.

However since I started writing this rambling preamble, it would seem that
FIFA are far too keen to ensure that Rio is made an example of with their
suggestions that a two month ban is the minimum punishment he should
receive. They appear to have intimated that they will not accept anything
less (although what gives them the right, I don¹t know). I find it
ridiculous that Rio could end up with a two month ban, which is a punishment
that will cause more pain to his team mates, the club and the fans who pay
their hard earned cash to watch their favourite stars, while Ferdinand gets
to sit on his backside during an enforced break. Surely it makes more sense
to hit the player where it would hurt him most, in his pocket, rather than a
punishment which affects all the innocent parties?

I have since been told that I was barking up completely the wrong tree as
far as my immediate assumptions on this particular incident were concerned,
but I have to admit to a moment of suspicion when I heard some story about
two of the Toon¹s oldest players, Shearer and Speed, both being unable to
provide the necessary sample for the drug testers after a football match. I
recall reading a piece from a local North East paper in which I believe they
wrote about the two of them being unable to produce a urine sample for ages
after the match (doing my best to resist the temptation for some sorry
Otaking the piss¹ sarcasm!!).

I don¹t think I have ever read anything in the media in which there has been
an attempt made to differentiate between the misuse of recreational drugs
and players efforts to get away with performance enhancing potions. Instead
of which I find myself absolutely disgusted by this country¹s tabloid
tendencies to drag any young player down to the very gutter, the moment the
heartless hacks catch the scent of the very slightest indiscretion. Although
sadly in the past few weeks they haven¹t had to dig too deep for far juicier
material than the more customary tomfoolery.

I am sure there are millions of more deserving causes for my sympathy but I
can¹t help feeling a little sorry for Rio. He¹s just got his license back
after a six months ban and only yesterday the tabloids were pulling him up
for the poor feller¹s failure to renew the tax disc on his Aston Martin
Vantage. As I said, I rarely glance past the back pages of the tabloids but
on the odd occasion that I do, I never fail to be amazed. I suppose it is
indicative of our star struck society but at a time when there are so many
serious matters occurring around the globe, I am always flabbergasted by how
many column inches are devoted to the failings of flash young footballers
with too much money in their pockets

Admittedly in recent weeks there have been far too many outrageous incidents
that are obvious fuel for the media¹s football fire but only last night I
found myself flabbergasted to read about the fact that Rivaldo is receiving
£150 thousand per week in Italy and with such obscene wages, is it really
that surprising that without proper guidance, many of our young footballers
end up finding various obscene ways in which to spend it

However as this preamble was originally intended to give my Gooner pals some
Arsenal content to get their teeth into, that¹s more than enough moralizing
on my part for one week. Although with what might prove to be one of our
biggest games of the season now only a 24 hours away, as I finally get
around to finishing this far too lengthy missive, I don¹t dare start to
drone on about my fears for tomorrow¹s fixture with the prospect of an
Arsenal midfield without the imposing presence of Patrick Vieira and an
Arsenal camp which might be more than a little unsettled by the
double-barreled members of our board¹s climb down over the Old Trafford
affair.

All I can say is that it¹s going to be a struggle making the few hundred
yard walk to Highbury tomorrow whilst I have everything crossed in the hope
that Lady Luck continues to smile upon us and I shall leave until next week
when we might have heard more of the truth in the matter of the Highbury
six, than the tales of the tabloid pyromaniacs. I sincerely hope that there
is no resulting fire from the smoke they¹ve been spouting about Hill-Wood
having gone over Wenger¹s head and prevented him from defending his players,
by admitting guilt and leaving them to the mercy of the FA¹s disciplinary
committee

Mind you no matter how nervous I am about this particular game - we just
have to beat Chelsea, not just for the points but because it is a matter of
principles which have been the bedrock of all that is beautiful about the
British game until now and whilst there is no doubt that I will get over it
should the worst come to the worst, it would perhaps be the ultimate nail in
the sentimental coffin of all that I hold dear in the very essence of our
'team' game! - it feels like so long since I last saw a team trot out in red
and white that indeed absence does make the heart grow fonder and I am
positively salivating at the prospect

Peace & Love
Bernard

[Bernard's briefs]

Can Titi and Co. Repel The Russian Tank?

After watching three hours of tiresome footie without a single goal to
celebrate and two Swiss strikes to mourn, five hours of channel hopping
finally paid off on Saturday evening when I found France v Israel being
broadcast on French TV. The match in Paris proved a mere formality for the
only side to secure maximum points on route to Portugal in eight straight
wins. Yet I found watching Ireland and England so frustrating that an
entertaining masterclass from Zinedine Zidane and his compatriots was most
refreshing. It was football of the sort of supreme quality that bore no
comparison to the disappointing dross televised earlier in the day.

I don¹t know what the mood was over there in Ireland but here in
Highbury Quadrant we grew gloomier by the minute, as the clock ticked down
towards the whistle which would confirm Ireland¹s ignominious exit. It would
have been easier to take if the Boys in Green had bowed out of the
tournament in a blaze of Ohell or high-water¹ glory. But it was the
uncharacteristic way in which their involvement in the competition ended
with a whimper which I found so utterly depressing.

There was a time when you could confidently bet your shirt on the Irish
side¹s capacity to make up for any perceived deficiencies in ability, with a
strength of purpose that ensured they were incredibly hard to beat. For so
many years it didn¹t really make much difference who was wearing the green
shirt, or that they were found wanting for true world-class guile up front.
The sum of the individual parts was always so much greater than their
apparent fallibility on paper. Whereas these days, with the exclusion of a
couple of obvious names, I can¹t help but consider an Ireland line-up
without fearing for the worst, from what looks to me like a motley
collection of extremely mediocre journeymen.

Perhaps they¹ve become victims of their own success following an era
when they¹ve consistently overachieved. There was certainly little evidence
on Saturday of the credo which has served so well, where success was based
on working twice as hard as their opponents. Considering Brian Kerr¹s common
sense approach, to what is above all a simple game, it was surprising to
hear him explaining away such an abysmal effort with a load of baloney about
Ireland¹s tactical naivety in their inability to deal with the diamond
formation favoured by the Swiss. Come off it Brian, it doesn¹t matter if the
opposition line up as a Christmas tree, diamond or a lump of bleedin¹ coal
so long as you keep the ball!

Where once Ireland could be relied on to resolutely defend a clean sheet
until the cows come home, in Basle they¹d messed the bed within five
minutes. O¹Shea¹s fateful prevarication on the pitch had me contemplating
calling Setanta to see if I could claim a refund, having paid the princely
sum of eight quid to view a contest. We¹ve just started taking Treacle our
dog to obedience training but I will be very impressed if we ever get her to
imitate Ireland¹s example of rolling over and playing dead!

In such circumstances the burden of responsibility falls squarely on the
somewhat slight shoulders of Damien Duff, as has been the case in most
Ireland matches of late. Robbie Keane might be a proven goal scorer at the
highest level but no striker can do his stuff unless he gets given the ball
in the final third. At this level, aside from a stroke of fortune at a set
piece, Duff is the only player capable of the creative spark in midfield
necessary to make something happen. The Swiss aren¹t exactly blessed with an
abundance of ability, but they knew enough to smother Ireland¹s solitary
playmaker.

In days of yore the close attention to Duff would have provided a
perfect opportunity for one of his team mates to produce the sort of
memorable contribution which would have meant he would never again be able
to put his hand in his pocket in an Irish hostelry. However sadly my abiding
impression of this game was that there wasn¹t a single player in green
capable of, or willing to grasp the man of the match mantle. Worse still,
the second we glimpsed a glimmer of hope, with the first sign of some
concerted pressure around the hour mark, it was immediately extinguished
with Switzerland¹s second goal. This might have been the final nail in the
coffin of Irish qualification, but in truth they were dead if not buried
when the first hit the back of the net after only five minutes. There was no
shame in Brian Kerr¹s inability to inspire a comeback because even the great
David Blaine would have struggled to bring this lot back from their funereal
fate.

Now if only Ireland matches were won and lost with the singing of the
National Anthem. This would have been a walkover as the team put their Swiss
counterparts to shame with a hearty rendition of the Soldier¹s Song.
Regrettably there was little of this pride in their play. They were a pallid
reflection of the patriots who wrote ³we¹re children of a fighting race,
that never yet has known disgrace²

The involvement of Arsenal¹s Campbell and Cole might have meant that
like myself, Róna was hoping England would succeed against Turkey, or at
least that neither would be responsible for a calamitous, career threatening
cock-up. But if ever I wanted proof that she used to ride around on her
bicycle singing rebel songs as a child, it came in her instinctive reaction
to Golden Balls¹ pathetic penalty miss. With Ireland having failed their
fans, her resentment of England¹s qualification was reflected in a response
which made Alpay¹s Oin yer face¹ tantrum look positively reserved. I imagine
that most of Ireland, Portugal and all the suits at UEFA were praying for
the Turks to triumph, so that England¹s potential exit via the play-offs
might promise a Euro 2004, without all the elaborate arrangements necessary
to expunge the inevitable hooligan element.

After spending most of the Ireland game trembling under the coffee
table, terrified by my tirade of abuse at the TV, Treacle was just getting
up enough courage to emerge from her hidey-hole when Ro¹s howls of hilarity
ensured the poor dog¹s nerves were shot anew. Mind you her anxiety wasn¹t
exactly helped by the sound of blaring horns. We live within a few hundred
yards of The Home Of Football on one side and London¹s largest Turkish
community on the other. What more could you wish for, fantastic football and
luscious late-night kebabs! Apparently as a result of their enforced
absence, some England fans had decided the next best thing would be to watch
the game in one of the many Turkish gaffs on Green Lanes. Despite the
language barrier, I don¹t doubt that a kooky Turkish TV commentary was
preferable to the somnolent punditry of Alan Shearer. Moreover it was a
symbolic gesture to all those who would prefer this was a safe sanitized
product and who are prepared to let the threat of the unruly few, ruin it
for the rest.

Perhaps you had to be there amidst the intense atmosphere in Istanbul to
fully appreciate the Anglo-Saxon¹s achievements? Personally I was less
impressed by England¹s efforts than I was surprised by the Turks insipid
showing. Nevertheless it was hardly the overthrow of the Ottoman empire as
portrayed in the press. With all the bombastic ballyhoo, you would never
believe the Brits were only a balletic David James dive away from being in
the same dubious boat as Wales and Scotland.

Meanwhile if the pain of Ireland¹s exclusion from play-offs struck home
when the draw took place in Germany on Monday, Irish eyes will be anything
but smiling as the build-up to next summer¹s Portuguese party begins to
gather momentum. It will be all the harder to swallow if England, Scotland
and Wales all end up being involved.

To be honest, I am glad that it is all over for the moment and that we
can get back to more important matters. I pray that the Arsenal can improve
on the dreadful form we¹ve shown in the immediate aftermath of recent
international adjournments. Saturday¹s London derby could prove a defining
moment in both team¹s season. The players might not perceive the match in
such melodramatic terms but as far as I am concerned the Arsenal will be
playing for the soul of the English game.

To quote our vice-chairman ³Abrahamovitch has parked his tank on our
lawn and is firing £50 pound notes at us². The tabloids might have trumpeted
our special team spirit but avid Arsenal watchers know that we will need to
see more tangible signs of the famed Arsenal spirit, if we are to repel the
Russian onslaught. Can Chelsea confirm they have true championship
credentials or can we prove there is a soupçon more to solving the
Premiership puzzle than simply pouring a couple of hundred million pounds
into the Blue brigade¹s quest for a prize which has eluded them for nearly
half a century?