Let’s get it out of the way up front. I suppose you all heard about the queue of Magpie roadbuilders who turned up at the Freeman Hospital last Friday hoping for a job on the Kinnear bypass. There you go, but I think that anyone who allows themselves to go through such a traumatic operation on Friday 13th deserves the best of luck on the health front. So I’ll wish him all the best for a full recovery, but I hope for his health’s sake that he gives football up as too stressful a job and packs it in. If he chooses to go back, I hope his ticker can take the stress of relegation.

Back to the matter in hand – Arsenal away. Back in the day, when he was still with us, Pos would have long since collected the Persil/Northern Echo/Morrison’s vouchers, drawn up a list of names, booked the train, arranged the match tickets, and printed off a map and itinerary. Well, told everybody what time the trains were and where the Lamb is. He never did get to see Ashburton Grove, missing out by quite a few years as it turned out, but loved the trips to Highbury. Pie competition on the train, breakfast with extra grease in the long-gone Del’s Diner or its more recent, but still gone, reincarnation as Café Shiraz, silly bet on Dickie Ord scoring, second through the doors at the Lamb (never impolite enough to be first), Olympic class bevvying for three hours, raucous wind-breaking in the lift at Russell Square underground, stroll to Highbury, watch the match, belt back to the Lamb for a n hour’s power-quaffing, clean out the offy next door, mad sprint to King’s Cross, then sing (politely) all the way back to the land of the Prince Bishops.

Happy days indeed, despite almost all of the results.

This year, we’re (FA Cup apart) three games into a decent run, and we’re at least as happy as we deserve to be. Our home draw, only a few minutes from a home win, over today’s hosts showed that they are by no means the invincible force the were a few years back, although they can still play you to death on occasions. Like Monday night, for instance, when they stuck four past a bemused Cardiff. Who got half the goals? Eduardo, victim of that horrible broken leg just under a year ago, and you could be forgiven for thinking the worst. Not to worry, as he pulled a hamstring, as you tend to do after being out of action for so long. So a bit of relief in advance for our defence, then.

Ah, defence. We all knew that Bardsley would be suspended for this one, but who will we put in to cover him? With no Chimbo around any more, and young Kay probably (probably? Who am I kidding) being a bit radged for such a big occasion. We’re left with new boy Tal and resident nutter McShane and who, amongst those who watched either live or on TV last season, could forget his rush of boots to the legs of Alexander Hleb. Mind you, that one was much more about bad timing and over-enthusiasm than malice of any kind. Who’s he gonna chose? Let’s see.

With all that in mind, and the reserves fresh from a 3-1 win over Boro on Wednesday, we decided to have a retro trip to Arsenal. Well, almost, as there were no reasonably-priced train tickets to be had without taking in a two night stopover. After sweating our pips off as the bus got stuck in traffic (two miles in an hour, honest), John, Gillian, and the usual suspects took advantage of that one, while the plebs amongst us hopped on the early bus, lowped on the tube at the soon-to-close-for-planned-engineering-works Holloway Road, and were at the Lamb, Pos style, fashionably late but thirstily early to meet up with the posh gets who’d done the train and four star hotel thang. An hour later, and after the traditional game of “spot the actor/TV extra” it was sensible to get to the match, so it was off to Russell Square tube, on the way to which a complete (I think) stranger pointed at Ron’s shirt and said “been to the Lamb?” Perhaps 29 (yes, twenty nine) years of pre-match drinks there has been noticed by the locals.

Into the Emirates, and the slightly crappy introduction of the home side by Christian names only, drawing loud cries of “Who?” from the away end, along with groans of disappointment as it became clear that Cisse would play no part in the day’s activities. Swindon John confirmed that Djib had done something with his leg in training on Friday, and wouldn’t even be on the bench.

Fulop
Big Ben Ferdy Collins George
Steed Teemu Richo Reid Whitehead
Lonesome Jones

So it was the not very popular one up front, but it didn’t take long to realise that this time the 4-5-1 was working well because it was being played properly. Our well-populated midfield did what it was supposed to do and gave the home side precious little space and time. New boy Big Ben got involved early, and on 13 we broke well with him finding a cross which was cleared but went back in from the other side, and Jones had the ball taken off his head by Almunia. A couple of minutes later and it was Fulop’s turn to do his stuff, turning away a shot from debut boy Arshavin, and the resultant corner was defended with what was to become a regular feature – steady defending. On about 18 minutes, Ferdy found space to fire in a volley which was punched away, then Almunia earned his corn again by going down well at a pair of red and white feet. Good pressure from the non-stop Deano gave Steed a shooting chance, but the effort went over. Another punch away by the home keeper signalled a good spell for us as we out-passed the Gunners and got control of the game for a good while.

Jones did well to win a corner on our left, but it was low, short, and wasted. When the ball broke, Arsenal carved out a shooting chance but Fulop was up to the task again. Just when we were thinking that, for once, the ref had not been the subject of pioneering laser eye experiments, he missed a blatant handball by Van Persie (I think) and then booked Richo for an innocuous tangle. Right on half time, we conceded a corner but broke well and it took a great tackle on Jones to keep us out. The corner came straight back at us and Fulop had to produce the goods yet again to keep the Arse (sorry, I had to put it in at least once) at bay.

No score at the break, and a good performance meant that it was deserved. Teemu and Deano had done the simple things in midfield, allowing Reid and Richo to try the clever stuff. The only complaint (a slight one at that) was that we’d given away the ball from simple positions in the middle too often, but maybe that’s being harsh.

No changes for the second bit, but we backed off a bit too much and allowed the home side to press us back. Still, Deano’s endeavour won a corner which had to be plucked off Danny’s head by Almunia, then we broke down the left with Reid and Richo, but the cross from the latter was too close to the keeper and easily taken. Around the hour mark, the space we’d conceded to Arsenal early in the half became better used by the home side as they put a bit of pressure on, but there was always a lack of something about the Gunners – no real killer instinct, whatever, it wasn’t there. Arshavin left the field and Vela came on as we continued to try to find Jones up front, but weren’t quite accurate enough. Around 70 minutes we got hold of the ball and the game to give ourselves both breathing space and chances to drive forward. After another good take by Fulop, Teemu made way for Leadbitter (ha'way bonny lad, let’s have another thunderbolt). With about twelve minutes left, Arsenal (Vela, I think) managed to fire hilariously wide, then Murphy replaced Reid. Kenwyne nearly played his was into a shooting position with Steed’s help, then McCarthy took a yellow to halt an Arsenal break on half way. Eboue produced an air-shot worthy of next Christmas’s football howlers DVD from the edge of the box, then Kenwyne almost played in Leadbitter, but the pass was a yard too far in front of Grant.

After a decent spell of moving down the left, Murphy moved into the middle when the exhausted Jones was replaced by Carlos, and caused Arsenal more than a few problems just by letting them know that we were in the ascendancy as the game ran down. Another Fulop save as the four extra minutes included an injury to one of theirs, so Marton hoofed the ball out and thus ensured that the throw would come back to us.

Peep peep. 0-0, and a well deserved point for the Lads. As goal-free encounters go, this wasn't a bad game at all, and we should take a lot of credit and heart from it. Ricky may not fit the stereotype of what a Prem manager should be, but he can’t half organise a side. The defence was solid (another great talking, organising game from Ferdy –surely England beckons?), the midfield did what they were supposed to, and Lonesome Jones played the solitary forward game very well. For me, and despite it being far from a “backs to the wall” game, Fulop is the Man of the Match. He stopped everything they shot at him, he took crosses, and he gave his defence confidence.

So, a great point from the country’s poshest ground, and a super debut from Big Ben, who seemed to watch the ball patiently until it was attracted to him like a magnet. I’ll admit to not being 100% sure of him before today, but I’m more than happy to have him on board after that performance. We looked like a very solid, very well organised team today (yesterday, actually, it was a long way home and there had to be refreshment in celebration when we got back to town), and very much worth our place on page one of Teletext.

Keep the Faith

Sobs' Book click here...