Never Give Up

from the factory floor

BARCLAYS PREMIER LEAGUE

Stadium of Light

Referee: Neil Swarbrick

Sunderland 1-2 Arsenal    11 February 2012

McClean [70]                Ramsey [75]
                                          Henry [90]

There are times when football is pure entertainment, at others a necessary distraction. After the work week leading up to this match, and the last performance versus Blackburn, I was hoping for both.  It seems every available preview made a significant point about the 120 minutes Sunderland played in midweek while we were rested. Nevertheless, I found myself continuing the Star Wars theme from the roll call for this trip to the Stadium of Light. My first thought upon arrival at the Factory was "I have a bad feeling about this." 

First of all, not having a midweek game for a set of about 15 players who have featured almost every match up to this point is not the same as being rested. Second, if any manager knows how to conserve resources, get behind the ball, and counter attack it's Martin O'Neill. Third, our team doesn't need the kind of complacency that we showed based on the assumption that the opponent will be tired. And fourth, there is a much more glamorous tie on the midweek horizon where a trip to the San Siro awaits. This does not a cocktail for a winning Arsenal performance make.

The game was being showed via a jammy stream and despite the pixelated image on the screen it was abundantly clear that the pitch was in quite a state. It certainly helped prevent the kind of pass and move game that would help us exploit any fatigue Sunderland may have felt. But they just never looked tired to us. Such is the benefit of a game plan that involves sitting back and hitting on the break. So much for A New Hope. 

As is often the case in these situations, the Arsenal maintained huge amounts of possession but did fuck all to actually take it to the hosts. It was truly unwatchable stuff. Boredom. Mind numbing boredom. To liven things up, TJ compared our inability to break down their lines to String Theory, and based on our lacklustre first half concluded that quantum physics is a complete sham. I prefer it when the tedium comes after we've knocked six past Paul Robinson, but it was more amusing than the game.

I don't remember much by way of troubling Mignolet other than a Walcott effort that squirmed past the far post. Scoreless at the half and there was significant concern that we were about to drop points. Had the referee given the penalty shout on Mertesacker for handling in the area after stumbling between two rows of potatoes, it could have been a very different story indeed. Somewhere along the way we got upgraded to an HD telecast and the full horror of that pitch was laid bare for all to see.

So, nil-nil at the interval? Check. Fatigued team we should run circles around? Check. Crappy Northeast pitch in February? Check. Jumped up opposing manager who delights in being a thorn in our side? Check. This one had all the ingredients of a major let down. It was depressingly familiar and not quite the catharsis I anticipated. The second period began, Sunderland laid siege to our goal, and but for the reach of the best. keeper. ever. we could have conceded a couple of goals. Wojciech got down low to deflect shots at each post to preserve our level footing, but it seemed only a matter of time before we conceded.  Instead, we weathered the storm and when the home side did appear to flag a little we started to make some inroads.

Such was the urgency of the situation that Wenger jumped the gun on the substitutions and brought Henry on for Chamberlain a full four minutes before we hit the seventieth. He would be forced to act at the usual time as well, but instead of a tactical change it was enforced when Mertesacker tumbled under very little pressure, having stuck his foot in that craggy excuse for a football pitch. The BFG was clearly in a very bad way, and McClean scampered past the now big crumpled heap and lashed the loose ball past Szczesny from a tough angle. 

Of late, Ramsey has been much maligned for a string of performances from some sections of Goonerdom. Wenger brought him on to replace the Meatsack, and Song dropped a little deeper to cover. It did not look like we would be able to turn this match around, and the depression was strong enough to make the time seem to stretch out, so that we would be forced to endure this abject excuse for a football match without end. It's a funny old game though.

Ramsey scored with his first touch. Amid the celebratory yelling TJ could be heard saying "We don't suck!" That was still debatable but you have to give it up to the Welsh captain for pinging Arteta's deflected shot off both posts and in. Just goes to show what having a pop can do against a side with up to 8 men defending inside their own penalty area. It also goes to show that a little rest can go a long way for someone who has been overplayed for many weeks now. 

As is his custom, the manager left it until exceedingly late to take Theo off, but not before I silenced the place with a bellowing critique of his ineptitude, when he stood ball watching on a corner kick while the man he was meant to mark sped past him to get to ball arriving at the back post. A week's worth of work frustration and a few years' worth of watching Walcott came together and I believe I scared the bejeezus out of everyone on the main floor, and possibly some downstairs. I'm kind of loud.

With a few minutes left, not including time added for Mertesacker's injury, Arshavin came on. The little Russian is another popular whipping boy and I must admit I thought we'd finish 1-1 at best. With Henry on we had two capable finishers up top and numbers in central midfield, so Arshavin had room to operate out wide and began to pick out players with some very good crosses. He found Van Persie, who couldn't get much purchase on his header and Mignolet collected what I thought was our last good chance to take all of the points, however undeserved. 

I had accepted that a point was all we would get when the ball wound up at Arshavin's feet again. He drew a double team and impossibly curled in a perfect cross that dipped right between their center-backs and who else but Henry leaped to volley home the winner. The catharsis finally came.  Sunderland had outplayed us for the full match when they were supposed to be tired from their FA Cup replay and we consigned the hosts to only their second loss in the last 10 matches. At full time the only thing I could say was "I feel dirty."

The injury could have deflated the team, the resulting goal even more so given the lateness of the strike. And wouldn't you know it, not long after being booed for his substitutions, the boss made three changes and they combined to rescue the points. It was the kind of effort we will need to get over the line this year. Before the game, considering our recent poor form, I recalled the autumn run of results and wondered what had happened to that grittiness we had developed. Now I know, and I can echo that same feeling of dirtiness, but in retrospect it's because I lost sight of what the game is about. Never give up. 


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