All Good Things Must Come To An End

from the factory floor

BARCLAYS PREMIER LEAGUE

Loftus Road

Referee:  Mike Dean

Queens Park Rangers 2-1 Arsenal         31 March 2012

Taarabt [22]            Walcott [37]

Diakite [66]

Upon arrival at the Factory I discovered that despite the awesome gigantitude of our new flag [let’s be honest, because of it] we were shunted upstairs once again to the main floor, where tourists to New York probably don’t want to see a big fucking cannon. In the end it was probably better that way. In our last four encounters with Herr Barton in the League we have dropped seven points and received three suspensions.

Instead, we were spared the ignominy that defeat to Joey Barton was sure to bring from other supporters clubs, particularly the Chelsea mob downstairs. There are also delicious IPAs on draft behind Liam’s bar, even if he has to walk a country mile to get to them [of course we ordered them separately to force multiple journeys]. So, if you’re going to lose to a pseudo-intellectual twit bossed by a pseudo-managerial twat, at least you can drown your sorrows in a nice ale. Or eight.

Celebrity guests in our number this week included Quentin Tarrantino and Henry Kissinger. With Chardwood’s late appearance we had quite the NY Gooner quorum on the day. The match started, but the Arsenal didn’t. I wouldn’t say they played with handbrake so much as they didn’t even get into the bleeding car. Someone must have lost the keys.

With no football on offer talk turned to Barton. TJ suggested that he’d be a dead ringer for Hitler should the casting call arise for another WWII film. Mehdi countered with Stuart Pearce. Good shout that one. Maybe they could both play him in a biopic in younger/older roles. Meanwhile the action was limited to half chances for QPR, and nothing from us bar a few offside decisions.

Speaking of which, there has been a marked improvement in our defensive cohesion of late. Some put that down to the same back four starting week in week out, but I wondered aloud if the images of Tony Adams lurking around the ground and first team players of late has anything to do with the way in which we are drawing opponents with the trap in recent games, particularly Everton.

After what seemed like the fifth flag to go up, I pointed this out to John, especially the arms in the air from our back line, and John TJ asked what that was all about. TJ  we were on about. John started to explain  introduce the offside rule to him, met by a smart response  and TJ kindly offered to introduce John’s forehead to the bar*. The Captain suggested it wouldn’t be their first meeting. Good times.

Meanwhile Vermaelen was clearly targeted by Hughes’ tactics with some rough treatment from Zamora et al. Thomas was seriously getting the hump and was ready to tear chunks from anyone in the vicinity. I swear, if Vermaelen had a cologne, it would be called ‘Indignant.’ And we’d all wear it.

Anyhow, the ploy worked, because it wasn’t long before a through ball cut out our midfield and the Arsenal center back had to step up to challenge Taarabt. In doing so he slipped and perhaps wary of attention from the official [a certain penalty happy Mike Dean] after the agitation from the QPR forwards, he laid off from the tackle and the Moroccan muscled past him to finish smartly into the bottom corner.

I wondered if it would take more than that to wake us from our torpor, and for a while it seemed we might. The only offering from the Arsenal by way of goals was a Van Persie free kick cleverly taken below the jumping wall, but not struck with enough power to trouble the keeper. He was having a sub-par match by any standard, let alone the ridiculously high one he has set for himself this season.

He would make amends for a fairly anonymous first half with a very good bit of hold-up play and an outside of the boot threaded pass to Theo in the penalty area. From roughly the penalty spot, Walcott turned and curled a low side-footed shot against the base of the right post, and before we could even bemoan our luck he was lashing the rebound into the empty net.

Those two combine well enough to suggest a return to a 442 for me. With Ramsey deployed on the left, that’s effectively what we had, although the balance was just off and we couldn’t work out why Ramsey was preferred to Gervinho or Chamberlain. I was especially displeased because I thought Gervinho and Gibbs looked to have developed a bit of a partnership down the left versus Villa.

We probably could have benefitted from a longer first half. Our goal seemed to strengthen us but we couldn’t add to it the remaining eight minutes so we went in level. Any hope of a halftime dressing down from Le Boss quickly vanished as we started the second half much as we had the first, trying to remember where we parked the car, let alone find the keys.

We wandered aimlessly [a bit like this] until inevitably Vermaelen slipped again to let in Mackie, who slid a pass for Diakite to bury from the middle of the box. Forget the medical staff, this year I blame the kit-man. Seriously, how many goals have come this season directly after an Arsenal player fell on his ass? Sort out the boots, sharpish.

Knowing that we were dropping points, we saw Chelsea turn on the gas against Villa while City struggled with Sunderland in the battle of former Gunners. After that draw, we could be the ones to lose out in a way, because if City keep dropping points United could win the league on City's ground, which, let’s face it, would suck big donkey balls. I can take United winning a 20^th, or City buying the league, but I would be most disappointed to give up exclusive rights to that club. That’s our thing. We did it at Anfield. We did it at Old Trafford. And we did it at Shite Hart Lane. Twice.

As the game wound down, Tourette’s Jersey was in full effect, going mental and screaming ‘shut up’ at the commentators every five minutes. I can hardly speak, because when we nearly let in a third I was bellowing ‘Gibbs is fucking nowhere!’ as QPR broke down our left side again. He’d only been substituted about 10 minutes prior, genius. It was the last amusing moment, and the ominous reality of three points dropped settled over us, just in time for Chardwood to confirm his pre-match prediction that his presence would result in a loss.

So the streak ends at seven wins. This is also the first time we have lost a traditional 3pm Saturday kickoff this season. With Spurs beating Swansea on Sunday by two goals, we enjoy the narrowest advantage to maintain third by a single point in goal difference. We’d still be ahead on goals scored, but given our run-in versus theirs neither advantage is likely to hold.

In the end, 21 points out of the last 24 is nothing to cry about, especially given our opponents of late. But we will need another run of good results to automatically qualify for the Champions League next season, and we face a mélange of table positioned sides over the last seven games. As 7amkickoff’s comparison above shows, we don’t do so well against the top or bottom five this year. Let's hope our recent run has turned that around a bit.

That said, the only game that matters, as we’ve been told repeatedly over the past few weeks, is the 'next one.' The next one is City at home. For once they arrive at the Grove with a need to come at us. That could be really good, or really bad. One week to find out.

* editor's note: Oddly enough this was the first time I ever took notes for a pub report during the game. Carissa asked last week how I could remember this stuff so I took some notes this time around.  Naturally I got it completely wrong. Did I mention all the ale? Sorry, TJ.


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