The Triumph of the Saga

Here's the thing. Following football, particularly in the tribal, obsessive, fanatical way that many of us do, is at least on some small level about escapism. It is about leaving behind the 9 to 5 for a couple of hours on the weekend for the hope of distraction by way of a bunch of grown men running around in shorts kicking a ball. To this event, we wear synthetic replica shirts, despair at minor injustices, abuse pantomime villains, and deify these grown men for getting paid to do what we all did for free for hours on end in our own back yards as kids. We are separate from time, living in a moment that does not really exist. It is the ultimate suspension of disbelief. Pretend for a moment that your bills don't exist, that your boss isn't a fucktard, that the government isn't pissing down your back and calling it rain. 

We go to the football or to the pub to watch the football and get lost in the moment. We have the ability to completely block out all other considerations and allow ourselves to become absorbed in the game as well as the pageantry and buffoonery surrounding it. With laser focus we observe all things transpiring on the pitch. How did he manage that piece of skill? Wasn't he a step offside? Was that a shirt pull? Hand to ball or ball to hand? His foot was definitely high and his studs were showing. Did you see that drag-back? Oh he's blocked off his run. Referee! I am not the best at compartmentalizing my feelings in general but when watching the Arsenal I can block everything else out so, so easily.

Identity Crisis?

In a single statement Robin van Persie has launched large sections, if not all, of the Arsenal support into an identity crisis. Where has our football gone? Ironically, a player famed for learning his trade on the streets, has called into question the very concept behind the so-called "joy of the game." It is not uncommon to read posts from Gooners around the world decrying van Persie's statement and announcing the end of the game as we know it. It is a personal blow, because unlike many recent Arsenal exports, van Persie was believed to be "one of us." He is the last player from the era of the Invincibles. No, he wasn't one of them, he was brought in directly after that achievement, and remained one of the few at the club since with the technical quality and innate footballing bravura to play alongside some of those greats.

Initially I was gutted by the announcement on van Persie's official site. I have been an admirer of this player more than any other since the Invincibles, and given my worship of Bergkamp, Robin is a natural choice as his successor. He has scored some amazing goals, is capable of jaw-dropping close control [a certain pre-season goal against Inter Milan comes to mind], and this past season has demonstrated an uncanny ability to find space in crowded penalty areas and appear unmarked despite the whole world knowing how much we relied upon him as our primary [and at times singular] goal threat. On top of all this he regularly speaks with intelligence and enthusiasm about the game and particularly the attacking, technical, pass and move style espoused by Wenger throughout his Arsenal reign.

Let Loose The Ox Of Chamberlain

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You Are A Legend: Jack Keane

Manager? He's the Sheriff

It might seem a bit odd to feature a Manchester United supporter on this very biased Arsenal corner of the web-o-sphere, particularly to open this series properly. But for myself, the rest of the NY Gooners, a whole slew of New York based supporters groups, expats, tourists, and recurring visitors, Jack Keane is more than a legend. He's a fucking institution.

His support of football culture in this city is unrivaled, and he has nurtured the scene here for longer than the eleven years I've been in New York. He was the bartender at Nevada Smiths for many of those years until he launched the Football Factory at Legends in the Fall of 2010. Throughout the time I've known him he has always been quick to share a word about his team, your team, or any club inbetween, and do so with the utmost respect for and love of the game. His presence behind the bar encourages a vibe that I doubt exists many places in the world.

Here Come The Arteta

Well won Arteta. He might fancy a dip here.....YEESSS!

I think a lot of Gooners were well pleased as news filtered through late on the 31st of August that the Arsenal had prised Mikel Arteta away from Everton. Having just released one of the best midfielders on the planet back to his little home town side, and let the chinless androgynous mercenary many thought would replace him go as well, we were looking well short in the middle of the park. And I'm not just talking about Jack's height. To make Mata's worse, our target to replace Cesc in the market went to Chelsea instead.

The talks stalled in a typical bit of brinkmanship from our club, and in the end it took a transfer request and a drop in wage demands from Arteta to push the deal through at the eleventh hour. Typical Arsenal. After a loyal stint at Everton and despite being central to their plans, he was desperate to take the chance to join us and get his shot in the Champions League and to push for the Premier League title. Before he even took the pitch he took one for the team.