What was shaping up to be a horrorshow that would define the season ended up being a display of resolute strength that just might be this season's proudest moment.
Two years ago, almost to the day, Martin Taylor broke Eduardo's ankle and sent him into more than a year of misery and perhaps half-a-career of unfulfilled potential. The enduring image of that game was Gallas' famous sulk on the pitch, and by the end of those 90 minutes, Arsenal had managed only a 2-2 draw.
When Ryan Shawcross hacked Aaron Ramsey's leg in half shortly past the hour mark, every Arsenal player remembered that fateful day. Vermaelen looked the closest to breaking down, and kneeled to the ground. Then, Clichy came over to him, put his hand on his shoulder, said something short, and Vermaelen stood straight up. Clichy remembered what happened afterward.
Over the last half hour, Arsenal put itself back together into a semblance of a team, and broke the deadlock and the tragedy by banging in two goals. And then, Fabregas called his team into a huddle. I don't know what he said in that huddle, but for the first time, I felt like I was watching the actions of a real captain, presiding over a team that would fight for their colors and their teammates.
Beyond any doubt, I've never felt more proud of the Arsenal. They went through what no team should have to go through for the third time in three years, but this time, they ground out a vengeful win. For everyone that calls Arsenal a team of boys playing a man's game, I give you the image of the match, and a team that will fulfill its manager's oft-criticized expectations. I give you a team that, with Chelsea's juicy home loss, just might win the Premier League title.
Wenger showed that he would not mess around with the Anti-Arsenal in their house when he issued his strongest available lineup that seemed to say, "If Eboue can't defend, I'll let him attack": Almunia, Sagna, Campbell, Vermaelen, Clichy, Song, Ramsey, Fabregas, Eboue, Nasri, and Bendtner.
Make no mistake, as strong as Wenger could have made it, no way was this side going to come out with any kind of rhythm with all the new pairings all over the field. The Britannia cranked up the volume instantaneously, and we played Stoke's game for quite some time. Goal-kicks and throw-ins came bouncing ominously into our box, and the boys were not clearing the ball adequately, as usual. Players like Ramsey and Alex Song, who has been in a teensy-bit of a slump lately, were losing their battles, Bendtner was giving the ball up too easily, Eboue had trouble finding his place, and Fabregas and Nasri just could not buy more than one or two touches.
It was no surprise when Stoke opened the scoring in the eighth minute from, of course, a Rory Delap long throw-in. Song conceded the throw in with an unfortunate bit of footwork on our end of the left wing, and it came in like a beach ball, got flicked on with a pedestrian Bendtner nearby (with Ramsey and Sagna also at the scene of the crime), to be simply headed in by one Tony Pugh, who is just about as famous as his name sounds. It was his first league goal, and his first league start, and, the way he was playing throughout the rest of the game, perhaps the last in both categories. Still, he got his moment of fame, thanks mostly to Emmanuel Eboue, who daftly hopped away from goal when the gut reaction of a quality defender would have been to cover the open man at the far post. Even when Wenger puts him into an offensive role, he just cannot seem to go a game without making a laughably visible defensive mistake.
Besides, the worst was over for Arsenal, who have quite the penchant for coming back when things seemingly could not get worse (while when it continues to get worse). The defense began to calm things down, thanks especially to a near-perfect Gael Clichy. Dan Roebuck is the one, I believe, who commented on ArsenalTV that he is "one of the best one-on-one defenders" he had ever seen. Clichy announced his definitive return with absolutely flawless positioning, the fastest feet in the west, and confident attacking passes and movement. Indeed, in his best stretches, he was our most dangerous player on the left. Campbell's bravery and overall screaming at his teammates--for instance when he commanded his defense to move further from Arsenal's box on a set-piece--made me smile again, and he is becoming my most favorite unsustainable player.
Still, an attacking rhythm was very slow in developing. Fabregas, playing the attacking threat once again, mixed a few one-touches to teammates on the run to one-touches to no one. That was when he got the ball, but when he abandoned deep play, it was difficult enough to bring the ball forward. Song had to play the general, and though his positioning and aggression picked up minute after minute, his passes were very inconsistent. Alongside him was Ramsey, looking quite harried and generally lacking in confidence on the ball, with back-pass after back-pass. Eboue had some cute flicks in the middle and on the right, but nothing that amounted to anything, and Bendtner proved once again that he has a great eye for the right player to give the ball to, while also proving that he does not really know when to give it to that player, as he tried to force a ton of passes that were easily intercepted.
Then, in the space of about five minutes, Fabregas turned on and took hold of the game. A great dummy that let the ball run to Bendtner in the box was followed by a dangerous give-and-go with Nasri, and that was followed by a picture-perfect cross-field ball to Bendtner. Then, he ended a spell of 50-50 balls bouncing around in the air with the simplest of difficult controlling touches, burst into the box, and slid the ball into Sagna for a dangerous cross. Then, he chested down a throw-in, looked up, and put in one of the most perfect crosses you will see for a very, very difficult headed goal from Bendtner, who, after having a moment of ball-watching during Stoke's goal, used his height correctly and placed the ball ever-so-nicely into the top corner of the far side.
Then, Fabregas turned right off, resuming his too-confident, too-cheap giveaways. But his moment of brilliance gave the team a spark. Ramsey entered the game, with sprightly box-to-box tackles and distribution. Song spent the rest of the half forcing the ball toward the vacuum that was Clichy, and Arsenal was getting the ball back as quickly as ever. The ball began to move from right to left, to left to right, and despite some shaky moments in the center of the defense (that's to be expected, though, right?), by the half, Arsenal was certainly on top.
And until Ramsey's injury, Arsenal played at its very best, and it just might have started with the improvement in the play of Ramsey himself. A bit more confidence from him allowed better distribution, and he became that vital link between defense and attack. Mainly, though, it was Fabregas, who put on a vintage display for almost half an hour, with threatening through ball after threatening through ball, and the great low, sliding passes that shifted Stoke's defense all over the place around the box, the kind of passes only Fabregas can make. Well, to be fair, Nasri seemed to think, "I like yo' style!", and entered Nasrigas mode, doubling the threat at times. With Song and Clichy doing their thing, constantly getting the ball back, these players had nothing but reps.
Bendtner got the hang of using his height throughout the game, as Stoke got a taste of their own medicine. His leaping body took defenders out of the game that would have prevented some bouncing balls from causing a lot of the anxiety that Arsenal defenders were (and are) constantly pulling their hair out over. However, Bendtner's touch was clunky and awful, and only deteriorated throughout the game. A penalty left unseen on Ramsey, a laser of a pass from Nasri that Fabregas is probably still hitting himself for not running onto, and several ruined first touches from Bendtner left four or five goals on the doorstep before...it happened.
I will not dwell on Shawcross' tackle. It was not the worst of tackles, in a genuinely 50-50 situation, but it was the leg-breaker of a young and inexperienced player. He seems to have a reputation for dangerous tackles (previous victims: Emmanuel Adebayor and Francis Jeffers), but it honestly did not seem all that malicious, and his reaction was almost as horrifying as the injury itself. But what I cannot stand for is all the various arguments (such as this peach) that it is all indirectly Wenger's fault. One commenter I read once put it best: it is like saying that a sexy woman should be blamed if she is raped because if she either a) dresses sexy, b) didn't show enough experience to avoid it, or c) both. It is absolutely absurd what some people say to argue against what Wenger has to say. Watch that Adebayor video and listen to what the commentator says: Shawcross is "no respecter of reputations"? Really?
Beyond that I have nothing to say. Arsenal is no stranger to injuries, even ones this consequential, and if the rest of this match proved anything, it is that they will chug on.
Chug on they did. Arsenal was shocked, they lost virtually all their rhythm. Rosicky had replaced Ramsey, but though he did a good bit of running around, he had little impact on the game--nobody really could put break through the shock permeating the atmosphere. Stoke, on the other hand, lost literally all their rhythm, and Arsenal had no trouble keeping the ball for most of the remainder of the game. Some good substitutions had little impact on play in general, but arguably made the team more cohesive. Walcott had virtually no touches on the ball throughout his 20 minutes on the field, but Eboue played mostly like a wrench-in-the-gears in his 75 minutes, and though he had some trademark-cheeky give-and-go attempts that re-established Happy Feet's status as Arsenal's lovable wild card, I don't think any of them got off, and he looked quite out-of-place when he was often in the middle of the field. Nasri, who played a relatively quiet game in spite of some dazzling moments, made way for Eduardo in the 84th to help the remaining midfielders, especially Song, find more and more space on the outside of the box.
Most of all, it was sheer mettle that helped Arsenal grind out the win. They had no rhythm, only a desire to grab the goal. They should have had it, when some good distribution from left to right ended with an innocent lob from Song into Eduardo, whose head must certainly have been cloudy when he missed badly on his first touch. Unfortunately, Eduardo showed that he cannot meet a cardinal requirement in the Premier League--willingness to take a hit. I just wonder if he has the heart for risking a tackle anymore. But alas, a shot from Bendtner met a Stoke player's hand (was he looking for it) at the stroke of the 90th minute, and the ref had to give it. Once again, Fabregas chose the side that Sorensen dived to, but put it away, and ran off to celebrate. And for the first time in awhile, the whole team celebrated, as Fabregas smacked his ankle in disdain.
The third goal was just icing on the cake, as a corner taken short came to Rosicky in a ballsy mood. He took a good whack, and when Sorensen saved, Fabregas pounced onto the ball, and knocked it one-touch to Vermaelen, who looked like he had that goal on his mind the second the ball was passed to Rosicky.
What is a vintage performance? Is it the game in which Arsenal plays "vintage Arsenal", or is it the game that will be remembered? These were not stylish goals that you would pay $100 million dollars in wages for a team to score, but these were important goals, difficult goals to score. Those last two goals will probably be remembered longer than Barcelona's recent dizzying goal. This win was as memorable, replayable, vintage, as a win can get--as memorable as the picture we will remember it by. And with that enduring image of the team behaving like a team, overcoming the direst of adverse circumstances for at least the time-being, Arsenal pushes on. Two weeks ago, they were nine points off the title--now, they are three, and only two behind second place. Again, I cannot know what Fabregas said to his team, but I can guess: Let's win the title, for Aaron.
Two years ago, almost to the day, Martin Taylor broke Eduardo's ankle and sent him into more than a year of misery and perhaps half-a-career of unfulfilled potential. The enduring image of that game was Gallas' famous sulk on the pitch, and by the end of those 90 minutes, Arsenal had managed only a 2-2 draw.
When Ryan Shawcross hacked Aaron Ramsey's leg in half shortly past the hour mark, every Arsenal player remembered that fateful day. Vermaelen looked the closest to breaking down, and kneeled to the ground. Then, Clichy came over to him, put his hand on his shoulder, said something short, and Vermaelen stood straight up. Clichy remembered what happened afterward.
Over the last half hour, Arsenal put itself back together into a semblance of a team, and broke the deadlock and the tragedy by banging in two goals. And then, Fabregas called his team into a huddle. I don't know what he said in that huddle, but for the first time, I felt like I was watching the actions of a real captain, presiding over a team that would fight for their colors and their teammates.
Beyond any doubt, I've never felt more proud of the Arsenal. They went through what no team should have to go through for the third time in three years, but this time, they ground out a vengeful win. For everyone that calls Arsenal a team of boys playing a man's game, I give you the image of the match, and a team that will fulfill its manager's oft-criticized expectations. I give you a team that, with Chelsea's juicy home loss, just might win the Premier League title.
Wenger showed that he would not mess around with the Anti-Arsenal in their house when he issued his strongest available lineup that seemed to say, "If Eboue can't defend, I'll let him attack": Almunia, Sagna, Campbell, Vermaelen, Clichy, Song, Ramsey, Fabregas, Eboue, Nasri, and Bendtner.
Make no mistake, as strong as Wenger could have made it, no way was this side going to come out with any kind of rhythm with all the new pairings all over the field. The Britannia cranked up the volume instantaneously, and we played Stoke's game for quite some time. Goal-kicks and throw-ins came bouncing ominously into our box, and the boys were not clearing the ball adequately, as usual. Players like Ramsey and Alex Song, who has been in a teensy-bit of a slump lately, were losing their battles, Bendtner was giving the ball up too easily, Eboue had trouble finding his place, and Fabregas and Nasri just could not buy more than one or two touches.
It was no surprise when Stoke opened the scoring in the eighth minute from, of course, a Rory Delap long throw-in. Song conceded the throw in with an unfortunate bit of footwork on our end of the left wing, and it came in like a beach ball, got flicked on with a pedestrian Bendtner nearby (with Ramsey and Sagna also at the scene of the crime), to be simply headed in by one Tony Pugh, who is just about as famous as his name sounds. It was his first league goal, and his first league start, and, the way he was playing throughout the rest of the game, perhaps the last in both categories. Still, he got his moment of fame, thanks mostly to Emmanuel Eboue, who daftly hopped away from goal when the gut reaction of a quality defender would have been to cover the open man at the far post. Even when Wenger puts him into an offensive role, he just cannot seem to go a game without making a laughably visible defensive mistake.
Besides, the worst was over for Arsenal, who have quite the penchant for coming back when things seemingly could not get worse (while when it continues to get worse). The defense began to calm things down, thanks especially to a near-perfect Gael Clichy. Dan Roebuck is the one, I believe, who commented on ArsenalTV that he is "one of the best one-on-one defenders" he had ever seen. Clichy announced his definitive return with absolutely flawless positioning, the fastest feet in the west, and confident attacking passes and movement. Indeed, in his best stretches, he was our most dangerous player on the left. Campbell's bravery and overall screaming at his teammates--for instance when he commanded his defense to move further from Arsenal's box on a set-piece--made me smile again, and he is becoming my most favorite unsustainable player.
Still, an attacking rhythm was very slow in developing. Fabregas, playing the attacking threat once again, mixed a few one-touches to teammates on the run to one-touches to no one. That was when he got the ball, but when he abandoned deep play, it was difficult enough to bring the ball forward. Song had to play the general, and though his positioning and aggression picked up minute after minute, his passes were very inconsistent. Alongside him was Ramsey, looking quite harried and generally lacking in confidence on the ball, with back-pass after back-pass. Eboue had some cute flicks in the middle and on the right, but nothing that amounted to anything, and Bendtner proved once again that he has a great eye for the right player to give the ball to, while also proving that he does not really know when to give it to that player, as he tried to force a ton of passes that were easily intercepted.
Then, in the space of about five minutes, Fabregas turned on and took hold of the game. A great dummy that let the ball run to Bendtner in the box was followed by a dangerous give-and-go with Nasri, and that was followed by a picture-perfect cross-field ball to Bendtner. Then, he ended a spell of 50-50 balls bouncing around in the air with the simplest of difficult controlling touches, burst into the box, and slid the ball into Sagna for a dangerous cross. Then, he chested down a throw-in, looked up, and put in one of the most perfect crosses you will see for a very, very difficult headed goal from Bendtner, who, after having a moment of ball-watching during Stoke's goal, used his height correctly and placed the ball ever-so-nicely into the top corner of the far side.
Then, Fabregas turned right off, resuming his too-confident, too-cheap giveaways. But his moment of brilliance gave the team a spark. Ramsey entered the game, with sprightly box-to-box tackles and distribution. Song spent the rest of the half forcing the ball toward the vacuum that was Clichy, and Arsenal was getting the ball back as quickly as ever. The ball began to move from right to left, to left to right, and despite some shaky moments in the center of the defense (that's to be expected, though, right?), by the half, Arsenal was certainly on top.
And until Ramsey's injury, Arsenal played at its very best, and it just might have started with the improvement in the play of Ramsey himself. A bit more confidence from him allowed better distribution, and he became that vital link between defense and attack. Mainly, though, it was Fabregas, who put on a vintage display for almost half an hour, with threatening through ball after threatening through ball, and the great low, sliding passes that shifted Stoke's defense all over the place around the box, the kind of passes only Fabregas can make. Well, to be fair, Nasri seemed to think, "I like yo' style!", and entered Nasrigas mode, doubling the threat at times. With Song and Clichy doing their thing, constantly getting the ball back, these players had nothing but reps.
Bendtner got the hang of using his height throughout the game, as Stoke got a taste of their own medicine. His leaping body took defenders out of the game that would have prevented some bouncing balls from causing a lot of the anxiety that Arsenal defenders were (and are) constantly pulling their hair out over. However, Bendtner's touch was clunky and awful, and only deteriorated throughout the game. A penalty left unseen on Ramsey, a laser of a pass from Nasri that Fabregas is probably still hitting himself for not running onto, and several ruined first touches from Bendtner left four or five goals on the doorstep before...it happened.
I will not dwell on Shawcross' tackle. It was not the worst of tackles, in a genuinely 50-50 situation, but it was the leg-breaker of a young and inexperienced player. He seems to have a reputation for dangerous tackles (previous victims: Emmanuel Adebayor and Francis Jeffers), but it honestly did not seem all that malicious, and his reaction was almost as horrifying as the injury itself. But what I cannot stand for is all the various arguments (such as this peach) that it is all indirectly Wenger's fault. One commenter I read once put it best: it is like saying that a sexy woman should be blamed if she is raped because if she either a) dresses sexy, b) didn't show enough experience to avoid it, or c) both. It is absolutely absurd what some people say to argue against what Wenger has to say. Watch that Adebayor video and listen to what the commentator says: Shawcross is "no respecter of reputations"? Really?
Beyond that I have nothing to say. Arsenal is no stranger to injuries, even ones this consequential, and if the rest of this match proved anything, it is that they will chug on.
Chug on they did. Arsenal was shocked, they lost virtually all their rhythm. Rosicky had replaced Ramsey, but though he did a good bit of running around, he had little impact on the game--nobody really could put break through the shock permeating the atmosphere. Stoke, on the other hand, lost literally all their rhythm, and Arsenal had no trouble keeping the ball for most of the remainder of the game. Some good substitutions had little impact on play in general, but arguably made the team more cohesive. Walcott had virtually no touches on the ball throughout his 20 minutes on the field, but Eboue played mostly like a wrench-in-the-gears in his 75 minutes, and though he had some trademark-cheeky give-and-go attempts that re-established Happy Feet's status as Arsenal's lovable wild card, I don't think any of them got off, and he looked quite out-of-place when he was often in the middle of the field. Nasri, who played a relatively quiet game in spite of some dazzling moments, made way for Eduardo in the 84th to help the remaining midfielders, especially Song, find more and more space on the outside of the box.
Most of all, it was sheer mettle that helped Arsenal grind out the win. They had no rhythm, only a desire to grab the goal. They should have had it, when some good distribution from left to right ended with an innocent lob from Song into Eduardo, whose head must certainly have been cloudy when he missed badly on his first touch. Unfortunately, Eduardo showed that he cannot meet a cardinal requirement in the Premier League--willingness to take a hit. I just wonder if he has the heart for risking a tackle anymore. But alas, a shot from Bendtner met a Stoke player's hand (was he looking for it) at the stroke of the 90th minute, and the ref had to give it. Once again, Fabregas chose the side that Sorensen dived to, but put it away, and ran off to celebrate. And for the first time in awhile, the whole team celebrated, as Fabregas smacked his ankle in disdain.
The third goal was just icing on the cake, as a corner taken short came to Rosicky in a ballsy mood. He took a good whack, and when Sorensen saved, Fabregas pounced onto the ball, and knocked it one-touch to Vermaelen, who looked like he had that goal on his mind the second the ball was passed to Rosicky.
What is a vintage performance? Is it the game in which Arsenal plays "vintage Arsenal", or is it the game that will be remembered? These were not stylish goals that you would pay $100 million dollars in wages for a team to score, but these were important goals, difficult goals to score. Those last two goals will probably be remembered longer than Barcelona's recent dizzying goal. This win was as memorable, replayable, vintage, as a win can get--as memorable as the picture we will remember it by. And with that enduring image of the team behaving like a team, overcoming the direst of adverse circumstances for at least the time-being, Arsenal pushes on. Two weeks ago, they were nine points off the title--now, they are three, and only two behind second place. Again, I cannot know what Fabregas said to his team, but I can guess: Let's win the title, for Aaron.