The Mad Parson

It’s the season for politics, alas. British candidates for PM have had their second of three debates. American Democrats are trying to get their policies enacted before getting drubbed in November. Parvati has seized the reins of power in Survivor. Everyone’s jockeying for something.

This tends to make a public cynical. British Prime Minister Brown says he’ll tighten up the financial belt this go ’round! Sure. President Obama says his financial plan will hold banks accountable. But have you noticed Goldman Sachs one year return is presently thirty percent? Tim Urban said he was the next American Idol, and we all know how that went.

So it’s the season of skepticism. Arsene Wenger says not to target Emmanuel Adebayor this weekend for verbal abuse? Whatever. We’re going to trade Robin van Persie for two Juventus players? Mm, hmm.

And yet, even the hardest of skeptical hearts carries the soft soil of hope in it. Yes, we want Clegg to keep looking adoringly boyish! Yes, we want bad, bad people to not have bad, bad weapons! Yes, we want Joe Hart between the sticks at the Emirates! (Insert starry eyed hand wringing here.)

The mighty, mighty Arsenal engender that frustrating mix of cynicism and hope, especially as we cannot win the title, but are instead fighting to hold on to third place. Given our recent form, we might be expected to have a T.S. Eliot sort of finish–going out, not with a bang, but a whimper. Footballers and managers and sportswriters will say what they will, and we will respond with varying measures of flippance and anticipation, but at the end of the day, there’s football to play.

Against Man City. Who I love to call nicknames that I can’t print here, since this is really a church blog. They are fighting against a resurgent Sp*rs for fourth place and Champions League qualifying. We are scrapping to secure third place and automatic Champions League play. And then there’s the Adebayor thing. And the reunion of the other Gunners returning in treasonous kits. And the need to feel like we’re making progress this season against last.

So there is a lot at stake here, no matter what anyone says. The stats don’t quite capture the intensity of Saturday’s fixture. Political campaigns are winding down. Reality shows are winding down. This footballing season is winding down. And for us, tomorrow is as important a game as we’ve played thus far. It will be eventful. I don’t have to be a dodgy politician to promise you that. C’mon, you Gunners!

We may have played more games. We may have lost Vermaelen to a dodgy sending off. We may only hold our position temporarily. But, be that as it may, Arsenal have gone top.

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The manager thinks we’ll need something “special” to happen in order to win the Premier League title this year:

“We need something special now to stay in the race, of course. I am conscious of that.”

Well, yes we do, Mr. I-Have-A-Degree-In-Economics. We do, indeed. And that something “special” just might be OPENING UP YOUR FRIGGIN’ CHECKBOOK AND BUYING A COUPLE OF KEY PLAYERS, SUCH AS A ‘KEEPER WHO DOESN’T HEMORRHAGE GOALS.

My eleven year old daughter could do a better job of keeping sheets clean, as she is a goalie herself. For a LACROSSE TEAM!

Are you with me here, Mr Wenger, sir? You have always said that the club is bigger than any one person or even one squad. Yet, in the past several seasons, you have placed both the players’ confidence and your own development project ahead of winning trophies.

Perhaps the embarrassment of this weekend will jolt you into your prior manner of thinking, sir. I can only hope so.

Ah, yes. The fortnight international break–from here on known as “Arsenal’s Agincourt”, given the casualties we suffer–is finally over and it’s time to get back to league football. So, with a nod to all nine senior players still left unharmed, it’s time for a roundup:

Robin van Persie, with the gaffer’s blessing, is having horse placenta rubbed on him in an effort to shorten his recovery period from injury. You know how sometimes you sit in a restaurant looking at the (wine) menu and there are so many choices you are absolutely inundated and can’t make a choice? That’s how I am now. This horse placenta thing is so ripe with innuendo and mockery, that I simply don’t know where to begin. . . .

Here’s the match preview. Mark Lawrenson, who should normally be ridiculed with prejudice, prognosticates a 1-1 draw. Which really isn’t a bad guess, since by game time, we’ll have three more players injured, and will have to resort to fielding four or five of those little boys whose hands we hold walking out of the tunnel. “The Cannon” has more here.

Eduardo signs a new long term contract. Which, of course, means he’ll play for all of seventeen minutes against Sunderland before some Wear-side ship-building crane swings over the Stadium of Light and drops a turbine on him. Whereupon Thomas Vermaelen moves up front and Pat Rice takes the back.

Yes, I have an obligatory link to the Henry handballing madness. And yes, the whole sturm und drang is a bit much. I can deal with the headlines such as “Henry Worst Cheater Ever!” and “Henry More Hated Than Bush!”, but where’s you truly shocking headline? You know, the one that reads, “Former Gunner Henry Gets Through Internationals Uninjured!”? You’re right, fair reader. That would be too much.

Oi, I think that’s it for me on the roundup. My wrists are crocked and I may be out until March. . . .

With the World Cup qualifying playoff match thingys this weekend, there is no Arsenal match to get excited over. No press conference. No need to wash the Arsenal shirt and socks. Leave the scarves and flag folded and put away. Watch college gridiron in the afternoon instead of Gunner football in the morning. Sigh.

Perhaps a few Arsenal tidbits will suffice, however, until such a time as that freeflowing, high scoring, crisp passing, beautiful narcotic known as Arsenal football resumes:

Robin van Persie says he is not a killer. Shame. Leon the Professional is one of my very favorite movies, and I kind of think Robin the Professional would be a nice sequel. With a grown up Natalie Portman in it, of course.

The Arsenal still has a vice or two up our sleeve, though. The only reason our latest prospect didn’t play in the Under 17s is because he got caught with a hooker in his hotel room. At the age of 16. Take that, Wayne Rooney.

As Arsenal Station points out, however, we will leave racketeering to the other clubs. Our solid financial philosophy has us pulling away from the likes of cash-gluttoned Man City and Sp*rs. Heh.

I love capo Jack Wilshere. C’mon, Jack. Show us what you can do.

Ah, that’s better. Maybe I’ll queue up a recorded Arsenal match as a chaser. And no, I don’t have a problem. . . .

It’s really a lovely time to be a Gooner right now. Victories across three competitions against the likes of ‘Pool, Sp*rs, and Alkmaar are not only fun results, but they have been a joy to watch. This weekend, the mighty, mighty Arsenal are back in Premier League action against Wolverhampton Wolves, and with Chelsea and United playing one another Sunday, it’s a chance to edge further up the table. With that in mind, here’s some juicy news to keep you from getting Gunner DTs until kickoff Saturday:

Here’s a preview of Saturday’s match. As long as we don’t get stuck in second gear, the goals should really flow.

American Stan Kroenke has upped his stake in the club, and is a hair away from having to make a takeover bid. No, it’s not going to be a fiscal disaster like Liverpool or Manchester United. I hope he takes over, to be honest.

David Conn, who is truly a peerless football writer, has a fantastic piece on the chairman’s family ties to Arsenal.

If this tour of the stadium doesn’t make you salivate, turn in your autographed picture of Charlie George and all your scarves. You’re not a real Gunner.

Pictures of the Verminator. Heh.

Diaper dandy Craig Eastmond, who did so well in the Carling Cup tie against ‘Pool, is in the marauding horde traveling to Wolves. Good for him.

I suppose that’s enough. Kickoff is 12:30pm EST, and (at least in this neck of the woods), it’s on Setanta. All together now: “C’mon, you Gunners!!”

Another week has slipped through my fingers like water or oil or “sands through the hourglass” or whatever kitschy metaphor you want to use to describe finishing off the week with a litany of things still left on the to-do list.  And yet!  Joy abounds because Saturday brings another outing of the mighty, mighty Arsenal, and in preparation, here are a few items I offer for your pleasure and benefit.

The Telegraph’s match preview makes it look like we’ll obliterate our hated rivals, and then the paper suggests a draw. Whuh?

The captain says that beautiful football can win trophies. And we all know he wants to win trophies.

Here are six memorable North London derbies. Maybe tomorrow’s (Arsenal win) be worthy of joining the list.

We’re never fancied to win anything, yet everyone wants to buy our players. Hmm.

That’s probably enough. It’s an early game tomorrow–ESPN2 shows it at 8:30am EDT, so up and at ‘em. C’mon, Gunners!

A few footballing thoughts to get you through (what is in the American South) a rainy Friday and on toward a beautiful Sunday three pointer:

Andrei Arshavin, almost (choke, cough, gag) a Sp*r, is now a media darling.

Mark Lawrence thinks we beat the Hammers 2-0. Has he not seen our goalie? Has he not seen our attack? The scoreline will be 4-1, says me. Here’s the match up.

It’s only October, and already we’re being linked with players. I thought we were misers? When did that change?

Stan Kroenke comes closer to takeover; says nothing. Smash the Uzbeki pinko, Stan! A new Cold War with a different Arsenal. Heh.

And, last but not colloquially least, our boss thinks he’ll be around for another decade. Well, I hope he is. Because he said he wants trophies. And so do I.

I love it when two interests collide into one. Here is an interview with Danny Karbassiyoon–an Arsenal man and a native Roanoker.

I can’t stand Blackburn, so I’m delighted to see us hang six goals on them. The two we conceded were a bit fluke-ish for me, but there’s nothing odd about the six net-bulgers we got past Paul Robinson.

And while a lot of talk is rightly about Vermaelen and what a buy he is, for me, the Skipper was just class. He assisted four of the six goals, scored the fourth one himself, and then after scoring that goal kissed the badge and pointed to the supporters as if to say, “This is for you”. I think I have a man-crush on him, really.

Here’s his goal: