We barely threatened an equaliser at the end, such was our toothlessness. But I can’t attribute all the blame to the players’ lack of adaptability. They are tired, certainly the trio of Ade, Cesc and Hleb who have featured in a massive amount of games this season

Match Review – Chelsea 2 Arsenal 1 – Premier League

Before I get into the match itself, let my vent my fury at Chelsea’s golden boy:

JOHN TERRY…I’M GLAD OUR BOY EDUARDO KNOCKED YOU THE FUCK OUT OF THE EUROPEAN CHAMPIONSHIPS THIS SUMMER. AS THE SO-CALLED ENGLAND CAPTAIN YOU ARE MEANT TO BE A ROLE MODEL, BUT INSTEAD OF GIVING THE BALL BACK TO MANUEL AFTER WE KICKED IT OFF FOR YOUR PLAYER TO RECEIVE TREATMENT, YOU GO AND PUT IT IN THE CORNER. TWO MINUTES LATER, YOUR TEAM GRABS THE WINNER. THAT IS WHY CHELSEA MAY WIN TROPHIES, BUT WILL NEVER EVER WIN THE RESPECT OF REAL FOOTBALL FANS.

I have a ton of respect for Liverpool, for what they have achieved and the way they go about business. And even Manchester United, I have a grudging respect for them – they might be odious cunts from time to time on the pitch, but you can’t fail to admire their history and the way the bounced back from the tragedy of 1958. And even though they have spent megabucks, it has all come from their own resources of sound business sense and marketing (until very recently of course). But Chelsea? Please. To get anywhere they have to spend a quarter of a billion pounds. Even that is blood money. And then when they reach the top, do they conduct themselves in a manner befitting champions? Do they fuck.

Don’t get me wrong, I am English born and bred. I support the England rugby union team. When England/Britain are competing in major athletics championships, I follow their fortunes. And if Theo comes on this week against the French then I’ll be shouting from the rooftops. But support the team as a whole? No chance. Not when they’re made up of the likes of Terry and the two Coles, Joseph and Cuntley, nor the likes of David Bentley who badmouths us at every given opportunity. Back in the day England used to be led by men of honour: Butcher, Shilton, Lineker, Adams and Ince to name but a few. Even David Beckham brought a vestige of honour to the proceedings. But this amalgamation of arseholes, led by the likes of Terry and the Coles? No fucking chance. This week I will be cheering every touch by Theo, but every time Thierry Henry gets the ball I’ll be willing him to make a mug of Terry, every time Joe Cole has possession I’ll erupt when Flamini/Vieira tackle him, and every time Sagna (if fit) drives forward, I’ll hope he skins Cuntley.

Rant over.

We started unchanged, despite the calls for Theo to replace Eboue wide right. Although it was the same personnel that drew against the Boro last week, the tactics were markedly different as Robin played on the left with Alex in the hole. The way his form has dropped recently, that position resembles a black hole. Le Boss said during the week that he wasn’t gonna resort to an aerial bombardment and that he’d look to get some width in our play, and we showed our intention to do so when Robin was slipped in down the left touchline but couldn’t manufacture a decent cross. A promising start nonetheless.

The calls for Theo to start ahead of Eboue were part because of Eboue’s general lack of end-product, part because he likes a dive and a moan, part because some quarters felt that the venerable JT might have it in for him, and part because he was liable to do something stupid and get sent off. Well he got halfway there as he received the game’s first caution in less than five minutes when he broke too early from the wall to charge down a free-kick which had yet to be taken. What a mug. He firmly stood still for the retake which was curled goalwards by Ballack and would have crept in but for a smart save and catch by Almunia. Our first opportunity came after 15 minutes, and in hindsight it was a golden one. Hleb dribbled and got himself in a tangle but managed to lay it off to Robin. The Dutchman dropped his shoulder to send Essien the wrong way and was perfectly placed 20 yards out on his left peg, but instead of curling it a la Dennis Bergkamp he gave it some welly and it sailed over. A bit more cuteness was required, but at least our man who shoots on sight is back. Robin had another effort about ten minutes later that wasn’t powerful enough to test Cudicini. Straight after this Didier Drogba got on the end of a clearance and galloped clear of our defence. The flag stayed down but as he advanced on Manuel he miscontrolled horribly and the danger averted.

Then came a moment of pure helter-skelter. Clichy got down the left-wing and put in a cross to Ade, who couldn’t get a decent connection on the half-volley with his left foot. The ball though trickled through to Eboue, who himself couldn’t get a decent connection either from only six-yards out and somehow Cudicini stopped the ball with his legs. It’s at scrappy moments like that where we miss the poaching instincts of a Freddie, Pires or Eduardo. As the game looked like it was going to meander through to half-time goalless, we were treated to five minutes of pandemonium. Firstly Kolo got ahead of his marker to get on the end of a corner but his radar was off, the ball eventually going through to Gallas at the back post who struck the woodwork from point-blank range. Willy was adjudged to be offside but Kolo should have done better in the first place. Then down the other end a Lampard free-kick caused havoc in our box as Kalou had a swing and a miss, and in injury time Joe Cole advanced down the right flank and sent the ball into the ‘corridor of uncertainty’ between keeper and defence. In such cases the defenders are unwilling to take control of the situation as any touch will doubtless result in a dreaded own goal, so thankfully Almunia stretched his leg far enough to poke the ball away from the waiting Drogba. Half-time.

The game warmed up as the first-half went on, and the second period began in a similar vein. That said, chances were few and far between until Drogba once again got clear but blazed wide under pressure from Gallas. It really was becoming one of those games where a goal could come from nothing. On 58 minutes Ade had a tame shot easily saved by Cudicini, and then a minute later we won a corner. Prior to the game my Dad felt that Sagna would score and how right he was. Cesc’s corner didn’t get further than the first defender but it didn’t need to as Sagna nipped in front of the blue-shirted hoards and nodded it in at the near post. The way he pointed skywards in his celebration suggested that the goal was for his late brother, and what a time to get your first goal in the red and white.

So we had thirty minutes to defend a one-goal lead. I felt that the longer we held out, the more chance we’d have a grabbing a second, just like at the Emirates when we should’ve have killed the game off. We stood firm but then came the moment from where it all started going downhill as our goalscorer twisted an ankle whilst clearing the ball. To compound our misery, Eboue and Toure then clashed with each other and for a moment we were down to EIGHT men. The three eventually came back on but Sagna was unable to continue and came off for Diaby, causing a tactical rejig. Ballack – who had an effort saved – and Makelele also made way for Belletti (boo!) and Anelka (boo!); two men who have given Gooners nightmares in the recent past. And immediately it paid dividends for Average Grant.

Here’s where the wretched luck came in: Lampard hit a long ball and for the life of me three Chelsea players were offside. Despite this Gallas really should have cleared but mis-timed his jump and the Blues were in. Cue desperate defending from us but eventually the ball fell to Drogba who drilled it home. The tide had turned and it was blue wave after blue wave. Anelka could have grabbed a second straightaway but he dragged his shot wide. Then John Terry took centre stage. Eboue – no angel himself – saw Joe Cole down injured and knocked the ball out of play. After the mess was cleared up, instead of returning the ball to our keeper Terry hit into the corner, so from a position of decent attacking possession we had a throw-in five yards from our goal. Sure we didn’t concede directly from it, but had we got a goal-kick instead then Chelsea may never have scored the second a couple of minutes later as Drogba converted from Anelka’s flick-on. On such small margins do big games rest.

Around this time Theo came on for Robin and soon enough Bendtner came on for Flamini. And here’s where the naivety kicked in. For the first ten minutes of his time on the pitch, Theo didn’t get a single touch of the ball. There were times when Alex or Cesc attempted a dribble or pass too many and failed to spread the play to the young ENGLISHMAN. How naive and narrow-minded was that?! Here’s a kid who is high on confidence and form and has the pace to hurt opposition late in the day, yet he only managed to execute one dribble against his marker during his entire time on the pitch because he didn’t receive the ball enough.

Another thing that the really got my back up was the use of Nicklas Bendtner. Or rather, the lack thereof. The Dane was maybe on the pitch for 8 minutes maximum, but during this time I can count on one hand the number of times we launched it upfield to him and/or Ade. What’s the point of having two huge forwards up top if all you’re gonna do is pass it to death in midfield? We didn’t even get it wide to Theo to provide the pair with some crosses! Ridiculous. A lot of talk has been going on this season about how we’ve finally developed a Plan B, but it was severely lacking here when we needed it most.

We barely threatened an equaliser at the end, such was our toothlessness. But I can’t attribute all the blame to the players’ lack of adaptability. They are tired, certainly the trio of Ade, Cesc and Hleb who have featured in a massive amount of games this season. This is especially true of Ade who has had to carry the strikeforce during the prolonged absence of Robin, and usually he’s had to do it on his own as well. Gone is his zest of the first six months of the seasons – a claim that can be made against the whole team. We’ve simply run out of legs, both mentally and physically, since that fateful day in Birmingham. Had we managed to cobble together a victory that day in the most trying of circumstances, then who knows, things might be altogether very different right now. But we didn’t, and that is the cold hard fact.

An even colder, harder fact is that we have picked up 4 points from a possible 15. That’s a whopping eleven points dropped, which is the difference between first place (where Chelsea or more likely Man Utd will finish) and third (where we will finish, barring an absolute disastrous end to the season). The games against the Scousers take on an even greater significance now. I sure as hell don’t wanna be in a situation where they are breathing down our necks in the league. Finishing fourth would be one hell of an ignominy after what we have achieved thus far – don’t forget that this was only our SECOND league defeat of the season. And of course, with our title dreams in tatters, the European Cup becomes our only beacon of hope. The players can raise themselves for the big nights, as proven by the remarkable result in Milan (our only win in the last six outings). The problem is that the Scousers are the kings of raising themselves for the big European nights. But never mind that, we’ve got a trip to our old buddies Bolton next. Let’s hope the internationals see our boys come through unscathed. Who knows, maybe a change of surroundings can mentally freshen them up a bit? Because we really need to regain some kind of form before the Liverpool trilogy sets in.