Necessity is not always the mother of invention. I eatsleepbreathe football and can scarcely find any reason to write about anything else. There was meant to be a syllogism there somewhere, which I am now having trouble picking out, but I don't suppose Fangirls should dally with the discipline of logic.
v. Man City at home
In shiveringly fabulous news, Fabregas marked his return to the pitch after a threeish-month layoff (102 days to be exact, but who is quibbling over trifles?) in truly fine fettle. It is reported that
And so it was that
If Thierry Henry were the Highbury favorite, Cesc is, hands down, the Ashburton Grove darling. And well, he should be. He left the field, with some ten odd minutes to play, to resounding applause and a standing ovation.
Man City has a shabby away record and the game ended two-nil to the Arsenal. The win extended the Gunners' unbeaten run to seventeen matches, the last loss having been inflicted by Man City (three-nil) in the reverse fixture last November.
If the good people of Star Sports or ESPN where more red-minded, I would have had the opportunity to witness Fab's sparkling return. Instead, I turned on the telly just as the lensman was following Frank Lampard. Ick. He was in the process of fumbling a shot, at least. (To be honest, this did not happen. But such is my derision for this South London side that immediately upon registering a sea of blue and a tidal wave of mediocrity, I concluded it to be Chelsea FC, and made FL my marked man.)
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It is the sloooow burn of the international break, and obviously, hardly any newsworthy news. I am close to perishing as another loooong three days loom before Beloved Team plays again. It is a good thing I keep close tabs on Cristiano Ronaldo since he is a
Whoa!
What Might Yet Prove to Be a Good Idea
No Idea. None.
Newsflash.
Photos 1 and 3 are absolute brainbleeds. These are images certain to bring brain activity to a screeching halt. I apologize. I bet my bottom buck that that Gabriela would be nothing more than sorry history in seven yawns, though. At least, I hope she is.
Note:
I was taken in by some stupendously stupid headline today. Haha. I'm having a difficult time believing the ease of my believing. How could such supersensationalism possibly have escaped me? How truly galling, but my goose, the blind panic! I'd like to think that I'm normally more discerning (about football, at least), but here is what ten Arsenal-less days and Photos 1 and 3 result in: complete idiocy.
Call it what you will--- but who is fussed?
I preempt myself, a background follows.
Arsenal played Hull City last Tuesday (Wednesday, 3:40 am local time) in the FA Cup and maintained their recently impervious form with a hand-wringingly exciting come-from-behind win at the Emirates. They are now through to the semi's and face Chavvy Chelsea next.
It was a game of two halves to be sure, Hull, starting the game clearly the livelier, but Arsenal fan that I am, I cannot help myself/but conclude that Nick Barmby merely got lucky with his goal on 18". Barmby's chancy lob deflected off Arsenal defender Johann Djourou to spin past Arsenal keeper, Lukasz Fabianski.
The second half was all Arsenal, as the fired-up Gunners, bombarded City's keeper Boaz Myhill from every imaginable angle, initially to no success before substitutions were introduced (Samir Nasri for Carlos Vela and Nicklas Bendtner for Alexandre Song), changing entirely the complexion of the game. Suddenly, it was roses. Pink ones since Bendtner made sure he had something to do with it.
Bendtnerella
NB, in his pepto bismol pink boots (he got such stick from practically everyone when he debuted his treads in November 08), forayed pacily goalwards, and with footwork as fancy as it was dogged, slid a pass towards Andrei Arshavin (who was playing with an injured foot, no less). AA, hovering by the left post, had the keen mind to conclude that his was a tight angle and an unlikely goal, then decided to send the ball to Robin van Persie, who ended a rather forgettable performance with a charge down the middle for Arsenal's emphatic equalizer on 74"!
There were silly tackles (from Hull), flagrant timewasting (by Hull), half a dozen yellow cards (for Hull and for which they will be fined 25K British Sterling), some crowd abuse (directed at Hull's anti-beautiful tactics), possibly the daftest refereeing in the Prem that I have seen in many a moon (Mike Riley, you alarm me), and game-turningly, a goal from Arsenal's deposed captain William Gallas on 84" (video replays suggest an offside, but do Arsenal fans care?) after a scrum near the touchline, helped, no doubt, by the Hull keeper's amateur clearance.
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