Those of you that remember the days gone by in which I posted regularly might recall that what I wrote came with a certain format; a way of writing that was, quite frankly, set to inform first and foremost. Therein lies the reason for such a prolonged absence from blogging – something that I’ve always held dear to my heart.
You see, folks – I became lost in my attempts to deliver a structured, informative blog. The truth is it quickly bored me. I believe my strength in writing lies in it being an extension of myself – warts, blunders and all. What I enjoy most is posting articles about Arsenal, first and foremost, but scattershot pieces that encapsulate myself. Blogging, to me, is something I wish to be my own.
So, I’ve decided to do this the way I want as opposed to that which I believe is the acceptable. In short, I’m going to write this site in exactly the way I want to and that means certain elements are going to be cast aside.
So, blathering aside, let’s get into things.
It’s actually quite tricky to know where to begin when you’ve been away for such a while. Since I last posted with anything like regularity, Arsenal’s fortunes have gone from fairly middling to some truly excellent form that has seen us surge upwards. Such a thing might make me believe I”m a terrible omen to the team, were I to actually put any stock into my ability to influence anything at all.
So, instead of re-tredding ground previously plodded amiably by others, I looked across the swirling madness of the online community and decided to pick the very first story I saw and discuss that – Petr Cech moving to Arsenal in the summer.
I’ve had this discussion with friends before on quite a few occasions. Quite a considerable amount of folks find themselves slobbering with delight at the very mention of the transfer coming to fruition. I’m in the minority. I don’t particularly like the idea and, perhaps more importantly, I don’t see a cat in Hell’s chance of it happening.
(On a quick side note; that expression has never made sense to me – “a cat in Hell’s chance”. Cats, more so than most domesticated animals, have it within themselves to be truly evil. I’ve seen cats pull some truly malicious sh*t in my time and they’re built for malevolence with those nasty teeth and surprisingly sharp-as-fu*k claws. Personally I think cats would thrive in Hell, not struggle to acclimatise)
Would Mourinho, the loathsome merchant of douchebaggery that he is, sell a player he rates as highly as Cech to another Premiership side he considers a threat? He wouldn’t allow a striker as painfully average as Demba Ba to move to Arsenal becuase of what Arsene can do with players, so I can’t imagine he’ll let Cech head across London.
Also, I think there are better options across World Football. Asimir Begovic at Stoke, for example, is younger and would offer us far more than a couple of seasons. My knowledge of European Football isn’t exactly the best, but I’m sure we could go for someone youthful and hungry as opposed to a man in the twilight of a career that’s already won all the accolades.
But hey – such things are wild speculation and matter not a jot. I do believe we need to take a look at the No1 position over the summer but Arsene has never thrown vast sums at the defensive areas. However, we haven’t had a truly brilliant keeper since the memorable days of “Mad” Jens Lehmann,
I can’t help thinking that someone just like him is exactly what we need.
Right, that’s where I’ll end things today. Tomorrow I’ll be back with more. Until that time, why not pop me a line in the comments section below. You know it makes me feel all warm, fuzzy and appreciated.
As always; thanks for reading, you beautiful bastards.
PS: Whilst jotting all this down, the Champions League semi-final between Barcelona and Bayern Munich is playing in the background (I always write the night before and publish the following morning). Just as I’ve finished typing, Lionel Messi danced magically through the German defence twice in the space of 3 minutes. Gary Neville’s orgasmic moans lead me to believe it’s something of a special game. The sacrifices I make…
I’m off to watch the goals and stifle my nausea at the drooling sycophancy.