Morning, crazy cats. As I type (I’m writing this the night before) the Superbowl is playing in the background. Someone’s winning 9-0, there’s an obscene amount of razzmatazz and spectacle and I’ve utterly no fucking idea what’s going on. Instances such as this make me glad I follow proper football; a game that actually requires the use of foot to distribute ball. American sports and their grotesque excess make me laugh. Where else could you find a ‘world series’ that only has competitors from a single country?
That’s enough of my witless and extraneous blathering. Onwards to more pressing concerns, fair reader of this blog:
Robin van Persie is in the form of his life, he plays for Arsenal and his contract expires at the end of next season. So it’s inevitable that our greasy and indecent friends from Catalonia have started sniffing around the Dutchman. They’ve denied any approach, but given the unscrupulous manner in which they conduct their business, I’m inclined to assume every quote attributed to them regarding denial is utter horseshit. I really do hate them; they disgust me with their DNA-enthusing urchins and petulant sense of entitlement. They may play pretty football, but it’s a club filled to capacity with abhorrent human beings.
With Man City and Real Madrid allegedly monitoring the situation closely, I worry the upcoming summer months are going to be very familiar for us Gooners. I love Robin, god knows we need him to stay, but I’m increasingly more resigned to losing him to the big spenders – something that’s practically a certainty if we don’t reach 4th, in my opinion. He’s 28 and his next contract renewal will be his last major one. How many of us could seriously claim we wouldn’t go work somewhere else if our wages were tripled? I’d be there like greased lightning. The glimmer of hope I do have is loyalty. Robin’s career has been plagued by injury, and Arsenal have stood by him and supported him all the way. If 2011/2012 turns out to be his first full season in English football, perhaps he’ll think he owes us a bit more than that.
That’s all a bit depressing though, isn’t it. We’ve had a good weekend and now’s not the time for dwelling on potential departures. Instead, I’m going focus on the selection dilemma facing Le Boss when the enormous forehead returns from cup duty in Africa. In his absence, Alex Oxlade-Chamerblain has flourished and taken to Premiership football remarkably quickly. The kid has everything; speed, technique, a range of passing, energy, determination and intelligence.
Where Gervinho and Walcott can evoke blind fury with their profligacy, The Ox fills the supporter with the belief he can make something happen. Granted, we may be getting a little ahead of ourselves after two games, but the general consensus amongst the Gooner fraternity is he warrants a place in the starting line-up. The question that remains is who partners him on the flanks?
Theo has shown glimpses of good form, unfortunately, however, he’s shown equal amounts of how jarringly shit-awful he can be. Gervinho may share similar faults, yet his head never appears to drop when things he attempts don’t quite come off. The Ivorian tends to be maligned by many fans, but I like his enthusiasm. It’s his first season in a new league, in a new country. Robert Pires took a season to fully adapt to the rigours of the Premiership before showing his true class. Gervinho is unlikely to reach such graceful heights, but I do believe in his potential for improvement. I’d personally drop Theo to the bench. Pace is his greatest threat, and unleashing that upon weary defenders with 20 minutes remaining is a good option to have, as is the potential for deploying him as a striker.
Thanks for reading, you beautiful bastards. What are you views? Let me know in the comments and take a moment to follow me on Twitter – @Puddleduck1978.