Afternoon:
15°c
If the Supreme Being should grant me reincarnation, I hope to come back as a Borussia Dortmund fan. There were 9,000 or so of them inside the Emirates last night, all having the time of their lives.
Decked out in scarves, hats and flags in the colours of cartoon bumble bees, they dominated the night with ceaseless songs and synchronised jumping, all of which took place to the steady tattoo of a drum. They were exuberant from the start of the match to its end.
That's a fun time. And what's more, I gather back in Dortmund they're allowed to do all this during Bundesliga matches while standing and drinking ice-cold glasses of German pilsner. That's even more of a fun time! Indeed, I think it might be a Teutonic vision of Shangri-la.
Well might they have cheered, at least to start with. They came to Arsenal knowing that a win would keep their team in the running for the Champions League knockout stages. They had beaten Bayern Munich at the weekend and they have ample faith in Jurgen Klopp, the manager with innate poise and a vision for an attacking, intelligent football. Standing on the touchline in north London last night, the 44-year-old looked like something between a hunky lab technician and Robbie Savage with an MBA.
Moreover, Klopp's ambitious, attractive team had one of the brightest young players in Europe among them, in the form of Mario Gotze, a kid in tune with the sublime, despite sharing his surname with the most disgusting internet meme of all time. (Don't google it.)
Unfortunately, despite the jumping, etc, this was a bad night to be a Dortmund fan. Instead of advancing in Europe, they left holding their bratwursts in their hands. Gotze was injured early in the first half, as was Sven Bender.
Robbed of their pizzazz, Dortmund barely had a
chance until Arsenal lost their focus and allowed Shinji Kagawa to score with the last kick of the game. It is still possible for Klopp's team to qualify but they will need to trounce Marseille and hope Arsenal beat Olympiacos in Greece. On second thoughts, cancel the reincarnation. I want to come back as a Gooner.
Arsenal, you see, are through; and in some style. For all the hammering that Arsene Wenger was taking when his side drew 1-1 in Dortmund two months ago, he is the only manager of an English team with any reason to feel satisfied at his Champions League campaign so far.
His salvation, in case you hadn't noticed, has had a great deal to do with the refulgent form of his captain Robin van Persie. By scoring both goals last night, Van Persie became the first player to net 50 times at the Emirates and took his goal total to the calendar year to something in the region of 2,000.
Thierry Henry was watching from the stands (the Arsenal seats - no bumble-bee outfit for him) and Van Persie must have reminded him in some ways of himself. Just as Henry once was, Van Persie is Arsenal at the moment, both the symbol and the means of the excellence they strive for.
If you're thinking, by the way, that this is turning into one of those columns in which I laud the hell out of Van Persie, then introduce a minor key and start blathering on about him signing for Real Madrid in January, you're absolutely right. Here we go.
Blah blah, what if he gets injured, witter witter, might not sign a new contract, blither transfer window, wibble offer too good to refuse, yawn, gripe, Wenger will have to go if his captain does, yadda yadda have you seen the state of Gervinho, rhubarb rhubarb, let's not even start on Park Chu-Young, etc.
That's about the measure of it. You've read it all before and very little has changed, except that Van Persie has scored two more goals. He was lauded from the pitch after last night's match by Arsenal fans whose reaction to winning this season is slowly moving from extreme relief to reassured satisfaction.
The Dortmund fans, meanwhile, raised the roof for their team, even in defeat. It showed immense class, or emboldened mass drunkenness, or perhaps some combination of the two. Which only made me love them more.
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