Old Grumpy Knickers still faces a tough time

Matthew Norman
25 Nov 2009

For the second time in a few days north London hosted one of football history's more one-sided affairs . . . but on this occasion the home side failed to deliver the outlandish scoreline their barely broken superiority demanded.

Well, what can you do? Try as lesser teams might - and Arsenal put in a huge effort here when little was strictly required - it is given to very few to score nine in a game. Then again, even against Champions League no-hopers Standard Liege a brace wasn't so bad. It was two more, after all, than Arsene Wenger's chaps managed at Sunderland on Saturday and I know they won't think it remotely patronising if I say jolly well done to them for that.

It must be hoped that Wenger was at least partly pacified by this regulation win against opponents of luminous mediocrity, because no one enjoys seeing the Alsatian suffering a recurrence of the old distemper, as he was after that defeat on Wearside and frothing alarmingly at the mouth.

Old Grumpy Knickers has been in a frightful bate about pretty much everything, lashing out at hacks for asking harmless questions about Theo Walcott, and even lacerating his own lads for their lack of bite.

This was not, to my mind, brilliant man-management. The violence of his reaction to a single defeat, however feckless and wimpish, betrayed in crystal clarity his suspicion that Arsenal have been flattering to deceive yet again.

Many will agree with that diagnosis, suspecting that another season is destined to end in disappointment, but communicating this fear so clearly to his squad seemed undisciplined and self-indulgent, and in the mid-long term likely to do more harm than good.

The immediate effect, having said that, was impressive. Arsenal came out of the traps like a greyhound whose trainer, keen that it reach the first bend in front, has taken the precaution of inserting a spoonful of mustard up its rectum.

With Cesc Fabregas and Alex Song enjoying the freedom of midfield, and Andrey Arshavin swanning around up front, they might have been three up within five minutes. After a quarter-hour, in fact, they could have scored five times in seven seconds, until the craziest game of penalty-box pinball you will ever witness ended with Arshavin selflessly heading a goalbound effort off the Standard line.

As ever when facing a team unable to deny them time and space on the ball, their speed of thought, movement and passing was a joy to behold. For long stretches, the Belgians were simply mesmerised.

Frequently, Arsenal shots were saved or flew narrowly wide, while too often they succumbed to that infuriating over-elaboration by seeking the killer pass when a shot was the smarter option. Emmanuel Eboue should have been booked and then flogged, for a preposterous dive, and God be thanked for Dieudonne Mbokani injecting a little edge into the game by thwacking Manuel Almunia's post on Liege's first sortie deep into Arsenal territory.

As if to underline their general dominance, however, Arsenal waited until briefly down to nine men finally to take the lead. Samir Nasri cashed in on an untimely defensive slip to finish with laconic grace.

After the Austrian referee had bizarrely failed to award Standard a penalty for a William Gallas rugby tackle, the feebly flickering flame of competitiveness was extinguished with the last kick of the half. Denilson's 30-yard drive bamboozled Sinan Bolat, understandably since the ball swerved first one way and then the other like a deranged victim of terminal indecision, and was flapped into the roof of the net.

And that, needless to say, was that. Wenger, fretful and frustrated until then, was now becalmed and so was the second half. Arsenal had their moments, particularly after Walcott and Tomas Rosicky came on, and Liege had a few of their own to set against the dismissal of Mehdi Carcela-Gonzales for a harmless headbutt on Fabregas. But any infinitesimal doubt about the Gunners' qualification for the Champions League knockout stage had died with that second goal, and knowing it the Emirates crowd became typically muted.

Much of what serious noise that gathering of aesthetes has made recently has been bleating about Wenger's refusal, born of stubbornness and egomania, to toughen his side with a couple hardened veterans at the cost of weakening his purist principles.

This may have been a facile win but it offered nothing to persuade those moaning minnies that Arsenal have the defensive backbone to win this trophy. As for the attack, let it suffice that any team that manages barely 22 per cent of the goals Spurs scored on Sunday, against Belgium's Wigan, will strike little fear into the hearts of Barcelona or Real Madrid, much less Sunday's opponents Chelsea.