I hope this reaches you in good spirits. In fact, I hope this reaches you at all.
If things didn’t go as we’d hoped on Saturday I’m not sure how many of you will have done a Reggie Perrin. I said last week that it can be a bit strange, let alone difficult, to write this as I do, knowing that by the time it reaches you the semi-final will have been played, but writing it during the build-up.
I was going to just cover the day itself, but this is DB’s Season Diary, not DB’s Jolly to Wembley.
The week began in the worst possible way, really, after the shocking performance at Everton. This seems to have been the final straw for a lot of people as far as Arsene Wenger’s reign goes, and the fact that some have come to this conclusion at the beginning of a week that builds up to an FA Cup semi-final feels almost surreal.
The thing is, it is possible to feel that time has come for a change without all of a sudden becoming “Wenger Out”, and thankfully that’s how most normal, sensible people that have come to this conclusion are looking at things.
Of course though, things being the way they are these days it is often the voice of sensible folk that are drowned out by, let’s just call them less sensible folk.
Rather than cunts.
Honestly, I know everyone is entitled to an opinion, and we are all passionate about our club and that, but I swear that the way some people bang on seemingly all day every day is painful at times.
I look at it in the way that if there were no such thing as social media; these people would have to walk up and down the street with a placard or something.
And you need only spend five minutes down Oxford Street to see how cuntish that makes you look. (See below)
Of course, I’m not just talking about the “Wenger Outs”, no, because as sure as if there is a Heaven there must be a Hell, then if there is extreme negativity there is also extreme positivity.
Placard Wars. That would be fun.
Instead of an endless stream of tweets that goes on for days, with everyone going round in circles, we would have Placard Wars. Hundreds of the cunts chasing each other along Oxford Street beating each other with placards.
Spot someone with a different message on their placard to you then assume they are the enemy. (Enemy above?)
That’s the kind of thing that happens when everything is done to extremes.
When you have thousands of mental bastards running up and down the street beating the fuck out of each other with placards, it’s pretty difficult to find your way to some sort of comfortable middle ground, safe from all the lunacy, away from the maddening crowd.
And God forbid anyone who should wander along merrily without carrying a placard at all, you are either one side or the other, you aren’t allowed to sit on the fence, oh no.
A Placard on a fence you cannot sit on!
It’s nigh on fucking impossible to sit on the fence when there are mental cunts with placards trying to knock it down anyway.
I may have digressed somewhat there (let alone use the word “placard” more often than it has ever been used in the history of the word, ever), but let me give you an example of what I’m talking about here….
There seems to be the ridiculous misconception that if you take any offence to Arsene Wenger being abused, then you are a “Wenger apologist” or, ironically, worse. I believe the word “Wenger bum boy” has been bandied about among others.
A lot of people are coming round to the feeling that Arsene’s time is up, but not everyone is as big and clever as the kind of person who finds it acceptable boast about what is essentially telling a 64 year old man to fuck off at a train station.
Now, I don’t know if that actually happened at all, but the fact that there is even the suggestion that it did, and that idiots think it is in any way funny is enough for me.
My feelings on Arsene can wait for another day, but there is no way I would ever abuse a man who has done so much for the club I love, and I will never find it acceptable to do so.
Well, that’s that out of the way.
By the time that all wore off, the nerves kicked in, the butterflies in the stomach had butterflies in their stomach, as thoughts turned to the FA Cup semi-final, a must win game if ever there were won.
Unless you were one of these people who would have been okay with us losing if it meant the manager would leave. I find it unbelievable to read that back to myself again. Anyway, bollocks to anyone who feels like that….
We’re the Famous Arsenal and We’re Going to Wembley
Want a detailed breakdown on how poor we were, how lucky we were or how some of our players just aren’t good enough?
Fuck off and read one the tabloids then, because you ain’t getting that here!
Seriously though, I honestly couldn’t give a shit how we won, WE ARE IN THE FA CUP FINAL!
What a great day it turned out to be. Yes, the game was very painful to watch, and I think I experienced almost every emotion known to man – from excitement, nervousness, touching-clothness and, thankfully, drunkenness.
But fuck it, we won didn’t we?
I would say I was amazed that come Sunday I saw people who were more interested in analysing the worst aspects of our performance than simply enjoying the win, but I don’t think anything amazes me anymore.
In fact, there was one bloke behind us that expended more energy any time one of our players did anything in the slightest wrong than he did celebrating our win.
Imagine that? Imagine being at a point where you can’t bring yourself to even celebrate winning an FA Cup semi-final on penalties, having been a goal down with less than ten minutes to go.
My memories of that day are nothing but good ones, a great day out with some great people, some of whom I met for the first time, and this with a cup final still to come.
Look, everyone is entitled to their opinion, and our recent performances may well have people worrying about the remainder of the season, but sometimes short-termism and losing yourself in the moment can be one of the most enjoyable things about being a football fan. Embrace it, enjoy it.
We’re the famous Arsenal and we’re going to Wembley…..Again!