DB’s Season Diary Week 1 – Time to Turn the Cannon Outwards
Well, the season is now well and truly underway since you last heard from me, and just like I felt after being back at work for five minutes after two weeks away, it feels like it never went away.
In case you’ve been living in a cave, you will be aware that it is the final week of the transfer window, and the countdown to the only day of the year that it is acceptable for a man to wet himself multiple times live on Sky Sports – Transfer Deadline Day.
From an Arsenal point of view though, we don’t have to wait until the final hours of the transfer window for the meltdown to begin, oh no….
Meltdown Number 1
It appears that Olivier Giroud may be out for four months due to the injury picked up in the closing seconds of the draw at Everton.
This is without doubt a huge blow, and even those who wanted him sold at half time against Besiktas last week are up in arms.
Now, as freakish as this injury may be, there can be no doubt that we’ve put ourselves in the position of not having a replacement to step in straight away. This is extremely dangerous for the blood pressure, and underwear, of those who are constantly on the verge of losing their rag at this time of year.
Indeed, with names such as Loic Remy and Danny Welbeck being mentioned on Tuesday morning there’s so much boiled piss that Arsenal Twitter resembles an explosion from a pissed filled kettle at a Nutella factory experiencing an outbreak of dysentery.
It’s not helped by the fact that as I write this we are counting down to Arsene Wenger’s pre-match press conference, with the usual guesses of what he’s going to say flying around. Big LOLZ.
I feel I should point out here that I’m not saying any of these reactions are in any way wrong, I’m not here to tell you what’s right or wrong, I’m just here to observe, my friends.
As you may know by now, I’m a glass half-full kind of guy, and personally I’m doing my best to keep a firm grip on my shit for now. That’s not always easy in this digital age, where it seems the knee-jerking and bandwagon jumping far outweighs a sensible approach.
I know we are all guilty of getting carried away at times, and my passion for The Arsenal has boiled over many times over the years, more often than not against my better judgement. I went to school in the eighties, when Liverpool were winning the league what seemed like every week, and although my school was a stone’s throw from Highbury, it seemed like I was surrounded by Liverpool “fans”.
The fact that I supported my local team meant that I would defend us to the hilt, usually fighting a losing battle – I mean, how do you convince anyone your team is better than the one that’s winning the league every fucking week? – but defend us I would. I know anyone that grew up in the same era did the same too.
In case you’re wondering why I’m going on this trip down memory lane, allow me to explain….
(Actually, that rhymed nicely, make up your own melody and sing that bit if you wish….I just did.)
You see, the thing is, I still feel the need to do the same, to defend my team to the hilt – whether it’s right or wrong – only these days it feels like I’m doing it against my fellow Arsenal fans, rather than those irritating cunts at school. Now, I’m not suggesting for one moment that everything is perfect, or that there should be no concern over what we may or may not be doing on or off the pitch. I’m not even suggesting it’s wrong to spend large parts of your life venting your spleen on social media, if that’s your bag. It’s just that at times like this I yearn for the days that this kind of thing made you man the barricades and turn the cannon outwards, when we used to thrive on this kind of adversity.
It was so much easier back then as well, like;
“Niall Quinn’s shit”
“So’s your mum”
Bang. Job done.
If you had told me back then that 20 or 30 odd years later I would be feeling my blood boil in the same way Liverpool “fans” got it boiling, over listening to Arsenal fans calling our own players, or manager, a “French cunt” or something then I would’ve crawled under my Arsenal duvet and prayed that this futuristic horror world would pass me by.
Meltdown Number Two
Number two being the operative word here, as once again there is shit being lost everywhere.
This time it’s on the day of the game, especially after The Oracle Ornstein tweeted that Arsenal are unlikely to sign a striker, and are scouring the Back of East Bumfuck League Division Three for a player that can play DM, CB, YMCA, GTFO and STFU.
Ornstein is usually a decent source, granted, but once again the reaction is way far south of sensible.
The best thing to do here for me personally is to ignore the meltdowns and once again focus on turning the cannon outward. So, to keep my mind off of the nerves building up for what is a massive game, I decided I’m going to make turning the cannon outward a regular thing here, as it’s easy to forget there are literally hundreds of cunts out there with shit to say about us without worrying about the shitstorm within.
So, you know at the end of the season where you have the POTY, YPOTY, TOTY and whatever other OTY’s? This week I bring to you the COTW…..
I’m sure you’ll figure out what that is….
#COTW #1 – Tony Cascarino
The legendary Tony Cascarino has become well known for his fascinating insights ever since his glittering managerial career at….yeah, exactly.
Now, for the record, I love both Mesut Özil and Lukas Podolski, so I’m not making any comparisons.
The main reason being there’s no fucking reason to compare them. Unless you’re a cunt. Anyway, here’s what Tony had to say;
“If you were to offer me the choice of Mesut Ozil or Lukas Podolski I’d pick the latter every time.”
For a start, nobody would offer you the choice, sunshine, but full marks on the bandwagon jumping for subtly hinting that Özil is lazy in the next breath. I’m not bothering with that quote here, let’s just leave it at the fact that Tony Cascarino is a massive c**t who doesn’t even know if he’s Irish or not.
I’m already feeling better after that, I’m almost looking forward to the game tonight, in fact.
Ahh, the sweet catharsis of reminding yourself of the sheer c**tery that’s out there….
Time to avoid the digital world and onto the game then…
Arsenal 1 Besiktas 0
Never in doubt, eh?
In keeping with the faecal theme this week, we secured our place in the Champions League for the 17th successive season in typical arse clenching, pant dampening Arsenal style. Alexis Sanchez’s first Arsenal goal on the stroke of half time was enough in the end, but not before we’d missed chances to make it comfortable, had Mathieu Debuchy sent off by a shocking ref and run our arses into the ground.
Add to that a couple of hairy moments in the first half where we could’ve conceded penalties and it’s just your typical day in the life of an Arsenal supporter. I’m sure there will have been enough analysis and over analysis by the time you read this, but at the moment the only thing I give a shit about is the fact that we won the tie. One game at a time at the moment.
It didn’t take long for the transfer rumours to start up again the next day, with Sokratis Papastathopoulos, the Greek philosopher who owns the launderette in Eastenders, the latest name being thrown into the hat. This must be a serious mindf**k for the internet ITK’s out there, as he once said “The only true wisdom is in knowing you know nothing.”
I’m going to leave it there for now, time constraints mean that I won’t be covering the Leicester City game, and I’m personally done in with all the nonsense that goes with this Silly Season.
Have yourselves a good Transfer Deadline Day, what will happen will happen, whether you have Twitter or not, and come Saturday there will be eleven players with the Cannon on their chest that we should all be getting behind, whoever they are.
Let’s turn the Cannon outwards….
Up The Arsenal
I should tell you a bit about myself. I’m not a stat man or a tactical genius, and you certainly won’t hear my opinion on Arsenal Football Club finances. Not that there’s anything wrong with any of that, it’s just not my thing. Don’t get me wrong, some do this very well but, for me, football has always been about what’s on the pitch, watching the game, discussing it over a beer with your mates after, then going into work on Monday morning either gloating or defending your team to the hilt, resisting the temptation to punch the token deluded Tottenham fan in the throat. Oh and my Dad and brothers are all with the Dark Side…