A Slow Motion Massacre At Portman Road
This fight was only going to end one way
Just a quick post to cover Sunday’s gorgeous deconstruction of Ipswich which I managed to watch in Copenhagen with some treasured friends. And what a game it was. Arsenal performed a slow motion massacre at Portman Road on Sunday. It was like one of those fights where a half-drunk normal guy steps into the ring with an ex-professional wrestler at some travelling fair. Go Three Rounds With Giant Haystacks - Win 50 quid! And of course, the challenger’s boozy confidence sobered up within seconds of the bell. This fight was only going to end one way.
Kieran McKenna clearly understood that Arsenal’s visit was “the highest standard that we’ve faced this year,” with Arsenal professionals being on a “different level” than the locals. Although it didn’t take an experienced manager to see that. Arsenal had Ipswich in a headlock within a few seconds and the poor tractor boys squirmed and wriggled for the next excruciating 90 minutes.
Unfortunately Leif Davis was under the impression he actually was at a travelling fair when he decided to go for Saka’s achilles heel. Bad luck for the normal guy. All he managed to do was get sent home. Fortunately Saka tapped into his Oblexian power and quietly dismantled the rest of the Ipswich village hard men.
It was the most one-sided game I’ve seen since, well, since Arsenal stormed the Bernabéu and debunked the Myth Of Madrid! Ok, Ok, maybe I should calm down here. I know even the commentators were suggesting calling off the Ipswich match with a handshake but maybe I should rein it in here.
It’s just that usually around this time, when the title has been lost and we’re between Champions League games, our consistency has been as predictable as a teenager’s love life. Even the last time The Invincibles sacked Madrid’s fortifications our Premiership results afterwards were dodgy. But this Arteta team is something else. There’s a solidity and professionalism and self-belief that just won’t lie down. To be honest, Arsenal has spent a few years resembling the drunk guy clambering over the ropes to square up against a steamroller team. But no more. And it’s areal pleasure.
Here’s a thing to ponder. IF we get beaten in the Champions league (this is football after all) and crash out, of course there’ll be disappointment, there’ll be sorrow, but, and here’s the thing, it’ll be a different flavour of disappointment and sorrow. It won’t be so bitter. It won’t be tinged with inevitability and hopelessness. There will be a ripple of faith and pride about it.
Arteta has worked miracles and we know that eventually we are going to win something. This isn’t cockiness or arrogance or blind allegiance. I’ve watched football for a long time. There’s something you can see after so many years of watching some clubs rise up and conquer for a period of time. We’ve even seen it ourselves at Highbury. Wenger came and changed everything. He created The Invincibles by tinkering with everything, from food to fitness to fearlessness.
But from year’s of watching football, I know that eventually it would all end. I knew that the super sweet sensation of perpetual confidence and victory would eventually transform into a bitter taste in the mouth. We all know that eventually human fallibility and inevitable decay will eventually strike more often than a Henry screamer. No one can disagree with that.
But equally, it’s hard to deny the opposite. Occasionally you see something and you just know. As surely as life decays it also flourishes. As soon as Wenger’s team started ascending I knew they were something special. And I know Arteta’s Arsenal are the same. It’s not just throwing Ipswiches local lad’s out of the ring one by one. It’s something else and I know it and Kieran McKenna knows it and you know it too.
Ok, this is just a quick post because there’s not a huge amount to say and Crystal Palace are fast lurching towards Arteta’s Big Fight Travelling Fair. Fingers crossed the local boy’s stick to the rules and no one gets injured.
Have a great day Wonderlanders.