Arsenal Shines On A Stormy Weekend

Sublime football on the pitch, bread and circuses off of it

I had planned a completely different article this week, but after the bizarre scenes of a government (and an employer) piling in onto a football presenter because he aired the opinion that the plight of the most vulnerable should be softened and not made worse, I found myself compelled to alter course a little. So, apologies for the unscheduled stop, but hey, why not see where this reckless path is leading.

In the past, when presented with a choice in the forest, The dog and I may have taken the more reckless option, climbed down a steep ravine or brazenly headed into an unknown area merely hoping to find my way. There was an underlying adventurousness that appealed to my younger self. These days I take a more thoughtful approach and often opt for the path with the lower penalty should some devil come-a-calling.

When I was younger I was friendlier with risk because I didn’t really understand the consequences, so, in a sense, I didn’t take risks at all, rather I tended toward impulsiveness, thoughtlessness and immediate gratification. As the dog and I crossed a shallow river I thought about how so many of us these days seem so hell bent on a more reckless and dangerous path and I pondered how our current historical period feels so juvenile with its impetuous, thoughtless, constant need.

The Path To The Right - a hurricane of bullshit off the pitch

Here at AW amongst other things, I try (with slender success) to express the idea that the thing we call “football” and “the rest of life” are in fact, one and the same. That there is no planet football with its own codes and ethics and rules and outcomes. Instead there is just one continuous experience that spotlights occasionally on football and sometimes not.

In fact, in last week's article “Saka’s Ankles - A Break From The Past” I wrote (with peculiar portent) “Football is embedded into society. There’s no Planet Football orbiting the Earth, subject to its own moral code. What we consider to be within the boundaries of the spirit of the game depends on the boundaries of the spirit of our times.”

Of course not everyone embraces football in the convoluted and intimate terms I tend to employ. There are plenty of ways of thinking about football (and life) and how its significance (dare I say duty) can be expressed and thought about. For example, football is regularly portrayed as merely a form of entertainment, an enjoyable diversion outside of the rigmarole of proper life, a slicker, more gargantuan form of Bread and Circuses (with the same classist overtones of appeasement and control). Yes, football exhibits a few (mainly) symbolic gestures and sentiments about fairness, equality and anti-racism that offer a nod to the existence of the rest of society, but on the whole the Bread and Circuses mentality suggests that football should stay on the pitch and the rest of life can take care of itself.

So, few days ago, the bubbling tensions within today's social and cultural uneasiness boiled over (once again) when BBC football presenter Gary Lineker made some online comments about the UK govt’s handling of asylum, which caused the UK Govt and the BBC to stumble into a spotlight they preferred to avoid. And naturally, the whole thing immediately accelerated beyond control (beyond belief?) and in less time than it take’s to say “Hold my beer” full scale hostility broke out.

And why the sudden hostility? Well, (coincidentally) my article “Arsenal And The Zombie Narrative” I perfectly encapsulated the substance of this satirical skirmish between a government and a football presenter. I wrote that the late (great) David Graeber described storytelling perfectly when he said “the ultimate, hidden truth of the world is that it’s something that we make, and something we could just as easily make differently”. Because, in our tumultuous times there’s a chronic war of competing storytelling and visions about the future. So what they are really fighting about is power. Same as it’s always been. In this case, it’s a fight about who has the right to even tell the stories that become our truths.

Of course, there’s also a superficial argument about whether Lineker was right (he was) but the real battle is part of the (ongoing) and more substantial war about who has the right to define this world we all share. Whether you like it or not, we live in an extremely politicised world where every sphere of human social relations feels up for grabs (and sadly this isn’t even a contentious statement).

So to navigate these turbulent times, instead of succumbing to the ever blowing hurricane of bullshit and blather, we need to delicately engage in the kind of thoughtful debate that leads to taking balanced decisions. Decisions that eventually effect all of us. We need to remember that we are in fact Citizens and not Consumers. The reaction Lineker encountered stemmed from the fact that he momentarily forgot he was supposed to be merely a Consumer and instead he embodied the role of a Citizen by having a voice and engaging with the world.

We can create guidelines for social media use, fine. But we can never legislate away our right to express the moral conscience that protects us all from the extremes of cruelty our adolescent risk-taking society chooses these days.

The Path To The Left - a sublime display of footballing prowess

Good football is a beautiful harmony between individuals and systems. Teams flow when individuals and the system are in tranquility. Recent shenanigans off the pitch highlight that society is unfortunately struggling, but on the pitch Arsenal produced an extraordinary display of balance.

Trossard anyone? Ok, he may look like he needs a good night’s sleep (something of Gomez Addams love child about him) but he’s obviously wide awake. His hat-trick of assists was sculpted through calm composure, quick feet and football intelligence all working in harmony to spring nutmegs, back heels and passes across the pitch. His close control is sublime. In fact it’s so good I’ve got to say it again. His close control is sublime. What better compliment than to say he’s got a touch of the Ødegaard’s about his footwork. He even pulled off the drawback then nutmeg pass that Martin bedazzled us with a few weeks back.

The almost goal from Xhaka hopping over a bullet pass from Ødegaard to Trossard who cushioned it back into the path of Xhaka. Or the frozen in time through ball from Xhaka for Martinelli’s offsider. Beautiful non-goals are always a sign of good things to come like a red sky at night. And good things came in threes. Three goals. Three assists and three points. Three really is the magic number.

First, The Gabriel Classic: an arrowing inswinger from Trossard tilted with a gentle head nod by our number 6 who rose up as if the crowd in the box were there to lift him.

Second, Xhaka, after receiving an inch perfect cross pitch pass from Mr Tequilla Saliba, charges toward goal like a lone stampede, slides the ball to Trossard who lifts a looping lightweight cross onto the head of a waiting (and apparently invisible) Martinelli.

And then the third, intercepting a Fulham throw-in, our one-man midfield the Octopus Partey heads the ball to Saka who switches play wide to Martinelli who finds Trossard on the overlap and once again the Belgium picks out Ødegaard who shimmies, steps, floats and blasts one into the top left corner in another copyright move.

And to top it all off, in the 76th minute Jesus replaced Martinelli and after three months out he returned to a flourishing Arsenal in as excellent shape as when he departed.

Apparently Craven Cottage was originally a hunting lodge, and Arsenal certainly hunted down their prey on Saturday to give Arteta his 100th Arsenal win with the highest win rate of any Arsenal manager in history. When this was pointed out, Mikel, in his customary eyes-on-the-prize dryness simply replied that 100 wins is not a title.

Dare we? With 11 games to go? Dare we open those hatches to hope, just a smidgen? I’m getting a strange feeling. This iteration of our beloved Arsenal has its own astounding beauty and I’m beginning to imagine…

Ok, thats’ enough. Let’s not go mad here.

Next week (barring another moment of juvenile madness on Planet Football or Planet Earth) I’ll be back with a more familiar format. But in the meantime, batten down those hatches again Gooners, there’s eleven more hurricanes to get through before…before…ahhhhhhhh who knows eh? ;)