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On this morning’s Pre Season Announcement podcast it’s :
Gimli (@GoonerGimli).
&
Danny (@The_GFP).
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Its Gilmi & Danny, there will be swearing and it was 4am ffs.
By The Other Geoff (@Hollefreund)
Have you ever been recruited?
I’m not necessarily talking about football. It could be anything: sports teams, a job, a specific university, the chess club… have you ever had someone attempt to court you for a talent you hold?
Actually don’t answer that. I really don’t want to know about your late night antics in a Welsh bar while trying to woo some member of the opposite sex.
Recently, I’ve had the opportunity to sit in on some recruitment meetings. My son (not the five year-old if you’re keeping track), happens to be pretty good at baseball. You just rolled your eyes didn’t you? Bear with me, this will all work out.
Anyways, he’s just graduated from High School and being that he possesses a talent at this sport, he is being recruited by American Universities and Colleges. The meetings vary a bit depending on who is delivering the message but after a few, they tend to take on a familiar pattern.
The Head Coach, or the Assistant Coach, will meet my son first to see what type of kid he is; to try and establish his character and see what his plans are for the coming year. Afterwards, they’ll introduce themselves to my wife and I and we’ll discuss as a group the potential of our son attending their program.
I’ve found that the best coaches at tackling these conversations already know their perceived strengths and weaknesses, which schools they’re competing with, and how they’ll integrate our son into the team. Once this has been addressed, we get a chance to ask questions, I’ll save the details. Finally, the coach gets his chance to basically “blow smoke.” This is where you hear that your son is the greatest baseball player ever to play the game and they’re a future hall of famer – but only if they attend this program. I get it, I really do. This is the hard sell.
The way this went down for us meant that we had back to back recruitment meetings. While I sat through hard sell after hard sell, my mind started to wander. I’m used to dealing with life in 140 characters and quite frankly the GPA of your Co-Ed Post-Secondary Institution gets a little boring after the 10th run through.
I found myself wondering how this meeting would go if it were Arsene Wenger sitting across from me. The timing of these meetings was such that the Sanchez deal had just been done and it had emerged that a clandestine meeting with Arsene in Brazil had helped seal the deal.
The more I thought about it, the more I realized they probably weren’t all that different. We’ve heard snippets of how these meetings go before. Özil mentioned that it was Wenger’s charm and confidence in the player that influenced his decision to come to North London and I’m certain it was similar with Alexis.
I can imagine him shaking my hand and sitting casually across from me; his charisma and confidence occupying the room like the type of chiseled movie star they put in fancy cologne commercials. Once I’d calmed myself enough to think straight, he’d calmly tell me about a club that is going somewhere:
“Arsenal is a superclub in the making. We have some of the best players in the world and we consistently compete amongst Europe’s Elite in the Champions League. We have state of the art training facilities, a brand new stadium, and the best fans on the planet.”
“We’re currently revamping our youth set-up to be on par with clubs like Bayern Munich and Barcelona, and although we’ve had a barren spell in terms of trophies, we’ve gotten ourselves back on track with the recent FA Cup victory.”
“In players like Mesut Özil and Alexis Sanchez, we are attracting the best players in the world and they are happy to play here. Here is the future vision for Arsenal Football Club and here is the part I see you playing in that.”
One thing that was distinct when talking to all of these coaches was a complete de-emphasis on money. We knew who had money to offer based on everything else that was being described: the facilities, the ballpark, the dormitories, and the success of the program. Sure we’d discuss the business end of the offer at the end of the conversation, but by no means did it dominate proceedings.
I’d never really thought about it before in this way, but once you enter those conversations, the recruiter knows if he can afford to put together a financial package for you or not – so it really is about all of the real factors that make their offer better than their competitors. Money puts the coach in the room, but it isn’t the focus of the discussion.
I can imagine that is something that holds true with Arsene. I just can’t see him talking about our new commercial deals and their impact on salaries. It is quite likely that money would only be talked about between an agent and the elusive Dick Law. Money, I think, would be discussed as an afterthought, maybe even handled with disdain.
Money allows the conversation to happen, and our additional financial firepower means that these meetings are happening with a higher caliber of player, from a Park to a Sanchez if you will, but it isn’t the subject of the meeting at all. How curious indeed.
Unless you’ve been living under a rock, as an Arsenal fan, money has dominated our conversations over the last decade. Do we have money, how have we financed our stadium, can we compete financially, what about Financial Fair Play (not in this blog), how much are our shares worth, when can we ditch our weakened commercial deals for better financial packages? We’ve all become pseudo-accountants ready to pillage the latest financial statements for a hint of that legendary transfer fund war chest.
But money itself, doesn’t recruit the best players, if it did Spurs would be a lot better than they actually were after cashing in on Bale. Certainly you have to be able to pay transfer fees and wages, but that isn’t what I mean. If you take money out of the equation, if you assume we can afford the players we are engaging, what sells them on the Arsenal (besides it not being located in Liverpool)?
I think it’s all of those things that I mentioned, world class players, a manager that is amongst the best in the world, the best facilities, fantastic support, and most importantly, the opportunity to actually win things.
I’d make the argument that this is the club’s reputation. And our club’s reputation is changing yet again; it is evolving, if you will, from a solid Premier League team consistently making it out of the Champions’ League group stages to a club who is part of the World Elite. We’re not there yet, we’ve got to win more trophies including the Champions League and there is more work to be done behind the scenes with our youth academy.
But the signs are positive that we’re headed in the right direction. If you were to pin me down right now and ask what I thought the club’s future direction is, I would answer just this: to become one of the best clubs in the world; a superclub with a reputation of winning trophies while developing our own talent. Money enables that vision to come to fruition but it isn’t the vision in and of itself.
This change makes the Dutch Skunt’s (skunk + c**t) comments two summers ago that much more baffling. Let me remind you for the purposes of ridicule: “unfortunately in this meeting it has again become clear to me that we in many aspects disagree on the way Arsenal FC should move forward.”
What a complete and utter tit.
This isn’t a new thing, something that happened by accident over the last two years. It is the result of the planning and vision that occurred likely in the latter half of the 90’s and perhaps even sooner. We’re reaping the seeds sown by people like David Dein, Danny Fiszman, Ken Friar, and even the manager himself, along with many others.
Newton’s Third Law of Physics states “For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.”
Action and reaction: think about it. In football, there are clubs that act and there are clubs that react. It’s not hard to figure out who the actors and reactors are. Take a look at the transfer market and identify who kicks off multiple transfers. Certainly James Rodriguez and Toni Kroos’ moves to Real Madrid will cause reactions, just as Barcalona’s purchase of Luis Suarez allowed us to move for Sanchez (for the record I’m ok with our reaction on this one). Some teams rarely react to the market, choosing instead to influence it.
They act, and they act with a certain swagger. You know the swagger right? It’s that slow walk to gangster rap; it’s the way you act that tells everyone else who’s boss; it’s Flamini drinking Saint-Géron straight from the bottle with his sleeves hacked off in a smoke filled Marseillais café. The swagger says “I don’t care what you think, I’m doing it my way” without being overly arrogant or condescending. You can’t react and still maintain your swagger.
I laugh a bit when I think about us passing on Fabregas. I didn’t at the time but I’m glad I can now. That’s what a big club does. We acted based on what we needed and didn’t react when he became available. We were in control. I’m not so sure we would have passed him up five years ago (player needs aside).
The same could be said for the possible sale of our captain to Manchester United. If it happens, there can be no other way to look at it as United buying a player that isn’t good enough to be in our starting XI. What a stark contrast to the position we were put in over the Dutch Skunt – remember contractually they were/are both entering their last year of their contract with us. We’re calling the shots with Tommy.
I’m not going to tell you which College my son is going to. I can tell you that the coaches that acted the most professionally, the programs with the best reputation, the ones whose future vision was clear, and the ones who were perceived as being in control, stand the best chance.
That to me is the best way to think about the evolution of our Arsenal. From reaction to action – having the ability to shape what happens around us and not having to rely on anyone else. We are in control of our own destiny. That to me is supremely exciting. We’re getting a swagger back that we haven’t seen since the days of the Invincibles, and more importantly, we’re set-up as a club to sustain it.
You know it!
The Other Geoff
You can follow him on twitter : (@Hollefreund)
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Tonight’s podcast is with these cheeky Gooner’s :
Kris (@AFCfreddie8).
Dom (@ozgooner49).
Jason (@jasondavies71).
Problems using either of the two media players, try these :
Click here to listen to in a new window
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There is some swearing but just keep it quiet or we will all be in trouble.
By The Other Geoff (@Hollefreund)
When I was in elementary school we used to get herded into the gym on occasion to be taught how to dance. It would typically be without any type of advanced warning (as anti-dance fever would strike us all on a predetermined dance day) and did not involve any type of dances recognizable from the previous half century. There was no “Lock & Pop,” “Moonwalking,” or even “Mr. Roboto.”
Mercifully, touching was completely minimized with your dance partner. There is nothing quite as awkward as being 10 years old and having to grip a member of the opposite sex for an hour while you learn to waltz.
Aside from square dancing, which is about as relevant to real life as advanced trigonometry, the dance most practiced was the Foxtrot. Let me give you some quick notes on how this dance goes: the boy would have to start off by making two steps forward slowly while the girl would back-up two steps. Then at a slightly quicker tempo, both step sideways together and let the trailing leg reset to the start position – at which point there is an ever-so-brief pause before repeating. Sounds simple enough, right?
Back to front in two steps, side to side, and a tactical pause. Put together correctly and with more grace than any gangly 10 year old Canadian boy can do justice to; the Foxtrot can paint a grand flowing picture of movement, elegance, and talent.
There are two lessons I learned from those forced get-togethers. One, under no circumstances should you try and avoid picking a female partner – quite the opposite in fact – this should be done as soon as you know its dance day. This rule stems from a simple equation which showed that the class was 2/3rds male and any hesitation would mean you’d be dancing with one of your buddies, or worse, the teacher.
And two, if you wanted to do it right, and I mean really right, the key to the whole move was the final step in the sequence – the reset and subsequent pause. It’s this step that lets you draw a deep breath, take in your surroundings, and adjust the tempo before restarting at the top of the order.
There’s a similar notion in football. Argentinians call it “la pausa:” the pause. The basic premise is that with the ball, you intentionally pause in order for teammates to reach a better position on the field to receive the ball.
The very best players are able to do this without thinking about it. They can see the moving pieces on the field and know instinctively when to slow play down. It confirms a level of footballing intelligence that cannot be taught.
In Argentinian folklore, the most famous player to perfect this technique is Ricardo Bochini; a player who was idolized by Diego Maradona himself. If you want to read more on Bochini, and “la pausa”, I would highly recommend this excellent piece by Jonathan Wilson from the Guardian.
The way Bochini describes those critical moments while everything happens is nothing short of genius in that article: “None of this is something that you can teach; I believe it comes in the moment, it depends on the inspiration of your players. You have to know how to make “la pausa” and another has to know that while the team-mate is making “la pausa”, he’s also watching who’s going to make the proper movement in order to surprise the opposition. “La pausa”without a team-mate that collaborates is just holding the ball until, perhaps, you get fouled and waste some time, if you need to waste time.”
As Arsenal fans, we’ve been treated to our own footballing geniuses. From Thierry Henry to Liam Brady, we’ve feasted on supreme skill like Luis Suarez at an all you can eat Italian restaurant. Above all of the supremely-intelligent players to wear our red and white, there stands one whose footballing IQ was beyond reproach:
Dennis could do it all couldn’t he? From deftly finished goals to sublime touches, he is our best 10 ever. I say this with no disrespect to the other players that have worn that number for the Arsenal, but surely there can be no argument. Dennis Bergkamp was on a different level, in a different game, on a different planet, in a different universe.
Dennis knew the pause too.
December 4th, 2001. It’s the Champions League versus Juventus at Highbury. We’re up 2-1 and it’s the 87th minute; Freddie surged forward from our own half and laid the ball to Dennis on the right. What happened next is pure, unadulterated football porn. Freddie didn’t immediately realize what was happening. Dennis did. He held the ball and waited before delivering what can only be described as the most beautiful assist you will ever see. You can watch it here from minute 4:11.
Thierry Henry describes that moment as his favourite Dennis Bergkamp assist in Dennis’ book, Stillness and Speed: “It’s perfect. For me that’s his best assist [because] Dennis waits. That’s Dennis Bergkamp. Any other player would have played the ball first touch and then screamed about it: ‘Hey! You didn’t move!’ But Dennis sees the player isn’t moving, so he waits and he’s toying with all the defenders around him and he’s like ‘Come on Freddie….’ Aaaaah, it’s so beautiful….!”
The pause is such an offensive weapon. The best players at the pause, Dennis and Bochini included, occupy the number 10 for their respective teams. Of course it’s not only the 10, but also wingers and centre forwards when they need to hold up play to allow others to join the attack. Here’s the thing though, the pause doesn’t exist without the other movements on the field.
Think back to the Foxtrot. The Foxtrot is not the Foxtrot without all four steps. Without the preceding three steps, the reset and the pause are utterly meaningless.
So too, in the grand dance that is football. Without moving the ball from back to front, without the intelligence of the runners, without the sideways glance to check the timing, the pause is futile – it’s a moment of nothingness without the footballing context.
The World Cup has coughed up some absolutely scintillating personal performances. James Rodriguez, Joel Campbell, and Guillermo Ochoa have been so exciting to watch – especially in the group stages where goals were the absolute currency of choice.
One of the performances I found particularly fascinating was that of Andrea Pirlo against England. He was imperious as he glided around the pitch, his beard glistening in the Manuas evening air. Yes, I’m aware of the Pirlo hipster fanboy club, but honestly I don’t care. He has undeniable quality and at 35 years old, it is unfortunate that we’ll likely never see him again on the world stage.
He occupied the deep lying playmaker role and he owned this position for the full 90 minutes. As the playmaker, he rarely passed the ball sideways or backwards. I was mesmerized by this. Every time he picked the ball up, he found a team mate in an advanced position. He moved the ball forward quickly and precisely and only reserved the sideways pass for the purpose of retention; it was an act of disdain.
This type of ball movement allowed him to simultaneously control the tempo and destabilize the defensive unit of England; all the while subtly bringing players higher up the field into the game. He was the metronome, keeping time for the ebb and flow of the surrounding football match – he was taking the two steps forward; one player, playing intelligent balls from back to front in a calculated way.
Pirlo was breathing life into the footballing Foxtrot right in front of my eyes; just as Dennis and Ricardo Bochini had embodied the pause, Pirlo was laying out the two steps forward for all that dared to watch.
As I stared at the television in front of me, captivated by the caliber of passing by the Italian, it struck me that this was a dimension of play that Arsenal should be looking for in that fabled centre defensive midfielder position. It wouldn’t be enough to be strong in the tackle, to be defensive minded, to cover our fullbacks when they get forward, to intimidate other teams with their physical presence. Whoever we’re after, and I do believe we’ll fill this position in this transfer window, needs to contribute offensively as well.
The way Arsenal play, and the pace at which the Premier League is played at, mean that we don’t have the luxury of fielding passengers. Each man, from Szczęsny to Giroud, has both an offensive and defensive role to play when they take to the field. The same must be said about a centre defensive midfielder – especially if we want to compliment the box-to-box style of Ramsey and the attacking verve of Mesut.
We need that metronome, someone to take the first two steps of the Foxtrot before handing it over to our supremely talented attackers; strong in the tackle but equally talented in passing through a team. We need the hybrid defensive midfielder and deep-lying playmaker. This suits our game when we play with an emphasis on defensive solidarity and quick counter attacking football; which was a common trait in our tactics in the first half of last season.
That role is so crucial to the way we play and the offensive contribution of a defensive midfielder shouldn’t be overlooked. Moving the ball from back to front provides new purpose to the attractive brand of football we play. It gives meaning to the little moments of footballing genius that players like Özil and Santi give us over the course of a game. It’s attacking football in four steps.
When orchestrated by the most gifted of dancers, attacking football can be the Foxtrot: that flowing picture of movement, elegance, and talent performed with timing, precision, and skill.
By all accounts we’re assembling those dancers in this transfer window. We aren’t far off. In fact we might just be a defensive metronome away from witnessing a new era of on field success – all while producing the stunningly beautiful football we’ve been associated with in the past.
Youknowit!
The Other Geoff
You can follow him on twitter : (@Hollefreund)
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Tonight’s podcast is with these 4 cheeky Gooner’s :
Kris (@AFCfreddie8).
Dom (@ozgooner49).
Thomas (@tmundt3).
Danny (@The_GFP).
From : The Highbury Inn
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There is some swearing but just keep it quiet or we will all be in trouble.
Subscribe: RSS
Tonight’s podcast is with these cheeky Gooner’s :
Gimli (@goonergimli).
Kris (@AFCfreddie8).
John (@nytak_).
Problems using either of the two media players, try these :
Click here to listen to in a new window
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Click here to listen via iTunes
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Right Click Here then “Save link as” for .mp3
There is swearing as always but we have world cup fatigue and need eggs.
By Paul Sweeny (@thesweeney51)
1) Football’s become a goal scoring arms race and Arsenal need to weapon up
This World Cup’s seen the most goals scored at a final in a very long time – 3.14 goals on average per game. No World Cup has averaged over three goals per game since 1958.
This broadly mirrors the trend in Europe’s elite leagues. The average goals per game in the Premier League was 2.58 from 2006-10, but 2.79 from 2010-14.
Gone are the days where a team might only concede 17 league goals in a Premier League season – as Arsenal managed in the 98-99 season. Arsenal conceded 42 goals last season, only narrowly bettered by eventual champions Man City on 37. It would obviously be preferable if Arsenal could not concede the bulk of these against their title rivals in devastating losses.
The rules of the game continue to swing away from defenders in favour of attacking players. I’d love to see stats on “tackles attempted” versus “fouls given” over a long period of time. Unscientifically I’d expect to see the proportion of “fouls given” steadily on the increase.
Even the disappearing foam in use during the World Cup inhibits defenders charging at free kicks – another step down the path of dis-empowering defenders.
Modern TV and fans demand goals to fill highlight reels and TV montages. Not Tony Adams organising an offside trap.
Arsenal scored 68 goals last season compared Man City’s 102 and Liverpool’s 101, requiring exactly 50 percent more goals to match the champion’s total.
Giroud plus Sanogo simply doesn’t cut it.
2) The post-possession era?
As the Spanish cycle naturally comes to an end due to the age profile of the team, it would be very easy to make sweeping statements about possession based football.
Tika-Taka was made possible by the likes Xavi and Iniesta playing at almost impossibly high levels.
Germany aside, the most effective teams in this World Cup have moved the ball quickly and directly through midfield, exploiting defences before they’re set.
Arsenal was put to the sword by Liverpool, Chelsea and City last season in a similar style. With Van Gaal’s Holland deploying the tactic better than most in Brazil, we can probably expect Manchester United to evolve into something similar.
Arsene would do well to spend his time in Brazil watching the likes of Colombia, Holland and Chile, and how teams set up against them.
3) Where does Jack Wilshere fit in for club and country?
Anyone watching Wilshere emerge a few years ago and suggesting he’ll be ousted from the international side by Jordan Henderson would have been laughed out of town.
But that’s exactly what’s happened – and deservedly so.
His England career – and Arsenal, you could argue – hasn’t taken off as many hoped. Progress has been hampered by injuries, a frustrating tendency to hold onto the ball for a second too long and the emergence of viable alternatives.
He looked like the future of the England midfield, now he finds himself sandwiched in a hinterland between the retiring Gerrard and Lampard and the emerging talents of Barkley and Sterling.
At Arsenal he finds Ramsey and Özil occupying his two preferred positions and the club reportedly on the lookout for a new defensive midfielder.
There’s still time for Wilshere – he need only look at his club mate Aaron Ramsey for inspiration – but his time of reckoning is approaching fast.
You can follow him on twitter : (@thesweeney51)
By Michael Steyn (@Die_Kanonnier)
In the afterglow of Arsenal’s 2014 FA Cup win some of the more prominent Gooners on Twitter re-tweeted a Niagara of photographs and YouTube videos of celebrating fans from across the world. As I sat in front of my computer at my home on the South coast of South Africa hugging myself and punching the air with my imaginary Gooner friends those pictures and, in particular, the overwhelming response to them gave me an especially warm and cuddly feeling.
I am not English, nor have I ever lived in England, but I am a Gooner and I claim that title, I think I’ve earned it. I was raised supporting The Arsenal so I suppose one could say that I’ve been a Gooner my whole life. But when you fall in love there is supposed to be a moment and there was for me; Alan Sunderland’s winner in the 1979 Cup Final. That was the point of no return. I was hopelessly and irretrievably infatuated. When I re-watch that goal (which I often do), I still get a perverse kick from the fact that it was the South African raised, Gary Bailey that flapped at Graham Rix’s cross.
In South Africa at the time, the FA Cup final was the only game shown on television. Keeping up with The Arsenal proved difficult and frustrating. I relied on Shoot Magazine for news and on the crackling and often unreliable BBC World Service on Short Wave radio for results. Many, many hours were spent on my bedroom floor hoping that the signal would last just long enough to get the score. I listened to so much Morse-Code during those years it’s a bit surprising I can’t decipher it.
One of, if not, the first, league games to be shown live on South African television was one some of you may also remember. It was played on May 26, 1989 at Anfield. Imagine that! The first league game I ever saw, the first league title in my lifetime, watched from a hard wooden bench at the school boarding house with a room full of Liverpool supporters. I couldn’t sleep that night, I was beside myself.
The 1990’s brought satellite television, Supersport and live Premier League football. I am now in the privileged position of being able to watch every single game that Arsenal play live. Even the Emirates Cup is broadcast live. So I arrange my life around making sure that I see as many as possible without completely alienating friends and family. What’s that? … Oh. It seems I do alienate them, but they understand. It is The Arsenal.
Being able to watch my great love was never going to be enough for me though. I was still more or less alone. There is no supporter’s club where I live. I don’t think there are more than 4 or 5 Gooners in the area. There is my Mother (who never misses a game) and a friend with whom I converse daily. That’s fun and I love going over to watch games with my Mother who gets more excited and upset and emotionally invested than perhaps she should. But who am I to talk.
I found out exactly what I was missing when, in December 2005, I made a pilgrimage to Highbury and watched Arsenal tear Portsmouth apart. I saw Henry and Bergkamp score and roared with delight as the net at the Clock End bulged four times that night. It felt like home, welcoming and familiar.
I knew that night though that I wanted not just to be part of the Gooner family but to feel part of it. In a slight way the 21st century with its internet forums and Twitter has given me that. I have “met” people that I chat with online. I hear views that mirror and differ from my own and partake in discussions about players and the club. I have all the news and reaction to the news at the end of my right index finger – Which brings me back to the celebrating Gooners on Twitter.
There are thousands and thousands of Gooners like me around the world and the pictures allowed those in North London to catch a glimpse of what The Arsenal means to us. We dream with you, we laugh with you, we cry with you and we sing with you even if it is from the couch in our living rooms. We are Gooners and we love The Arsenal.
You can follow him on twitter : (@Die_Kanonnier)
By Dave Hillier (@davehillierr)
The definition of a Masochist according to Webster’s dictionary: One who takes pleasure in being abused or dominated; a taste for suffering. If you take that definition and apply it to football, there is only one (not wanting to start a new football chant or anything) sporting masochist and that is the loyal football supporter.
The diehard, rain soaked, piss taken out of, scarf clad, claxon wielding, empty wallet fan. The one who puts his team before wife and kids, his beloved dog and quite often Saturday afternoon fun doing something else, but why?
Belief! Belief that your song, your voice, your £92 for a ticket (that’s what I paid for AFC v MCFC) can make a difference. And if it does – you get bragging rights down at the pub. You get to be listened to when the ball comes out in the office. Your opinions matter.
Then you lose three in a row, drop out of the conversation and the feeling at five to three on Saturday is no longer a gentle buzz in your throat and a warm feeling in your heart – It’s a nerve wrenching sickness.
It’s a pulsating, throbbing ache in your shoulders – tightening every minute your team doesn’t perform to their best. Yes! It’s YOUR TEAM – you are part of them, you feel their pain. The pain of each misdirected pass by each player, eleven times over the disappointment of every player streams through you; but you still believe. You still sing, shout, hope, curse and the ‘fat lady’ is not singing yet.
Then it happens, that spherical piece of leather that men chase and kick crosses the white line and ripples the back of the enemies net………joy, euphoria and pain! Good pain, the pain of relief, of exultation, of bragging rights returning, of the hope, belief and faith that you gave being justified. You did it! Your support made the difference, your screams, your fight, your ability to withstand pain, and at the very end – get pleasure!
Like I said in the beginning; the definition of a Masochist is…
A FOOTBALL FAN.
You can follow him on twitter : (@davehillierr)
