Up For Grabs Now

So we won last night against West Brom thanks to a goal from Sanchez Watt, I said a goal from Sanchez Watt, what? A goal from Sanchez what what. Sanchez – what, has the man no surname, what? No, he’s Sanchez Watt. Ah, Sanchez Watt. Yes. What.

That’s quite enough of that, you might think. And you would be right. Carl Vela popped up for the second one, and that was game over. We were helped by the fact that Jerome Thomas got sent off. This is a nice, circular and almost poetic conclusion to a saga that has been ongoing.

Dedicated and keen-eyed supporters will remember Jerome Thomas as a striker at Arsenal way back in the day who after some early promise fell victim to Arsene’s policy of only having one striker with two first names. In one of our typically made-up exclusives, I can give you the full transcript of their final, fateful exchange:

AW: Ah, hello Jerome.

            JT: Sorry to bother, boss, just I’ve been hearing some rumours.

            AW: Ah yes?

            JT: Well it’s just some of the boys been saying you’re hiring a new striker with two first names.

            AW: Ah, oui. I was meaning to speak with you about this.

            JT: So it’s true?

            AW: A oui. Ah am afraid so.

            JT: But boss!

            AW: Eet is not your fault. Eet is just both of his first names are so very fine.

            JT: What are they?

            AW: Well one of his first names is Henry. And the first first name is Thierry. It is French for Thierry. You must agree it is a fine first name no?

            JT:  What’s wrong with Jerome? Jerome’s a nice first name.

            AW: A oui. But it eez not so French as Thierry.

            JT: Yes its. Jerome. It’s French.

            AW: A oui, but it does not sound so French like Thierry. Thierry is a lovely French first name. Henry is a lovely English first name. It is not your fault that Jerome and Thomas are not such nice first names. I am sorry. I really wanted you to be the striker with two first names, but Thierry and Henry are just much nicer first names. He sounds like an artiste, you sound like a, how you say, peinteir et decorateur…

            JT: mumbling bitterly, crying slightly – I’ll never forget this, boss. You’ve done me over here. I’ll get my revenge one day. Just you wait. In a future Carling Cup match I will slightly push a rising starlet of yours. Then you’ll be sorry!

            AW: Ah ha ha. Oh no, Jerome Thomas. I will not. For after this leetle push a revenge goal will be scored by your nemesis, a young striker with not two, not one, but zheroh first names! EE will be called Sanchez Watt, and of eem up and down the country will be said – Sanchez Watt? And ah will reply, a oui. Sanchez Watt – the bandit with no first names. You may interrogate a Mexican with him. The Mexican Inquistion…non. Actually non.

Nobody expects the Sanchez inquisition. 

Don’t forget you can still win one of five ‘Gaffer’ mugs from our friends down at Philosophy Football. Simply answer the following question – How many doubles have Arsenal won under Arsene Wenger? Answers with your personal details (specifically address/email) to admin@philosophyfootball.com by the end of September. 

Bollocks.

Let’s imagine you’re a professional footballer. A professional footballer from, say, France, or Spain, or England. Or Denmark. You’re paid to try and win matches. One weekend you pack your bags, drive to the stadium in your expensive car, put on your shirt and play very well, play the sort of football you are capable of playing when you put your mind to it, and beat a famously strong opposition.

The next weekend, again you are called upon to play football. You drive to the stadium in your expensive car and put on your shirt. Now here’s the tricky part. What do you do next? Do you:

a) Play very well, the sort of football you are capable of when you put your mind to it and for which you are afforded adulation, cash and a lifestyle beyond the wildest dreams of most of us?

or b) Do you sit down and let a pack of semi-northern assholes run by a haggard besteroided leprechaun run all over you, concede an unfortunate own goal and then roll over and die on your feeble, good for nothing arses?

You tell me. Honestly, you put so much faith in a team and then…

Moment of (very slight) clarity: amongst teams that aren’t in the big four, Villa are very strong. They are considerably better organised than, say, Hull City, to whom we also lost. Had we not lost to the likes of Stoke, Hull City and Fulham, you would say that it’s almost reasonable that we lose to Villa, if we’re going to have a game that we lose to a team outside the top four. However, we did lose to Stoke, Hull City and Fulham, and so losing to Villa feels not only acceptable but worringly deserved.

More tomorrow, no doubt.

For now beers and no MOTD.