It ain't over 'til it's over (although it's actually over)

Someone told me a good one today. “How do you know it’s spring?” he asked, smirking like a moron, “because Arsenal’s season is over”. I could have protested that the league was still mathematically possible. I could have pointed out that Arsenal have only been around since 1886, whereas mankind has acknowledged the passing of the seasons with great success at least since the birth of agriculture, around the time of the emergence of homo erectus. I could have punched him in the face (forget homo erectus, neaderthals understand only one thing). But despite the fact that that joke wouldn’t even have got a decent chuckle out of Teddy Sheringham, the point of telling it is simply to compete; reason being that the bloke telling it is a Sunderland fan. It’s not like he’s going to get that many opportunities to rub anything much in my face for the rest of his life.

I know it hurts the players to lose. After all they sweated for it. But they also have plenty of ways to get a sense of perspective about it. Firstly they usually know, and often socialise with, members of the opposition team. I don’t. As soon as football conversation breaks out I get so partisan I’m impossible company. I’ve seen them shaking hands and catching up in the tunnel beforehand. I have to say it’s a nice aspect of the game, that sportsmanship and camaraderie. Shame that special bond they share across the divide might just as well be an athletic girl called Tina who does a peculiar trick with a brandy glass.

Second, in their mind it’s often just a bad day at work. For me it’s a bad day out - one which I had really been looking forward to and which cost me half a weeks salary all in. Or it’s a bad time down the pub - one which I had really been looking forward to and can cost a fair bit as well. Or, worst of all, it’s a bad day at home, which no one in my family looks forward to. Our new cat has learned to climb out the window when Sky Sports theme tune comes on.

Thirdly, can I just jump ship and be on someone elses side, like they can? If I was lucky enough to suddenly improve beyond my wildest imagination and get picked for Manchester City’s first team (yeah I know, but Ronaldinho though? It might as well be me) and we were drawn against Arsenal; I’d score in my own teams goal…repeatedly, and deliberately, as often as it was possible, until Richard Dunne chinned me. It’s not just Man City. That goes for any team that picks me. I’m a bloody liability if we come up against The Gunners.”Better off leaving me on the bench for this one, Gaffer”. I must admit at this point that I did go with some local lads to support Peterborough United in a crucial away tie at Milton Keynes Dons and was heard to sing some songs using more than one form of personal pronoun. But it doesn’t count because the Posh IS my local team and I DO want to see them go up (despite their coach being the allegedly wifebeating son of Beelzebub) and also because Milton Keynes is a made up town with a borrowed football team, and also because the coach down there was laid on free; kind of an obligation to bellow “Shoot the Cambridge Scum” out of the bus window…be rude not to.

And one thing I don’t get at work, if I fail, is such a huge fucking paycheque that I can outright buy a brand new Merc for cash at the end of my first week. It’s a truism but its true - supporters must be short changed if footballers are to be lavishly compensated. If someone offered me £100,000 a week for the next 10 years of my life to be their slave I would probably lap it up. That Demi Moore would be out on her backside and I’d be hoovering Robert Redford’s shagpile wearing nothing but a smile quicker than you can spell Woody Harrelson.

But suffer we must. The league actually is still a mathematical possibility as I write, but it’s daft to imagine the possibility. We failed to beat either Manure or Chelski and we’re behind them in the league. I absolutely detest Old Trafford by the way. It rains. It’s full of some of the worst people from Manchester and some of the worst people from Guildford. You’ll never get a fair referee, their fouls cost you double in injuries, yours cost you double in cards. The pitch is miles away. The acoustics are crap. That mancunian accent like they swallowed a wah peddle. Have I mentioned how much it rains? It really does. The Devils’ Urinal it is. Winning there was like needing the bull to give you an out when your opponent has three darts and just one double to aim at — it really wasn't on.

So my suggestion is to make your summer plans now. I have an allotment and that is a constant whirl of planning, digging, cursing and digging. Really I don’t have time to think. I also haven’t been fishing for a few years now, so that’s another one you could consider - although the reason I jacked it in is that too much time to contemplate your life near deep water is slightly tempting fate if you happen to go after a particularly painful defeat, so maybe not. The Mrs or Mr and and Masters and Misses in your life will be very grateful if you could turn your attention to booking a holiday, perhaps. My suggestion as a destination would be America. The dollars worth a pittance right now and there is guaranteed to be no proper football being played anywhere that you might accidentally wander in to and even if you did, no one will be talking about it.

If you really have to have a dose of sport up your schnoo, there are other sports you know. Not proper ones, but some of them help pass the time. For my part I was particularly cheered by the smack of willow on leather lederhosen that signaled the opening of the Formula One season. There motor racing is a loss leading sideshow to the main event — intrigue, perversion and greed that makes the Colby’s look like the Flumps. The sound of leather on polycarbonate encrusted stump camera will alert you to the fact that New Zealand are in town. The great thing about England v The Silver Ferns is watching two teams competitively outunderperform each other (there’s a word for Ian Dowie to conjure with). Keystone Cops Part Deux is brought to you in association with that luminous bat handle tape specially designed so that Chris Martin knows which end to grab. The county cricket season should be good too. Unlike in the football, the denizens of the more genteel side of Old Trafford are taken right to the wire and then ritually eviscerated every year by anyone who wants it. In the last couple of years it’s been Sussex who had not won anything at all before that, not even an egg cup, for well over 100 years and still managed to pip them. Martin Johnson is in charge of Englands Rugby Union team. There’s plenty of talent there but leadership is needed and Johnson could lead a bull elephant up a ladder (and if not, he could probably push it up). I won’t mention rugby league, since it is a northern pastime and therefore not a proper sport (and neither is sheep worrying or ladies tandem gruntfuttock, in case you ask, even if you play Keighley Rules). Forget Wimbledon. Footballers are selfish and egotistical enough without watching Andy Murray try to sulk the moon into orbit around his own head. And no one should have to listen to Cliff Richard whilst trapped on a cramped bench in the rain by a detachment of Royal Naval Reserves; that is a special punishment we ought to save for Roman Abramovich once someone finds out what he really did to get all that lolly.

The important things is not to dwell on Arsenal whilst they’re on a break. They won’t be thinking about you at all.

I don’t imagine that we’ll be buying any dream players, despite this season proving to most of us that a squad with two internationals in every position and a perversely risk free and conservative playing style is the sine qua non of Premiership and European success. This season really did Arsenal and us fans a big favour you see. My 10 reasons why this season was actually a success:

1. Adebayor came of age. Without Henry to hide behind he had just one season to go it alone front up or we’d have to rethink. He got it straightaway and is an absolute terror. Brilliant.
2. We had an easy fixture list at the start and a tough run in. We forgot that rather quickly in the excitement. A bit of realism is good for us. It is a long season.
3. Therefore perhaps we’ll get a deeper pool of talent to wallow in? I am fed up of looking at the benches of other no-mark teams in the Prem and seeing players who would so look the part in red and white. Big Club = Big Squad. That’s the maths. Maybe Mr Wenger has now to admit that paying £22m for a player of the class of Fernando Torres is NOT too much money and will take the plunge if someone that good and that young is in range next time. You have our money, use it with our blessing, Sir!
4. Flamini. We must sign him up for a new deal. The man sweats blood for us, runs like a Duracell bunny, never backs out of a challenge, and his the beating heart of Arsenal right now.
5. And Theo. What can I say? The brightest star on the darkest night for Arsenal for many a year. A star of hope. I’d follow it.
6. RVP and Rosie can’t ever have a year as bad for injuries as this one just gone. They’ve both got years ahead of them to make up for it. I reckon they will.
7. Being written off again. I love that teams just don’t see us coming. I can’t believe memories are that short, but they are. Class IS permanent, people.
8. Our Home record. An unbeaten league season at home is still a target. Should shut a few people up if we do it, and will lodge in the mind of next season’s visitors to the Grove quite nicely.
9. The crop of youngsters coming through the reserves. Apparently the coaching staff are in raptures and we’ve have never had it so good. Bring ‘em on. They should now know, after the last few years, that there is no need to flounce off if you don’t get first team football straight away. Arsenal are patient — we can take a few years without a trophy whilst you perfect you art. And if you’re good enough, you’re old enough. Look at Cesc
10. Last and best…Fabregas. The complete midfielder? I believe so. I think Gallas was just wearing the armband in for him this year. He should be seriously considered for the captaincy and I’d ask for that more than for all the other things I want us to take out of the season put together. Cec can lead us to glory; I’m convinced of it.

So really this has been a pretty good season. In fact it is comletely fair to say that we plus maybe Cristiano Ronaldo, but mainly we, made this Premiership season one of the best in years. Without us it would be a mundane, conservative, staid, and pedestrian battle of the wallets. They shouldn’t make jokes. They should thank us.

P.S. If this article looks familiar, that's because you paid £2 for a Highbury High. Well done you.