Tits, Touch and Targets

There was a moment last night when I was staring at the corner of the Emirates pitch, where the North Bank meets the West Stand.

There sat a happy bunch of coal-tits, in a formation of sorts, perfectly still, quite happy to waggle their tails and to chirp contentedly to each other about the miraculously uniform grass they’d discovered.

I first noticed them during the City game, and passing off the omens that the ancients might derive from such an ornithological display of audacity, I considered them blog-fodder. For as the tits sat, happily ignoring the 22 potential death-bringers elsewhere on the grass, they showed about as much inspiration as The Arsenal did (chortle).

Happily, I recount that as a contrived and malformed comparison, as things turned out rather nicer. But we huffed only a bit, puffed very little and lacked any real tempo or rhythm. The concern was palpable, but the slow-start somewhat understandable.

Having tweaked the line-up to allow Francis Coquelin an appearance – yet still playing Santi and Jack – Diaby was back in again, allowing us a ‘double pivot’. This had Jack at the head of the midfield three, fulfilling the number 10 role his shirts suggests is his in the long-term.

But it didn’t really click. Unsurprising really. Coq, Jack and Diaby is an unfamiliar setup when you consider Santi and Mikel would usually start, but the three two youngsters kept working while Diaby found his feet a little more. At half time there was a feeling we needed a spark, and as Swansea seemed to lack their usual sparkle, it was the introduction of Michu that had those around me taking a short, sharp icy breath.

We needn’t have. Arsene must have had a few words at half time about positioning and the specificity of roles, as in a more disciplined second half we managed to work much of the drive and positive play through Jack. For his part, he looks every bit the potential world class player we’ve lacked since Cesc left, and seemed at home with that responsibility (picking up where he left off on Sunday).

At one point, with four Swansea players about him, he circled looking for a good out. Not panicking, keeping the ball close, he simply decided enough was enough: the best out was himself, he eased the hammer down and simply glided away from the pack with the grace and power only greats of the game can muster. A cute one two with Gibbs ended with us threatening in the Swansea third, and again and again he looked to push us on.

Much should be made of Jack’s goal, and the fact that it’ll probably be one of those in the montage pre-game next season. It was a great moment for him, the fans and everyone connected with the club. A genuinely heart-warming few seconds of Arsenal history, and nothing short. But let’s not forget the touch from Giroud was superb – I didn’t see it in real time, with my view blocked by a Swansea player – and Theo, as frustrating as he can still be – managed at least to work himself into two good positions he failed to convert from.

Giroud played well I thought. As I mentioned before he’s not a world-class striker, but I think he can be a world-class forward if he’s not quite at the level already. He scored 33 in 73 at Montpellier, and while it’d be nice for him (and us) if his goalscoring form was bumped, as long as he works well for a team (in which he can chip in with goals for) then I think talk of his being ‘average’ is harsh in the extreme.

In truth there’s a few positives to take from last night. There’s a few ifs and buts as well, but I think to dissect it too much would be a little unfair. We did the job with an altered, and promising setup, ended the game with 26 shots (that’s 19 in the second half), and came away with a well deserved victory topped with a lovely goal to remember.

We’ve sealed our place in the next round of the FA Cup, and the win will surely breed a bit of confidence.

Now let’s enjoy it and look forward to Chelsea.

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Author: AllTheSkill

One time fleet-footed wing-wizard (he tells himself). Now dog-father, writer of bits and Arsenal blogger.

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