This morning I looked at NewsNow Arsenal for the first time in 3 months.
Nothing I wanted to click on.
Just the sort of “stories” that I’ve seen a zillion times. Papers and blogs are a mine of disinformation, and I don’t want to explore those mines, even for 45 seconds.
Instead, I’ve been thinking about what ANR should be like in 2011.
This year I’ve become allergic to Arsenal players spouting off about how much they’ve improved. And I’d like to strangle Giles Grimandi for bringing over so many cheap French players who are not strong enough.
This year I blogged the worst World Cup I’ve ever seen. And saw Nigel de Jong and Mark van Bommel commit the most violent fouls I’ve seen in a World Cup since 1974, when Luis Pereira took out Johan Neeskens. The difference? Luis Pereira was sent off.
However, there has been one bonus.
One good thing has happened. At the end of 2010 I know my readers far better than I did when this year began, so that’s good. And the readers know each other better. Most of you like to read each other. A minority don’t.
On the whole, it’s nice to know your readers and learn from them. Trouble is, I’ve been writing letters to readers containing stuff I should be sending them via ANR, so everybody can read it. So I’ll be doing less of that in 2011.
Right now, the truth is this : For the last 22 days, Myles has had nothing new to say. Except for one thing. It’s very simple and I suppose it sums up where I’m at regarding the once-great Wenger:
Arsenal’s next game is on Sunday, February 27, against Birmingham.
I reckon Arsenal will beat Ipswich home and away. And I think Birmingham will beat West Ham over two legs in the other semi-final.
So the final will be Arsenal v Birmingham and Wenger must pick his strongest team and win the Carling Cup.
If he loses 1-0 to Birmingham with a weakened team, he’s finished.
Kaput. Finito. History.
P.S. Here are your replies on David Bowie
After writing the above, I read Brian Glanville’s succinct and fluent obit on Enzo Bearzot and recalled Brian graciously introducing me to Enzo in the banqueting hall at Wembley before a game. If I spoke Italian, we could have had a nice natter. Oh well.That might have been in 1989. Enzo was not coaching Italy at the time.