Walking Back to Happiness

OLAS 422 SEPTEMBER 29th 2007

It was the 13th minute of the 1980 Cup Final – unlucky for some – when Trevor Brooking fell backwards and headed Stuart Pearson’s half-cross-half-shot past Pat Jennings. First Division Arsenal 0 Second Division West Ham 1. It would have been twice as humiliating for the Arse if Willie Young hadn’t hacked down 17-year-old Paul Allen who was on a one-on-one with Jennings with two minutes to go.

The roar that went up for Trev’s goal was massive but nothing compared with the wall of sound when Bonzo held up the trophy. The best moment though was yet to come. It was on the way home. At the time I was working as a van driver and had borrowed the firm’s van over the weekend. As we headed East from Wembley for the celebration outside Upton park, we found ourselves in the backstreets of North London, where glum looking Arsenal supporters were busy pulling down the bunting and putting away the food and drink from the street parties that never happened. We were stuck in some traffic near Caledonian Road and all we could do was sit and watch this dismal procedure for about twenty minutes. Quality.

All right, some of you may be youngsters whose significant memory of West Ham v Arsenal is Bobby Zamora turning Sol Cambell inside out at Highbury the other year, or Paulo di Canio tormenting them in that fabulous 2-1 victory back in 2000 as he collected a long pass lifted the ball over Martin Keown and half volleyed it beyond Seaman for the winning goal.

There were other moments in the 20 years between these events - wins in the league and cup at Highbury…those were the days…

Why am I looking backwards? Why am I engaged in the fight for a better past? Because I don’t particularly want to look forward to this afternoon’s encounter. Arsenal are on fire at the moment, and though there are encouraging signs with Deano looking meaner by the day and our midfield gelling with quick fire passes, I don’t seriously think we are any match for Arsenal.

Our only chances hinge on three factors: firstly Arsenal’s own nervousness at playing a team they ought to beat regularly but haven’t for three years; West ham’s ex-Arsenal players being determined to shine – with Upson giving nothing away at the back and Ljungberg creating chances up front; and lastly if we take the game to them without fear and are prepared to match them physically in challenging for every ball and running for 90 minutes – or should I say 95 as the refs like to give the big guns some extra time.

It may be unlikely but let’s see if we can wipe the smile off Arsene Wenger’s visage, because when it comes to our battles in the last three years I know you will join me in saying “je ne regret rien, Buster.”

Talking of French woe, when I read this week that the greatest ever French mime artist, Marcel Marceau had died, I was speechless and genuinely saddened by his passing. When I saw West Ham’s first half performance against Plymouth I have to say that their passing brought me pretty close to tears too. It was like a homage to Marceau – a tableau of empty gestures that the crowd was challenged to find deeper meaning from.

Stepping away from a freezing Upton Park I heard a youngster say to his dad “well I suppose that’s the best time to score a goal.” And I thought, “No! – What about the first minute rather than the last? What about the 5th or the 10th? And what’s wrong with the 25th or 30th (fill in your favourite number here)? Silly boy.”

On the 45th minute when they announced there would be at least two minutes of injury time I turned to the guy next to me and said “I think we need two hours.” And I wasn’t far out. The Plymouth Brethren put up a plucky and skilful display and could have made more of the chances they created. But ultimately the saviour was on our side – one Deano Ashton – who had swapped into his magical orangey red boots at half time. As the ball left his boot in the 91st minute I could hear in my head Elvis Costello – “My Aim is True” – which was a welcome change from the Abbot and Costello show we had witnessed for the first 90 minutes.

So into the hat for the last 16, while a few more premiership sides bite the dust. Can’t be bad. And while I am shifting to a positive mood I am now willing to accept that Scott Parker exists. Since I cast doubt on his existence in my last column there have been several claimed sightings (though some of them looked more like Madeleine McCann). But the most convincing one was out there on the Upton Park pitch against Plymouth – a tidy player wearing number 8 who actually showed he wanted the ball and always looked up for the option of threading through a clever pass to the forwards.

While I would still hold that his parents may have something to do with his disappearance, I think we all have to accept he is alive. Whether the rest of the team is still alive, on the evidence of their performance against Plymouth, is more difficult to assess. Still it was good to see Great Scott out there – he’s a small man who will be a big player for us. And good to see Kyle Reid being given a chance. I find him a lot more likeable than his brother, the former Home Secretary. He’s a bit one footed but he’s combative and looks really comfortable driving down the wing.

So mes amis, back to today’s game. The questions is what will give – Arsenal’s winning run or Deano’s run of goals? If you’re looking for an omen I have to tell you that I scored a rare goal this Tuesday with a cheeky lob in my weekly veteran’s football against a team top heavy with goners. And as Elvis Costello reminds us: “Accidents will happen”. Come On You Irons!!!