International Weekends? You Can Keep 'Em

We were debating whether we should be supporting England, or Israel, around the Friday night dinner table, after my Ma had mentioned that some of her mates were going to Wembley with Israeli flags. Being English, she thought they should be supporting England, but it so happens that I’d only just watched the movie “This Is England” a few days prior. Set in the 70s with a skinhead / National Front backdrop, the film was a stark reminder that if, heaven forfend, those right-wing lunatics ever prevailed, we Jews would probably be right behind the darker tribes, as targets for persecution.

However when it came to it, with no Arsenal players involved in England’s game, I struggled to muster much enthusiasm of any sort. In fact it might’ve been more fun to have witnessed the typically histrionic reaction to an England defeat, thereby perpetuating the Red Sea pedestrians’ optimistic dreams of qualification. Yet while I hate to admit to wishing harm on anyone, perhaps the happiest outcome, as far as I’m concerned, would’ve been one which saw the visitors knobbling a couple of vital cogs in our Premiership rivals squads.

Obviously, since I consider myself an Irishman by marriage (albeit without any bureaucratic bits of paper to prove it), I was bang up for the Boys in Green later that same evening, frightening the poor dog with my raucous reaction to Kevin Doyle’s corker. It was indeed, as stated on Sky TV’s coverage, “a goal good enough to win any game”. Although from such giddy heights of euphoria, it was that much further to fall when the Slovaks equalised in injury time. If I were a drinker I would’ve joined all the other Ireland fans, filling my pint glass with my lachrymose lamentations for the remainder of the night.

What’s more, while it might’ve been a plucky performance from the Slovaks, I can’t help but harbour some ill will towards them and the Neanderthal contingent amongst their support. To my mind the seal on the Slovak flag still retains some fascist connotations and although the infamous barbarism of the Hlinka Guard might’ve been consigned to history, (willingly collaborating with the Nazis’ Holocaust objectives), I’ve heard enough unsavoury, ani-semitic accounts to believe that the passing of time has left many modern day Slovaks little more enlightened than their forbears.

Perhaps Stan Staunton’s side were guilty of switching off in the dying throes of Saturday’s game, yet to my mind the Slovak’s equaliser might well have been a symptom of a more widespread disease amongst successful young players these days, that often appears to result in their under-achievement on the International stage. With rewards beyond their wildest dreams on offer at such a tender age, it’s perhaps not surprising that some of them begin to believe in their own publicity, certain they only have to turn up for their ability to win out, against some of the less gifted individuals amongst European football’s lesser lights. However the gap between the major and minor footballing nations continues to diminish and the “haves” are all the more easily embarrassed by the hell or high water hunger of the “have nots”.

Considering the scarcity of genuine star-quality in the current Irish squad, the TV pictures portrayed an encouraging performance overall, aside from the spell of Slovak pressure prior to their first goal and the utterly demoralising aberration at the end. Nevertheless there were instances both in Bratislava and elsewhere on Saturday, where supremely well rewarded professionals were perhaps guilty of a momentary lack of the sort of intensity that’s to be expected for the entire 90, from a player swollen with pride at having been picked to play for his country and with the hopes of a whole nation resting on his shoulders.

If they’d demonstrated the dogged determination of a player still with plenty to prove, perhaps we would’ve witnessed Douglas tracking back to thwart the Slovak striker, or O’Shea hurling his sizeable frame forward, to get any sort of block on the ball, instead of feebly turning his back. I’m not pointing the finger of blame, I’m merely questioning whether there’s a complacent mindset amongst many modern-day stars, which makes for far less passionate International performances and is perhaps a contributing factor in my own sang-froid.

Then again it wouldn’t be the Boys in Green if they went about their four-point objective the easy way. We can but pray that everybody’s blood is pumping for all the right reasons in Prague on Wednesday!

Meanwhile if it wasn’t for my interest in Ireland’s efforts to qualify for Euro 2008, knowing how much it would mean to the country and that the competition itself would benefit from the invasion of the genial Green Army, this International week would be little more than a stressful wait, to see which of our multi-national contingent returns fit for Saturday’s far more important Derby.

Hopefully the goals scored by Eduardo and Rosicky will do their confidence no harm (so long as Tommy saves any further significant strikes for the weekend, rather than Wednesday!). Yet if the interruption to the Arsenal’s season wasn’t inconvenient enough, I have to suffer waking on a Sunday with nothing but Wycombe v Brentford to watch on the box. Additionally, if there’s been a bit of a lull in the PC climate of the recent past, we’ve witnessed increasingly frequent occurrences of a disturbing trend of late, where the far-right numbskulls have been hijacking the International terraces, as an insidious promotional vehicle for their vapid, but highly offensive racist and xenophobic bunkum.

I for one will be greatly relieved to be done with the interminable and mind-numbingly boring media debate over Mclaren’s team selection. Although it’s amusing to hear pundits singing the praises of the young bloods, when the hapless England manager originally planned on digging up the dinosaurs from yesteryear, in Campbell, James and Heskey, to save his bacon.

It’s likely to be a long week waiting for our trip down the wrong end of the Seven Sisters Rd on Saturday. Sadly Gilberto will have a lot further to travel, after Brazil meet Mexico in a pointless friendly in Foxboro, USA in the wee hours of Thursday morning. Hopefully Arsène’s planning on contradicting his “one day rest for every hour of time difference” principle, to avail ourselves of the reassuring presence of the Brazilian captain.

As for the team Wenger puts out against Tottenham, perhaps the crucial question is who we’d prefer to see trotting out in the keeper’s jersey. Almunia might have never let us down, but neither he, nor Jens commands the sort of respect required to radiate an unruffled aura of calm, out from behind our defence. Not since Spunky have we been blessed with the sort of dominant presence between the sticks, who’s capable of preventing us from defending like panic-stricken rabbits, caught in the glare of the opposing strikers headlights. Craig Gordon will appear cheap at twice his inflated price, if his efforts keep Roy Keane’s Sund-Ireland in the Premiership. Instead of paying peanuts for relative goal-minding monkeys, I would’ve loved to have seen us break the bank for the best available keeper.

Then again, Spurs own jittery keeper has hardly been inspiring them with confidence of late and I’m certainly not complaining, after having secured THE single most significant signing this week, with the knowledge that Wenger intends to continue walking on water at the Arsenal for another 3 years. I don’t think it was a coincidence that le Gaffer’s signature was timed to offer his returning players the reassuring boost of retaining their much-revered boss (not that Arsène was planning on going anywhere else!). Maintaining an air of stability within the camp is perhaps all the more vital, with all the off-pitch intrigue surrounding the Gunner’s future at present.

It seems our new Uzbek investor’s legal muscle has managed to bully the web server of the former Uzbekistan Ambassador, into removing the allegations about his iniquitous criminal activities from the internet. But not before all interested parties had discovered the dubious credentials of David Dein’s latest bedfellow.

As my old man was fond of saying “you lie down with dogs, you get up with fleas” and I wouldn’t be at all surprised if Stan Kroenke has decided he’s backed the wrong horse in our ex-vice chairman. Dein’s desperation to recapture his Arsenal throne is perhaps reflected in his injudicious choice of new partners and if the board should come to the conclusion that they lack the financial clout to stave off an indefinite succession of billionaire predators, it could be that Stan will be seen as the lesser of the likely evils – after courting Kroenke and now partnering up with his Uzbek pal, if an impatient Dein doesn’t get his way, surely any subsequent conquest will involve doing a deal with the devil himself?

In the meantime we might see an about face from the board, with our snobby suits not being nearly so snotty towards self-made Stan and his millions, in the hope he’d be able to provide them with the muscle to at least maintain some semblance of control. Doubtless they’ll be more receptive to having their directors box invaded by ‘new money’, rather than ‘dirty money’ along with the prospect of doing boardroom business with someone who has the sort of depraved morals that make Abramovich seem a righteous rabbi by comparison.

You couldn’t possibly make it up and if by any chance we should get bored with the Wengerball taking place on the pitch, unlike Spurs, we have no need of Eastenders to amuse ourselves, with this soap opera of our very own. that’s set to run and run! By coincidence this weekend’s Derby marks the start of the jewish New Year. Here’s hoping that we’re left savouring the traditional apple & honey, with its promise of a sweet season, while they have to suffer the habitual taste of bitter herbs!