A timely reminder of the way things used to be

ALMOST 4,500 Gooners trekked to Cardiff on Sunday morning, all eager to time travel, a couple of decades, from the sanitised, extortionately priced Premier League product, back to the days of old-school football`.

Our modern new stadia might stand as the most imposing architectural landmarks across this island’s landscape, bringing live football to a wider, largely more affluent “audience”, but Sunday’s outing served as a timely reminder that all that’s been lost in the migration from the tight-confines of the ramshackle terracing of yesteryear, will never be recaptured in the antiseptic environs of these family-friendly, all-seater temples to the gods of Mammon.

I wasn’t aware that I could’ve paid an additional four quid for a ticket in the small seated area in our stand behind the goal. In fact, it’s bizarre to think that there were probably plenty amongst us who’d have been prepared to pay a premium on our reasonably priced £22 (€23) tickets, to be reminded how much more fun there was to be had from supporting the Gunners from a standing terrace.

Having been complicit in the events that pushed Leeds to the brink of bankruptcy, perhaps Peter Ridsdale has learned to be more economically astute as Cardiff chairman. I could’ve probably purchased an entire row of seats at the 1927 Cup Final, for the four quid I was fleeced by his club for a mere matchday programme!

For my part, I stood watching a scene straight out of the 1980s, as the Gooner hordes were frogmarched towards the ground, segregated from the locals by a line of yellow-jacketed riot police on either side, backed up by a clutch of meat-wagons with flashing blue lights and a few ferocious looking, barking Alsatians.

I don’t know how bad the local hoolies are, but to my mind it was all a little “de trop” and only served to ramp up the sort of tension which probably wouldn’t have existed without such an overbearing police presence.

Mercifully there was no sign of any aggro and we all crammed together on to the terracing behind the goal to holler our heads off for 90 fervent minutes, in the sort of concerted fashion which just isn’t feasible in the less confined environment of all-seater stadia. And after the home side failed to capitalise on their flurry of opportunities in the first 20 minutes, the Gunners began to take control, but for all our domination of possession and despite plenty of endeavour, sadly the match petered out into a bit of a stalemate.

My “septic” pal joked at the break about the extreme differences between a sporting event in the States and I must admit it was a rare pleasure to be able to openly suck on a cigarette, without having to surreptitiously hide the fag smoke up my coat sleeve, for fear of being thrown out.

Perhaps young Ramsey was trying just a little too hard to make a big impression, on his return to Ninian Park, as the lad couldn’t seem to put a foot right.

It was eventually a relief to see Ramsey replaced by Diaby on the hour, as Abou’s presence in the middle of the park enabled us to put Cardiff under the cosh.

Yet for all our toil, the Arsenal patently lacked the sort of inventive spark necessary to unpick the home side’s lock.

Especially when the home side’s ambition waned towards the end of the game. I assume the replay will earn the Cardiff players a bonus, as I can’t recall the last time I saw the home team taking the ball to the corner flag, at 0-0, with five minutes left on the clock.

But then I guess we will both have to take comfort from the fact that our sides remained in the hat for an advantageous home draw in the 5th round.