Fun returns as Arsene’s young Guns run amok in the cottage

AFTER an utterly exhausting week involving a 100-mile daily commute, I was relieved that we only had a short hop to Fulham’s riverside home in west London on Saturday.

Yet even with the bliss of a lie-in, I struggled to haul my bones out of the sack, walk the dog and get out in time to make it to the match. With it already 2.30pm when I headed out past our new stadium, I was half tempted to stop and watch the “beamback” at our place. But with a ticket for the real thing in my pocket, it seemed barmy to pay a further £15 to watch the match, on one of the two giant screens — although I’m curious to know what the atmosphere is like at one of these live broadcasts of away games.

However I wasn’t about to blow out what’s recently become one of the most enjoyable away-days of the season. Sadly I neglected to take into account the fact that the weekend traffic across the capital has become dire. I soon had to come to terms with the fact that I was going to miss the kick-off.

Mercifully at least our match was live on the radio and!, I heard tell of how the Gunners were similarly impeded in their pre-match warm-up, as apparently Al-Fayed insisted on walking right along the path of one of Pat Rice’s exercise routines. I assume the Harrods boss is far too shrewd to believe his slapstick buffoonery to be a viable alternative to him bankrolling Roy Hodgson’s rescue mission.

Personally I believe Fulham are shooting themselves in the foot before they start, by allocating all 3,800 seats of the Putney Stand behind one goal to their visitors. With the availability of tickets, the proximity of the Cottage and the nostalgia of one of the few remaining old-fashioned grounds in the Premiership, our annual trip to Fulham tends to attract all the old Gooners out of the woodwork, along with thousands of other part-timers.

Recently others clubs appear to have cottoned on to the benefits of bunging opposition fans as far as possible from the action. By contrast, perhaps in their desire to flog a few more tickets, Fulham appear to have failed to appreciate that cost of a few unsold seats is relative peanuts, compared to the fortune they stand to lose if they should fail to retain their Premiership status.

As a succession of away-day pals have fallen from the path of full-time, righteous devotion to the Gooner cause, I occasionally wonder what it is that motivates me ! to ensure that for eight months, year in, year out, my entire life revolves around the Arsenal fixture list. However it’s the unforeseen that is footie’s addictive ingredient. Even after all this time, I never fail to be amazed by this “funny old game’s” unerring capacity for unpredictability. After Man Utd leapfrogged us last weekend and with me fully expecting both Utd and Chelsea to roll over Reading and Birmingham, while we faced a return to the scene of last season’s cock-up, with the Cottagers set to benefit from Hodgson’s vast wealth of experience!, could this be the weekend where our title bid finally began to show signs of becoming a bit frayed around the edges? Instead, the Cottagers proved to be the perfect antidote to a malaise which has afflicted us for the past month and which made for a brand of football more Wimbledon than Wenger-ball.

The two-goal cushion resulted in a transformation after the break, where we were back to our imperious best, stroking the ball about with the renewed authority of genuine title contenders&.

Although it might still be something of a novelty that we’ve been blessed with a tall centre-forward who can truly hang in he air, to score with his head (even if we continue to fail to threaten from corners), it was our third goal which was a thing of beauty. A trademark, mazy passing move, followed by some fabulous trickery in Eduardo’s approach play, but most positive of all was the sight of Rosicky, arriving late in the box to stab home, à la Pires and Freddie at their best. Fabregas should’ve followed this up with a fourth, as an absolutely breathtaking demonstration of Hleb’s ability, in leaving half of Fulham’s bamboozled defence for dead, as he cut in from corner flag directly in front of us, truly deserved to be finished off with a similar flourish.

However it was wonderful to watch a Gunners side playing with a smile on their faces. Obviously I will be gutted if the title comes down to goal difference, as we might regret not being a little more ruthless against such feeble opposition as Fulham. It might well have turned into a massacre, if we’d truly hit top gear, but I adore the fact that instead of whinging when he scuffed his shot wide, Cesc joined a a gaggle of the Gunner’s art appreciation society in a moment of backslapping, as they paid all due respect to the sublime skill of Hleb’s virtuoso contribution.

Sadly both our rivals eventually overcame stubborn resistance to achieve predictable results. Yet it proved to be a significant weekend in the sense that all signs of a potential derailment have disappeared. But if our trip to the Cottage goes down in Gooner memory, it will probably be for events on the terraces. Time was when terrace wags would conjure up a witty new chant almost every other week.

The vast majority of efforts to introduce a new chant invariably sink without trace, but as demonstrated by a melodious 20-minute rendition of “Adebayor, Adebayo...oo..oor, Give him the ball, And he will score” (to the tune of the Beach Boys “Sloop John B” — I wanna go home) sung by virtually all 3,800 of us, this one is definitely a stayer that’s set to resonate across the Premiership landscape, so long as our Togolese striker continues to do the business.

* Bernard Azulay