Our nearly men worthy of praise not criticism

YOU know it’s been a disappointing campaign when you are left clinging to the PFA Awards for some solace. Yet in a season of such scant reward for such high-class entertainment, it’s of some comfort to see four Arsenal players voted by their peers in the PFA’s Premier League team of the season.

And after our 6-2 rout of hapless Derby it remains within the realms of possibility (albeit outrageously improbable), that the Gunners could rise Phoenix like from the flames of our “close, but no cigar” season, to take the title. As with most every footie fan, there’s this disconnection between head and heart, so that while I know full well that it’s not going to happen, hope continues to spring eternal.

Manchester United’s recent patchy form has only heightened all our “could’ve, would’ve, should’ve” torment, as we trawl through the ashes of our unsuccessful season fixating on each and every ember, every shot which hit the woodwork and every decision which went against us.

The first-legs of the two Champions League semi-finals only accentuated this agony. Aside from the cameo party-pieces from the likes of Messi and Deco, we witnessed little from any of the four teams that affirmed their right to a leading role in football’s greatest drama, whereas a scintillating display would’ve at least made it easier to accept the Gunners’ failings.

However, although events since the excruciating disappointment of our defeats at Anfield, Old Trafford and Stamford Bridge have only underlined quite how close Le Prof is to getting it right, football is an unforgiving paramour.

!In truth, the majority of Gooners have become so spoilt by the way in which Wenger has managed to set the bar so high over the past decade that it doesn’t appear to make any difference to them whether we are a hair’s breadth, or a hundred miles away, failure to bring home the bacon by way of a tangible trophy is just unacceptable. I have to laugh at those throwing their toys out of the pram with obfuscated post-mortems pleading for wholesale surgery. Forgive me for mixing my metaphors but considering we’ve come so close and in fact, overachieved, in a season, which was expected to be one of rebuilding, it seems preposterous that some are suggesting we throw the baby out with the bath water.

To my mind these aren’t glory-hunters, they’re glory junkies, whose loyalty wouldn’t have lasted five minutes in the sort of success-starved wilderness we’ve endured in the past. I simply couldn’t imagine such “supporters” in the shoes of a West Ham, or Charlton fan, or any of the majority of teams that start each and every season hoping in their hearts for a sniff of some silverware, but knowing in their heads that survival is probably the best they can hope for.

Talking of which, as I sat watching an increasingly breathless Geoff Stelling on Sky’s Soccer Saturday, as he tried to keep pace with the fluctuating fortunes of the various sides whose fate remains in doubt, I couldn’t help but feel nostalgic for the good old days, when everything was decided by 20 to five on a Saturday afternoon and all football related stress subsided for another seven days, with the familiar “De ne ne ne” tones of the Dr Who intro music, as opposed to the wall-to-wall live games that are dictated on an almost daily basis nowadays by the tv gods.

Meanwhile I imagine there’d be a consensus of opinion from most informed fans over the players’ choice of their Premier League team of the season. That is apart from disgruntled Blues (although I did say informed!). Personally I haven’t seen enough of Chelsea to pass judgement, but perhaps the perennial talents of the likes of Terry and Essien merit their inclusion. The funny thing is that it would probably be Arsenal fans that would be most likely to dispute the selection of Adebayor.

I adore the Togonator for his work-rate alone but even during his purple patch when he couldn’t stop scoring, Manny’s form, namely his first touch, wasn’t beyond reproach.

In light of the number of goal scoring opportunities created by their respective teams, I can’t help but wonder if the 21 goals scored by Blackburn’s Santa Cruz amount to a far more laudable feat.

And if he doesn’t merit inclusion in the team of the season, at only £3.5million (€4.4m), Santa Cruz must surely be a candidate for bargain of the season.