If we’re signing a new keeper, it needs to happen soon

IF I’m entirely honest (much like Martin O’Neill), I was struggling to rediscover my footballing mojo during pre-season.

With the Gunners investing half as many millions in fine dining facilities for our most affluent punters, as they have in improving the squad (to date), I was left feeling somewhat disillusioned.

Apparently the “prawn sandwich brigade” is old hat, as with the our new Club Level eateries costing £190 and £152 per head, the Arsenal’s astronomically haute cuisine must be on another planet! Still I’d happily don a penguin suit and serve the posh punters myself, if I felt certain that this was merely another highly-lucrative means to a trophy-laden end.

But while we witness what appears to be a year-on-year improvement in the squad depth of those sides covetously seeking to snaffle our seat at Europe’s top table, we’re expected to continue to trust in a “wing and a prayer” approach to ending our barren run.

Either the balance sheet has become the be all and end all and we’re content to maintain the current status quo, clinging to our Champions League status, or we’re a club with grander ambitions? There are 10 outfield players capable of scoring goals, but only one is responsible for keeping them out. As the foundation stone for any side, if we’ve truly joined the elite, instead of being an annual asset-striping target, then if Wenger wants a new keeper, why not identify the best candidate and make his existing club “an offer they can’t refuse”.

Instead of which we find ourselves involved in a farcical game of Texas Hold ‘Em with the Harrods’ owner, who can happily continue calling our bluff until deadline day. Mark Schwarzer might be an improvement on our busted goalkeeping flush. But if he was such an ace net-minder, why did no one else spot this during nigh on 400 appearances for Boro.

I might be a tad biased but I’d much prefer Shay Given. We probably wouldn’t be prepared to match Given’s wages, for fear of it leading to a queue of players at Wenger’s door, all seeking parity. Moreover most seem to think Mancini would loan Shay out, rather than let him go to a rival. But Ireland’s number one has the reflexes of a man four years Schwarzer’s junior and in spite of the Aussie’s four-inch height advantage, he lacks the presence resulting from Given’s world-class reputation.

However, if Arsène has already opted for the Aussie, surely we’d have been better off bedding him into the team before now. Ultimately we’ll have to stump up Fulham’s asking price and even if we could save the odd million quid, it might prove a seriously false economy come the end of the season, so long as Almunia continues to err at his near post.

Meanwhile, any residue of ennui soon evaporated “when Saturday comes”. Never mind the summer break, with the impact of European footie, I’d forgotten quite how stimulating a full-schedule of Saturday football can be.

Sadly, on Sunday, there was nothing new in the Gunners’ failure to make our first-half dominance count, as we tried in vain to pick an intricate path through the congested heart of the Scousers’ defence. Le Prof might as well have spent the match searching for the specs on top of his head. But then you wouldn’t want him doing Pat Rice out of a job. Surely even his unobtrusive assistant should’ve pointed out the glaringly obvious absence of a recognised left-back in the Liverpool squad.

I spent much of the 90 venting my frustration over our patent failure to target the lumbering Agger’s lack of pace.

I’m all for keeping it simple, but whether he plays with the handbrake on, or lets the full range of his virtuosity rip, Jack Wilshere will still be prone to errors whilst learning his trade. Yet watching Jack seemingly under strict instructions to play the easy ball left me feeling no less cheated of his natural gifts than if I’d paid to watch Usain Bolt told not to run under 10 seconds.

Although Chamakh’s inability to impose himself was a disappointment, Koscielny looked the part, other than when our entire defence struggled with a spate of crosses&.

Considering how close we came to dropping an opening day clanger against a less-than-impressive Liverpool, best of all and most poignantly was the fact that our last-gasp equaliser came courtesy of Pepe Reina’s faux-pas. Poetic justice considering he was the principal culprit in forcing Fabregas to don a Barca top during post-World Cup frivolities.