TERRACE TALK: Reaction from the weekend's top Premiership action
The chants of opposition supporters do make an excellent barometer. It used to be: “You’re not famous any more.” Then it became: “Champions League, you’re having a laugh.” Now it’s: “You’re gonna win f*** all.”
Lord knows what it’s going to be at Old Trafford in two weeks’ time. Something pleasingly Corinthian, no doubt.
Other teams are getting so worried now they’re making a fast track out of any Champions League commitments in order to focus on fending off Liverpool’s highly improbable challenge.
And the malice has begun. Most Reds had already made their peace with Pepe Reina’s departure, but mischievous talk of his hugely improbable return and Mignolet’s occasional edginess had given the media the ignition to get Brendan babbling. If it were Mourinho, they’d probably claim his slightly petty outburst was only to give Simon’s confidence a boost, but somebody asked and Rodgers talked. That’s what he does.
Personally, I’m tired of those who have gone still craving the fans’ uber-love. They ‘explain’ their departures so vaguely, like Mascherano did a couple of weeks ago, that you’re none the wiser anyway.
Roberto Bettega from Juventus has entered the fray now over a supposed ‘agreement’ with Benitez in 2010, so no doubt that’ll trigger a response from the Napoli boss.
Southampton is one of those inexplicable hoodoos; generally a mid-table or even basement side, they’ve always been able to ruffle the liver bird’s feathers whatever their status.
Immediately before our match, Chelsea were strolling but Everton and Arsenal were being held. As we began to focus on St Mary’s, Stoke struck and Arsenal wilted.
It was hard to stifle a gleeful snicker. Wenger had entered the mind games fray by sniffing snootily through his permanently skywards-pointing snout about our “advantage” with only one competition to play for.
Sure, Arsene. You seem to have conveniently forgotten we stuffed you 5-1 which might have been a slightly bigger clue to our competitiveness.
But though we eventually overcame Swansea there was no doubting the unease before this match.
On another day we’d probably have conceded again after a fortuitous opener from Suarez.
We still looked vulnerable, Lallana getting even more room than Shelvey did last week but failing to find the net thankfully. I’m scratching my head trying to think of the last great away day Coutinho had— City away? — but you can always tell after 10 minutes what he’s going to be like.
Sturridge wasn’t great either, and maybe all that pointing to the sky isn’t so pious after all but proof of a pretty hefty ego. Listen mate, God’s got his work cut out trying to stop the Ukraine from exploding without you bothering him for yet another goal.
There’s been lots of talk about defensive personnel not being up to scratch but Skrtel and Agger casually put a dent in that theory. Even Johnson was up for it.
The second half was much better. Sterling didn’t just score but persisted with the breath-taking work-rate that has helped him come on leaps and bounds. Suarez had one last trick up his sleeve, helping to put a gloss on a difficult but extremely important win.
They keep saying Liverpool can’t do this, can’t do that, you’ll be found out next time etc. Well, next time is Old Trafford and maybe ‘they’ will finally get to be right.
Maybe.
After yet another insipid first-half display my mate turned to me as the team trotted out for the second half and said: “What would you do oh wise one?”
“Well I’d haul that Schurrle off for a start,” was my response.
Mourinho claims he did not say one word to the players at half time although I imagine one of the Portugeezers stares could put across more than most could in a 1,000 words.
Schurrle claimed he spoke but that it was very short and not appropriate to be repeated on TV. Either way the team were under no illusion that their first-half display was not acceptable.
Jose said he would have changed all 11 players at the break if he could have. It must be frustrating for the manager to see such a talented group of players produce such a sloppy, disinterested first half. To the untrained eye it would have been difficult to tell which team was top of the league and which was bottom. A better team than Fulham would have punished us.
That first half against Fulham makes me seriously doubt our title credentials but then I suppose the others also in contention have similarly inconsistent periods. Southampton looked to have the measure of Liverpool before the first goal and Arsenal, well I’m not sure whether they are imploding or simply a self-fulfilling prophecy, nevertheless they are a gift that just keeps giving if you will. City look in the best position, and seem to be strong in every area of the pitch, so it’s still theirs to lose. I’m just hoping that fighting on all fronts takes its toll.
Galatasaray too was a game of two halves. When we scored early on and we were in such complete control I thought we were going to return to the Bridge with at least three away goals in our pocket. Instead we allowed them back into the game, allowed both Drogba and Schneider to whip the home support up into a frenzy and that crowd became their 12th man. The Turks welcome the teams on to the pitch with a war chant which is accompanied by the fans bowing their scarves — all lit up by a dozen or so red flares in the upper tiers — it’s pretty impressive. The ear-piercing whistling when the opposition have the ball is also some racquet and when prompted by the players the whole ground to a man punches the air and chants aggressive encouragement.
The contrast between them and our overly policed, health and safety obsessed, sterile Premier League has never been so evident. But I digress...
It’s really difficult to predict what the Chelsea team will look like next season. Given his lack of games, our continued interest in Luke Shaw and Jose’s continuing confidence in Azpilicueta at left-back, I doubt Ashley Cole will still be with us. It’s a shame. Our loss will certainly be someone’s gain. As much as I wouldn’t want him to strengthen any of our rivals, I believe he definitely has a couple more years at the highest level rather than going to the States or some other second rate league.
Another question splitting Chelsea fans at the moment is should Cech be number one next season or is it time to bring Courtois in? Will Mikel be at Inter Milan? Will any of our strikers survive? Doubtful in my view. What about our old war-horses Terry and Lampard? Have they done enough to earn yet another year or two? This many proposed changes may seem strange given that we are currently at the top of the Premier League but that has as much to do with the failings of others as it has with our wins this season.
We cannot rely on such generosity next season as all will be looking to improve including those with phenomenal squads like City.
I’m sure Mourinho has identified what areas he wants to improve, the players that he wants and I’m equally certain Abramovich will go all out to get them. It is interesting that since Jose’s return we have seen very little of Michael Emenalo. The “Technical Director” (giggle) seems to have taken very much a back seat since the second coming and that is as it should be. The manager takes the brunt of responsibility should the team fail and as such it is only right that he should decide who to bring in.
The mood of disappointment was palpable as we plodded back to the motor from the Britannia on Saturday.
Not that we haven’t grown accustomed to miserable days out against Stoke, but those results have usually been explainable by rugby used against Arsenal’s “don’t like it up ‘em” reputation.
However we’ve been hoping this Gunners squad has matured into a more manly beast. Even if many of us have always suspected that, ultimately, reality would bite and we’d stumble in the race to cross the Premier League finishing line, as a result of the patently obvious frailties in the depth of our squad compared to the massed ranks of mercenaries, it’s been hard to temper the thrill that the Gunners might just upset the odds.
It’s been the burgeoning sense of that special intangible ingredient that’s been responsible for stimulating our illogical sense of expectation. There’s been a belief that we were beginning to witness the sort of spirit and bond between a tight group of players that might just be capable of moving Premier League mountains.
Yet, sadly, there was absolutely no evidence of this newfound resolve on Saturday. Mark Hughes’ side didn’t even have to get the thumbscrews out to unsettle us.
Whether Sunderland’s failure to turn up the previous weekend was responsible for some creeping complacency, or whether it was down to some undue arrogance on our part, I don’t know. My abiding memory of a lamentably lacklustre and slipshod afternoon was the sight of Wilshere and Giroud sitting on their backsides, petulantly banging their fists on the ground, displaying their frustration for the cameras, when they should’ve been rolling their sleeves up and getting on with it.
Flamini would’ve been the first name on my team sheet for an awkward outing to Stoke and for any other arduous away game for that matter, since the Frenchman can at least be relied upon to cajole and encourage those around him to focus. Moreover, with no midweek outings either side of this match, surely Arsene should have been fielding our strongest possible team? It was hard to fathom selecting an utterly ineffectual Podolski, while leaving Mezut’s £42million’s worth of talent on the bench.
You can picture the reaction to our team sheet in the Stoke dressing room as Shawcross & Co discovered they wouldn’t be needing to kick Özil up in the air to limit our star man’s impact upon proceedings. Not to mention the absence of Chamberlain and Gnabry and there was very little threat of the Arsenal exposing their lumbering shortcomings without any real pace in attack.
When Wenger eventually played our joker, sending Sanogo on to try and save the day, predictably Stoke weren’t unduly troubled by the task of dealing with two big men up front. It enrages me when players neglect the most basic tenet of getting their head over the ball to prevent it ending up in Row Z. But while it would be easy to scapegoat Sanogo’s woefully incompetent effort with the single chance for some redemption that fell at the French youngster’s feet, it’s wrong to focus on individual details when relying on such slim pickings overall that was so distressing.
The bloke in front of me spent most of the first-half snoozing in his seat (seems the loudest fans in the league must have taken the afternoon off) and bizarrely, I found myself feeling a little envious of his ability to enjoy a pleasant kip, while we’d put up with the frustrations of watching such a poor performance.
There was absolutely no evidence of the sort of “tooth and nail” intensity and energy levels that one would expect of a team with genuine aspirations of maintaining a title challenge.
Despite the feeling of inevitability that our assault on the title would flounder, it will be far easier to accept if the good ship Gooner is scuppered with a bang, rather than seeing our season shipwrecked by Saturday’s whimper.
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