Derby delight as we prove there’s only one team in London

DOUBTLESS my Chelsea supporting colleague might point to the fact that the most telling difference in Sunday’s derby duel was that we gobbled up our two goal-scoring opportunities, while all bar one of the Blues scant attempts to breach the Gunners bulwark were wayward.

However there was something in the way our Dutch striker seized upon his two glimpses of goal, in such a ravenous fashion, which spoke volumes as to Van Persie’s appetite.

After the torment of eating more dirt this past month than we’ve had to endure in many a moon, from where I sat behind the goal at the Bridge, I sensed that both in the stands and out on the park, the Arsenal were that much hungrier than the home side. In fact it was almost worth getting hammered by Man City, if it proved the inspiration for this demonstration that there remains only one team in London.

Yet after the disappointment of the two defeats that followed our win against Man United, there will be few Gooners who’ll be deluded by another potential false dawn, at least not until we’ve passed the more prosaic “park the bus” tests, posed by the likes of Wigan and Boro in the coming weeks.

As we invariably seem to do the biz against the top teams, I’ve often wondered whether it’s a lack of motivation that results in us appearing somewhat enervated against less formidable opposition. But I’ve since come to the conclusion that these glamour games are quite liberating, knowing that we’re likely to be afforded an opportunity to express ourselves in a genuine contest of football ability. By contrast, against the league’s lesser lights, we’re perhaps inhibited by a sense of apprehension, caused by our familiarity with the frustration of having to contend with the opposition’s spoiling tactics.

I ended up typically tardy, nearly losing my rag along with all the other Gooners caught up in long turnstile queues resulting from the stewards’ gratuitous delays (“no I’m not pleased to see you, that’s a mobile in my pocket”).

I felt we held our own for much of the first-half, until the period of pressure which resulted in Djourou’s mishap. Athough Almunia was equally culpable for the own goal, gifting them possession with his reckless throw-out. But then, with our confidence having taken such a hiding in recent weeks, we seemed to visibly wilt.

It’s interesting to note that Malouda was the only natural wide-man on the park for either team and he spent his afternoon in Sagna’s pocket. Chelsea’s only outlet on the flanks and their best player before the break was Bosingwa. It was only later that it occurred to me that their full-back might’ve been forced to curb his attacking instincts in the second-half, as Nasri came into the game.

Far from being downhearted at half-time, I was happy to still be involved in a close fought contest, as a performance like last week’s fiasco might’ve seen us played off the park. A reprise of last season’s “buy one, get one free” goading, in response to the Blues ticket sales announcements was the source of some much needed merriment, having just been mugged of £3.50 (€4.10) for a bit of bread with half an olive on top. I thought the bloke behind the counter was having a pop at me, with his “Foccacia” response to my enquiry as to the things beside the pasties.

Van Persie’s timely two-goal intervention on the hour was just the spark that was needed to expunge any “men against boys” insecurities, as suddenly everyone in red & white appeared to increase in stature. Without the driving force of the likes of Essien, Chelsea lack some of the “never say die” spirit, which would’ve normally had me holding my breath until the last kick of the ball. We were far more composed in defence, than I can remember us being for a long while.

Above all, it was poetic justice that Clichy completely outshone Cashley, but then nearly all the Gunners deserve credit for their committed performances. Even Denilson and Song, despite frustrating the hell out of me with their habit of conceding naive free-kicks in dangerous areas.

My one real criticism is reserved for Adebayor, as despite setting up our second goal, for much of the game I was flabbergasted by his lack of enthusiasm. That I was so eager for the Togonator to be replaced by Bendtner (who’s hardly Mr Selfless in my eyes), tells you all you need to know and “foccacia” would’ve sounded like a compliment, compared to the way in which the bloke behind was coating off the lazy lummox.