Sunday, February 27, 2011

Arsenal Blues

I am that odd sort of American who actually thinks about football as soccer, and the U.S. version as American football. Having long been a Jets fan, disappointment has been a central feature of my longer relationship with the American version of the sport. And while the Yankees certainly give me moments of glory, the Knicks have also been the heartbreak kids on numerous occasions. Yet my true love for the past several years has really been Arsenal, a perennial disappointment for the six long years since their last trophy. There have lost finals, missed opportunities and suffered through a complete collapse at the end of last season that cost us a chance at the second most important trophy -- a league title. I thought that would all end today, as they came in big favorites to finally win some medal in the final of the Carling Cup against Birmingham. And yet we once again found a way to lose, this time with a heartbreaking mistake by our young Polish goalie Szczesny at the stroke of full time. I'm not sure anyone who reads this blog cares about the beautiful game, but one of the things that makes it beautiful is the potential for an upset on the grandest of stages. That is exactly what happened, as Arsenal seemed severely limited without stars Fabergas and Wolcott. Bendtner. Nasri and the upstart Wilshire certainly provided some opportunities, but the Fagergas sub Rosicky continued to fail in finishing some good opportunities. The thrill of a victory against the best team in the world Barcelona less than two weeks ago is now overshadowed by the agony of a defeat that again showed a team not living up to the moment, or it's potential. In the mid-2000s I became a huge fan as they won several trophies with a spectacular team led by the inimitable Frenchman Thierry Henry. Now they seem poised to follow in the footsteps of the Jets, and find ways to lose games and tournaments they should or could win. I suppose I can only hope for a miracle in the return leg to the city that brought me to the game in the first place (Barcelona) ... or take respite in the fact that, as a New Yorker, I might just revel a bit in the minor and major tragedies I have come to expect.

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