A different kind of report for you tonight, I save the pretentious pleasure of grading players for tomorrow’s game at Old Trafford.
Yet another week watching two games back to back. Two similar situations for very different outcomes, gotta love the away goal rule.
Arsenal – Porto
Arsene Wenger can smile: Bendtner finally scored. And oh my, did he do it with fashion. An unconventional hat trick* during a decisive Champion’s League game. It all started at the ninth minute. After Arshavine took all the Porto defence on a walk (keeper included), the ball falls to Bendtner who, in between two remaining defenders, stretches his looong legs to score a goal Inzaghi could be proud of. Perfect reply to all his detractors complaining about his lack of finishing skills. Can’t get a more forward-like goal than that. The festival continues when, at the twenty-fifth minute, the Great Dane taps in another Inzaghi-like goal. Way to pump up your ego man. Ego indeed, because most of the work on both goals was done by Arsenal’s own brand of Russian caviar: Arshavine. Just don’t ask him to score (see open goal shot sent in the stands). Bendtner furthermore concluded the parade with a harmless penalty kick in the second half’s stoppage time. That’s for him.
The game was otherwise pleasant, with short passes and mobility on both sides. Porto was in an unfortunate night, with bad decisions, the inability to cross and a referee that was clearly influenced by the home crowd (this does not diminish Arsenal’s performance at all, it just shows on a couple of off-side decisions and small fouls). Hulk disappointed us. The season is still very long for the blue and white, transparent tonight. For Arsenal, things are looking up with Nasri enjoying the spotlight that comes along with filling Fabregas’ shoes in (excellent performance). Cesc can now calmly leave for Barcelona. Nasri’s second half goal is absolutely fantastic. To describe it would be tenuous and probably unworthy; but just so you know, he decided to dribble around three Porto players inside their own box for about ten seconds before accelerating and placing a clinical shot in Helton’s side net. That was 3-0; the 4-0 came from a superbly conducted counter attack by Arshavine (who else?) before releasing it for Eboue who calmly beat Helton to score in an empty net. The total will come out to 5-0 (with Bentdner’s penalty), on the house. Song sucks up every loose ball in midfield and fouls a lot more intelligently than previously (the referee was obviously scared of him), Almunia saves the one shot Porto have, everything is pretty, and everyone is beautiful. Commentator: “Arsenal could beat anyone”. Not so sure.
Not so sure for a couple of reasons. First, because Sol Campbell. The hundred kilo mass was very easily overtaken by Falcao who, although extremely talented, is no Drogba or Higuain. Vermaelen had to do everything tonight, especially commit fouls. I already explained the problem previously, this is where I stop for now. Gallas is out I know, but common, put Sylvestre on at least…. Secondly because Arsenal showed their sloppy side as well tonight: with intercepted passes, valiant but approximative defending and poor choices, Arsenal just doesn’t seem to be of the same calibre as the other big machines of European soccer. Finally because who knows if Nicklas will carry out this form even to the next game? If he does, better for him, but this was just Bruno Alves-Rolando, again, not equivalent to a Vidic-Ferdinand, let alone a Pique-Puyol. Arsenal has impressed, yes, undoubtedly, but it seems like they always walk a very thin line between astonishing and absolutely discouraging.
*I commit myself to this definition of a hat-trick: when a player score three consecutive goals within one half (more exclusive but oh how I can't wait until the day I see one).
Fiorentina - Bayern Munich
The Stadio Artemio Franchi was the warmest place in Florence tonight. With a 0°C temperature and a wind worthy of San Francisco on its worst day, it was up to the fans to keep the players warm. And that wasn’t too hard either: robbed of a goal in the first leg and on the verge of seeing a historic qualification of their local team, the atmosphere was electric from the first minute on. Armed with its beautiful and passionate game, Fiorentina take the confrontation by the horns: fouls, pressure, insults, revenge and heart. The Germans reply with their outmost characteristic stoicism and experience. The game is messy because of the wind.
But that works for the Viola, at least for an hour or so. The first sound explosion came about at the twenty-eighth minute. After unleashing a powerful shot from 25 meters out, Marchionni pushes Butt to one of infamous catastrophic saves, the ball bounces back to a speeding Vargas who propels the leather in the opposite 7. No need to mention Van Buyten (yes, I got it wrong yesterday by saying he wouldn’t play), he is nowhere to be found on the rebound, his leg doesn’t even appear on the replay (so in fact, he shouldn’t have played). The flags are out, plastic bags fly across the field and Fiorentina is qualified. The first half ends with a fruitless 62% Bavarian ball possession, a Robben-Ribery pair well contained by the Viola and Van Gaal suddenly breaking out in a song: “Battery acid in my veins – unidentified remains…” Or maybe that was just me.
The second half starts with Gilardino’s incredible chance: Marchionni mystifies Badstuber and Van Buyten with a low cross, Gila stops the ball just right of the penalty spot, shoots but finds Butt on his way. The stadium believes, and rightly so. Take the same, Marchionni’s cross to Gilardino, add a delicious back heel pass, insert some Jovetic in the box, and you get the 2-0 (fifty-third minute). If the first celebrations didn’t make you deaf, this one did. The stadium is in heaven; Fiorentina is qualified and now leads by two. This is where the similarity to the Arsenal-Porto game has led us, and also where it stops: a 2-0 lead at home while having lost 1-2 the first away leg.
Ribery then wakes up, delivers a low ball to Van Bommel about thirty meters out of Frey’s goal. He might a butcher on the field, but he is still Dutch: the inside of his right foot sends the ball flying into the Florentine goal (sixtieth minute). Absolute silence and parity. But it will take more to discourage the Viola. After devouring the left flank, Jovetic and Vargas play one-two, Gilardino heads it beautifully back to Jovetic, again, 3-1 (sixty-fourth minute). The sound returns to its previous level. Then Robben wakes up, takes the ball, forgets his teammates and shoots. Brilliant shot, 3-2 (sixty-fifth minute). The rest is history with a soundtrack that goes “Ladri! Ladri!” Bayern go through thanks to individual exploits and away goals (I want to say unfair, but who knows, maybe Inter will win because of it next week, I will return to this later). Some game plan must arise if the Bavarians want to pretend to be a serious pretender to the pretentious title of Champions of Europe.
But that works for the Viola, at least for an hour or so. The first sound explosion came about at the twenty-eighth minute. After unleashing a powerful shot from 25 meters out, Marchionni pushes Butt to one of infamous catastrophic saves, the ball bounces back to a speeding Vargas who propels the leather in the opposite 7. No need to mention Van Buyten (yes, I got it wrong yesterday by saying he wouldn’t play), he is nowhere to be found on the rebound, his leg doesn’t even appear on the replay (so in fact, he shouldn’t have played). The flags are out, plastic bags fly across the field and Fiorentina is qualified. The first half ends with a fruitless 62% Bavarian ball possession, a Robben-Ribery pair well contained by the Viola and Van Gaal suddenly breaking out in a song: “Battery acid in my veins – unidentified remains…” Or maybe that was just me.
The second half starts with Gilardino’s incredible chance: Marchionni mystifies Badstuber and Van Buyten with a low cross, Gila stops the ball just right of the penalty spot, shoots but finds Butt on his way. The stadium believes, and rightly so. Take the same, Marchionni’s cross to Gilardino, add a delicious back heel pass, insert some Jovetic in the box, and you get the 2-0 (fifty-third minute). If the first celebrations didn’t make you deaf, this one did. The stadium is in heaven; Fiorentina is qualified and now leads by two. This is where the similarity to the Arsenal-Porto game has led us, and also where it stops: a 2-0 lead at home while having lost 1-2 the first away leg.
Ribery then wakes up, delivers a low ball to Van Bommel about thirty meters out of Frey’s goal. He might a butcher on the field, but he is still Dutch: the inside of his right foot sends the ball flying into the Florentine goal (sixtieth minute). Absolute silence and parity. But it will take more to discourage the Viola. After devouring the left flank, Jovetic and Vargas play one-two, Gilardino heads it beautifully back to Jovetic, again, 3-1 (sixty-fourth minute). The sound returns to its previous level. Then Robben wakes up, takes the ball, forgets his teammates and shoots. Brilliant shot, 3-2 (sixty-fifth minute). The rest is history with a soundtrack that goes “Ladri! Ladri!” Bayern go through thanks to individual exploits and away goals (I want to say unfair, but who knows, maybe Inter will win because of it next week, I will return to this later). Some game plan must arise if the Bavarians want to pretend to be a serious pretender to the pretentious title of Champions of Europe.
Once again, Bayern on the score sheet, Fiorentina in our hearts.
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