For fuck’s sake talk about a tale of two halves (or have nots). All day I had been looking forward to today’s match. Here in the States, I had to be back at work as if it was another day while all you proper blokes got to enjoy your Boxing Day off. Now that didn’t stop me from running around the office with my scarf displayed proudly across my neck declaring it Boxing Day and trying to get every other poor bloke at the office to be excited but this was a going to be a good day. I had homemade chili at the house, several cold beers to choose from and don’t even get me started about this trifle the wife had made (oh yes, there is Irish cream in it!). After enjoying my bowl of chili (and that which was left in my wife’s bowl), pounding my Rogue American Ale, Jackson went down easy enough, the Wifey went out shopping and I sat down to my wonderfully recorded Boxing Day glory. My friends, it was going to be a good day…

That was, until I took in the first half of the match. What the fuck is going on with our lads? No movement, sloppy passing again and no quality on finishing. West Ham charged at our lines and while we looked threatening enough at times we were seriously missing that edge we had been leading with throughout much of the season. Scarily enough, I went into half thinking a tie at West Ham wouldn’t be all that bad…

And then the second half started and after yet another missed goal opportunity West Ham countered to put one in. Really? Seriously? Are we deciding that we enjoy collapses now? Next comes the text from my wife that there are no Christmas deals but she found an end table to “explain” (worst words a husband can read/hear). Shortly thereafter, Rambo goes off injured, my baby boy starts some sleep cries and my wife pulls out a partially mirrored end table (WTF?!). Shit, this really isn’t going well…

But then the trifle eating begins… followed by a Theo goal (who just happens to be my wife’s favorite player) and next thing you know we are back in the game and Arsenal look completely rejuvenated as Thor’s Hammer returns to the mix for the hobbled Rambo (really hope the knock isn’t much). A switch is flipped and all of a sudden it is starting to look like the very early season glory of Poldi/Giroud/Santi is back in action (hey, we’re getting the band back together!). Ozil creates more magic, Theo uses his head and Thor’s Hammer (otherwise known as Poldi’s left leg) slams one into the back of the net. Game over. The mighty hammers are done and Arsenal take three to the bank.

It really is hard to quantify the up and down emotion of that game. Just a completely shit first half followed by a glorious second half. Absolutely ridiculous game. And yet, this is exactly why I LOVE soccer. The instant change in the game. The second gear. The swing of emotion followed by my silent screams as my wife shushes me from above so I don’t wake our now sleeping baby (who sleeps below canvassed art of past Arsenal glories and photos of Emirates herself).

Am I completely happy with our performance? No. Outside of the two goals, Theo was a bit selfish and drove at the goal a few times when he should have just laid it off. Giroud couldn’t buy a damn goal again (not sure what exactly is going on there). Ozil still isn’t quite at the level he played at with Los Blancos. BUT we nabbed three points when we absolutely needed them and shook off our “losing” streak. Well done lads. Not only can I sleep soundly tonight I can spend all Friday telling everyone about how glorious my Boxing Day ended up being for this stateside Gooner.

Until next time…