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برچسب: East

  • All I want for the new year is more of the same – East Lower


    Would Arsenal’s form survive a six-week hiatus, we all wondered? Is it possible to bottle momentum and uncork it again? We needn’t have worried – out came the Boxing Day fizz. 

    Will my ability to write blogs survive a six-month hiatus? Don’t put the champagne on ice.

    It’s been nearly eight months, truth be told (or three league defeats – it depends if your default calendar is Gregorian or Artetian) and I have no idea why. Other than one minute it was May, and the next minute it’s now. 

    You’d think that playing the best football in years would have drawn me to the blog like a moth to a flame, but no. The moths have got wise.

    This is the best football we’ve played in years though: a satisfying mix of proper structure, attacking fettle and youthful oomph has led to a love-in with the fanbase that has reinvigorated everyone. We can play tough and we can play pretty. 

    And we can play tough without, it seems, Xhaka ending up going Full Xhaka. Now that’s progress.

    Steady Eddie

    The big talking point since the World Cup has of course been the Gabriel Jesus injury. Like Alexis Sanchez before him, he’s one of those rare-breed attackers who has an internal dynamo that seems permanently set to 100. When he’s fit, everyone knows the pecking order: Jesus starts, and Eddie is for cameos and cups.

    We all know Eddie is a backup, and he’ll never – much like the Beatles – be more popular than Jesus, but some people do seem keen to write him off before he’s got his feet under the desk.

    This is the same Eddie Nketiah who, when given a run in the side last season scored five goals in seven league games.

    So if you ask me, as backups go he’s a pretty good one to have, and at 23 he will only get better. Yes, there were a few wrong calls against West Ham, but it’s hardly a crime to be rusty. And then, that goal. What a beautiful turn and shot; what a beautiful shot in the arm for him. And his workrate is always exemplary – any player not putting a shift in for Arteta wouldn’t be there very long. 

    Well done Eddie!

    As for the rest of it

    Yes, this is a lot of fun, but you won’t find me being swept up in any premature giddiness. We’re only 39% of the way through the season. 

    Doesn’t mean we can’t lap it up of course, or believe that we’re onto something good here, but *dons donkey jacket and talks earnestly to camera* we can only take each game as it comes. And… things do get a tad harder from here. In fact, January looks like an absolute assault course.

    Maybe we’ll have Mudryk by then? What’s not to like about a “lightning-quick forward”?

    Before then, to the south coast we go. 

    See you in another eight months. Or maybe sooner. 



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  • A week of goodwill… and now for the finale – East Lower


    On and off the pitch, Arsenal are barely putting a foot wrong at the moment. Top of the table, a smooth passage to the 4th round of the FA Cup and talk of an imminent (and expensive) reinforcement to whet the appetite. (Strong whiff of a saga about this, with breathless updates emerging even during the writing of this post, so who the hell knows).

    UPDATE: looks like that ship has now sailed. €100m is nuts.

    That’s a wrap

    There’s been a lot of hard work off the pitch too – some of it thanks to Arteta and the players, some of it thanks to the the club’s execs and some thanks to fan input – that has been well documented, resulting in a sea change in the matchday atmosphere. There’s a good, warm buzz at the moment, something that got another shot in the arm this week with the unveiling of the new stadium wraps. 

    How good are they? The collaborative nature of the project has paid huge dividends. Arsenal’s history runs through them, but they’ve also managed to bring all the different strands together that make up modern Arsenal. Really, really impressive and I can’t wait to see them up and running. Bravo to all involved.

    All or something 

    The feelgood factor is such that I’ve even started watching All or Nothing. Just the six months late then – you can always count on me being ahead of the zeitgeist.

    As everyone hoovered it in record time, I steadfastly and perhaps a little inexplicably couldn’t bring myself to watch it. I had a couple of doubts, I suppose. The first was that I worried I would find the reality of their existence a bit mundane, that it would smash the mystique and I might end up not warming to them especially. I was wrong about that, or at least I was if the three episodes I’ve seen are any guide. Everyone is for the most part quite engaging, some are quite quirky, and seeing their strengths and weaknesses is a nice window into the reality of being human.

    The second thing holding me back was my innate dislike of cheesy management and motivational techniques. And I have to say, I do find Arteta’s methods in this show a bit awks. 

    Strong memories of going to pre-natal classes with Mrs Lower (many years ago now) and worrying about being asked to sit in a circle and take my shoes off. Yes, I am that bloke.

    Well anyway, it is cheesy but who’s having the last laugh? Six months on and you can see how together they are and how much everyone (except the FA) loves Arteta. Perhaps I should rub my hands together and stand in a circle with my friends a bit more. 

    The elephant in the room 

    Hand-rubbing vibes all round, basically, but tomorrow looms large and has the capacity for the week to be seen through a slightly different prism. A bad result wouldn’t dent the general mood for long, but it is a huge game with an awful lot at stake.

    Given City’s loss today, with Utd scuttling up the rungs, a win tomorrow would be giant. But history tells us that will be a big ask – we’ve drawn twice in eight seasons there and lost the rest. We need to hit the ground running and it would be nice not to be on the wrong end of soft decisions. 

    Looking forward to it? Yes and no. Not much if I’m honest, just because. Ask me again at 6.15pm tomorrow. I might love it, I might hate it.

    Come on you reds!



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  • Reiss unleashes, I’m in pieces – East Lower


    Arsenal 3-2 Bournemouth

    Mere seconds divide desolation from ecstasy in this most glorious of sports. There is nothing that compares to it – nothing at all.

    This is why we go through it

    East Lower (@eastlower) March 4, 2023

    It really is why we go, why we go again, and why we keep doing it to ourselves.

    It’s a sport where scoring happens less than in many other sports. How many goals do you get in a game of football? Sometimes none at all, other times maybe a maximum of five. Often somewhere in between. Goals are like gold dust. They are each and every one of them moments of real meaning, much more so than many other sports.

    Combine that with the tribal, quasi-religious nature of football, and you have all the ingredients for the moment that engulfed us all in the 97th minute of yesterday’s game.

    And, oh boy – ay caramba, hell’s bells – were we engulfed by it. Come about the 85th minute I had resigned myself to suffer the kind of mixed emotions that I can only describe as a ‘spirited disaster’. A nod of approval at the sheer courageousness of our response and a dogged will to win, combined with a sense of frustration at the foot-shooting that had got us into the mess in the first place.

    Then Odegaard fires over the final corner in the final moment of this most breathtaking of games. I see it spin out to Nelson – whose presence on the pitch is a whole other story in itself – and the next thing I see is the ball arrowing like an Exocet towards my actual head. This clip was pretty much our view. Had there been no net, the blog would currently be being written by a headless man.

    As it was, the net saved me from being a headless man only momentarily. Let’s just say there were limbs aplenty, limbs akimbo – it was unremittingly limbtabulous. There have been moments of ecstasy like this at the Emirates Stadium, even this season. But in these circumstances, at that time, having been two down and with a goal that would grace a World Cup final? I don’t remember anything like it short of going back to Platt and Henry v United. I will never forget this moment. 

    “The best game I’ve ever been to”, said my 14-year-old son. And who can argue otherwise? 

    Want to see it again? Who am I kidding – you’ve all watched it a trillion and twelve times but if you want more and haven’t seen it, this thread from Dan Critchlow covers all the bases. Arsenal fans the world over hurling themselves everywhere, going utterly mental, jumping into pools, gyrating. Imagine Reiss Nelson watching a thread like that? This is what your left foot did. You reduced – or is elevated? – us to this. It doesn’t matter how the rest of the season pans out, or his Arsenal career, because that strike has gone down into folklore already. 

    The celebrations on the pitch were no less pandemonious. Men down, men shooting off in competing directions, other men coming on the pitch. Everyone lost their absolute shit and I am completely here for it.

    There were other goals too, should I mention them? I won’t talk of Bournemouth’s, why ruin the moment? But a hat tip to Nelson (again) for his cross and another hat-tip to Ben White for a magnificent strike to level it. Just. 

    What does this mean for our season? Had we drawn it would have been another momentum-swinger. But we won and what that says about this team is the kind of thing that, if you could bottle it, would make you millions. Can we do it? Hold your horses. There are 12 games to go, and trust me every game is going to feel as decisive as this. 

    I am here for the challenge, whether we make it or not. This team is magnificent. We’re there for them, they’re there for us, and that they’re there for each other is unquestionable. Just enjoy the ride. And try to breathe.

    (I told you I’d write a blog Mr C – hope your hangover subsided, and that you have another one today).





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  • My blogging hiatus has not served Reiss Nelson well – East Lower


    Clearly, Reiss Nelson’s goal was all a bit much for me. Surfing on a wave of excitement, I extolled the virtues of his winning goal against Bournemouth that kept our title challenge alive. 

    And then… nothing. I don’t know why. But I stopped blogging again, thereby missing recording the agony of falling short (along with the glee at coming second and getting back into the Champions League).

    And then I missed it all again, swerving the quill for the entirety of this season, during which we came second again but only by several points, and were better in almost all discernible ways. Almost.

    But enough about me, what about poor old Reiss Nelson? His cameo may well have sealed his place in the Arsenal hall of fame, but at the time you’d have been forgiven for thinking that it may have been a kick-start for his Arsenal career.

    And then what? He played just 257 minutes of league football this season, starting just once, and had one shot on goal. His sole goal came in the League Cup.

    His rocket that day in March 2023 turned out to be his high-water mark for the club – I think we can say that now, barring some unlikely change of fortune. I suppose it’s not a bad way to be remembered, but his career has hit the buffers and at 24 years old, he desperately needs regular football. It seems almost impossible to see him here next year (and it would be a waste of his talent too).

    As we sit back and enjoy the glow of a season that, as a fan, was about as enjoyable as it can get, we see many winners, from this season’s new boys Declan Rice, David Raya and Kai Havertz, to the rock solid partnership of Gabriel and Saliba, and beyond to White, Saka, Odegaard and Trossard. 

    Reiss Nelson, sadly, was not among them, and that is the brutal reality of competing at the highest level. 



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  • Reasons why August is the best football month – East Lower


    August, for the football fan in general, is very hard to beat. Here’s why:

    It’s high summer

    Picture the scene. It’s January and the weather hasn’t risen above zero all day. It’s basically already dark. It’s a league game against someone northern (I don’t actually remember who it was against, and perhaps it wasn’t against someone northern but I just associate the cold with the north). Not a lot is happening, but almost in unison the north bank starts bouncing up and down on the spot. Not as some kind of choreographed terrace spectacular, but because we all implicitly know that if we don’t start frenziedly hopping up and down we would all expire from frostbite.

    And this, ladies and gentlemen, is why I would prefer football to be a summer sport. Just think how much more pleasant it would be in the warmth of summer, or what passes for it in the UK. We could all noodle outside a bit, perhaps in a beer garden, then enjoy the dappled sun on the pitch before going home to plenty more hours of sunlight. The season could end just before the bleakest months of the year and recommence with spring just round the corner.

    Instead, we enjoy about 6 weeks of warmth before it all goes to pot. Only in early May (or April if we are lucky) does the sun make any form of contact with any part of our body that isn’t our face or hands.

    Optimism is universal

    August is the only point of the season where every single football fan isn’t at least a little bit optimistic. Squads are being remodelled, the slog of the previous season has retreated into the past, everyone has had a bit of time off and hope is in the air. I have no empirical evidence to prove it, and can’t be bothered to find it, but I suspect attendances on the first day of the season are at their zenith. 

    It’s the hope that kills you though. If you are lucky, as Arsenal have been over the years, then August folds into September with the minimum of bumps, and you can look forward to building some momentum and having a good season.

    This is not the experience of most football fans, though. By September, an awful lot of them will have already realised that hope has not sprung eternal. In fact, it’s not sprung at all. Hope is a mirage; a fickle beast. They will look back wistfully at August and probably sigh.

    The chequebook is well and truly out

    As we know, new arrivals are like paraffin on a bonfire. All of your team’s ills can be cured – or so it seems – by millions of pounds being dropped on some new players, and August (especially after a summer tournament) is the time when this all gets turbocharged. It’s breathless and silly, and reporting on it is an entire industry in itself, with its own language, but it’s hard not to get caught up in the excitement.

    A cursory glance at NewsNow confirms it. The current favourite is to put everything into quotes – ‘incredible’ player wants out, contract agreed with ‘world-class’ star, ‘transfer clause agreed’. Then there are the old classics, when players become wantaway stars, teams start swooping and – my favourite of all time – when players issue come-and-get-me pleas.

    I’ve always wondered how you issue a plea. It probably involves a trip to the Post Office.

    I fall for it all, hook line and sinker. Even though the Euro final was only 15 days ago, it feels like ages since the final game of the season (it’s 73 days and that feels as long as it sounds). I have forgotten the disappointment, and armed with a Calafiori I am ready to go into battle again.



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  • Winning ugly is beautiful – East Lower


    Spurs 0-1 Arsenal 

    In line with tradition, before all north London derbies I am filled with a sense of dread. The things that have been evident for so long leave my mind and I assume the footballing equivalent of the prone position. I just can’t help it.

    Turns out I should trust what my eyes, and the league table, have been telling me for several years. For as well as knowing how to win with beauty, we are also experts at digging in and winning pretty much any other way.

    For the record I don’t think we won ugly, I just liked the headline. But I do think that, shorn of two of the players who make Arsenal tick in the middle of the pitch, we just dug in and won a different way. 

    One of the abiding mysteries of the post-Vieira Wenger years was how we eschewed height and strength and leaned in on technical ability. We went from a big team to quite a small team, and it worked a lot of the time, but when the chips were down we also struggled to impose ourselves. 

    Now look at us though. At 5’ 10” Jurrien Timber was our smallest defender yesterday, but what he lacks vertically (he is hardly small anyway) he makes up for with the horizontal skills of strength, determination, positioning and canniness. Look, I know that line doesn’t work very well. But I’ll leave it in anyway.

    We have the best defensive unit in the Premier League, and yes, I do say this with my red and white varifocals on. I wouldn’t want anyone other than Saliba and Gabriel marshalling my defence. I wouldn’t want anyone other than White causing psychological merry hell and – sorry Zinny, Riccardo and Tomi – but Timber is going to take some shifting at left back.

    I also wouldn’t want anyone else when it comes to seizing opportunities at the other end. Nicolas Jover’s set piece army won it for us again. We keep doing it. And yesterday’s opponents keep falling for it. 

    Shout out to Trossard and Havertz for working their socks off and helping out Jorginho and Partey, and while the final decision didn’t quite work for Martinelli (as it hasn’t for a while) you cannot fault his lung power.

    And that’s the thing I love about this team. We will lose a few times this season, of course we will, and things will go against us – they already have. But we really hate losing, and I’m prepared to wager that there won’t be many – perhaps any – games this season where we will look at them at the end and wish they hadn’t left something on the pitch, or squeezed every last ounce of willpower out of themselves. 

    Desire and togetherness is a magic gravy. I love it.



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