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ISSUE 1 - PLYMOUTH ARGYLE
ISSUE 2 - CELTIC & LUTON TOWN
ISSUE 3 - PORTSMOUTH & SUNDAY FOOTBALL
ISSUE 4 - SCOTLAND'S WORLD CUP & WORLD CUP SONGS


IN THIS ISSUE WE LOOK AT HENRIETTA KNIGHT AND ARSENAL...



HENRIETTA KNIGHT

Ever wondered what’s going on in your birds pretty little head whilst you both watch the big game? Well, we asked top tabloid journalist Henrietta Knight (she is) to do the match report of the Champions League Cup Final, Arsenal vs Barcelona.

By Henrietta Knight, Chief football writer (www.sidenetting.co.uk)



Glory was snatched away when it seemed so close - stolen from a side that had achieved so little. When Arsenal left the Stade de France railing against the injustices of the world, Wenger’s mighty men reflected on how quickly a fairytale can turn sour.

Just as Arsenal looked set to pull off the greatest rearguard action that ever was, the mighty force of the men in blue and red eventually stung the Gunners.

It was a sad loss from a side that initially promised so much. The British team strode onto the pitch sporting yellow and black costumes looking quietly confident.The ball was kicked around the pitch with little result. Then just before half time up popped Sol Campbell to nod one home! What a cross! They went forward and they went forward quickly. And it was despite the best efforts by referee Tewrje Hauge to spoil the game by making lots of silly wrong decisions.

With less than a quarter of an hour to go, our brave boys seemed to have done the impossible, not only preventing the remarkable Ronaldinho from weaving his destructive web of brilliance, but doing so with only 10 men after Lehmann was sent off after only 18 minutes.

But football is the cruellest of games, and it was horribly unfair that Alumnia and Henry – both who had initially helped to keep the Gunners up front – were then cast in the role as villains. Henry weaved around hundreds of millions of pounds worth of players as though they were nothing.

They had prevented Barcelona from throwing everything at them even at the height of their second-half siege. Their frustrations and gloom intensified as Campbell’s cunning blocks and Ashley Cole’s tackles became rather meaningless in the pageant they call soccer. A foul by Campbell sent him spiralling from hero to zero.

They did not stand a chance as they battled long and hard against the sinister senors of Barcelona. Eto’s scored a beautifully-constructed equaliser, which was marginalised by his revolting spitting on the pitch.

Within four minutes it was all over as Larsson picked out defender Juliano Belletti. The Barca ball was again diverted into the net as Alumni and Belletti joined forces and then were submerged under a sea of red and blue shirts.

From that moment the game turned into a reactive disappointment for the Gooners. It’s called possession football and it’s a desperate game.

Ed: Better than Jeff Powell, eh, eh, eh? And she’s a handsome little filly, don’t you think. Running to fat a bit on her lower loins but a compact chassis and not a bad old bird for 54. More from Henrietta later.


ARESENAL

Gerard Donnachie has been an Arsenal Fan for over 60 years now. He once worked the turnstiles at Dial Square and used to shine Herbert Champan’s boots etc etc. Look, he’s a big fan, season ticket holder for years. So don’t this story sound a bit too familiar.

After seeing Arsenal beat Villa Real in the first leg semi-final of the 2006 Champions League,I told everyone that would listen, that the job was done, that there wasn't any way a team that had been so 'comprehensively' beaten 1-0, could come back to win the 2nd leg.I was going to put my limited money where my confident mouth was and book the travel before the 2nd leg had been played.

After seeing on the net that Eurostar was nearly booked up at £200-300 a go, I  decided to by two tickets for me and my 6ft 7inch mate 'Tall Paul' to fly to Tours about 85 miles south of Paris, but only £52 return from Stanstead with Ryan Air. Cheap , but still 85 miles away from where we needed to be. I booked nothing further feeling that this was enough confidence for now.



The 2nd leg away at Villa Real was watched in my sitting room through my fingers as Arsenal put in probably their worst performance I had ever seen  as they failed to know what to do, attack, defend or counter attack...........they decided to do nothing and by pure luck and a goalkeeping miracle from Lehamn in stoppage time meant that that evening I was back on line to book TGV bullet trains from Tours at £40 a go to get to Montparness in South Paris,and single rooms nearby at £50 a night.

Job done that night all I had to do was get the Cup Final Tickets from Arsenal and we were set.

That would be no problem as I had always got tickets for FA Cups, and previous European Cup Winners Cup Finals.After all had I not seen Arsenal for 32 years regularly and been a season ticket holder (first terrace and then Upper west) for 26 years?

I was to be sadly mistaken, my wife broke the news over the phone at work as if someone had died...'I'm so sorry darling but the email says that though Arsenal value your support you were not successful in the application'. I bravely thanked her for the news and then tried to continue to work. Funnily enough my wife had got the right tone, my head spun and I couldn't concentrate all I could think was 'how could this happen to me , how much more of a fan did Arsenal want me to be before I could get tickets to their biggest ever game ? I managed to call 'Tall Paul' with the news and then physically and emotionally drained left work and went home to sulk, as if I had been dumped.

The next morning I e mailed everyone I thought might know of how to get tickets, I dashed down to Patrick Vierra's English best man at his wedding (who happens to work in the same company as me and I promise that is no bullshit) and told him the news and though he was sympathetic he didn't say the magic words I was hoping  for ....'No problem Gerard I'll call Patrick in Turin right away and you'll be in'..........he just sent me on my way with commiserations.

I searched E bay and even agreed £300 per ticket with n man with an African sounding name that wanted money sent Western Union which even I in my most desperate was not going to do. He sent me a hectoring email accusing me of stupidity and that Western Union was safe. I kept my money.

I then saw a web site with tickets on sale for £1100 each, I rang Paul and persuaded him that he could afford it and I double clicked and recieved confirmation that the tickets were ours for £2205.........with a £5 for dispatch. All this had to be kept from our wives of course. Our plan was to pay off my 0% interest credits card over 13 months and all would be well.

Over the next couple of weeks I kept in contact with the ticket agency that daily assured me via email that all was well and that delivery would come to my work address on May 9th , 8 days before the final. Then after missing that date, the tickets were to be collected in Paris on the day of the final, worrying news indeed.

They gave me two numbers to call on the day to organise that collection, the man to ask for was 'Harry', and it was hardly inspiring.

Tall Paul and I decided to risk it . Our wives thought we were travelling in vain, but we felt we were travelling with hope.

The convoluted travel worked brilliantly, and on the day I spoke to 'Harry' many times, and just like a 'courier' in a kidnap drama I was told at various times that  we would meet 'Harry' in allocated locations round Paris before yet another rendevue was set and missed by him.

Our final rendevue was to be outside the inter galactic looking Stade de France.We waite there for 3 hours watching what seemed like a 50,000 neutral fans and celebrities like Johan Cruyff, Alex Ferguson, Bernie Ecclestone and Roman Abrahamovitch arrive.

Then with only 1 hour left to the kick off, for 'Harry' to materialise, he answered my plaintive call to tell me half heartedly and with no great effort to cover his lie that 'his courier being arrested and the tickets were gone'.

I swore loudly down the phone and hung up. Tall Paul didn't need telling what was wrong and we legged it down the slope and into the sea of oncoming hoards of gooners.

We were looking to get away from the stadium which was in a wilderness part of Paris. We had to get to a bar to watch the game, we had no plan B, we didn't have enough cash for what we have since heard to be £3,000 a ticket.We found a cab and headed for the Gar'd Nor.

There we found a packed 'Le Pub' and watched for 70 minutes believing the dream,only for it to be snatched away, but I have to say by the better team on the night. Traditionally for a 'London' Pub when much drink has been consumed, fighting broke out between fans seconds from the end. Glasses and punches were thrown, blood was splashed about like a spaghetti western. Why ? Was it because of the referee sending off Lehman ? Or was it  because of the 'off side equalising goal'?

No,  The City of Love had worked its charms yet again because a gooner woman  was showing too much attention to the wrong fella and her boyfriend didn't approve !

We arrived back safely, worse for wear the next day and we got our money back in full from the afore said ticket agency.

Sadly the final is in Moscow next year and we have even less chance of getting a ticket because of the 9,000 new season ticket holders.

But as Humphrey Bogart said 'we will always have Paris'..........no tickets , just Paris.