Southern rail tried their best to make me miss the football tonight by parking my train outside East Croydon for ages, but I just caught it and have spent most of the evening grinning. The only exception was the last ten minutes of the game which were watched, like an old episode of Dr Who, from behind the sofa.
In the first half we made Sol Campbell look ordinary, and all through the game we were riding our luck – there were so many goal-line clearances I lost count, including the early one that Ljungrenn saved for us, and if the game had been decided on attempts or on corners we would have been wiped out.
But its goals that count.
Seeing Wenger’s little tantrum where he took out his frustration on his chair was the icing on the cake.
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