Alex Song must redefine his position

Alex Song, the back four’s babysitter, is having a good season. But so he should. From 1 to 11, he has - by far - the easiest position.

In the Sky Sports 21st Century, every player must cover two positions. Full-backs must be wingers; wingers must be full-backs; centre-midfielders must be forwards; and forwards must be defenders.

Except, of course, the holding midfielder. He’s the lucky one; the spoilt son with his own position, his own rules, and his own cosy comfort zone.

He’s not an attacker. We know that. He doesn’t make forward runs, or make forward passes. The other midfielders do that job.

And, really, he’s not a defender. He’s an extra, a bonus, not the last line.

The holding midfielder doesn’t worry about holding the line, playing the offside trap. He doesn’t worry about marking the centre-forward, getting elbows in his gullet. And he doesn’t worry about nippy strikers, one-on-one, steaming past.

The holding midfielder, in short, has few responsibilities. He’s a full-back that doesn’t have to attack; or a winger that doesn’t have to defend. He’s pampered.

Song, in fairness, is making the easy position look easy. He wins headers, and - something not seen last season - he wins tackles. He also makes interceptions, though often, the ball finds him, not the other way round.

But, now he’s cracked the position, Song must redefine it. Like the Primary School chess champion, he must test himself at a higher level. He must leave the comfort zone.

Song, for starters, should score five goals a season. He can, stepping from the centre circle, be the extra man in Arsenal’s attacks; the man the opposition don’t mention in their team talks.

This season, he’s had - at least - ten chances to shoot from 25 yards, which he’s declined. Why? His shooting is far, far better than Theo Walcott’s or Emmanuel Eboue’s, who shoot more often, and from worse angles.

As Javier Mascherano showed for Liverpool against Everton, shooting from distance creates undeserved goals. Arsenal, surely, score fewer deflections than any Premier League team.

But that isn’t the only way Song can score goals. As he showed at Wigan last season - when he scored - and Sunderland this season, when he didn’t, Song has skill. He can drop his shoulder and beat a man; he can burst past people defenders with pace, or one-twos.

He’s shown he’s a holding midfielder. Now Song must show he’s a midfielder. He should stop holding, start pressing, and run 25 per cent more in each game.

Song can become a deep-lying Steven Gerrard. If he does, Arsenal could revert to 4-4-2, with Andrei Arshavin and Robin van Persie up front. And that, you imagine, would be worth watching.

Who is Arsenal's player of the season?

Who, after four months and 25 games, has been Arsenal’s player of the season?

After Sunday’s wonder-goal, some might say Andrei Arshavin. From that position, on his right-foot, Arshavin will score four times out of five. It wasn’t hit and hope. It was hit and admire.

That’s why the 2-1 win wasn’t lucky: Arsenal’s world-class player is in form, and played well. Liverpool’s two world-class players didn’t.

But, despite that goal, Arshavin hasn’t been brilliant this season. Too often, he’s been stuck on the left-wing; sulking like an unhappy 17-year-old at home on Saturday night.

The fact that, still, he’s scored eight goals in 16 starts proves what a special player he is. Eduardo, Tomas Rosicky, Samir Nasri, and Theo Walcott have fewer goals in total, despite 25 starts between them.

Robin van Persie would be a contender, had he played in the past month. Or, for that matter, the first month. He didn’t score until Emmanuel Adebayor stamped on his head, and he only scored in September and October.

Some might say Thomas Vermaelen has been Arsenal’s player of the year. The Man With The Bandaged Hand has the best leap, and the best left foot, in the Premiership.

If Arsenal had more than two centre-halves, he could play in Alex Song’s role when Song leaves for Africa. He’s quick, he wins headers, he tackles, and - most of all - he’s single-minded.

He won’t lose his temper, or his concentration, easily. He’s a 32-year-old 24-year-old, who will be Arsenal’s next captain.

But Vermaelen has made mistakes. His five goals - more than anyone but Arshavin, van Persie, and Cesc Fabregas - have made him immune from criticism.

He missed the corner Wolves scored from; he watched, helpless, as Darren Bent struck at Sunderland; and he shouldn’t have scored the own goal against Chelsea. He’s had an eight out of ten season. The man next to him, however, has been - at least - nine out of ten.

William Gallas has become, at last, the defender he was alongside John Terry at Chelsea. He’s 32, but, as Arsene Wenger revealed today, he’s getting a new contract. Will Wenger’s one-year rule for the over-30s apply? Doubtful.

The difference between Gallas this season, and Gallas last, is his partner. Centre-halves work in pairs, and Vermaelen - like Terry - can be trusted. Kolo Toure couldn’t.

Gallas can leave the left-side of the pitch alone, whether the ball comes long, or comes short. The Belgian has, in effect, halved Gallas’s workload. In turn, he’s become twice the player.

Last season - especially as captain - Gallas felt responsible for the left side, as he played then, and the right side. Like Arsene Wenger, he didn’t trust Toure. Gallas was on a one-man mission, and it didn’t work. It never could.

Free from Toure - who’s only been successful alongside Sol Campbell - Gallas has been the complete defender. He’s quick as ever - notice how he caught Tuncay against Stoke - but he’s braver. He’s barely six foot, but Gallas is no worse in the air than - say - Martin Keown in his prime.

And, most of all, he hasn’t made mistakes. He isn’t baby-sitting Toure, and he isn’t baby-sitting the team.

Arsenal’s defensive record - 19 goals in 15 games - is still poor. But that’s because only one midfielder tackles, and the keeper’s hopeless. Without Vermaelen and Gallas, it would be far worse.

Now he's not captain, Gallas is playing like a captain. At this rate, he'll be in the PFA Team of the Year for the third time (after 2003 and 2006). And, if the season ended now, he'd be Arsenal's player of the season.

Sorry - no articles until December 16

I'm away until December 16 and won't be able to write until then.

Here's hoping there's a decent sports bar in Dubai on Sunday.

Thanks

Owen

Eduardo's injury was lucky for Wenger

Arsene Wenger’s success at Arsenal has been caused by his inspired, and inspiring, decisions. But occasionally – just occasionally – he gets lucky.

Resorting to Jens Lehmann, after trying to sign other keepers in 2003, was lucky. For two years, Lehmann was Arsenal’s best defender.

Still having Ashley Cole, after planning on selling him to Crystal Palace for £200,000, was lucky. He became a better left-back, in defence and attack, than Silvinho. Cole, Robert Pires, and Thierry Henry were the Premiership’s best partnership from 2002 to 2004.

Now, Wenger’s got lucky again. Why? Because another of his players got injured.

Eduardo – apparently - strained a muscle on Friday. If he hadn’t, Arsenal wouldn’t have beaten Stoke 2-0.

Wenger would have played Eduardo, because the Croatian deserves loyalty, and he needs games. But, though that’s true, he’s been – comfortably – Arsenal’s worst player this season.

In 15 appearances this season, he’s scored three goals: from one yard against Everton, two yards against Standard Liege, and 12 yards – that penalty – against Celtic. He looks slower than last season. His touch is wooden, and his finishing is weak.

Arsenal’s attacks, which race down the pitch like a speedboat boat down the Thames, have ran aground when they’ve reached Eduardo. He’s the dancer one step behind the boyband.

Andrei Arshavin won’t have helped Eduardo’s confidence. Last week, the Russian told anyone who’d listen that, since Robin van Persie was injured, Arsenal had no striker. We can’t hold it up, he said. We’re too small.

So Wenger gave Arshavin the shirt. If you think you’re special, sonny, you do better.

And guess what? He did. Arshavin’s performance was Technicolor to Eduardo’s monochrome; sound to Eduardo’s silence.

He made runs, worried defenders, and offered midfielders space to find. His first goal – the run, the touch, the finish – was a van Persie impersonation, but right-footed.

And, for the difference between Arshavin and Average Arsenal, watch the penalty. Arshavin demanded the ball from Emmaneul Eboue. Then demanded it, then demanded it.

He’d seen enough mis-hit crosses, enough third-gear runs, enough weak-kneed dives, to know the outcome if Eboue kept it. Eventually Arshavin got the ball, beat a man, and won the penalty.

Easy, he thought. Just don’t take so long next time.

Playing Arshavin up front won’t win Arsenal the league. The keeper’s not good enough, the midfielders are one-paced, and no-one can goes a month without being injured.

But, with the Russian up front, Arsenal won’t go three games without a goal. And they should – should – beat Liverpool.

Three reasons why Arsenal haven't scored

In the past three games, Arsenal’s attack has been dumb. Unable to speak.

The team, the body, has worked. The possession stats against Sunderland (57 percent), Chelsea (51 percent), and Manchester City (61 percent), prove that.

But the attack – the mouth – has been frozen. There’s been no noise. Arsenal haven’t scored, in a domestic game, since Andrei Arshavin hit a half-volley against Wolves four weeks ago.

Arsenal’s attacking players, such as Arshavin, Samir Nasri, and Tomas Rosicky, want the ball. They’re footballers – exquisite footballers – and they’re unhappy without it.

And that’s the problem.

Some players don’t want the ball. Michael Owen, in his prime, didn’t want the ball. Neither did Marc Overmars. They lived behind the back four, not in front.

Owen and Overmars didn’t want the ball thirty yards from goal, like Rosicky does. They didn’t want to take a touch, roll it off, then move five yards, like Nasri does.

They wanted to dart behind. They wanted to come deep then spin, pouncing like a cat on a mouse.

Owen and Overmars could live without the ball. Arsenal’s attackers, reared on five-a-side pitches in Hertfordshire, can’t.

It means that, when Arsenal are 40 yards from goal, building a move, everything happens in front of opposition defenders. The polite attackers take turns to have touches; side-to-side, back and forth. After you. No - after you.

No-one ignores the ball, and runs. No-one disturbs their back-four. Instead, they let them watch, admire, breathe, and block.

It’s why so many Arsenal attacks end with a hopeless, half-baked cross from a full-back. Arsenal’s attackers play themselves into dead-ends, each pass slower than the last, like a drawn game of Connect 4.

When everyone wants the next touch, no-one wants space. Possession without movement equals paralysis.

The answer is part mental – confident players do things quicker – and part personnel. Robin van Persie is quicker, sharper, and busier than Eduardo. Theo Walcott – the closest thing Arsenal have to Owen, or Overmars – makes more runs than Rosicky.

So Arsenal fans, alas, must wait. Without movement – and van Persie, Walcott, and an interested Arshavin - goals may be scarce against Stoke.

There are, of course, two more reasons Arsenal haven’t scored since Wolves. But they don’t need 400 words to explain.

They don’t shoot from distance. And they don’t score from corners.

Arshavin wants 4-4-2, not 4-5-1

If you ran a kitchen, and employed the 21st best chef in Europe, would you have him cut carrots?

No. So why is Andrei Arshavin – who, in the Ballon D’or vote, came 21st – stuck, sulking, on the left wing?

Because Arsene Wenger doesn’t trust Arsenal’s defence. Instead, he gives them a burly babysitter from Cameroon.

Would Wenger do that for Dixon-Adams-Keown-Winterburn? Would he do that for Lauren-Toure-Campbell-Cole? He wouldn’t, and he didn’t.

But, because Arsenal’s back four panics him, Wenger changed the formation. He sacrificed a centre-forward for a babysitter. He admitted he’d lost what he inherited in 1996.

Which means, of course, there’s no room for Arshavin. He’s not an on-the-shoulder striker, so doesn’t play up front. And he doesn’t play as the attacking midfielder, because Cesc Fabregas is captain, and Arsenal's best academy advert.

So Arshavin is shoved, like an unwanted guest at Christmas dinner, to the periphery. For him, left-wing is the torn, tatty kitchen chair, stuck on the corner. Fabregas, meanwhile, heads the table.

Arshavin could win games from the left-wing. At 5’4’, and with two good feet, he can dart inside or outside full-backs; under them and round them. He can score Goals of the Month from 30 yards – as he did at Old Trafford – or from five yards, as he did against Blackburn, last season.

But he doesn’t win games from the left-wing. Too often, he plays like he’s unhappy; wondering, like a schoolgirl in a tower block, what life’s like elsewhere.

So should Wenger drop 4-5-1, and play 4-4-2? It would mean Arshavin and Fabregas in the middle. Arshavin would get the ball more often; he’d score more often; he’d win games more often. He’d make sure he never played left-wing again.

Eduardo, or Carlos Vela, would have the help they need. Samir Nasri, Tomas Rosicky - or Jack Wilshere - could play left-wing.

Wenger, however, won’t play 4-4-2. Firstly, it would remove the back-four’s babysitter. Even with him, they’ve conceded 18 goals in 13 games – more than Birmingham, Fulham, and Stoke, for example.

Secondly – and more importantly – it would be an admission. By playing 4-4-2, Wenger would tell the world he was wrong. His omniscient halo would slip.

So Arsenal will, perhaps rightly, persevere with 4-5-1. But – at least until van Persie returns – isn’t it worth playing Europe’s 21st best player in his best position?

After all, someone else came 21st in that poll, joint with Arshavin. And Chelsea wouldn’t play Frank Lampard on the left-wing, would they?

No centre-forward = no goals

"You do not take a man who for years has been hobbled by chains, liberate him, bring him to the starting line of a race, saying, 'You are free to compete with all the others'." Lyndon B Johnson,1965

From 1996 to 2009, Arsene Wenger played four-four-two, with two strikers. This season, he’s played four-five-one, with one striker. Today, he played four-five-none. Arsenal had no striker.

Eduardo was lost, like a student who’d turned up in the wrong class. After five minutes, he didn’t want to play. He wanted to make his excuses, put his books in his bag, and leave. He knew he wasn’t ready.

Before his leg was snapped, Eduardo was sharp. He wasn’t quick over 100 yards, but his feet, and brain, worked quickly. Like the best strikers, he saw five seconds into the future, and cashed in his own prophecies.

Today, he played in the semi-conscious, fuzzy-eyed state of a man waking from a long, deep sleep. His touch was poor. His speed - of feet and brain - was non-existent.

After 56 minutes, before he was subbed, Eduardo had the ball 18 yards from goal. John Terry, chasing back, slid in and took the ball.

Had that been Robin van Persie with the ball, or Eduardo in 2007, Terry wouldn’t have slid. He wouldn’t have risked it. One touch from the striker, and Terry would have missed the ball, and taken the man.

But Terry had seen Eduardo limp, like a lost lamb, for 56 minutes. He knew he’d get the ball. He knew that touch wasn’t coming, and Eduardo did too.

The headlines will say it was men against boys; millionaires v paupers; six-footers v five-footers. All that, of course, is true.

But tight football matches, between two good teams, are decided in moments. When Arsenal’s moments came, their centre-forward froze, and the moment passed. It’s hard to be incisive when your cutting edge was blunted, two years ago, in Birmingham.

Chelsea will finish above Arsenal because, in any argument, their goalkeeper is better, their defence more organised, and their attack more ruthless. But they could have lost to Arsenal.

They didn’t, because Arsenal couldn’t turn possession - and possibility - into reality. If van Persie had played, they might - just might - have done so.

Of course, even if Arsenal scored one, or two, Chelsea may still have scored three. Manuel Almunia, after all, would still have been in goal.

But, by playing without a centre-forward, Arsenal had no chance. A team that relies on five-pass moves needs someone to finish them.

Now, Eduardo needs games. He needs to re-discover his speed, touch, and perception. But Arsenal need a centre-forward. Carlos Vela must start against Stoke, on Saturday.

Fabregas must seek the ball less, not more

One day, in the next three seasons, Arsenal will put four past Chelsea. The five-foot European orchestra, conducted by Cesc Fagregas, will play the perfect symphony.

John Terry will look old, and Frank Lampard will think Serie A’s not so bad, after all. Arsene Wenger’s great vision - for 90 minutes at least - will come into gleaming, gold-framed focus.

That day might be Sunday. Wenger believes it, and, in his dreamy moments, pictures the headlines. They might – might – arrive on Monday. But, to have any chance, the captain must perform.

Fabregas, who can find a square mile of space in a square metre, must remember what he told Arsenal.com in October. While talking about his new position, he said: “I don't touch the ball as often as I used to. I have to be patient.”

And if he doesn’t touch the ball often against Wolves, or Wigan, he certainly won’t against Chelsea. If, in desperation, he drops deep to find it, Arsenal won’t win.

Firstly, he’ll get suck in Michael Essien’s non-stop, solid-oak shadow. Secondly, if Fabregas does search for the ball, he’ll be eighty yards from goal when he finds it.

The reason Arsenal have scored 36 goals this season is that Fabregas, in his new position, has played eight-yard passes, rather than eighty-yeard passes. They slide, rather than soar. He has ten assists.

When he hits long balls, there’s a huge margin for error: their centre-half might read it; his centre-forward might not. Too much can go wrong.

When Fabregas is near goal, the variables, like in a science experiment, are removed. There’s less chance of the centre-half nicking it; less chance that the centre-forward’s dozing.

Near goal, he’s teeing off on par-threes. In the centre-circle, he’s driving on gusty, gaping par-fives.

On Sunday, Fabregas can create five chances with five ten-yard passes. He can give Arshavin and Samir Nasri melt-in-the mouth, too-good-to-miss chances. But only if he’s prepared to touch the ball 15 times, or less, all game. The ball must find him, not vice-versa.

John Terry - like Nemanja Vidic, and Tony Adams, and every other six-foot-two centre-half - worries about little ‘uns buzzing round his ankles. He worries about Arsenal, in his half, playing four passes in four seconds; he worries about red shirts criss-crossing behind him.

He doesn’t worry about long balls. Those passes give him a day off; an afternoon to head the ball, and look tough, and stay clean.

Whatever happens, Sunday’s game will define Arsenal’s season. Lose, and they’ll lose another four this season. Win, and they’ll lose another two. And that, in this year’s Premier League, might be enough.

Will the Emirates hear the perfect symphony? Doubtful. Chelsea will start sliding soon, but not yet.

But, if Fabregas concentrates on his job – and not Denilson’s, or Abou Diaby’s – Arsenal can win by one goal. Less than 48 hours to go.

Gibbs will return. Clichy will be sold

Gael Clichy: you owe Eliaqium Mangala a thank-you. Last night, his stretched, spiteful right foot saved your first-team spot.

In the 93rd minute of last night’s game, Mangala sprinted towards Kieran Gibbs, and lunged. There was, of course, nothing to achieve: seconds remained, and Standard Liege had lost. There was even less to achieve once Gibbs, aware of the danger, kicked the ball clear.

But Mangala, an 18-year-old from Paris, kept going, spurred on by immature spite. His right boot arrowed into Gibbs’ left toe, and snapped the metatarsal.

Gibbs will be injured for three months. He’ll arrive back in Arsenal’s squad at the same time as Clichy, who’s also injured. Arsene Wenger, who demands - and therefore provides - loyalty, will keep Clichy as first choice left-back.

But if Gibbs had played until February, he’d be first choice. Why? Because, since the start of last season, he’s the most improved full-back in England. And Clichy has got worse, worse, and worse.

Gibbs used to be a left-winger, and not a very good one. He didn’t threaten Arsenal’s first team the way, say, Jack Wilshere does, or even David Bentley did. In the second half of 2007 / 2008, Gibbs went to Norwich on loan, and started six games in three months, without scoring.

But the experience wasn’t wasted. As Barack Obama’s community work in Illinois informs his character, and presidency, Gibbs’ days on the left-wing are evident when he plays left-back.

His defending, helped by ten engines’ worth of pace, is sound. Unlike some left-backs - Stuart Pearce, for example, or Paolo Maldini - Gibbs hasn’t the nous, or build, to play centre-back. But he’s no worse than a 20-year-old Ashley Cole.

Going forward, though, is Gibbs' strength. In the opposition half, he plays like a left-winger. He wants to hit the byline and pull balls back; he wants to play one-twos; he wants to dart into the box.

Clichy, on the other hand, is happy to stay 30 or 40 yards from goal; a left-back in strange territory. He’s happy to be an auxiliary body, rather than an attacker. He doesn’t enter the box and, therefore, has scored one goal in almost 200 games: a deflected shot against Stoke.

Clichy’s crossing, like Theo Walcott’s, has the slap-dash nature of homework finished on the school bus. It’s half-hearted, hit and hope. There are, honestly, left-backs with better crossing in non-league football.

Clichy’s lazy side-footers wouldn’t work with Les Ferdinand and Alan Shearer up front. They certainly won’t with Robin van Persie.

If Real Madrid offer 20 million Euros for Clichy this summer, Wenger will accept, and feign their-chequebook’s-bigger-than-ours acceptance. But, as when Emmanuel Adebayor and Kolo Toure left, he’ll be delighted.

Nine years after Arsenal produced one English left-back, whose career was rescued after a spell in the league below, they’ve done it again. And the new model’s an improvement on the last.

Mangala has delayed Gibbs’ first-team place, not cancelled it. Clichy’s future is elsewhere.

Walcott can't cross. But he should play

Sixteen years ago, Ryan Giggs was a speedy, blurred-frame winger. He took on full-backs like an Intercity 225 passing the slow train to Sale. Now, with loud knees and hard-worn hamstrings, he is that slow train to Sale. His pace has gone. Any full-back - or cameraman - could catch him.

But Giggs, now 36 - 36! - doesn’t need speed. Gone are the foot-races; gone are the cul-de-sacs between full-back and advertising board. Instead, he plays in midfield, where the pitch is biggest. He can, for the first time in his career, pass the ball left, right, or forward. And he does. He finds angles from straight-lines. He's intelligent.

Theo Walcott is 16 years younger than Giggs. But, even in 2025, could Walcott convert to midfield? With his touch? Giving him multiple choice - left, right, or forward - would baffle him. Walcott needs one box to tick, marked - clearly - kick-it-and-run.

Nine years ago, England’s right winger thought football was boring. This quotation is from an interview in The Observer: “I wasn't even interested in football. The first time I played I was nine. I volunteered to go in goal, thinking it would be exciting to save penalties.”

So Walcott didn’t play football until he was nine. It shows. His crosses, four times out of five, are woeful. One effort, against Sunderland, was a prime example of what’s known as the Arsenal Cross (other exponents: Clichy, G; Eboue, E).

There’d been six passes, maybe seven, each slower than the last. The opposition had ten players in position, behind the ball. The game was paused. No-one moved, but instead watched Walcott, out wide, with the ball. Did he go forward? Did he go back? Did he pass, then dart forward for the return?

No. He looked up, lazily, and took the easy option: a slow, side-foot cross, with the precision of a tee-shot into the ocean.

Arsenal haven’t had a centre-forward who made those crosses look good since Alan Smith. You know, Theo: the Sky commentator. So why hit them? If Arsene Wenger can make Kolo Toure a league-winning centre half, and Emmanuel Adebayor a £16million striker, can’t he teach Walcott wing-play?

In 66 Premier League games, Walcott has nine assists. One every seven games? Even Nani (11 assists in 47 games) has one every four.

And it’s not just crossing. If Walcott receives the ball with his back to goal, it’s bad news. If he takes more than two touches, it’s bad news. His short-game, with scalped midfielders prowling, is abject. Andrei Arshavin, who could dribble a ball through an 8am commuter train, must despair.

Yet Walcott, if fit, and in 4-5-1, should start every game. Why? Because he isn’t Arshavin, Samir Nasri, Tomas Rosicky, or Fran Merida, Those four, no doubt, have kicked balls since they could walk. While Walcott went skateboarding, they perfected stepovers. In five-a-side, those four would beat five Walcotts. Easily. But, though skilful, they’re similar.

Walcott, on the other hand, has something no Arsenal forwards have: Olympic speed. Sheer, frame-blurring speed. It’s not clever - Walcott owes his living to his fast-twitch fibres, rather than his slow-twitch skills - but it’s effective. Would Merida, Rosicky, Nasri, or even Arshavin, have scored three against Croatia? No. Walcott is Arsenal’s Intercity 225; the player who leaves defenders in his vapour trail.

Arsenal are accused, rightly, of over-elaboration. Walcott, the Berkshire Bullet, will never be elaborate. He wants fewer touches, not more. He wants to knock-and-run. But that, in a league of ponderous full-backs, can work.

Arsenal’s Plan A is a concerto, with Cesc Fabregas conducting a five-foot-nothing European orchestra. Plan B - kick it to the quick lad - isn’t artistic. Art alone, though, doesn’t win matches.