There's not too many rock solid defences about anymore, imo. Not just us. Because of all the attacking quality available, especially at the top but even further down the table, it seems there's an acceptance that the opposition team will score; with your "apparently" better players, you just have to score more.
We won the league in '91 allowing just 18 goals; Manchester City, despite dominating last season, let in almost thirty, I think, which seems about par recently.
"Plenty of strikers can score goals," he said, gesturing to the famous old stands casting shadows around us.
"But a lot have found it difficult wearing the number 9 shirt for The Arsenal."
Yes, ridiculously churlish.
The man has been in the job a few weeks. He has a whole squad, indeed a whole football club, to get operating in line with his plan.
If, at this point, we had lost 4 and drawn a couple, I wouldn't have been in the least surprised.
This bloke may turn out to be utter mince, but to suggest that he is doing anything other than remarkably well at this point is Cascarino-esque.
You will note that I have advised against judging him yet. I certainly do not hate him. Just because he lept into Arsene's chair while it was still warm and didn't have the decency to tell Gazidis to go fúck himself, as an honourable man would have done, doesn't mean that I hate the filthy chap.
If someone killed your (albeit nagging and past her prime) wife of 22 years and the next day dumped some random bint on your doorstep and said "Here, live with her. And have sex with her tonight. Come on, forget the last two decades, life goes on, just do it" .....would you be happy, even if she was a bit of a looker with three wafer cups under her knickers?
I think a better analogy is that your mum and dad split up and with undue haste she takes up with a new fella who barely speaks English. He makes her happy, the household's running more smoothly and the rows have stopped, but still and all he's not your dad, is he? He's just some cvnt who's turned up and is knobbing your mum. Your dad, meanwhile, is in Totteridge, alone and staring out the window.