Aaron Ramsey is Clark Kent

Aaron Ramsey sprinting back the length of the pitch to snuff out an attack shortly after we had gone 1-0 up. Aaron did it without the season or even the game on the line, at least at that point. Yet who knows? Maybe it was all on the line, had he not tracked back. A world class attitude from a humble lad.

That was my second favourite moment of the Newcastle match. My fave was Ozil loaning that Goufran a dummy. Holy shit that was exquisite. My #3 moment was that lazer/rocket of a cross that hit Giroud right in the center of his forehead, whether he wanted it or not. So much to enjoy in that match, even if the Geordies felt beaten by half-time.

And so…a blog on Aaron Ramsey??!!! Yes, I know. No one in recent weeks has ever thought of blogging on him. I’m an innovative genius, sniffing out a story where no one else could think of looking.

Well, here is my little bit on Ramsey…

Those Whom The Gods Love Die Young

A cheery little expression from Ancient Greece, that one. In fact, it is worth reading the full and original quote.

“Those Whom The Gods Love Die Young at Arsenal, and pretty much only at Arsenal.”

Once again, this season sees the body count continue to rise. Brilliant young players; Promising seasons; Even more promising careers: Wilshere, Ramsey, Eduardo, Diaby, Walcott, Chamberlain, Gibbs, …oh fuck it, I can’t plumb that history any further. It all gets mixed up in my mind. You were there too. You lived it by my side.

So how do you assuage those gods from taking your young bright talents? Simple. You attempt to entice and distract them by waving other young virgins as a sacrifice. Hence we bought Park Chu Young and Ryo Miyaichi. We talked up Frimpong and Coquelin. Only, it didn’t work.

And in desperation, we tried some older, more flavoured and seasoned meat to cover any deviant tastes the divinities might have. And so we recycled and re-energized Squillaci,and Silvestre. And Santos for some South American beef. And Yossi for a little bit of Kosher meat, just in case They swing Jewish.

Yes, finally for all of you who asked “why on earth did we sign X? What could we possibly have been thinking?” You now have your answer. Isn’t it funny when you hear the truth how obvious it was in hindsight?

But it was all to no avail. Say what you like about those capricious Gods, they know their virgins. The Gods wanted our best and brightest – Ramsey and Wilshere – and they took them without asking. Meanwhile Squillaci achieved the highest fitness levels of his career. This is Arsenal.

That’s what the Gods did to our best and brightest. But what did we, ourselves, do to them after we recovered their broken bodies? The shit Ramsey got as he tried to restore himself has been opined many times before. And look, I love a good stoning as much as the next man. And if you like a good stoning, you’ve come to the right club. Common scenes on a Saturday afternoon outside the Ems…Get your stones here:

STONE VENDOR: Stones, sir?

GOONER DAD: Naah. They’ve got a lot there, lying around on the ground.

STONE VENDOR: Oh, not like these, sir. Look at this. Feel the quality of that. That’s craftsmanship, sir.

GOONER DAD: Hmmm. Eh, all right. We’ll have, two with points and… a big flat one.

GOONER SON: Could I have a flat one, Dad?

GOONER DAD: Eh, all right. Two points, two flats, and a packet of gravel.

STONE VENDOR: Packet of gravel. Should be a good one this afternoon.

GOONER DAD: Eh?

STONE VENDOR: Local boy.

GOONER DAD: Oh, good.

STONE VENDOR: Enjoy yourselves.

Should be a good one this afternoon…Local boy. A joke. But it burns my arse to think about it. Those brave lads in the crowd slagging off a young kid. I’m pretty sure they justified it to themselves: “If he can’t take some stick from the crowd, then how will he handle the pressure from the opposition.” Yes, if he can’t handle being stabbed in the back by some his own supporters how can he face taking on the opposition with the full support of his manager, team-mates and 60,000 Gooners. You lost me there just at the end with your surgically incisive logic, Mr. Neanderthal.

Aaron Ramsey is Clark Kent

Aaron Ramsey is “ordinary,” ordinary in the best sense of the word. He looks like just another player so much of the time. And yet I remember a brilliant kid before “the tackle.” He looked and was brilliant. A tricky trickster, cocky and full of it, in the best sense.

Then the injury. And when he came back, he looked ordinary. And he was ordinary. Like a Superman drained of his powers. It was a different player. And not a player you would fight Alex Ferguson for.

Now he looks ordinary but IS brilliant: like a Clark Kent too lazy or embarrassed to pull on his red underpants outside of his blue tights anymore. Oh, he’ll still fly the skies, saving Earth for us, but he’s not changing out of his suit and glasses for it.

Ramsey now has a wonderfully ordinary quality to him, on and off the pitch. Here is a real excerpt from Alex Hurley’s visit to London Colney recently, where he bumps into Aaron Ramsey. The full article is here:

Read more: 

My visit to London Colney –Written by Alex Hurley

A visit to Arsenal’s London Colney training ground provides much more than an opportunity to get autographs make small-talk with the players and staff. After all, what have they really got to say to us and vice versa? I quickly found this out when Aaron Ramsey sauntered towards our table in the dining area while our four-person tour was enjoying a welcome cup of tea. The ensuing dialogue between Aaron and myself flowed thus:

AR: “Hi, I’m Aaron, nice to meet you”

Me: “Hi, Aaron, Alex, lovely to meet you…

…Err, great to have you back, top performance versus Hull the other week.”

AR: (with a token bored smile) “Thanks.”

You see. Like I said, it’s just like being stuck with Clark Kent at The Daily Planet office when you thought you were going to be meeting with Superman.

To be honest, I blame Alex Hurley for that mundane conversation. He fumbled the ball with his opening line if you ask me. Here’s how my trip to London Colney would have gone:

Blah blah blah training and facilities blah blah and then I ran into Aaron Ramsey…

Me: Fuck me! It’s Aaron Fucking Ramsey!!!!

Aaron: Calm down there mate. Would you like to sit down.

Me: Aaron, kiss me.

Aaron: I can’t, mate. Arsene has rules. Germs and stuff. Otherwise…

Me: Aaron, you’re much Welsher than on the pitch.

Aaron: I’m not sure I get you, mate.

Me: It’s just you’re sooo Welsh in person. You seem quite normal when you’re running around on the pitch.

At this point Aaron looks towards his Media person and seems to be trying to communicate using only his eyes. Almost immediately, I am whisked up and escorted from the training center. Perhaps it was something I said. Or perhaps that Ramsey fella is a bastard. Wish I’d booed him now.

Those Whom The Gods Love Die Young

And so my fellow Gooners, having gotten Ramsey back to his former brilliant self, please join me in the near hopeless search to find some actual Islington virgins which we may offer up to those avaricious Gods in vain attempt to get Aaron, Jack, Theo & Co through the next season largely unscathed.

Just one season, please, oh terrible Gods! Is that too much to ask?

Oh.