There's Your Karma, Ripe As Peaches

Arsenal Kinda Sorta Destroy Liverpool, 1-1

Before facing the Scousers, Arsene Wenger said that this match would be the true test in a long run toward the Premier League title. And William Gallas noted that "This is the day when we will find out if the boys have become men." After this match, it is abundantly clear that not only did the lads pass the test with flying colors but they are also man enough to contend for the title.

We came out in a 4-5-1 with Adebayor up top, Rosicky and Eboue on the wings and Cesc, Hleb and Flamini in the middle but we were on the attack from go. It was ridiculous. No hesitancy, no caution. It was, sorry to say, balls to the wall football. Absolutely magnificent. But Liverpool looked just as good and with only 6 minutes off the clock, Steven Gerrard ripped a free kick through a gap in the wall the size of Alex Rodriguez's ego.

Though you'd think that's a little late in the going for some magic, we should have won by a hatful. The lads  squandered at least four golden opportunities with blasts both wide of and off the post. But at the end of the day, you just can't be upset about walking away from Anfield with a point and a game in hand on ManUre.

The lads never panicked, never faltered and never surrendered - even with Eboue, Rosiky and Adebayor looking like they left the bulk of their skills in London. This match was a true measuring stick for this team and we showed we have what it takes to contend for a championship. I hope ManUre is paying attention... but that might be tough, what with the beautiful football they're playing lately... too bad. I guess they can't all be Tottenham, eh, Toxic? :-D

Journey to Shite Hart Lane

When I started this post, this was my outlook:

Who's that team they call the Arsenal?
Who's that team we all adore?
We're the boys in red & white
and we're fucking dynamite
and Martin Jol's mother is a whore.

UP THE ARSENAL!!!!! 

As I type, the Mighty Arsenal are preparing to break the will of Tottenscum at Shite Hart Lane in the first leg of the Carling Cup semi-final. Following the x-rated dismantling of the scousers at Anfield last week, Arsène is rewarding the youngins with another chance to thump a first team.

But I type too slowly and now we're down 2-0. Fuck. Anyway, read on.

So Kolo Toure will function as the captain and elder statesman of a 16-man squad that features Cesc, Philippe Senderos, Alexander Hleb, Mathieu Flamini, and Emmanuel Eboue.Also returning is Abou Diaby, who is starting in the red and white for the first time since an obscene tackle shattered his ankle 9 months ago. But Arsène feels pretty good about his prospects:

“I had a big doubt in my mind that Diaby would ever come back from that injury. I thought it might end his career. We’ve missed Diaby because he gives us something the other players don’t have. He can give us that kind of Patrick Vieira presence in the physical challenges. He reminds me of Patrick in his running style, behaviour and the strength of his tackles.”

Going from a potential career ending injury to Paddy V over the course of a year... no pressure at all, that.

In other news.. you know how there's the rule that you don't wish injury upon anyone? No matter how dispicable a person might be, hoping that they get mangled crosses the line of what sports is all about, yah? Well since that's settled, let's proceed.

In a 2-1 loss to Watford yesterday, Blackburn Rover Robbie Savage broke his leg in a challenge with Al Bangura... whether they got tangled or if Bangura did something untoward is not known but the best I can surmise is that all Savage's cuntiness finally resulted in a negative physical occurrence. I can't deny that I cracked a wry grin when reading the news over at Toxic's spot but I don't think that breaks the above-mentioned rules of sport. I admit to feeling a certain satisfaction but I certainly never wished a broken leg upon him. That's the worst of the worst for a footie player.. but since it's already happened and all... and since he's a complete twat and all... I can't really be blamed for my feelings. Yah? :) I mean, the Welshman has proven himself to be one of the most odious, obnoxious, repugnant, intolerable, loathsomes cunt in the EPL. And since the rest of the footballing world decided to kick back with a Coke and a smile upon hearing the news, I shall as well.

I know a lot of you don't know who Savage is but take my word for it. If you were walking down the street and Dennis Hopper popped out of a bush and told said, "Pop quiz, Hot Shot! The two buses on the corner are wired with heavy explosives. One contains an army of plague-carrying, girlfriend/wife-violating robots that will smear poo all over your freshly-painted house and the other contains Robbie Savage. You can only save one." I can assure you, the next day, we'd be dying from the black death while noxious poo fumes wafted around the globe.

Don't get well soon, Robbie. You sodding git.

**Hattip: Arseblogger for amazing Savage material/Speed scenario. It was fuckin' excellent.

Oooooh To Be A Gooner!

Whoever you may be
Theres no-one as fast as our Henry
And you'll be seeing red and nothing of the ball
Cause we are the Fucking Ar-sen-al!!

-- 

So here's the scene - United is trying to nab their first league title since 2003 but Chelski is on their tail and The Arsenal and Liverpool aren't (too) far behind. 

We smoked em in September 1-0, but taking all six points in league play, especially at home, was going to be a serious undertaking.

The lads came out tense and Manure was all over the pitch, stringing passes through our defence with relative ease. Crunching tackles were in abundance, space was at a premium, and clearcut chances were almost non-existent. The best chance of the half came when Emmanuel Adebayor curled a beauty to King Henry who managed to head it right into the arms of keeper Edwin van der Sar.

Big Game Henry remained a myth. 

But then the second half got under way and the tide shifted... but rather than post thoughts, I have recounted the important details of The Mighty Arsenal's glorious 2-1 Premier League victory over Manchester United through "artistic expression." Cheers!

Robin Van Persie Made Me Weak in the Knees

The Mighty Arsenal defeated Charlton United yesterday courtesy of a brilliant brace from Robin Van Persie. His brilliance overshadowed what can only be described as a curious mixture of the sublime and the ugly that could have easily been 2-2 as 1-6. As it happens, thanks in part to van Persie and Charlton's own ineptitude, it was neither and the great Arsene was able to celebrate 10 years in charge with a win to haul the lads out of the mid-table ruck.

As you can see here, the Dutchman's strike was technical perfection. Van Persie, arriving like a man late for work, had two options: manage a speculative header or go for the impossible by bringing the ball under control with a shoulder-high volley from short range.

He went for the impossible and Scott Carson had no chance.

To hit the ball that cleanly with that pace while flying through the air like Carl Lewis is an incredible skill, but to do so with such a supreme measure of accuracy and level of control is positively sublime.

The Arsenal Trounces ManUre, 1-0

Arsene Wenger was quoted in The Observer as saying, "You never win the championship if you lose against Man United, Chelsea and Liverpool. You can forget it." I can't think of any Championship year where we on the wrong end to these three and thanks to some positively brilliant play from the lads, we have one of the filthy cunts out of the way.

Given our performance thus far, I wasn't sure how we would fare but from the whistle on, the Gunners decisively outplayed ManUre on every part of the pitch.  Even more remarkable is that we did so without the services of Thierry Henry, proving that even when he is on the bench, The Arsenal can still reach the highest of peaks.

Though most of our players had incredible showings (the exception being a quiet, often useless Freddie Ljungberg), the match was highlighted by the genius of three players: Cesc Fabregas, Emmanuel Adebayor, and Jens Lehmann.

Since we were playing without Henry and Robin van Persie, Arsene flooded the midfield with five men and we were handsomely rewarded with a dominant display in which Cesc Fabregas was outstanding. With 5 ticks in regulation, Fabregas robbed Cristina Ronaldo and worked his way back upfield. After a little trickery, he slipped an inspired, perfectly weighted pass to Adebayor, who flicked his shot past Tomasz Kuszczak to give the Gunners our first win at Old Trafford since 2002. It was master class and sucked any remaining hope of victory from the United side.

Equally brilliant was Mad Jens Lehmann. He saved a rocket from Cristina Ronaldo quite literally with his face in the first half but it was his play in the second that assured him of legend status in my mind. Just moments after Adebayor's goal, he made the save of a lifetime, turning away Ole Gunnar Solskjaer's late effort. The strike came through a sea of legs and was heading for the bottom corner when Jens managed to get his fingertips on the ball and pushed it wide of the goal. He's a god. He is a legend.

And with that, mates, here are the clips!

Cheers!

Niko

Pot & Kettle Files: Chelsea Accuses Gallas of Extreme Douchebaggery

Starting Friday, I was wrapped up in job duties that carried into the late hours of Saturday night and didn't fly back until early Sunday morning. After a brief nap, it was back to the work place.. gotta love the fall. 

As a result of these happenings, I neglected to report on Arsenal's state of affairs following the close of the transfer window last week. And to the 5 people around here who actually know what the transfer window is, I apologize :)

Pascal Cygan is joining Bobby Pires at Villareal. It'll be a great place for him; I wish him the best. As for the big moves -- Jose Reyes is out, Julio "The Beast" Baptista is in, and Cashley Cole is off to Chelsea in exchange for the disgruntled William Gallas and £5m. Overall, I'm pleased. Arsene has been wooing the Beast for over a year; the Brazilian midfielder's power in the air and wealth of goal scoring ability will be a welcome addition to the lineup.

Where the Spanish Mama's boy and Cuntley are concerned, however, nothing but "good riddance" and a few f-bombs come to mind.

A little more than a year ago, Reyes was outed as having wet dreams about the Galacticos after a Spanish disc jockey tricked him into believing he was speaking to the Real Madrid Sporting Director on the phone. Reyes gushed with praise for the club, going so far as to say the Arsenal clubhouse was full of bad people. This fake interview sparked a year of "will he/won't he" speculation, largely fueled on both sides by Reyes himself. It is believed that his mother's dislike of London fueled his desire to return to Spain. Pussy.

And then there's Cashley Cole, a worthless piece of shite no longer worthy of respect. After being groomed into one of the best left backs in the world under Arsene Wenger's watchful eye, he became the epitome of disloyalty by selling out to Stamford Bridge. This all began innocently enough when the Arsenal management refused to give him a £5,000/week raise to pay his agent. Chelsea vultured its way into the situation, sparking up a tapping-up row that landed the Blues and Cole in hot water. Like any pansy unable to take accountability for his foolish mistakes, he placed all the blame on Arsenal. So now he's gone... he has his raise, freedom to publish a tell-all book where Arsenal is the root of all evil, and high hopes that he and his C-list cunt of a wife will become the next Posh & Becks. He is a total disgrace. Arsenal never treated Ashley Cole with anything other than dignity and class and this is how we are repayed. If he's thrown off a bridge or nailed in the heart by a stingray tomorrow, I won't shed a tear.

+

In related news, Stamford Bridge released a comical statement to fans "explaining" why they gave up one of the most popular Blues in a cash-plus trade. It seems that they had no choice. Though it is no secret that William Gallas sought a transfer for many months, if you listen to the Bank of Chelsea, he was a terrifying beast that held the club for ransom.

"He went on to threaten that if he was forced to play, or if he was disciplined and financially punished for his breach of the rules, that he could score an own goal or get himself sent off, or make deliberate mistakes."

Apparently, this reprehensible behavior is what caused them to move the French defender. And ya know, that would make total sense if this statement was released, oh, way back in May when this madness first began. But nope. It seems that a club that can buy and sell any player in the world, allowed its best defender (who didn't have the salary to match the honor) to punk them until the final minutes of the deadline. It wasn't their fault, Chelsea fans! Don't you see? The evil Gallas took over the Bank and made them sell to Arsenal!

Naturally, Gallas denies these claims, expressing shock and surprise:

"I never said that I would score own goals if I had to play for Chelsea again... I was firm about my wanting to leave, that is true, and I will explain in due time why I wanted to. But I never went that far. But if people want to hide behind false accusations in order to give a reason for why I left so they can calm down the club's supporters then they can."

Gallas has been a right prick during this process but no matter what he told Jose Mourinho - that he was going to score own goals, intentionally cock-up, or play poorly - is of no consequence, as there is no way he would have been allowed to do so. When a player makes threats of this nature, you cut that player or sit them until he or she can be shipped off to the highest bidder. You don't offer them a new four year deal, you don't beg them to join your American pre-season tour, and you don't try to negotiate. You work out a transfer before the cancer infects your clubhouse.

The truth is, these cunts are airing their dirty laundry in a weak attempt to save face. William Gallas was one of the most popular players at Stamford Bridge and if you can make him out to be a greedy wanker that was hawking himself to the highest bidder, it might make picking up of the biggest, money-grubbing scoundrel in England just a little more acceptable.

Time for Mourinho to Bitch

Theo Is Real (And the Draw)

And so the Premier League starts once again. This time of year used to be one of extreme stress for me... when I was 15, my mum sent me to the doctor for what she called my "August ailments."

I suffered from migraines and severe stomach pain nearly every August and it got worse with each passing year. They ended up sending me to a therapist who determined that I was just a little too serious about Arsenal's prospects and was, in fact, making myself ill with worry. I did all these relaxation techniques that accomplished nothing at all. As it turns out, I'm just keyed up about everything.

I don't suffer from the August ailments these days, as I've found other ways to exorcise the demons, but I still get a little anxious. And Saturday morning was no different, as I tortured myself wondering how how well the lads would play, having transitioned from the narrow confines of Highbury to Emirates' broad acres. Would we be match fit? Would we be sharp? Were we in mid-season form, I wouldn't have given this match a second thought but this is a renewed Aston Villa - a team now managed by Martin O'Neill. His teams are always well organized and tough to break down. Given our collective match fitness, this could have been a disaster.

It almost was.

Despite an embarrassment of possession (including 18 corners to 1), Arsenal were only seven minutes from defeat in Premiership cherry popping at Emirates Stadium. You'd think that'd be a sign of bad play but in terms of constructive football, we blew Villa off the pitch with strong attacks, angled drives, and the typical speed, verve, and imagination. Trouble is, we couldn't convert to save our lives, as our efforts were blunted time and again by the tireless protection from Villa's back four.

It wasn't until early in the second half that Villa mounted an attack worthy of the name and their lone goal eventually came on their only corner. In a moment of foolish arrogance, Jens Lehmann came out against Steven Davis but couldn't reach the ball in time. Olof Melberg caught up with the inswinging corner and nodded the ball into the net, unguarded, in the 53rd minute. For the next 20 ticks, things were a little tense. But then came a revelation...

Theo Walcott!

The youngster, greeted by a standing ovation, immediately showed the promise that I was beginning to think Sven-Goran Eriksson had imagined. He settled wide on the left of a reshaped 4-3-3 and terrorised Villa with his touch, working one flank while Emmanuel Eboue relentlessly drove down the other. With time running out and Villa now double-marking him, Walcott took Aleksandr Hleb's pass and chipped cleverly to the far post, where the ball skimmed off Jlloyd Samuel's head on its way to the unmarked Gilberto Silva. At a sharp angle, the Brazilian volleyed it home with fierce delight.

Though this wasn't the three points we would have wanted, I'll take a draw. Considering our current state of match fitness and the fact that this was a season opener, it could have been a lot worse and we'll be looking good in the coming weeks.

In other news, Cuntenham got thrashed by Bolton, which is high comedy. Fucking rotters.

The Joy of Cesc, Samuel L., & Britney Spears

1. The Mighty Arsenal has one foot in the Champions League group stages after trouncing Dinamo Zagreb 3-0 in the third qualification round first leg last night. Shorn of nine players and baring only five of the 11 who started the Champions League Final 12 weeks ago, we were lacking in numbers, experience, and preparation, so it was no surprise that our lads struggled to find rhythm in the first half.

Nearly an hour passed before Arsenal exploded into life with two goals separated by less than 80 seconds. In the 63rd minute, Alexandr Hleb slid the ball forward to Robin Van Persie who touched it on to Cesc Fabregas on the right; the 19-year-old Spaniard (in his 100th game in an Arsenal shirt) ripped home a cross to put the Gunners up by one. Two minutes later, Hleb's lofted pass sent Van Persie racing clear. The Dutchman held off his marker and steered a left foot shot past Turina's groping left hand and into the far corner of the net. 2-0. Zagreb tried to respond immediately under the impression that it would actually matter but their efforts were in vain. In the 79th minute, Fabregas grabbed his second and Arsenal's third goal with a superb strike that saw him ride two tackles and crash home another cross-shot into the far corner. 3-0.

Other matters of note - Spanish pretty boy Reyes is gone... Get ready for Ribery!

2. Check out this amazing service that sends your friends messages from Samuel L. Jackson; he threatens them and demands that they go see Snakes on a Plane on August 18th (and that they take you with them). I'm slowly but surely sending it out to my entire cell phone contacts list and have been surprised to find many people believing they were chosen in some strange Publisher's Clearinghouse for phone calls by celebs and nearly wet themselves in excitement as a result. "You won't believe who just called me! Wait for it. SAMUEL L!!!" "What was the originating number on that call?" "Well huh... it was your number. Weird." "i wonder why that is..." The only disappointing aspect to this service is that Samuel L. doesn't use the word "motherfucker," the first time he's failed to do so since starring as Mr. Glass in Unbreakable. That, if anything, should make it clear to recipients that the con is on.

3. From IDontLikeYouInThatWay: All you ever need to know about Britney Spears is in this video (from 'Chaotic'). She's an idiot. I really don't know how else to say it. Kevin Federline sounds like he's trying to explain governing dynamics to a parrot. A parrot who's in a coma. A parrot who's in a coma and has been thrown into the street and run over. You could put Christmas lights on your car and drive Britney Spears to Medieval Times and she'd think she went back in time.

I think that about sums it up.

Oh To Be A Gooner!

I've been in an Arsenal-induced depression for a couple days now. Earlier today, I was told that if you're upset over sports for more than an hour, you need a therapist because something is wrong with you. I've never denied that something is wrong with me. I'm a fanatic and I have never felt more devastated or emotionally drained (when it comes to watching sports) than I did on Wednesday night. The truth is, if you gathered up all the heartbreaks suffered by people that are Buffalo Bills/Atlanta Braves/Buffalo Sabres fans like Matt, fashioned them into a Louisville Slugger, and then busted me bloody for three days, the pain would not begin to equal that which was felt after Arsenal's loss to Barca. The only thing that brings me solace is that my boys played their arses off and with 9 men and Manuel Aluminum Almunia [Arsenal's *Pat Dillingham], hung with the best team in the world until they had nothing left. And even though that loss brought me to tears, I'm nothing but proud of the Gunners.

In other news, no need exists for further sorrow -- Thierry Henry has signed on to be a Gooner for life (er, the next 4 years anyway)! From Arsenal.com -- Thierry Henry’s decision to stay at Arsenal was made in the wake of the Champions League defeat. This afternoon the French striker finally ended a season of speculation by putting pen to paper on a four-year deal. And, amid a myriad of factors, the brave yet agonising defeat at the Stade de France had a major influence.

"The game reassured me of one thing I wanted to know - how far I can go with that team,” said Henry. “I know we lost but they showed me they are a team with heart and lots of quality. We can be so proud of what we did.

"I said my decision would come before the World Cup.  But I also said I wanted to concentrate on pegging Tottenham back for fourth spot and then the Champions League Final. After that was done I was very quick to make up my mind. As a guy that is how I am.

“There were other things that made me stay — my family, London, the fans here and away from home, the press, everyone. All those little things help to make my mind up.

"I always refer to Arsenal as my home. I have been welcomed with open arms, the love I receive here - sometimes from non-Arsenal fans - is something I can't forget about." 

 *Pat Dillingham: minimally skilled walk-on and backup quarterback at the University of Notre Dame. In 2002, Dillingham entered the Boston College and in a panic, all but handed the ball to a BC defender who scored a touchdown. Notre Dame lost 14-7. This loss marked the beginning of the looooong end of the Tyrone Willingham Error.

I'm Off to Stade de France

Today's the day.. In just a few hours begins the match of a lifetime, as FC Barcelona and Arsenal FC square off in the UEFA Champions League final at the Stade de France in Paris. I can hardly contain myself. Actually, "can hardly" shouldn't enter the equation. I simply lack a handle on my emotions and in the past few hours, I've run the gamut from elation to nervousness to arousal and anger (yes, I have felt the tingles!). I can't make heads or tails of it but I doubt there's any use in trying. I've spent 18 years as a conscious fan of the Mighty Arsenal (years where I was slobbering all over myself and eating pennies while living the contented, toddler life with my Arsenal pacifier don't count) and I can't think of a time greater than now. This is the biggest night in our club's history and given everything written by journalists and Joe Blogger these last few days, I can't offer anything that hasn't already been said... except this -- I'll be at the match, living and dying with every strike of the ball; please pray that the riots are kept to a minimum, at the very least, until I can get back to the airport. Cheers!

Happy St. Totteringham's Day, Hotscum!

A week ago, I was inconsolable and had, admittedly, lost my way. As proud as I was of the squad for reaching the Champions League finals, I was equally as frightened that we would finish behind Tottenham in the Premiership. While my hopes aren't through the roof against Barca, our position left us short on insurance, as the Gunners trailed the cunts of Tottenham by 7 points. Barring a monumental collapse, the Arsenal would not finish fourth in the Premiership, setting in motion a series of disastrous events: No automatic Champions League bid  --> Henry signs new contract with Barca --> additional maddening yet random unfortunate events --> 30 Years of Tottenman-esque Purgatory. And to make this overdramatized possibility a reality, all the Scum had to do was best a team that had nothing to play for... they'd qualify for Europe's premier competition for the first time in 44 seasons and the Arsenal would be left with fuck all. But on a day for romanticists, dewy-eyed sentimentalists, lovers of the beautiful game, and conspiracy theorists, Arsenal's delight became Tottenham's misery.

The Spurs were dreadfully flat against West Ham after 10 players suffered food poisoning off bad lasagna. Just 10 minutes in, their day went from bad to worse, as Carl Fletcher smashed a superb opener to put the home side in the driving seat. But an equally stunning Jermain Defoe strike saw Spurs level just after the half hour and for a while, it seemed like those rotten cunts would pull it off. But with 10 minutes remaining came the moment that killed the dream... it was a goal of exquisite beauty where Nigel Reo-Coker backheeed Shaun Newton's pass on for Yossi Benayoun, who skipped past Michael Dawson before slamming his finish into the top corner. But while Hotspur's world was falling apart, the Arsenal played trademark football that saw Thierry Henry - the greatest striker to grace Highbury's field - fire home the ninth treble of his Gunners career. All that was missing from the action was a goal for the retiring Dennis Bergkamp, who came on near the end and almost provided the icing on the cake with a wonderful chip.

We're now off to Paris with a place in next year's Champions secured while the Spurs will again lament what could have been. I can't imagine a sweeter, more dramatic way to bid farewell to the marble halls of Highbury, to the Clock End, the North Bank, and Herbert Chapman’s bust, than a night like the last. I've been attending Arsenal matches since I was a tot and Highbury is the home of some of my greatest memories; I couldn't be happier to see her distinguished 93-year history end on such an appropriate note.

The Arsenal Triumphs Over Real's Battlestar Galactico

It took me two days to recover from the Arsenal's mighty triumph over Real Madrid on Wednesday but having watched it a second time, my feelings have only grown stronger. Wednesday's clash is simply the greatest nil all I have ever seen and it occurred on what might be Highbury's last great night.

Though Real's onslaught was immediate, our back four, only one of whom was a first choice at the start if the season, soaked it up and never wavered. And though chances went missing and the ref was a cunt all the way, the Arsenal showed the guts, focus, and vision of a squad that you'd think had played together for years. Our young lads have shown an aging bunch of ailing stars just how its done. They cared more, it's as simple as that, and Real Madrid's galactico era has ended a sham, as they exit the Champions potless for the third time in as many years.

In two weeks, Patrick Vieira comes home, as Juventus, the old lady of Italian Football, visits Highbury for the first leg of the quarters. Powerful and experienced, rather than past-it like too many of Real’s big names, Fabio Capello’s team are ranked second favourites behind Barcelona. But though a hugely difficult task lies ahead, our hopes of European glory are alive and we carry Englands hopes as well. Once again, a brilliant job well done to the lads. I love them. I love football. And I love the Arsenal.

One-nil to the Mighty Arsenal! All Hail!

Madrid may be the wealthiest club in the world but the Croesus of Castille lacks the priceless talent that is Thierry Henry. The Frenchman scored a goal of the richest beauty and lead Arsenal to football history as they became the first British side to defeat Real Madrid at The Bernabeu. It's only fair to say that the Spanish side was in less than proper form but injuries to key players and departures of senior leaders have crippled the Arsenal, leaving us long on youth and short on experience. But quality was to be found in every area of the field, young and old alike. Fabregas was magic, Eboue was different class, Gilberto shut down Zidane while Flamini held off Beckham, and Henry was nothing short of dazzling. His goal was as stunning as it was significant... as painful as this season has been, it goes without saying that eclipsing Real in such fabulous form brilliantly demonstrates that youth is a superior alternative to investing in declining oldsters. Though it would be foolhardy to draw too many conclusions from this one victory, I think it's a relieving sign that the tide could soon shift for the Gunners and a return to glory lies ahead in coming seasons.

Complete list of English clubs' competitive ventures to the Bernabeu:
Apr 8 2003 Champions League Manchester United (Lost 3-1)
Mar 3 2001 Champions League Leeds United (Lost 3-2)
Apr 4 2000 Champions League Manchester United (Drew 0-0)
Mar 20 1985 UEFA Cup: Tottenham Hotspur (Drew 0-0)
Nov 5 1975 European Cup Derby County (Lost 5-1)
Oct 3 1973 UEFA Cup Ipswich Town (Drew 0-0)
May 15 1968 European Cup Manchester United (Drew 3-3)
Apr 11 1957 European Cup Manchester United (Lost 3-1)

Minor Complaints of Sport. Argh!