It's only words, and words are all I have...

Prior to last Friday's Champions League quarter final draw I can't have been alone in spending too much time pondering the possibilities. It got me thinking...is there anything else in life that can dominate so much of your time and thoughts with nothing more but a few words on paper or screen?

I'm not talking about reading, obviously. I know reading is essentially looking at words but don't be difficult. I mean just simply staring at a non-narrative list of football words, for hours on end. League tables are a classic example, if I had a dollar for every minute I've spent over the past 15 years staring at football 'ladders' I would probably be writing this on my own computer for a start. The list of eight European football clubs that were in the pot for Friday's draw presented yet another time-devouring Football Word List of FWL which I happily pored over for far too long.

When the draw was made by boyhood hero (and still the only Nagoya Grampus Eight player I can name) Gary Lineker, it delivered an even more enthralling list of words that has chomped up yet more hours. What a draw.

For me the stand out tie is simple: Tottenham v Real Madrid. That has entertaining written all over it: Spurs have been good value in practically every game they have played for the last year and, crucially, have enough firepower and pace to pose a threat to the Madrid rearguard. Madrid in turn have a frightening capacity for devastating attacking football which is bound to cause problems for the less than impregnable Tottenham defence. The fact that Redknapp has the second leg at home gives them every chance, and with the outstanding Van der Vaart out to prove a point, they should not be written off. Had Spurs drawn Barcelona I don't think I would give them a single chance of progression. As it is, I would say they have a fair shot.

I do think that Madrid will ultimately progress however, since it has felt predestined for a while that the El Classico bonanza of early April is just meant to be.

The tie pitting Chelsea against Man Utd is in a way a shame, since it guarantees one English team will crash out before the semi finals. It does however make for what is sure to be a feisty and enthralling tie - enough recent history exist between the two even without the recent Premier League controversy which has resulted in Fergie pointlessly sitting in the stands. I'm backing Chelsea to make it through this one, to face last seasons conqueror Inter Milan in the semi final.

Barcelona will have mixed emotions about drawing Shakhtakhtar Donetsktksts (too many consonants, Carol). They will of course, rightfully, fancy their chances against anyone, but the Ukrainian team have been a thorn in the Barca side recently and will carry hope into this tie.

They will come unstuck however...the Catalans simply have too much for them, or anyone. Semi final line up is below, get down the bookies, tell 'em I sent ya.

Barcelona v Real Madrid

Chelsea v Inter Milan.

By the way beloved readers, please accept my apologies...the delay in getting this update posted is due to my current jobhunting activity. Before we get into it, anyone who can hook me up with a job in Sydney, let me know!

Right, that's the desperate grovelling out of the way. For now.

Sweet FA

So the semi final draw has thrown up an absolute cracker, one to have the fans counting down the days and the neutrals clearing a spot in the diary, great players, plenty of history, a big time rivalry...that's right, it's Bolton vs Stoke. Yum.

Another side in the final four is Alex Ferguson's Manchester United, who set out one of the weakest sides they have ever put out in such a meaningful fixture. Fortunately for United they were up against the utter joke that is Arsenal FC in March.

Arsenal are pathetic. They have no guts, no fight, they are just so accepting of their fate. Time after time over the last 6 years we have seen this capitulation and how it must hurt their fans. You just get the sense with the Gunners that there is a fear there - they so patently lack the iron will and fierce competitive spirit of their table topping rivals. How they get over this is to me a simple case of investment - it's no longer good enough to rely on developing youth when that youth have only losers to learn from.

The most impressive demonstration this weekend of a will to win and a refusal to accept defeat was not in England however (well, AFC Hamsey's titanic 3-2 win away at Woodcote not withstanding - well done lads).

Sunday saw the Grand Final of Australia's A-League - the post season tournament that follows the regular season league. Brisbane Roar had pretty much run away with the Championship - they came into this game on the back of a 27 game unbeaten streak; and so were overwhelming pre-match favourites to overcome the Central Coast Mariners.

Mariners to their great credit came out all guns blazing and had the better of the first half, but could not find a breakthrough. As is so often the case however, Roar came...ahem...Roaring back and controlled the second period. Playing 'Up Troppo' almost led to the game descending into farce - 20 minutes of biblical rain favoured the slick passing game that Roar have used to such great effect all season. Mariners were grateful to their rookie goalkeeper Matt Ryan for some impressive resilience, and the match ended goalless.

Having seen 90 minutes without a goal, the next 15 produced two of them. The shock was that they both came for the Central Coast - the first a scrappy header from a corner; the second - the clincher - a classic breakaway goal.

The clincher...yeah...not so much. With the match clock displaying 117 and Roar still needing two goals, an impressive team move saw Brazilian midfielder Henrique slot home from the edge of the area. Henrique was then put through a minute later for surely the final chance but he shot straight at the keeper and it looked like the 'toilet seat' would be heading down to New South Wales. With literally the last touch of the game however, Erik Paartalu crashed home a header to send the vast majority of the 50'000 crowd absolutely mental.

Penalties, given the circumstances, were a formality. The momentum was entirely with Brisbane, but more than that, they were completely and utterly dead set on winning. The fact that they persisted even into the dying moments with their passing football should be a message to Arsenal - the approach can work, but the players need to believe in themselves. Roar deserved their win yesterday, even if it was cruel on the Mariners, because they have proven time and time again this year that they just don't take kindly to losing. The sheer will to win was impressive to behold, and puts the meek, pathetic perennial Arsenal surrender to shame.

As good as it gets...?

Yesterday's blog opened with the thought that, after a second year of elimination at the hands of their Blaugrana Nemesis, Arsenal shared the fate of those poor souls exiled to Hell in Dante's Inferno. The third part of Dante's classic 'Divine Comedy' sees the journey pass from Hell through Purgatory (basically like the M25 on a Friday) into Paradise. It's probably not stretching the point too much to say that Tottenham Hotspur could easily feel like they are sitting in Paradise right now.

Harry Redknapp aka Twitchy Stryder aka Twitchy and Scratchy (no, leave it, be nice) is extremely fond of reminding people that when he became Spurs manager, they sat at the foot of the Premier League with just 2 points from 8 games. That was always something of a false position with the quality of players in that side, but nonetheless even his fiercest critics (hi) cannot fail to acknowledge the remarkable achievement that came this morning.

After a tight, nervy, but never overly lucky 0-0 draw, Tottenham have eliminated AC Milan after the excellent 1-0 San Siro raid 2 weeks ago. This is a fantastic achievement, made all the more impressive with the fact that this is Spurs' first ever Champions League campaign. Whilst this Milan side may not be at the level of some of their more illustrious recent vintages, they are no mugs by any stretch - clear at the top of Serie A, able to start with a triumvirate of Pato, Robinho and Ibrahimovic up front, and with quality and experience throughout the side.

On that note and by way of a slight digression - how good (and old ) is Clarence Seedorf? He is one of those few players that I never remember not playing, and always at absolute elite clubs. Sheer class, combative, skilful and always exuding an air of basically being better than the players around him, he was also responsible for one of the most ridonk-a-donk goals I've ever seen whilst playing for Real Madrid. His punditry during last summer's World Cup was excellent and promises to keep the leccy on after his playing days are up - but at this rate he'll still be playing long after the last bit of electricity has been dug out of the ground. As is my understanding.

Back to the match: there were a few close shaves, as is always going to be the case against a quality side in a do-or-die game - but Spurs created opportunities of their own. The defensive rear-guard that they put on throughout always looked far more likely to succeed than the approach taken by Arsenal 24 hours earlier. Fifteen minutes into the game at Camp Nou it seemed inconceivable that the Gunners would hold out, a Barca breakthrough was inevitable - this mornings game also held a sense of inevitability towards it, but for me it was that Spurs would dig in and make it. After 4 minutes of injury time amid a wall of whistling from the impressively loud home support, the ref blew up (not literally) to send the fans into dreamland. The heavenly state of affairs for Spurs fans was made all the more sweeter by being able to sit on high and peer down at their fierce rivals: eliminated, wobbling, suffering.

That Tottenham did dig in and get the result they needed is a huge achievement. The draw in ten days time could pair them with any of Europe's giants; provided they can avoid their domestic rivals and Barcelona, they have no reason not to go for it and believe that a semi final is possible. Given the simple fact of 5 not fitting into 4, this may be their only foray into the Big Time for a little while...but they are sure as Hell making the most of it.

Insert Arse-related puntastic headline

THROUGH ME TO THE CITY OF PAIN,

THROUGH ME TO ETERNAL AGONY...

SHED ALL HOPE, YOU WHO ENTER

So reads the sign on the gateway to Hell, according to Dante's Inferno. For Arsene Wenger and his Arsenal team, those words could be inscribed on the door leading out of the Away dressing room at Camp Nou.

For the second time in a year, Arsenal took a promising first leg scoreline and for the second time in a year they were utterly dominated by a far superior Barca team. Lionel Messi got his sixth goal against the Gunners in 2 home legs against them, and the City of Pain left their best goalkeeper wounded and their best striker red-carded.

Don't get me wrong - Arsenal did not disgrace themselves (losing to the best team in the World can arguably never be seen as a disgrace) and to be fair, had Nicklas Bendtner been someone other than Nicklas Bendtner, they might even have pulled off a shock LoseWin, the type of result only possible in two-legged knockout football where a defeat can still be enough to see you celebrating. The gulf in class between the teams was, as is so often the case with Pep Guardiola's superteam, incredible - Arsenal barely touched the ball, they were out-passed by a factor of almost 4 passes to every 1, and they did not have a single shot on goal. Despite all of this, for me they did not actually play that poorly. Djourou was very impressive in defence, Jack Wilshere showed an admirable desire to play decent football, and Manuel Almunia gave an extremely unlikely but nonetheless impressive Knut impression. Almunia can throw himself around, looking like a slightly confused Jean Reno, and getting in the way of countless attacks all he wants - against this team in this mood, every effort was perhaps always going to be futile. You just can't stop the tide.

Wenger could (and indeed has) raged against the incredibly harsh and utterly lacking in common sense decision to red card Robin van Persie for taking a shot when already flagged offside. Van Persie was in equal measures unlucky to come up against a stickler ref applying the letter of the law, but also somewhat stupid for doing it in the first place - the ref had already shown he was 'one of those' and RvP was asking for trouble after a petulant first yellow. Wenger could also point to the lack of key players, certainly Theo Walcott would have been a perfect outlet for the counter attack, and the sloppy backheeled touch from a clearly unfit Fabregas spoke volumes for how off pace he was - the fact that this led directly to the first goal has led Fabregas to announce he takes full blame for the result. However the truth is that neither the referee, nor Cesc Fabregas, nor anyone involved with Arsenal should be taking too much blame for this one. They were well beaten, by a magnificent team, plain and simple.

The fact that the Gunners came so close to advancing would have surely been one of the most baffling results in recent times. Barcelona were so irresistible in both their pressing of the opposition and their incisive movement when going forward, that they could quite easily have run out with a 6 or 7 goal winning margin this morning.

Whoever they face in the quarter final will need to come up with a way of combatting the dynamic attacking play and suffocating stranglehold on possession that they are sure to demonstrate for a long time to come. Clearly 'parking the bus' is one option - the only option? Even if that is the chosen tactic for whoever gets the short straw of Barca in the next round, as that bus rolls into position they might have to take good note of the sign, and Shed All Hope.

No alarms and no surprises, please

I am not a morning person.

Never have been really. These days I've lost my impressive lie-in capacity which often took me past noon on a Saturday, but nonetheless I still hate getting out of bed.

It often feels unfair to me that one of the things I hate the most in the whole world is something that I have to do every single day. I mean, I hate tarantulas and paedophiles as well, but thankfully don't encounter them on a frequent basis (bet I meet a kiddy fiddling arachnid tonight now, typical) - but getting out of bed is just something that you have to do. No one believes me if I say I'm doing it 'for peace' or as a protest against the favourable depiction of 'Arry Redknapp in the media, they just think I'm a lazy slothful waster.

What I'm getting at here is that leaving my comfy bed is not something that I find easy. Some people spring out of bed and love to make the most of the early morning hours, but I can't classify myself in the category. With the scene thus set, you will understand what position I was in when my alarm went off at 5:45 yesterday morning.

The reason for this hideous noise to pervade my brain at a time when it should be dreaming of exploding whales (the true subject of my dream that night - dream analysts, help) was simple: Chelsea vs Man United.

The evening kick off translates over here to an early morning start - 06:45 to be precise. The fact that the game is not shown on free-to-air TV threw another spanner in the works; to watch it properly I'd have to get up, achieve some level of respectability in my appearance, and venture out into the still sleeping world. From previous Arsenal Barcelona experience I knew none of my local pubs would be open, so I sourced a 24 hour Irish pub in Sydney that confirmed they would have the game on, so the plan was set.

The morning all went relatively smoothly, I got up on time, packed a bag for work and made the ferry with seconds to spare. The pub was busy with football fans (mainly United), the big screens were plentiful, seats were available, volume was up high, and the red and blue shirts were walking out in glorious HD. So far so good...but I knew the success or otherwise of this entire plan was in the fate of those footballers. A dreadful 0-0 almost never feels like it was worth sitting through, and having left my pit so prematurely I had reason to worry about how volatile I might be if that was the scenario that played out.

Thankfully, however, it was a thoroughly enjoyable game. Not just for the result - as a neutral I wanted Chelsea to win in order to keep the title race alive with as many teams involved for as long as possible; not just for the incident packed action; and not just for the amusing agony suffered by a gold and green-scarfed gentlemen in work suit drinking VB like he was Aron Ralston in a spot of bother. How he got on at work for the rest of the day I'd love to know. Anyway, the key to why it was such an enjoyable game lay for me in the approach taken by both teams.

Lining up with two out and out attackers, a formation rarely used by the biggest teams over the last 5 years or so, immediately promised for a more attacking approach. Perhaps that was understandable, Chelsea knew anything less than a win was it for their chances of defending their title, whilst United could have taken a huge pyschological step towards Number 19 in the wake of Arsenal's dreadful weekend. Whatever the reason for this approach, it made for an extremely enjoyable game; one spell in particular after Ol' Bob Terwilliger drew Chelsea level was like watching NBA Jam - both teams sprinting end to end and trying to pull off one of those ridiculous quadruple somersault smash-the-backboard Power Dunks. God damn I miss my Megadrive.

All in all it was a great game and the classic 'advert for English football' that Sky et al love to put forward. It's given renewed hope to the Blues, reduced the gap for United at the top to potentially just a point, and hopefully shown other teams that favouring attack and going for it just might be the way to go.

In this season where everyone is beatable, managers may be forced to realise that 3 points is worth so much more than 1, which would be a great shift for the watching masses in terms of the spectacle laid on. Whilst we're on the subject of the spectacle for the watching masses...you just know Sky are going to have one cameraman on 'Gary Neville in the crowd' duty at every United game from now on!! Keenan's passionate and slightly deranged jumping around and swearing was great to see and just added to how good yesterday morning was, definitely worth getting out of bed for. And it's not often I'd say that...