Confused which Spaniards are on the telly? Look at the players' bums

Every time Arsenal had a shit shot, sending it high over the bar, which happened about five times against Roma, I felt myself groaning. And moaning. I groaned because they had created so many chances, then wasted them, and one does not like to see waste. The mark of a good team, one at the top of their league, in Spain, Italy, Germany or here, is that they can finish. This is what separates them from the rest. Often the only thing that does.

You can watch Charlton or Fulham, Villa or West Ham, and you can think: Yeah, they're really good, excellent work in midfield, good movement down the wings. Even against a supposedly better club, like Man Utd or Arsenal, it appears for a long time that they are just as skilful, just as creative. Then it all fades away, nothing happens at the vital moment.

I often tune in late to an Italian or Spanish game to see Juventus or Real Madrid, and it's the same syndrome. The other side for ages looks so good that I have to check I've got the teams right. I'm not confusing the lesser club with the greater - I do now know which is Alaves. The clue is to look at their bums. On the seat of their shorts is an advertisement - something I'd never seen before.

So I groaned at Arsenal, being so bad when I know they are so good. But finding myself moaning, that was more worrying. For 30 years, Arsenal have been my second London team; I've regularly gone to see them when Spurs have been away, secretly hoping to see them get stuffed. That was in the early years. Then I just wanted to watch good football, not really caring who won.

That is an ideal state of mind. You then don't get fussed, either way. I've always enjoyed games when I've been abroad, from Moscow to Majorca, Dominica to Douala, observing the crowds, the local rituals, amused by the pain and fury of those who have lost, yet remaining neutral. Douala. Come on. Biggest city in Cameroon, on the coast. It was there I saw Cameroon play Russia in a friendly. Still got the programme, and the stickers I bought from a street stall.

I really want to stay neutral not emotional about Arsenal. Two is more than enough, thank you. Spurs and CUFC are sufficient burdens to carry through this life. Next time, might be different. Yet I'm now finding myself wanting them to win, especially in Europe, which is bad timing, now they are being annoying.

That game against Roma, who were down to ten men, was their fourth consecutive draw in Europe. In each case, they threw away good chances. When Liverpool were at their height, they were ruthless, taking advantage of any weakness in the opposition. These draws and missed chances in Europe have begun to make Arsenal nervous at home, when all season they have been so confident, even arrogant. The defeat by Blackburn would indicate they are starting to stutter in the Premiership, or getting knackered.

When you watch them in the flesh, as opposed to telly, you can see the whole picture, and it's clear they are over-reliant on Vieira. It was significant he was missing at Blackburn. He is excellent, but Arsenal's defence and midfield now constantly funnel the ball to him, so the same sequence of forward movements recurs, which the better defences in Europe can cope with.

Thierry Henry, equally brilliant though he is, and their best finisher, is not a natural centre-forward, so too often there is no one there when the ball comes over, especially as Bergkamp is now fading. It's being said that Arsenal's problem is they try to score artistic, not artisan, goals. That's how it can appear, but it's not deliberate. All professionals want to score any sort of goals. Their problem is they don't have a player in the Shearer mould, a strong, bustling, no-nonsense striker who can score the scruffy, scrappy goals as well as the stunning. Jeffers is not the solution, so I wonder what they can . . .

Stop it, Hunt. At once. And don't tell me you're now starting to lie awake at night, thinking about Arsenal. Get a grip.

No, but I am concerned about Valencia. As I sit here, biting my lip, I don't know how they've got on. Perhaps the quicker they fail, the sooner I can get on with the rest of this life . . .

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