My dear friend and (dare I say it), colleague, for, after all, are not we not both wordsmiths, spinners of tales, like the bards of olde? (The extra e is to indicate “days of yore”.), Where was I? Ah, yes—some things that should not have been forgotten were lost. History became legend. Legend became myth. Pundit became, well, I’ll leave off for there and let imagination step in. In the wake of this juicy, splashy Ronaldo-spills-tea 16-part miniseries, I’ve used up my annual allotment of hyphens. Along the way, Piers, you seem to believe that you have become legend…in your own mind, at least, if not on Twitter. To be frank, I don’t really care one whit about Ronaldo making his case on your channel or program or station. You call yourself a Gooner, and I can’t abide that.
However, a more-chilling possibility arises. Without that precious show to keep him busy, will he take to the blogosphere to spew his half-formed, poorly-researched opinions on all things Arsenal? I already am, as are countless others. However, he has a platform that would become the immediate envy of all and sundry. Almost 4 million followers on twitter. Instant name-recognition. A British accent. The finances needed to attend matches on a regular basis. Unimpeachable knowledge of all things Arsenal.
Well, wait. That last one might need some vetting. Now, I’m not going to claim that I’d pass an “All Things Arsenal” quiz, but I at least have the good sense not to broadcast my ignorance too broadly. If I don’t know who a younger player is, I go to Jeorge Bird. I certainly don’t tweet something like the following about Serge Gnabry—and then follow it up with another tweet in which I claim that I always rated him. If I am going to be that foolish, I’m certainly going to let more than a week pass, especially if I’ve got those 4,000,000 followers keeping tabs on me.
In response to your own rhetorical question, Piers, no, it’s not because of the time in California that you don’t know who Gnabry is. You don’t know who Gnabry is because you’re at best a casual fan coasting on his fame to gild your opinions with legitimacy, while the rest of us schlep around caring and learning and, yeah, maybe suffering more than we should about the club. That’s probably the generous interpretation of your ignorance.
What are schmucks like me going to do if Piers does decide to start yet another Arsenal blog? He’ll suck all the air out of the blogosphere, the sheer depth and volume of his opinions suffocating the rest of us. I’m terrified, actually, that he’ll unleash the full scope of that ignorance on Arsenal, blindsiding us with bizarre proclamations, intellectual inconsistencies, hypocrisies, half-assed analysis…why, that’s my bit.
I can just see it now—a blog, entitled Piersenal.blogspot.com©, spewing headlines that fall into one two broad categories: “BOOOM!!! I told Wenger to sign that guy” or “Unbelievable. _______’s a waste of money. Wenger out!!!!” In either case, a fair amount of blithering, blathering, and babbling is sure to issue forth like half-eaten porridge from a toddler, only less coherently.
These are dark days, indeed, friends. Up until recently, we had only to worry about Piers mucking up debates over gun-control and illegal wire-tapping. Now, it looks he could get his grubby little hands on something much closer to home, something much more vital: our beloved Arsenal. To this point, we could content ourselves by mocking the occasional tweet. Now, however, he can bring the full weight of his reportage to bear on this club.
Even moreso than the average fan, his opinions yo-yo from “_________is complete shite. Sell him” to “always rated him. Legend!” with a dizzying quickness sharp enough to induce whiplash. That’s at 140 characters at a time. Now, with unfettered access to the web, without CNN holding him in check and with a free blogger account just a few keystrokes away, we’re through the looking-glass here, people.