What a brilliant, brilliant eight minutes of football. Yes, it's true that about 93 minutes were played, we can rightly lay claim to having played only eight. In those eight, we scored three goals. In the other 85-odd minutes, we played some very casual, sloppy football, and we're arguably quite lucky to have won. If not for a "could have gone either way" foul, we'd probably be sitting on the short end of a 1-0 loss to an inferior team that outplayed us—for a second time in as many matches.
The deus ex machina is a literary phenomenon whereby an impossible problem is miraculously solved through the intervention of a deity or through some otherwise inexplicable event. After Norwich went ahead, they sat as deep as they could and found every trifling way they could to fritter away time. Going into that 85th minute, I'm willing to bet the most of us were giving in to despair. This, after all, was to be the game that sees us finally and officially surpass Spurs. And then, not once, but twice in minutes, we scored, and we found a third in stoppage-time. There will be controversy over that first one as Norwich will be sure to feel hard-done by on the penalty against Bassong in the box that led to Arteta's spot-kick, but there's little that they can say about the brilliant exchange between the Ox and Giroud or Podolski's strike. We showed some character, if not poise, at the end, and we claimed a very valuable three points.
|That looks like a foul.|