See yesterday’s post for Bolton match report.

HIS career peaked at just 22 and had fizzled out by 30.

So why does David Rocastle remain such a hero? I imagine many fans who came to the club post 1992 have asked that question.

Well, you have probably heard how he was pacey, exciting, spirited and brave. But less obviously explainable is the way he enraptured a generation growing up in North London in the late 80s, when Liverpool were dominant and we were the next big things.

While my best mate adored John Barnes, I worshiped David Rocastle.

For a few months from March 1990 I was him - in the playground at least. With my JVC top tucked into those meringue shorts I was virtually talentless and made an appalling impression of such a superb athlete.

I say for a few months because by the August it had become abundantly clear why my Dad had got the kit for the knock down price he did: the last of my 1988 vintage were being flogged on the cheap ahead of the launch of the 1990 version. It was never quite the same after that.

In October 1989 I had glimpsed Rocky on my first Highbury visit, a run of the mill Saturday 3pm win (they always were then) over Manchester City.

For one fleeting moment, we thought he had notched the second of four after latching on to a John Lukic punt. In fact it was Michael Thomas - an easy mistake when you’re ickle.

One evening around that time, I returned home from school to find a letter addressed to me, with the envelope written in my handwriting. It meant only one thing: a footballer had obliged my request to pop a signed photo in the self-addressed envelope I’d provided.

It was Rocky. The photo was addressed to me and added “Best wishes, David Rocastle.”

(I also got one from Lee Dixon, who even wrote a hand written letter answering my question as to why he took the penalties).

Most afternoons at the Arsenal Soccer School on the Clock End Astroturf a player would pop in, answer questions, sign autographs and have a kick around.

Sadly, Rocky had always been the week before or was due the week after. So I made do with scoring against Steve Bould one day.

For some reason, on 1 February 1992 I eschewed the chance to watch Arsenal v Manchester United in favour of a cub scouts chess tournament.

The chess tournament ended chaotically, with the troop leader resigning and then being talked out of it. Meanwhile, at Highbury I’d missed Rocky slide in the equaliser in a 1-1 draw. It was to be his final Arsenal goal.

On a family holiday in Cyprus that summer I created goals in the swimming pool based on what I had mistakenly assumed would be our new midfield combination - Rocky and John Jensen. In my mind, they were going to rip Norwich apart on the opening day of the season.

Then one day mum bought a flown-in copy of the Sunday Times. The sport section was crammed with Barcelona Olympics coverage.

But there was room for a brief report from the Makhita tournament, hosted at Elland Road, Leeds. And in the Leeds team that day was a player called Rocastle. I trusted it was the other, almost anonymous, Rocastle I’d seen in the Rothmans yearbook.

It was not. Outrageously, George Graham had sold him. As if that was not bad enough, he intended to replace him with Geoff Thomas. And even worse, he failed to even manage that.

So in short, Rocky was sold and in return we did not get Geoff Thomas. Almost as unbelievable as the fact that crooked George still makes money commentating on Arsenal.

And that was that. The Walcott of his day drifted from Leeds, to Man City, to Chelsea, to Norwich and to Hull.

Those are my memories.

And I remember hearing, seven years ago today, he had died. Rocky t-shirts, supported it appears by his family, are being sold in aid of the Treehouse charity.

Meanwhile, this great video on YouTube is always worth a watch:

IT is a good thing football is not a matter of life or death.

Were it, I’d have likely topped myself at half-time and been in no position to tell you about our second half comeback.

Seriously, at the break it was that bad I was pondering whether the joy of the first 26 games had been worth it if this was our comeuppance. Bobbing in mid-table obscurity like West Ham seemed preferable.

In one sense we had started well enough, Bendtner and RVP both making and spurning early chances. But in another sense the experience of the previous five games - where we had failed to convert those early opportunities - sounded an ominous warning.

And so it proved. Even before Gretar Steinsson had pinged over the cross a sense of foreboding came over me. Matthew Taylor did the rest neatly.

Then, when the response had been neither bad nor particularly good, Abou Diaby was sent-off.

The comparisons with Martin Taylor were obvious, even if the resulting injury was not.

But you won’t find any mealy mouthed excuses from me here. You won’t find me spouting rubbish about Open University degrees. And you sure as hell won’t find me saying Abou Diaby is not that kind of player.

No, he got exactly what he deserved. Granted, he did not go out to injure the player (just as Taylor did not), but it was high and reckless and we can have no complaints. It was not merely clumsy.

He was the fourth Arsenal player to receive a straight red this season, and while you can excuse Denilson for diving in late on during a blood and thunder cup tie at Ewood, it’s telling that the other three (Eboue, Diaby and Bendtner) are all players whose focus and concentration have been questioned at one time or another.

It is worth noting once again that Arsene did not complain about the red card. Don’t expect anyone else to point that out.

Things got even worse when Flamini was caught in possession on the edge of the box (that’s when you know things are getting really bad) and the fairly weak shot that followed looped off Gallas and past Almunia.

Minutes earlier, Gallas had blocked a Bendtner shot that appeared to be headed in. Then Flamini blazed over when well placed. We had actually created a fair few chances but were getting sod all luck. Half time was a seriously low moment.

After the break, it got even worse. As if being 2-0 down at the Reebok with ten men was not enough, we were also being totally outplayed by Bolton. Humbling or what. Almunia saved brilliantly from a header after what to all the world looked to me like the clearest foul ever on Kolo.

Then came Adebayor and Walcott for Senderos and Bendtner, meaning three at the back, three in midfield and RVP, Walcott and Adebayor doing the attacking. It was a bold move, though arguably Theo should have started ahead of Diaby in the first place.

And then out of nothing came a goal. A corner that was flicked on and sloppy marking allowed William Gallas to steal in and side-foot home. Say what you like about Gallas, he has a funny knack of being at the right place at the right time and scoring what turn out to be crucial goals.

Suddenly, we sensed we had a sniff. A flowing move ended with Hleb fouled for a penalty, which RVP dispatched.

We were level with 23 minutes to go - a very odd sensation, given the lateness of our recent comebacks.

From then on we dominated. RVP missed two absolute sitters and I nearly cried when Theo made a ridiculously sporting attempt to stay on his feet when a penalty seemed a near certainty. The crunching foul he put in following it told of his frustration.

It was fascinating to watch. That old fluency was returning, the passing sharp, the runs incisive and the crosses well directed. But we were not quite there. Up front, Adebayor teetered between the hurricane of January and early February and the damp squib since.

But with every missed chance, the clock was ticking and we were into injury time. Then Hleb drove into the box and fed Cesc and you know that line about needing one to go in off a defender’s backside, well it only happened.

I had a spasm a la Michael Thomas at Anfield 89. I imagine some of you did too.

For the record, it actually came off two defenders. After week, upon week, upon week of the most hopeless luck imaginable, how symbolic was it that we should finally get our win through a moment like that? God we deserved it.

And so the Match of the Day scripts were shredded, the half-time copy filed for Sunday’s papers trashed.

We showed character by the bucketloads. Ignore the sloppy pundits who trot out their stuff about us lacking character. That is based on little more than the idea that foreigners, and the French in particular, are surrender monkeys who lack whatever ingredient it is that has served British national sides so well for the past 40 years.

Granted, we’ve imploded - but how quickly people forget that great United and Liverpool sides of the recent past packed to the brim with British players also did exactly that (97-98, 88-89 to name just two). It happens.

Instead of being chokers, we are a side who time and time again have shown incredible resilience, whether it be clawing back yet another deficit at the Grove, equalising late at Anfield or denying United twice in injury time in as many games. We are already two points above last season’s total.

Recent weeks have been so disappointing that the temptation to lash out with grandiose calls for rebuilding has been an easy one.

But form, as they say is temporary, while class is permanent. It may well be too late for this year, but over 26 games (and for half an hour at the Reebok too), we saw class. For five and a half games, we witnessed form.

Onto Liverpool.

(ps, no playa ratings as I was watching it on a crap feed with a couple of family distractions too.)

WE needed an injury to Bacary Sagna like a hole in the head.

It means, in all likelihood, comrade Eboue returning to the position he held so sterlingly last season. Unless we get a reshuffle with Kolo moving out to full-back, it’s Eboue or Justin Hoyte.

In fairness to Hoyte, it’s not easy to progress when you go from starting half the league games one year to just one (thus far), the next.

That Hoyte has seen so little action is testament to the genuinely outstanding Sagna - and a reminder that for all our gripes, Arsene can be ruthless when he feels like it.

I was living in Manchester when we last visited the Reebok and it was not an enjoyable experience. The near hour long wait to get out the car park not withstanding, nothing went right.

We conformed to every stereotype of Arsenal at Bolton. Our failure to get stuck in was just pathetic and the way we conceded an early goal from a set-piece was deeply distressing.

The way we are defending at the moment, it would be little surprise to see us do it again. Let us pray not.

One point less touched upon is our love affair with the Reebok woodwork. Last year Freddie, Adebayor and Cesc all thumped it with their keeper well beaten. The year before, Thierry Henry bashed it twice from range.

So a little luck on that front too, please. We certainly need it - it’s been yonks since we won at the Reebok.

And this one is addressed to the guild of assistant referees: If you insist on getting decisions wrong, then feel free to favour us for the first time in yonks.

Just on a side note, is the Eduardo/Martin Taylor who said what to who, now not the most boring thing ever?

And how about this for transfer news: Kevin Keegan wants Jose Reyes. Try not to laugh.

I’ve lived in Newcastle and you just hope that poor little Jose (who let’s be honest was never the sharpest) is not sold the pup it’s warm enough up there for the locals to walk around the city centre at night wearing just skimpy tops.

It’s true, but hardly the point.

WHATEVER he does, William Gallas appears damned. If he says we can still win the title, he’s living in la-la land. If he says we can’t, then he’s given up.

If he is seen talking to the players, he’s doing it for the cameras. If he is not seen talking to the players, then as captain he should be getting them going.

Seriously, unless I’m completely missing something, that video of the team-talk pre Chelsea is precisely what Gallas has done all season long. And sorry, but watching it I couldn’t pick up any great revolutionary vibes.

So Tony Adams did his geeing up in the dressing-room. And?

I’m not saying everything is rosy. It never is when you’re on a run like ours and it always is when you’re flying high.

And I don’t doubt for a second that Gallas is not too hard to dislike.

But remember one thing: Under Gallas we went on one hell of a run. Looked at another way, he took no shit and kicked a load of under-achieving kids into shape. Surely, there must be some credit due?

He and Kolo Toure lose one league game in 26. Then they play one cup game and two league games together and apparently they can’t play together. Could it not just be that they have played shit for three games?

Don’t get me wrong, I’d have kept Senderos in because when you get on a run with Senderos it just tends to get better and better - though lest we forget two had already been conceded to Birmingham and an own goal to Villa before he was dropped.

But it just all feels like a bit of a witch-hunt. After all, would it have been too much to ask the attack to chip in with just one first half goal in our last eight games?

Anyway, on a lighter note, I thought I’d tell you about my brother on Sunday.

He watched both games with a Man United supporting friend and his Dad at the friend’s family home.

It had been a pleasant enough afternoon by all accounts up until John Terry elected not to return the ball to us after we had interrupted our own attack to let Joe Cole get treatment.

At which point the brother rose to his feet and let out a very loud and totally involuntary “You f*****g c**t Terry”. The silence that followed was a long one.

Mind you, we’ve all done it.

On a serious note though, it was genuinely perhaps one of the least sporting acts to be seen on a football pitch in a long time.

We have all head of not giving the ball back when an opponent goes down and their team-mates deliberately kick it out to waste time. Fair enough.

But when your own man is in agony and the opposition break up their own attack to allow treatment, that’s something else altogether.

I wonder if Fabio Capello saw it? Rio Ferdinand captains England tonight.

PLAYA RATINGS

ALMUNIA
Catching a few catchable crosses would have relieved pressure. But other than that his handling of shots was faultless.7

SAGNA

Top run and header and as ever gave everything before doing his ankle in a moment that summed up our current luck.7.5

GALLAS
Strikers are getting a march on him at the moment. Recovered well once but was beaten for both goals.5.5

KOLO
Not played well post Africa. Badly turned for the second goal. Admittedly, a couple of great blocks.5.5

CLICHY
Eleven of him and we’d have won. Terrific spirit and really gave it his all.7.5

FLAMINI
Ok but no better. Played better in this fixture last year.6

CESC
One or two great balls but this was no San Siro effort. Not by a long way.6

HLEB
An easy target. It’s not really working at the moment and with Hleb it always looks bad when that happens. Goalscoring is a real problem.6

EBOUE
Showed great bravery to throw himself at an early free-kick. That he did it by encroaching ridiculously early kind of summed things up. Some good running at times but then appeared to outdo Javier Mascherano in the stupidity stakes. Still no goals for the right midfielder.6

RVP
Not his favourite position and is undoubtedly still rusty. But had some good moments and will, in time, find his radar.6.5

ADEBAYOR
His domestic decline can truly be traced to that bizarre dive at Old Trafford when we were already 4-0 down. Something seemed to have gone that day and it has not returned. I’m loathe to criticise a guy who has had a great season, but for everyone’s sake, I think a rest against Bolton would be no bad thing.5

SUB: DIABY
Ok, but not the man you want in a battle and really needs a position.6

SUB: WALCOTT
Barely in the game. But then nor were we.5.5

SUB: BENDTNER
NA

Chelsea 2 Arsenal 1
By Goodplaya, miserable in front of a plasma screen

CHELSEA’S four years unbeaten at home says that to win at Stamford Bridge you have to be excellent. We never were.

We were OK. Created a couple of decent chances before we scored. Limited them to no more than us. Probably better than we had been in any of the previous four games. But never excellent.

And when we scored and we needed the backs against the wall stuff of the San Siro, it never came. We gave the ball away almost immediately from the kick-off and while Clichy and Sagna were excellent, the rest were no better than OK.

And if you’re only OK against Chelsea, you can expect to lose. After all, we were very good last year and only got a draw.

So why am I saying all this?

Because it’s easy to use the huge disappointment of today and the past five games as an excuse to lash out and call for root and branch reform when the truth is today was only a 2-1 defeat at Chelsea and in spite of the current wretched run, we are still on 67 points.

The inclination (and I saw this in a 90 minute post mortem with two friends last night) is to let crackpot theories run wild as you try and somehow make sense of what has happened. But more on that later.

It was a horrible day that started with the kind of mistake from Liverpool keeper Jose Reina that puts whatever faults Manuel Almunia may have into some serious perspective. I’m not saying he’s Gordon Banks but there is some serious snobbery over his previous lack of top flight experience.

Anyway, fuckwit Steve Bennett then ruined the game when he sent off Javier Mascherano. The standing ovation the United fans gave Bennett at the break told you everything you needed to know.

I know Mascherano was an idiot, but if Bennett is incapable of human interaction there are a whole host of less high profile, less well paid jobs he could do. All he had to do was tell Mascherano (or his captain) that he was pushing it and would go if there was any more from him.

Back at Stamford Bridge and we were OK in the first half. As a side note, on the Match of the Day highlights John Motson said Chelsea had the better of the first half. If, like Match of the Day, you’re going to omit the game’s best chance - Kolo’s free header and Gallas’ wrongly called offside follow-up - I suppose it could look that way. They also failed to show RVP’s very presentable chance from the edge of the box and Eboue’s open goal from 45 yards.

I’m not saying we were in control, but it really was bizarre TV.

The goal came, as they so often do, from a corner. In one sense Sagna was an unlikely hero, but in another it was no surprise he was the man on the spot as it typified the excellent player he is. Had the rest of the side matched him and Clichy for commitment, we could well have won.

Sadly, the reaction was not great. We lost the ball straight from the kick-off and the truth is the likes of Flamini and Fabregas were not getting stuck in like they were in the San Siro. Nor were Hleb and Eboue. It meant ball after ball was being humped up to Drogba and sadly, Kolo and Gallas were not on top form today.

The goal was coming.

The chants of “You don’t know what you’re doing” from the Chelsea fans to Avram Grant were outrageous. And to think that without money that club failed to do anything for so long with support like that. I’d like to think we’re at least slightly less fickle.

The comparison between Drogba and Adebayor could not have been more marked. In every department the Ivorian was superior. To be blunt, Adebayor looks like he’s given up. You only hope he is learning from this chastening experience.

For his sake, if for no other reason, I’d bench him for Bolton next week. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if a few players are rested ahead of the Champions League - Adebayor, Cesc and Hleb the very obvious candidates. Bendtner, Walcott and Diaby could all come in.

The influx of foreigners into our game, and quite possibly wider immigration into the UK itself, were no doubt to blame for John Terry’s (or JT as fawning England managers and TV pundits call him) appalling sportmanship after Eboue (yes, I know) had ended an Arsenal attack to allow Joe Cole treatment.

So the equaliser came. What can you say? I suppose when you play badly you make yourself vulnerable to poor decisions. And from the St Andrews penalty to Boro last week and Chelsea today, we have had sod all luck of late.

Drogba and one other man were obviously offside. Anelka (who must have been interfering with play given Gallas was marking him and not Drogba), was bloody miles offside.

Gallas still managed to miss the header, then it all bounced around and before you knew it, it was 1-1. Mind you, check out the contact between Anelka and Clichy. To me it looked like a cheeky trip from their man that sent Clichy to the floor and prevented him quite possibly blocking the shot.

But such is life.

Like Barcelona in Paris two years ago, another felt very likely and followed accordingly. Again, we were beaten too easily in the air, this time Kolo most culpable with his feet rooted to the spot as Drogba turned him. Almunia, I thought, was blameless from such close range.

Inept linesman (and my god he was) or no inept linesman, think in fairness Chelsea deserved the victory.

There is no denying it - our title hopes lie in many pieces now. Interestingly though, it’s our form rather than our points total that is what gives most reason for pessimism.

If, and by god at the moment it’s an almighty if, we could somehow beat Bolton next week (they are in even worse form than us), we would then leapfrog Chelsea and go three points behind United, with both playing later in the weekend.

United play after us the following week too. I’m not for a moment expecting it to happen, but hey, it’s something to hold to for the next five days.

As I said earlier, moments like these always give rise to the more crackpot theories. I fully expect someone to post on the comments board saying just about every member of the current team bar one or two are not up for it and should be sold. I also fully expect someone else to say how we need to sell Hleb, Adebayor and Cesc and bring in Kaka, Ronaldo and Gerrard, as if that’s going to happen.

And no doubt sometime over the next few days a a story titled “Arsene has to go. NOW!” will soar to the top of the NewsNow list with “Is Em Bryo the answer to Arsenal’s problems?” just below. Such is life.

In fairness, there are a couple of points to make. The first is that for 26 games, we enjoyed almost THE perfect season. To go back now and pick gaping holes in our performances pre-Birmingham is nothing more than inaccurate revionism.

For example, you could say ten draws is too many. It is. But six in 26 games is not. Seriously, you have to divide our season into two - the first 26 games and the last five. They have been chalk and cheese.

The one thing I would say is that during the 26, we very rarely totally killed games off early on. It meant all too often we still had to go at full pelter into well into the last minutes.

Just four of our league wins have been by three or more goals. Of those, only Derby at home was guaranteed early on. We treaded that tight-rope magnificently for so long. Now it has caught up on us.

The second point is that we clearly don’t have the squad. While the first team have come on leaps and bounds, the rest have stagnated or regressed - which I think has been a bit of a surprise. We thought Diaby, Diarra, Gilberto and Denilson offered an abundance of choice in central midfield. For four different reasons, we were wrong.

We expected Djourou, Hoyte, Traore and a few of the above to really benefit from another year under their belt. We have seen little sign of that.

So, we need a bigger squad. And it’s worth saying that much as Arsene did not want Diarra to go, title challengers tend to strengthen in transfer windows. Not weaken.

The final point is that much as some people would have you believe, this can not all be traced back to Gallas’ tears at Birmingham. Nor can it be traced back to that iffy penalty in the same match or Eduardo’s leg break.

For one reason or another, while it looked for all the world as if the only way post-Blackburn was up, the exact opposite was true.

Five day later at Old Trafford was no accident, no one off. It was an exaggerated premonition. In hindsight, perhaps we allowed it being a cup game (and perhaps too the high number of second stringers on display), to let us think it was a unique event that could be ignored. We were badly mistaken.

I wonder what Arsene really thought after that result.

I’m not going to lie to you: I can’t really think of an apt way to sign off this report. Things are shitty and it’s hard not to feel pretty helpless at the moment.

I suppose the best we as fans can do is to support the team and at least be a little less fickle than our counterparts from Stamford Bridge.