So in an ideal world, the Man of the Match award would have been conferred before the preview for the next game appeared. But in an ideal world, I wouldn't be surreptitiously writing this at work; I'd be sitting in an open-air bar next to a beach with a laptop and a beer, crafting prose that is a wonderful amalgamation of Oscar Wilde, Hunter S. Thompson, and Patton Oswalt in its humor and bite, George Orwell in its social commentary, and George RR Martin in its length and density.
But here I sit, at work, trying to hammer out a couple hundred words before my boss comes back, so...Aaron Ramsey. Man Of The Match. There! Done!
Seriously, though, for all the shit Ramsey takes from certain parts of the blogothingy, even his most ardent of critics have to admit he had a pretty phenomenal game on Tuesday. He created a whole bunch of chances, he drew defenders away from Giroud, allowing Arsenal's forward players to find space (even if they wasted said space), he refused to be cowed by the Everton goon squad. He was terrific, and I'm not sure how many more of these performances are needed before people realize that Ramsey's actually a good player and that Arsenal are lucky to have him.
So, Aaron, even though it's late, please accept our warmest congratulations on winning this most exclusive of awards. Your certificate of achievement, TSF-logo car emergency kit (includes flares, fuses, emergency road reflector, bungee cord, and a blanket to keep you warm while you wait for the tow truck!), and case of Otter Pops are in the mail.