Özil who? Ramsey pummels Sunderland into submission

Aaron Ramsey celebrates with Mesut Ozil and Olivier Giroud

Against Sunderland, his first goal was a wonderful volley, made all the more difficult because he was leaning back. Volleys are tough enough to time, let alone put on frame, and to do so with his body in that position shows that Ramsey has entered the vaunted zone, that Zen-like state in which one knows what is happening and what to do without thinking. The second goal, though it lacked for the highlight-reel quality that a volley offers, showed sublime movement off the ball (something we’ll examine in more depth tomorrow) as Ramsey laid off the ball at the top of the box and darted in behind the Sunderland defense (beating four defenders along the way) to collect the pass from Giroud and finish coolly under Westwood.

Goals from Ramsey are gravy. Icing on the cake. The bee’s knees. While it won’t solve our striker-dilemma (Giroud, good as he’s been so far, is only one man), a certain French manager can’t be blamed for taking it all in and reading it, rightly in my opinion, as proof once again that he knows what he’s up to. Blame him if you will for transfer-market failings (and you’d be right), but he’s not the one who has distorted the market with oil-tycoon money. He’s been slow to react to that, to be sure, but seeing Ramsey flourish shows that there’s still something to the “we don’t buy superstars; we make them” adage. Should Ramsey continue to show this kind of form – not goals, necessarily, but hallmarks like hustle and tackling and passing – we may look back, years from now, on the end of the 2012-13 campaign as the birth of a superstar. We could do a lot worse than rooting for that.

Between Ramsey, Wilshere, and Özil, the depth of talent and range of skill should leave you alternately breathless, hyper, and on the edge of your seat. Not one of them is even 25 yet, and they’re each under contract until 2018. Sure, Özil stands apart a bit as the record-setting transfer, but we seem to be on the cusp of a renaissance. It’s a renaissance of method just as much as of outcome; the goals and the victories are sure to come, but it’s through how they’ll come that should deliver some satisfaction to Arsène, who might be humming just a few bars of Sinatra’s “My Way”:

Yes, there were times, I’m sure you knewwhen I bit off more than I could chew,but through it all, when there was doubt,I ate it up and spit it out.I faced it all and I stood talland did it my way.

I’ve loved; I’ve laughed and cried.I’ve had my fill, my share of losing,and now, as the tears subside,I find it all so amusing

to think I did all that,and may I say, not in a shy way,“oh no, oh no, not me,I did it my way!”

Indeed.