Foiled like an old school Ding Dong

Last night, I was able to complete unmitigated disaster week by experiencing something that had never happened to me before: I left a match - a doubleheader, no less - with a big fat exclusive interview donut.

Let's start from the beginning, shall we? Putting my left shoe on for the first time in five weeks due to a thoroughly smashed big toe, I dragged my mystery illness riddled self out over to Amsterdam ArenA for the second night of their annual preseason invitational to see Arsenal v Sevilla and Ajax v Inter Milan.

Well, truth be told, my priority was not the matches, but the interview questions I had prepared for a whole slew of players. And after hobbling my headache and nausea up and down six flights of stairs four times, I left the stadium empty-handed.

Somehow, someway, events conspired to foil me like an old school Ding Dong. Having a pack of British scribes on hand certainly didn't help. Not only do they have face recognition with all of the Arsenal players, but they have no mixed zone manners whatsoever.

The folks with a camera clogged the entire front row of the smaller-than-usual area (teams from the first game used auxiliary dressing rooms, and thus a different, squished mixed zone location) and most of the others just try to nudge in front of your prime spot. Not wanting to have my bad foot stepped on, I often moved a smidge when I absolutely would not have normally - just ask the BBC dude that tried to cut in front of me as I spoke with a player at World Cup 2006.

But that was least of my woes.

• My first target available was new Sevilla defender Sébastien Squillaci, who I asked in French whether he would be up for a few questions in English. After deliberating for a few seconds, he clearly decided he didn't feel comfortable enough to go on record in a language that wasn't at his full grasp. The same exact thing then happened with Arsenal's Mexico starlet Carlos Vela (note to self: learn some Spanish other than kitchen talk).
  

• Next came along Arsenal youngster Aaron Ramsay, another summer transfer mover. I had him down as one of my main targets for the night, and this eagerness only grew when he put in a terrific show out of position at defensive midfielder. When he walked by, nobody paid the slightest attention to him and I knew he was gonna be an easy exclusive, something rare around UK press jackals. I tried to get Ramsay's attention, but all I got was on odd grin/grimace as he waltzed on by. So what happened? At first, I figured perhaps only certain Gunners veterans were given the green light to talk (Theo Walcott also declined to speak to anyone). It was only about five seconds before the realization came that I had called him 'Allan' for some unknown reason. Nope, never done that before either.
  

• I then utilized the "It nevers hurts to ask" mindset to approach Emmanuel Adebayor and Cesc Fabregas, but neither had played, and thus were not required to meet the press (neither did). I also aimed at Kolo Toure, who was naturally hogged by a Arsenal TV camera crew until the press officer started hollering for stragglers to get on the bus. Robin van Persie would have fine as well, but the Dutchman unsurprisingly held court with the local crowd for so long that even the Brit gaggle had to settle for just a fleeting moment of his time.
  

• I spotted chatty Inter Milan supremo Massimo Moratti as I sulked back to the press box, but for once, he was more interested in rushing off somewhere than in having his name in the news.

• After the second game, I was most insistent that I would get some combination of Inter targets Luis Figo, Zlatan Ibrahimovic and the injured Christian Chivu... which had me convinced the night wouldn't be a washout until I realized that the entire team had been snuck out the side exit.
  

Having passed up the chance to talk to Ajax players Ismail Aissati, Maarten Stekelenburg and Miralem Sulejmani (mainly because I can get access to that squad any time due to being a familiar face) as I waited for Inter to appear, my breath was filled with curses as I one-leg pedaled my bike and my swollen, achy left foot back to the Bijlmer Metro station in the wind and rain.

The lone bright spots were finally standing in the presence of my football hero, Dennis Bergkamp, for a moment and the thick cut, basil-mayo, softest roll EVER turkey sandwiches in the press room. I went to town on two of those bad boys during my six fruitless hours at the ArenA.

Yeah, I should have grabbed another broodje for the road. At least then, I'd have left with something.

- Greg Seltzer