76 Comments

A Great Big Onion

Today’s post comes from everyone’s favourite Lahndan Cabbie, and he doesn’t care where you’re from.
Take it away Mel…

 

photo

Amongst all the recent shenanigans between George and his twitter chums the one remark that struck me more than any other was this. When asking about his credentials as a fan (appearances, length of service, location) this guy told George his opinion was not valid. Bearing in mind that this was in the middle of a highly entertaining debate between a Yorkshireman and a Lancastrian (neither of whom will be sending each other Christmas cards soon!) the irony was clearly lost on this poor unfortunate who had butted in.

Now I’m from London. Yes bow bells & all that, born and bred, started going in 78 and still going. From Alan Sunderland’s winner in 79 to Alan Sugar’s equaliser a few weeks ago! I bloody love em. My mother still tells a story about when just after the above photo was taken I ran away from home taking just my Arsenal kit and some library books in a carrier bag. I made it to the top of the street and came back

“Why’d you come back?’

she asked,

“I forgot the socks”

came the reply (like I was gonna get a game). There’s nothing quite like The Arsenal is there?

On my non-football travels I’ll seek out places where I can watch a game if we’re playing and if a local turns up cheering us on or wearing an Arsenal shirt they’re  in danger of being bored and or drunk to death by me telling them about my night at Anfield in 89. My point is I appear to tick all the boxes, well bully for me. But here’s the thing: Does that make me a better supporter? Does it entitle me to more of an opinion than anybody else?

The answer is simple. Of course it doesn’t, if you’re Arsenal, you’re Arsenal. From New Delhi to New Zealand, from Angel to Alabama you’ll do for me. As long as you behave the Arsenal way I don’t care where you’re from, how long you’ve been supporting or if you’ve never seen a game live. In fact I’ll let you into a little secret – you probably know more than me! (I never did read those library books).

Now let’s face those cannons outwards a ltogether now! We all follow the Arsenal…over land and sea!…….

80 Comments

From Highbury To Harare – Why Arsenal Are The World’s Favourite Local Club

Below a post by our very own ZimPaul that I think brilliantly describes the way fans from outside London have different reasons for starting – and continuing – to support Arsenal.  It’s better than anything I could write; simply because people never had, or never will have, the opportunity to attend games does not mean they love the club any less than those who do.

Anyway, here it is.  George.
***

I am certain people support a club because of its culture/identity or location/community.

The second has been less ambiguous in history, built around community and family traditions but is torn asunder by a fast-changing “sense of belonging” that is being rapidly deconstructed by the impact of the digital/TV brave new world and corporate power (Shotta’s excellent insights into the Manchester United issues being a good example of the contradictions and tensions arising). Both are obviously and essentially collective, not individualistic, formulations (although our minds tell us the latter, it is usually not, we are “part of”). The first is more interesting for me for many reasons, I am not London born, linked, based nor does it reflect, for me, much sense of community except in its diversity that includes many Africans, but that is all pretty tenuous.

Why do 2 million Africans support Arsenal? It’s a good question. Why do I see Arsenal shirts every single day in Harare? (pirated, not sold under license). There are few if any commercial links driving a support base (as in Asian and American markets for club knick-knacks and other revenue fueled by modern day football branding).  There are no obvious short term advantages to supporting Arsenal (as with ManU and Chelsea support, and latterly City), that is the likelihood of perennial entitlement, good fortune and dripping, drooling media coverage which also reaches our distant foggy ears.

In my personal experience, most Africans Arsenal fans support Arsenal for FOOTBALL. The underlying assumption is Arsenal play football, have done, always do, will continue to do, all things being equal, and nobody and nothing can take that away.  95% or more of African support came with the Wenger era, with Kanu, with Henry, with Bergkamp. When an African says Arsenal “play football” it means “the dream of what football is supposed to be, and can be, ah, the beautiful artistry and spontaneity of life, the memories, the fun, the laughter, the inspiration, the skill and possibility of it all”. So, it’s about cultural identity. When Arsenal fail to achieve these lofty intangible (cultural) aspirations, fans are deeply critical, often technically specific about it but it is “about” the dream. Our sense of entitlement is not trophy-based, although we wouldn’t mind a few because we are the best team and our time will come, we know. We are patient.

If Arsenal “became” a Chelsea, generally regarded as spoilt brat team in these parts, 50% of the African support would whither in a year or two, 75% in five years. They have so little sense of culture or cultural identity. They don’t make us smile at all.

What Arsenal under Wenger has built will last a very, very long time, like the stadium, if Arsenal keep their side of the social contract with its fans, that this emerging culture of how football is played remains the Arsenal-way. Play football and all the abundance in the world keeps flowing like a river; play celebrity football, Stoke kick-person, tap-in ball, head-ball, buy-a-trophy ball, shit-ball, or any other kind of game, and the game is over.

It’s about Tomas receiving so fast in the middle after an excellent interception (probably Ramsey), wonderful counter attack, turning, beating, acceleration, three steps, feint that way by Giroud, and then the most extraordinarily weighted outside-footed through-ball that Theo, starting far behind his marker, takes perfectly at a fantastic gallop running 25 metres, he turns slightly inside, the angle opens, desperate lunge by the defender, keeper bristling, arms akimbo, ready to spring, 25 metre diagonal front foot shot, low, hard, on the ground, far post, keeper’s fingers caress the ball, slightest deflection, not enough, inside the far post, by an inch, Theo flying now, arms outstretched, Tomas has that smile, and way over on left corner flag the team drown Theo in team happiness. Back in a music bar in Harare a week later Ish walks past and says “Man, did you see that pass”. And without even knowing which game, I know he means “that pass.”

ZimPaul

***

And  here is something that Finsbury said that is worth a special mention:
“‘Loves Arsene, hates Arsenal. Is such a transparent bullshit meme, and worthy of those who repeat it. Some of us have been discussing people being priced out of football for years now, there are records of those threads. I suppose we are fake fans too?

 So, we know people are losing interest in the game. We know people are going to watch football in Germany, or down the leagues. Is George wrong to consider such things happening in the game in our time?”

Right, I am off back to Twitter to be called a Jonny-Come-Lately and a Plastic.

George

28 Comments

Young Guns Spotlight — Thomas Eisfeld

Today Jayfree (@LordGunnerJefri) from our friends from OTBAG provide us with a view on one of our promising young talents.

Eisfeld was born on 18th January 1993 at Finsterwalde, Germany. He began his footballing career at SV Quitt Ankum then joined VFL Osnabruck before heading to Borussia Dortmund in 2005. In 2009 he suffered a cruciate ligament injury that set his youth career back. After his return he scored 6 goals in 12 games for the Dortmund U19 youth team in 2011.

During the winter of 2012 on January 31st he joined Arsenal as the only winter signing which led to a heavy criticism of the Arsenal manager from the armchair know it alls. The fee is thought to be in the region of £500,000. From his exploits with the nextgen squad and the reserve team he could turn out to be another shrewd buy and Arsene gem. His contract was coming to an end in summer of 2012 and we could have got him for free, but with Dortmund preparing to offer him a bumper contract to stay in Germany, Arsenal had to move with speed in January to secure his services. He joined Arsenal on a long term contract following in the footsteps of Tomas Rosicky and Jens Lehmann. On completing the signing Thomas is quoted as saying he was proud to have signed for a great club with great players like Arsenal. He grew up watching Rosicky at Dortmund although he is the first to admit their playing styles are different. He thanked Dortmund for a fruitful 7 years and the coaches who had made him the player he is today.

He describes his move as a dream come true, a great club that nurtures and gives young talent a chance. He was mightily impressed with the training centre and enjoys the atmosphere. According to Arsene they had watched and liked him for sometime, the scouts were particularly impressed with his prolific return from injury which hastened the bid. On signing him Le Prof said he had all the right ingredients that would allow him to integrate into our quality team.

In the summer of 2012 he was selected for the 24man Asian tour squad. He went on to score the 1st goal after replacing Theo in a 2-1 comeback win over Malaysia xi. In the final game of the tour he again came on as a substitute to score the equalizing goal in a 2-2 draw with Kitchee SC. He made his professional début on 30th October in the Capital One cup, helping as the team overturned a 4-0 deficit to win 7-5 against Reading. He has featured regularly at youth levels for German youth teams as well captaining the U15, showing leadership and pedigree. He made 3 appearances for reserves last season and scored once. He made his début as Arsenal reserves beat Swansea away 2-0 in February. He impressed in the midfield despite not getting on the score sheet.

After his début, like many a Gunner before him he suffered a long term injury that ruled him out until April. On his return from injury in the penultimate game of the season in April he scored the winner in a 1-0 win over Newcastle reserves.

At the start of the 2012 revamped U21 reserve league Eisfeld scored again in a 3-0 win over Blackburn reserves at the Emirates. With Arsenal joining the Nextgen series Eisfeld was named in the squad and has since helped Arsenal qualify to the knock-out phase. Jack returned from injury in a reserve game against Everton and gave us a glimpse of the future with Eisfeld scoring an impressive double in a 2-1 away win. The second after a clipped assist from our future captain. On Guy Fawkes night in early November Arsenal got an explosive start in a 2-1 win over Bolton as Eisfeld got on the score sheet. After beating Norwich 4-2 with the mercurial German at the end of a fantastic double Arsenal qualified to the Elite group stage. This win guaranteed Arsenal at least third place in group 1. In the final game against Reading he struck a fine effort but an injury time leveller from Keown’s son Niall earned Reading a 2-2 draw which saw both teams through.

Eisfeld played well in the 1-1 home draw against West Brom U21. This game saw the return of Diaby from a long term injury. Frimpong, Jenkinson, Coquelin and Chamberlain also got much needed game time. Eisfeld played his last game in early February before being out for over a month, against Manchester United U21 at Moss lane. During this time he missed key games such as the 4-2 away loss to Tottenham U21 and the 1-0 second round nextgen away win against Inter. Eisfeld made his return after this injury lay off on 15th March against West Ham at Upton Park. He had a superb assist for Henderson in a 1-1 draw. On 20th March he was part of the U21 side that beat Manchester United U21 2-1, Bellerin with a late gasp winner.

March 25th saw Eisfeld come on as a sub against CSKA Moscow in the nextgen quarter final. The game was won 1-0 courtesy of a Gnabry goal while Eisfeld had further chances to extend our lead with a couple of well taken shots. Eisfeld was part of the scintillating semi final at Lake Como which tilted 4-3 AET in favour of Chelsea. To be frank he didn’t have a game to smile about by his lofty standards. In the 3rd and 4th place play off against Sporting Lisbon he showed great poachers instinct to pounce on a loose backpass and finish well. However couldn’t prevent a 3-1 loss and we settled for fourth. Eisfeld was not included in Steve Gatting’s U21 side that lost 2-1 away to Southampton U21 in early April. On 8th April he had a good game away to Liverpool U21 but could do nothing as we lost 3-2. Still in early April he missed the away 3-2 away win to Wolverhampton U21 and the 1-0 home loss to Tottenham U21 with an injury. April 30th saw him named on the bench against Wolves U21 which we won 2-1. He scored a cracker in his final season game at Underhill against Liverpool U21. The hard fought match ended 2-2.

A diminutive, intelligent and technically gifted playmaker who is also a clinical finisher, Eisfeld is a rare gem. He is not the most physical at 5ft 10inches slight frame but his movement makes him quite a weapon. He is an attacking midfielder who can operate on either flank or as a second striker. He is predominantly right footed. From those who oversaw his development at the Dortmund academy he was rated higher than his team mate Gotze before that ill-fated injury. His exploits on the right wing have seen comparisons with Ljungberg made. To a lesser extent he has traits of both Freddie and Cesc as wellas his own.

Arsene has described him as having a good attitude and technical ability to add value to the squad. In November in his match day programme notes the boss stated Eisfeld should make the first team before end of season. Terry Burton has described Thomas as a very intelligent footballer who plays better with better players . He notes Eisfeld gets in good positions, has excellent technique and can finish things off.

Eisfeld hails his team mates who have helped him settle down well especially Mertesacker and now joined by compatriot Podolski. He says he has always scored a lot of goals and made a lot of assists. In an interview with the official Arsenal Magazine he says it is important a player in his position has to do that. He reckons his best position is number 10 and he can play well on either flank too. However he casts a doubt on his ability to play as the target man or central striker due to his slight physique. He adds he has learnt a lot at Arsenal like playing the ball quicker while passing and moving with more effectiveness. He has also become stronger with us. Going to the Asia tour he was confident as he believes in his own ability although he did not expect to have that much impact. It gave him a real confidence boost.

VERDICT: Has the potential to be a future first team regular and can slot into the role of a free scoring midfielder or a second striker

40 Comments

Moral Low Ground – By The_Beck_

I recently read an article on Positively Arsenal, it written by George. I always get the intense feeling that whenever you write a blog, conveying intelligent ideas or concepts, you will always get those who will struggle to understand, and with that, intense criticism and unwarranted abuse sometimes.

George put forward the idealism of morality in a sport like football. In order to find out where people’s boundaries are, you often have to take them to the extremes in terms of ideas, that is what philosophers, lawyers, doctors, mathematicians do.

Football is a thinking game and sometimes a simple game, it is not determined by simpleton fans, nor by the utmost intelligent, the love for it, is something we all share. I’ve always said “I’m Arsenal till I die” yet after reading a few articles, I think I’ve turned a little corner.

The extreme examples set, are to showcase a vulnerability in the statement that you support a club unconditionally. Even though we are shown by society and by history, that when conditions change, not everyone still clings on to the unconditional factor. People often change, evolve around it or seek to move on from it or get over it.

 I don’t see the reasoning behind mocking extreme examples, especially for the purpose of thought. You see, because for example, using the extreme, ludicrous example that the Nazi’s had won WWII in 1942, took over Arsenal, fired George Allison, put Joseph Goebbels in charge of the team, bought Nazi players, who were made to do Nazi salutes pre match and post match, would you still support Arsenal today?  I somehow doubt it for many of you, although I’m sure there are some EDL Gooners out there that would love to surprise me.  I also think in this crazy scenario, many may love the Arsenal of the past and just keep wishing Goebbels would go away (don’t worry, he does).

The same could be said of today, if a Neo-Nazi billionaire group (or Piers Morgan), somehow managed to take over Arsenal, the whole point of this is to make you think about what kind of person you are and where your allegiances may be if the rationale, class, behaviour, ethics of your club changes.

Everyone is different and many may want their moral philosophies in life to transcend into the football area. I don’t see the problem with that. Often people quote Rocky’s “Remember who you are, what you are and who you represent” it is important we don’t forget that, especially in acknowledging all the good we have stood for before, and all the good things we stand for under Arsene and all the good we may stand for with a new manager in charge.

We all saw Matthew Syed *hitting out* at Roman Abramovich’s reign at Chelsea, although I thought he was being far too kind, the reaction from Murdoch’s Sky was predictable and laughable.

Here’s a link if you didn’t see it: “http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GmCtci6cen8

But I think these things matter to me, not because I want to be a better fan than someone else, or set conditions of which I recognize what kind of Arsenal I want to support. But to recognize that the values Arsenal have had over the years, are important to all of us.

A lot of fans would *sell the soul of the club they support* for a better striker or a better midfielder, I don’t see it like that, I don’t work like that. People point to Chelsea’s trophies and say they are a success, but they never will be to me. No matter how many trophies they win under Abramovich, as long as he’s there, the reality is, they have benefitted hugely from prostituting themselves to a billionaire, who scammed and thieved the Russian government, changing the behaviour of the club, from board to players and staff. They might shine bright and yes, history doesn’t care if you are evil or good, but they are empty trophies to me.

I also found a great irony in seeing those who usually berate the club, state unconditional love for it, it’s literally like seeing a man abuse his wife, then tell her he’ll always love her.

Now this may not matter to everyone, many want to separate football from real life, they say “leave morality at home” but is that really a great role model to set children, or your family or anyone really.  I don’t feel that it is for me, I feel that they are inter-connected.

Because I feel that they are inter-connected, I wish UEFA and FIFA would spend more time investigating these owners (Kroenke, Usmanov included), but I do get the sense they’d have to shut down the investigation because of internal corruption anyway.

And recently, we have seen many supporters, who say stuff like “I will not support the club under Wenger”, “I hope we finish 5th so that he gets sacked”, often more ridiculous than that even. Have they stopped supporting Arsenal and fallen out of love? They might have, but the reasoning and logic behind this is not the ethics and the way of the club, more so that the club hasn’t won anything in the last 8 years and they are as impatient as the next Neo-Man City fan might be. Their condition behind support relies solely on trophies.

I don’t want to be that kind of supporter; I don’t see long term progress or the logic in becoming that type of supporter. It falls outside of the romantic relationship I’ve attained with the club since I was young.

We write blogs so that other people can have a little look at how we think and how we process information and convey thought and feelings. This is just my opinion, I doubt it’s very special, I just enjoy sharing my thoughts with people & learning from them.

But the focus of this blog is to shed light on the concept that, as an individual, you have special reserved feelings toward a club, trophies/success may not, and probably will not have been the reason you support the club, you may support the club solely due to ethos. If that is the case, and the ethos of Arsenal changes drastically one day, you may find yourself falling out of love with what you fell in love with and trapped in an empty relationship, an empty relationship that we probably can’t understand now, but maybe some Chelsea supporters do, especially after reading articles like these (http://makinbacon.hubpages.com/hub/billionairerussianromanabramovich).

Therefore, every time I say “Arsenal till I die” It’s now changed to “Unless the Nazi’s, Fascist’s or the Harmfully Corrupt take-over”. But please, let’s hope that never ever happens. The likelihood is that it probably won’t. I love the Arsenal and I hope the relationship can go on until the day I no longer have a pulse.

Have an amazing, beautiful Friday afternoon, I hope it’s a memorable one for all.

157 Comments

Could I Stop Supporting Arsenal; Have YOU Stopped Already?

I was asked a simple and fair question on twitter some time ago by Andy Wood@yorkshiregunner .

Tell me George, will you still support Arsenal when Arsene leaves?”

(As people continue to misquote my reply here again  is the blog I wrote about it)

Now I understand that it was a snide question, a loaded question, designed to suggest that Arsene was more important to me than the club. I knew that before I answered with this:

 Not for 100% sure.  It would be hard to think I won’t.  But I could stop. It’s like a marriage for me, not a family. If you follow?”

This of course was immediately interpreted to mean: “I will stop supporting if Arsene leaves.”  Just as I had anticipated!

People then started screaming that one’s support for the club should be unconditional.  “ARSENAL TILL I DIE!!”

And all the other soundbites people use.

Then they saw fit to state the obvious with gems like:

 “No one is bigger than the club.” 

No shit Sherlock, I had missed that.

As the Twitter exchange continued, I tried to explain that I could not guarantee always supporting the club, because if it changed into something different to that I was in love with, it would no longer be my club.

This concept seemed beyond the comprehension of a few, and some claimed that NOTHING could make them withdraw their support.  Ever.

There’s an irony here, in case you hadn’t already spotted it …

So I came up with the most outrageous scenario I could think of, just to test their ‘position’ and asked if they would still support the club if the following occurred:

 

The club is bought by the English Defence League and all our players are sold, only white heterosexuals are allowed to play for the club. Do you still support?

Almost every right thinking person would say:

No, it’s a stupid scenario, but no.

My point being that ALL support is conditional. It’s just the conditions that are required to be met are different, and they vary from person to person.

What some people fail to understand is that “the club” means different things to different people.

My definition of “the club” includes the playing style, its class, history and integrity.  The manager, board and players are a large part of that. The whole ethos of the club is what I regard “the club” to be.

Someone told me that “the club” to him was the badge, and that is what he supported. He didn’t mention whether the badge in question was cotton or man-made, so I reserved my judgement on him.

But, nonetheless, for him, the definition of the club was different.

My main point in all of this is that regardless of your personal definition of what the club – or anything you have fallen in love with – is, if that thing you fell in love with, changes to the degree where they or it becomes something or someone you would never have originally fallen for, then it is ENTIRELY possible to fall back out of love.

And this patently includes, even, one’s own chosen football club.

Now, if you are happy to support a club, fuelled by petro-dollars, managed by a hoof-ball specialist or filled with players like Barton, Suarez, Terry, Savage, Cole and Rooney – then great. But I would find it hard to continue that support, ultimately, even if that club was my beloved Arsenal.

It would be a gradual deterioration of the relationship between me and the club, but given the perfect (and frankly unlikely) storm, I COULD stop supporting.

There has been a lot of  “I want my Arsenal back” going around in recent times.

Well, I personally want to keep THIS one.

These people that claim to ‘want their Arsenal back’ are effectively saying this current Arsenal is not “their” club.

Effectively, they’ve withdrawn their support already.

This is evidenced by their relentless attacks on the club and it’s staff – on Twitter, in blogs, on radio phone-ins etc.  Those individuals who have given up their season ticket have clearly withdrawn their support.  They are, as a result, no longer proper pucka Gooners are they?

The anger evident in their remarks is quite possibly driven by the pain they are feeling from losing their love for the club.

Well, maybe they ARE still Gooners.But they have simply come to a point where their support has been withdrawn. Do they watch on TV instead? Or has that been given up too?  Have they stopped reading the papers? Do they no longer talk about Arsenal?

If they are still Gooners, it’s clear that bit-by-bit they are losing – or have lost – their love for the club as the conditions that led them to support in the first place are no longer seemingly evident.

For THEM, at least.

Now people can say that they are better fans than me because they have supported longer, spent more money, attended more games, live in the area of the ground or because nothing could stop them supporting.  I won’t argue.

I certainly won’t care what they think either.Because they can claim all day long that they are the ‘real’ supporters of the club. But the reality, actually, is that they are drifting away from the club with every attack they launch.

***

Finally someone said:

Morals in football are bollocks.

To which I replied:

Morals are only ever bollocks to those without them.

I however ,am the last person to judge people on their morals.That does not mean they are any less important.

105 Comments

Was I Right ?

Below is an article I wrote for A Cultured Left Foot that was published almost one year ago. I want to revisit it because it seems that following Gary Neville’s observations, more people are accepting that the last 8 years have indeed been a success.

The blog was published on the same day Judas chose to publish his now infamous  letter to you Guys which rather stifled the debate on my article. That saw me having terrible fall-outs with people who I hold in the highest regard. But that’s another story

It also followed a few days after a landmark piece that marked “what felt like the end of an era” as we were told by our former allies on that site.

Well it looks like they were right.  We were coming to the end of an era, just not the one they began to hope for. They wanted Arsene gone. Instead it appears he is to enter a third stage of his glorious career with us, armed with the weapons he has forged over the past decade .

Here it is then:

I Am An AKB.

Although people intend it as an insult, it’s a badge I am happy to wear with pride. It will come as no surprise to most that I believe Arsène Wenger is the best football manager in the world. My opinion is based mainly on his achievements at Arsenal but by no means solely on these.

In his first full season at Arsenal, Arsène took us to a League and FA cup double. For the next 7 seasons we never finished below second place. We were on a par with Manchester United, the biggest football club in the world, a club with vast financial clout compared to Arsenal.

Not only did we compete on equal terms, we did it with style and flair never before seen in England, the pinnacle being an unbeaten season. Something many people – expert pundits, former players and managers – thought to be a foolish pipe dream when Arsène suggested it may be achievable, some two years earlier.

In this 8 year spell he changed the game in this country forever. United had to spend hugely in order to keep pace, other clubs followed; diet and fitness improved. For this period alone he has claim to being the greatest.

With the planned move to the new stadium things changed. Arsène had to work within severe financial restrictions. Big players were sold and the fees helped relieve the pressure of the move, in what turned out to be an unexpected recession. The reduction in the wage bill must have done no harm either. History had shown that a new stadium usually led to a rapid downturn on the field; relegation beckoned.

I would have thought that our aim would have been to stay in the league in the early years of the move. However, Arsène kept us in the top four, guaranteeing Champions League football and further reducing the financial burden with the revenues generated.

He has only recently let it be known (as if we didn’t know already) that he could have left and been paid much more money elsewhere. He gave up that financial gain and personal glory for the good of the club. I think that this period is a greater achievement than his first 8 years of on field success. It is a staggering achievement. And also could give him a claim to be the greatest.

All of the above is nothing new; it is said time and again, written about by better people than me. What I want to add comes now. The other day on Twitter I asked people to briefly write what words they felt best described Arsène Wenger. I am listing some of them below. It should be noted that I did not get even one negative word in reply.

Genius; unique; visionary; a dolphin in a sea of sharks; a genuine ‘special one’; loyal; dignified; progressive; passionate; winner; hero; devotion; intelligent; inspirational; revolutionary; absolute magician; he lives and breathes the club.

In January 2011, the International Federation of Football History & Statistics v0ted Wenger ‘World Coach of the Decade’. The organisation aggregated the results from each year of the decade, and Wenger had narrowly beaten Alex Ferguson and José Mourinho for the honour.

Now here is my point. If those two are his modern-day rivals for the accolade – and they likely are – how many of the descriptions of Arsène could equally be applied to them? Not many I suggest.

For me it’s Arsène’s standing as a human being that sets him apart from his rivals. Of all the people I have ever seen in football, he is in a class of his own. I respect him more than any person that I don’t actually know personally.

If I had to choose one person to run the country it would be Arsène. One dinner guest? Arsène.

Now I accept that him being human he makes mistakes. How many and how bad they have been we have speculated on endlessly on this very blog, and we will never be well enough informed about the club’s business to know the extent of his errors. What we do know is that he has gotten a lot of things very right, against a few that seem a little wrong.

To conclude my words to best describe the great man is “honourable and trustworthy”.

I truly love the man.

***

I feel recent developments and commentary has helped my case.

FunGunner said this the other day:

“The bit I meant was what you said earlier about the board tying Arsene’s hands, I really can’t see why you think that. Although he has been frustrated about other clubs blowing us out of the water with money they have not generated themselves, he has never complained about the board not matching the petro-dollars available to Man City or Chelsea. He knows the funds have not been available – they have not been withheld, which is what you seemed to be saying. The strategy of the club has been short-term pain for long-term gain – they chose to pay off a lot of the debt quickly, make infrastructure improvements, create a commercial department etc etc and build up capital reserves rather than spend more money on transfers and salaries, but AW is totally on board with that strategy for long-term success.”

***

I can’t think of a better way to put it than that.

62 Comments

Bad Decade At The Office

bad day at office cartoon

On Sunday, Johnny Greenwood (@Johnny_G86) wrote a tremendous article for PA, describing how his views on Arsenal have changed over the last year.   I thought it was quite a brave article as it always takes guts to ‘fess up to this kind of sea-change in one’s outlook.

I went through something similar in the first year or so at the Emirates as we, despite being told by the club that we had funds available, were seemingly unable to replace the likes of Patrick Viera, in particular, and in reality, the bulk of not just one of the best team’s Arsenal had assembled, but, as history may yet judge, one of the best teams ANY club has put together.  Ever.

For my own part, I’d finally got my first season ticket when the Emirates opened, having been in a 7 year long queue prior to that.  What rotten, miserable timing that the squad appeared to start its relative decline at that exact point!  2006-07 was, of course, pre-Twitter, so my main source of information back then was chat amongst other fans and articles in newspapers and other media.

Strangely, the global credit crunch towards the end of the decade helped me to better appreciate the club’s predicament though by this time I was routinely reading A Cultured Left Foot (though not commenting until later).  But ACLF had two great strengths when it came to challenging my own temporary frustrations with the club.  Yogi’s extraordinary, well-informed and brilliantly crafted, daily posts were supplemented by comments from a really knowledgeable ‘crew’ who’s passion for the club was matched by the quality of their written insights.  Many of those ‘greats’ are, happily, still today posting here on PA and ACLF.

The impact on waverers such as myself – and more recently Johnny – are one reason I still read blogs and follow Twitter.  My own use of Twitter is highly selective – I don’t follow many and I’m not followed by many but the quality of those I do interact with makes it a worthwhile ‘exercise’, both entertaining and generally just good fun.  I don’t have a huge amount of spare time to contribute to PA or other blogs – but, deep down, I think there are plenty around who do a better job than I could, in any case.  Actually, not that deep down!

Social Media is often cited as being the platform for much negativity and ignorance towards the club which, of course, it is.  But it doesn’t HAVE to be.  When stalwarts like George fight the good fight on Twitter, set up their own blog sites and provide an alternative perspective – a challenge, even – to people like myself and Jonny then the activities of all us looking to support the club in this way can be seen to be anything but a lost cause.

Time and again I hear of new fans being drawn to the club in the last 8 years despite the absence of silverware.  Quelle surprise! What’s that all about?!  It’s happening because they are being exposed to an alternative to the shameful negative media narrative and ignorance of some fans and coming to their own conclusions.

On Twitter I deliberately follow a couple of out-and-out ‘doomer’ accounts just to read what’s going through the minds of such people.  Of course, not all those critical of the club are foul-mouthed half-wits and whilst I can’t say, definitively, such people are always ‘wrong’ in what they write, it’s interesting how often their views – often, their bile – is finding expression through the regurgitation of half-truths and myths.  When challenged, some are surprisingly fragile and choose to ‘block’ or ‘unfollow’ you.  Others punctuate their exchanges with the use of appalling language and surprising levels of aggression which make one wonder if there is something else affecting them in their lives which is finding expression in their anti-Arsenal commentary.

They are universally claiming to be ‘real’ fans but they sound anything but.

What’s THAT all about?!!  I have no idea for sure, I suspect it could be several things. I wonder if there is a degree of disenfranchisement amongst some who are now priced out of the game and were never able to replicate that sense of belonging to the club which they enjoyed during the Highbury years.  Others, doubtless are simply shallow glory-hunters.  Some, I suspect, are very angry indeed that despite their very best and noisiest predictions, the club has simply failed to collapse and, in fact, appears if anything  alarmingly close to actually thriving, once again.

The ultimate bad decade at the office, for such followers.

I think the majority of these now dwindling bands of critical fans will fade away and ultimately rediscover the faith now the club is finally better able to compete with the biggest clubs on the world stage.  As the evidence reveals itself as to the reasons behind the club’s actions over the last ten years or so, more and more observers  are beginning to recognise the scale of the achievement of the club and this is very much a chapter in our history that is finally drawing to a close.

The reconciliation of the fan base is just one very welcome aspect of the next chapter that awaits us over the coming months and years.

I for one look forward to the day when my footballing ‘arguments’ are once again with fans of other clubs rather than with those occupying the polar opposites of my own.  Sure, they’ll always be debate about football and different blogs will cater for those different ways of following the club.

But the almost ‘existential’ nature of the debate surrounding Arsenal will, eventually, be a thing of the past and, for this observer and lifelong fan, can’t come a day too soon.

61 Comments

I Once Was A Lost Little Gooner.

When I first joined twitter just over a year ago you could have described me as a doomer. I spent my days moaning at no one and everyone for Arsene Wenger to ‘spend some f@!?ing money’. I’d criticise team selections and substitutes despite never having been in the position to have to make one myself. I’d write off supposed players Arsene was interested in, the assumption that they weren’t any good because he’d recently made the odd duff signing. I’d criticise the tactics we adopted like I was some kind of top-flight football manager despite not even managing a junior team. I thought I knew best and that my opinion was the only one that counted.

What a difference a year makes! After many a squabble on twitter with various people I used to automatically label AKB’s for daring to have a different opinion to mine, I came to realise that my opinion wasn’t based on any kind of fact. It was based merely on a series of assumptions. I looked around at some of the various blogs I’d read and conversations I’d had to see how I came to those conclusions and found that it was mostly based upon someone else’s opinions or others who claimed to have well placed sources who just happened to know everything about the way the club was run, rather than my own.

I decided I didn’t want to be a moody doom merchant who always looked for a negative in a room full of positives. I wanted to know actual facts and not some random bloke’s (who I’d never met) opinion. What I found was a bit of an eye-opener. Most of the things I was passing off to others as fact was merely someone else’s opinion and there was no proof to back up the majority of what I read on twitter either. I realised that by trying to convince others of what I’d mistakenly believed I was merely spreading their agenda.

It wasn’t until recently that it all clicked for me. Ivan Gazidis, in just a few short sentences shattered around 80% of the majority of people’s opinions (passed off as facts) of Arsene Wenger’s last few years. Until then I hadn’t really thought to look at the bigger picture, at what’s been achieved over the years since it was announced we were leaving Highbury for a new stadium. Granted there’s been things I might not have done if I was the boss, things I haven’t always agreed with – but really, who did I think I was? Did I really think I could have done better in the same situation and under the same conditions? No of course not.

Arsene has been under some incredibly tight financial restrictions which has meant we couldn’t strengthen the team with what was needed to keep pace with the big spenders of the EPL. With that then came players who weren’t happy at the prospect of not winning titles and instead of trying to defy the odds and pull of a miracle decided they’d rather go play somewhere else. Others went for money, and some went because of loyalties to another club, a couple were sold despite the manager wanting to keep them. What’s clear though is that Arsene had done an incredible job just keeping us in the top 4, all the while shouldering the brunt of fan frustration and expectation. Credit where credit’s due – that’s pretty amazeballs. He might not make the right decisions 100% of the time but if anyone deserves to lead us to success – or at least to try to – now we’re more financially able to compete after the last few years of struggle it’s Arsene Wenger.

Johnny Greenwood
@Johnny_G86

34 Comments

In A Man’s World

Jane never spoke more than a few words to the players at this stage. Her coaching staff knew who needed a kick up the backside and who responded to an arm around the shoulder. She let her team do its job. She’d been through the tactical stuff during training that week and in any event she knew and trusted this team.  Routine was important to her, ingrained in her approach to the game and even on the evening of a cup final she insisted on the same routines with which everyone was so familiar. Just another game was her mantra and (when she was safely out of earshot) they’d often call her  ‘Just another game Jane’. She’d been called worse.

She knew what they called her. She knew all the nicknames and who liked her and who envied her and who tolerated her and who loved her but frankly, when it came down to it she simply didn’t care. She wasn’t a hard woman. No matter what the papers said she wasn’t the ice queen, not the cold, emotionless, driven caricature of the sports pages.  She was capable of deep warmth and affection. She loved her husband, her children and as much (on occasions she had to admit possibly more) her chocolate brown labradors who were probably the only creatures alive to ever hear her deepest secrets. The long walks with those dogs were more than just relaxation for Jane, it was when she got the whole obsessive business of football out of her system. The dogs knew more about her hopes and private fears than any human would ever hope to.

She didn’t care about the opinions of others nor the esteem with which they held her because there simply wasn’t room for such emotional distractions. She’d learned the hard way what focus really meant. She cared about two things; loyalty to the club and winning. By keeping her objectives so blinkered, so narrow she had been able to close out the prejudice, the snide, sneering playground politics with which her career had been beset from the day she had made the historic shift to the first team. In fact it had started way before that. Her talent had been recognised at a very young age and she’d trained with the boys right from the start. There had long been talk of women breaking through into the men’s game but professional football was one of the last relics (or bastions if you preferred, depending upon your standpoint) of the male domination which had been so ingrained in British society.

Arsenal had always been a forward thinking club and the integration of the youth structure had been a hugely important step but one which had failed to excite much attention at the time. However, despite appearing alongside the boys at every level right up to the under twenty ones it was Jane’s inclusion on the first team sheet for the FA Cup replay against Bristol City which had really started the shitstorm. The British press had a long and proud tradition of bigotry, small minded and above all lazy stereotyping and the sports pages took this to Olympian heights. There had been a tabloid feeding frenzy. And she’d only been named amongst the substitutes. In the event her goal against a hapless west country team on the way to relegation from the league and eventual bankruptcy and dissolution at least gave the hacks something else to write about other than her gender, but in the context of that match, with the Arsenal already eight nil up before she came on for her nine minute cameo, she’d made little real impact.

In truth apart from being the first woman to play a competitive first team match her playing career had been undistinguished. She’d been a useful squad player, a midfielder who could pick out a pass and pick her opponents pocket turning defence into attack in the blink of an eye. Of course she’d learned from the best. Arsenal had long been credited with changing the way the defensive game was played. Dangerous, lumpish, brutal tackling was a thing of the past. It had started way back when Mikel Arteta had played for the club. He’d been the first defensive midfielder to show that interceptions or nicking the ball from the toes of an opponent was far more effective than hitting them like a rugby union fullback and sending the ball and man flying over the turf to destinations unknown. He’d been one of the senior coaches at the club when she was a girl and she was as grateful for his influence  than almost any other. However, it was a simple fact that, no matter how good she was, being one of the best in the country didn’t amount to that much at Arsenal where the quality of the players was so high throughout the squad. She could of course have walked into virtually any other side in the league. She would have transformed one of the lower division London teams like Spurs or Chelsea and could probably have captained a premier league mid table team with some distinction. But her creed was loyalty and winning. Loyalty to the club that made her who she was came first then and always. She’d never once  considered a transfer, the ‘big fish small pond’ idea left her cold.

If she’d had an indifferent playing career it was as a coach and then, manager that she had truly realised her potential. She’d gone abroad to learn her trade in Holland, following in the footsteps of the club’s second most successful manager of all time. The Ajax/Arsenal connection was of course well established and had allowed her to learn her trade  away from the slavering idiocy of the English media. When Dennis had announced his retirement, a day on which men and woman had openly wept at the news, the speculation as to his successor hadn’t included Jane. No one saw her coming. She smiled at the memory. Years before, nobody had wanted Arsene to retire, of course not, but after his historic hat trick of European and domestic doubles the old man had finally decided the time was right to call it a day. No one imagined that even Dennis could emulate his success but such had been the care with which Arsene had considered his legacy that in truth, almost any manager would have found success. The players, ethos, facilities and traditions of the club passed seamlessly to the Dutchman and in time to the country’s first ever female manager.

It was ridiculous she thought. Even way back in the reactionary strife torn nineteen seventies the country’s most hidebound backward looking political institution had been able to choose a woman for its leader and the small minded lazy British electorate had seen fit to make her prime minister a few years later. Yet it had taken well over half a century for a football club to appoint a female as head coach. But when, in your professional life at least,  you only cared about two things, ignoring the hullabaloo and entrenched views of the idiot brigade was actually a doddle. It was like scoring an important goal in a cup final. If all you saw was the huge empty net waiting for the ball, if the other players, the crowd, even the occasion itself dissolved into nothing then passing the ball into that net was the simplest thing in the world. It was distraction that prevented people from making the all important contribution on the football pitch. Fear of failure, worrying about what your opponent might do, the barracking of the crowd all had to be put from your mind. Her players often said that it was the work she did with them off the pitch which helped them achieve such phenomenal success on it. As much as the tactics and training with the ball she knew how to get them to think straight, to shuck off the pointless, debilitating distractions of the game and see clearly what they needed to do and how to do it.

And now here she was. Wembley stadium. About to send her team out in her first cup final as Arsenal manager. Here was the greatest club side in the history of professional football making another cup final appearance but not under the guidance of Arsene or Dennis, these were her players and this would be her victory. She’d never even considered the possibility of defeat, never talked about the opposition, she had simply told her team how they were going to win. Just as she did week in week out as they’d climbed and then headed the league table.

After all, when you got right down to it, this was just another game.

61 Comments

The Unforgiving

The sun was a hard white nail in the limitless bleached denim of the desert sky. George looked up through slitted lids at the circling birds, wing tips spread like fingers as their silhouettes described lazy curves through the burning light of mid day. He leaned slightly forward and to his left and squirted a noxious black  purple jet of tobacco juice and spit into the dust. He judged it to be  just past noon and knew they would be here before the evening sun burst against the jagged mountain peaks on the far horizon and spread it’s deep red and orange yolk across the rim of the world.

Well, he would be ready for them. And whatever hand they dealt, he would play. He didn’t enjoy violence. What sane man would? But he knew it to be a necessary evil in this hard and unforgiving land. He had little time for those who held beliefs and strong opinions which they had not tested in the real world. He abhorred the violence he saw and in which he took part but he reasoned, to truly abhor it he had to have experienced it. In the small half dead and dying town behind him there was a slight raised area which men had dignified with the name Hill. Cemetery Hill, to give it its full due. In the meagre soil atop this sorry rise more than a few men had found their final place of repose, and beneath the mounds of earth with their rough wooden crosses there were the bullet torn remnants of men on whom George had tested his hatred of violence to its logical and ultimate conclusion.

He shrugged at the memories, tilted his hat lower for the shade it afforded his eyes and reminded himself that he never shot a man who didn’t deserve it.  Or at least he never had killed a man who would not in the fullness of time have killed him, had he allowed the poor fellow to live long enough to fulfil his natural inclinations. The town had boomed and busted itself like so many others in that part of the West. Shabby, peeling monuments to men’s greed. George hadn’t come out here to get rich, but he certainly hadn’t imagined he would end up as the only law for hundreds of miles in any direction, miles of heartless dessicated miserable land stretching through shimmering haze to the broken teeth of the distant mountains.

Badlands. That was about right he thought. And bad men had come and they had brought the badness festering inside them, carried it with them and tried to infect the whole of the town. His town. Well, there were a few more low mounds inside the picket fence on the top of his town’s only hill now. They’d either drawn on him first or at the very least upon one of his friends and he hadn’t lived so long by waiting to see how such situations might unfold. He had achieved what was in these times and in these places a great age by letting the other fellow find out how such situations unfolded. And now they were coming for him. Not the ghosts of the men in the Hill, he wasn’t a superstitious man. Dead was dead. And once he’d perforated them with his single action colt, they were good and dead and so far at least they had tended to stay that way.

No, the men coming for him today were very much alive. For now, he thought and smiled a cold, humourless smile. He turned on his heel and walked slowly back toward the town. They had revenge on their minds and death in their hearts and like others before them they were coming to bring both to him. Although George sometimes saw his town as nothing more than a small backwater clinging with wavering resolution to the meanest of all the mean soil this world had to offer, it was still his home and he loved the people who had chosen to make it their home too and as long as he could hold the weight of his firearm and still point it in the general direction of those who would visit harm upon him and upon those he loved, well, he reckoned he would keep on pointing it and woe betide any man fool enough to stand facing the open end of it.

He heard the hoof-beats behind him as he came alongside the sign which welcomed visitors to his town. It was hand painted, faded and leant away from him casting a slanting shadow over his dusty boots. He turned slowly and saw the plume  rising , spinning and falling in a thin mist to cling to the surface of the ground marking a faint line where the horses shoes had disturbed the crust of the earth with their passing. They had come sooner than he had expected. He never ceased to be amazed at the sheer stupidity of his fellow man. Had they arrived at the end of the day he would still have been ready for them, and outlined against the lowering sun they would have been easy targets, but they would have had shadows in which to hide and with a little thought their weight of numbers and greater fire power could have been brought to bear. He shook his head as if disappointed at the folly of these men who would do him harm and yet promised him so little sport. Men who rode, tight bunched towards an armed and dangerous foe with the sun high in the sky and blinding their view, men who threw themselves at  their doom without thought, nor it seemed, any grasp of the brutal realities of the world which were about to confront them.

They had slowed their horses as they closed with him. He sighed at the futility of what must happen, at the waste of men’s futures and the scars he would bear on his soul for each life he must now take. But then a change came upon him as if a cold, hard hand had closed about his heart. His mouth tightened to a dry crease in a set and motionless face. A face suddenly drained of all humanity. If these idiots had tired of life and were so filled with the desire to gaze upon the face of their creator and if it fell to him to help usher them through the doors of this world and into the next, then so be it. He had seen many a fool unable to articulate his final thoughts for the blood bubbling in his throat as he stared uncomprehending at the cobalt blue cloudless sky until he saw it no more. These fools would be just like those fools. For they were riding on a fools errand and it would surely be their last because the man who loosened the ties on his holster and eased his hat back from his forehead was not a man to suffer them. Not gladly. Not at all.

They reined in a few yards from where he stood and he could see they’d treated their horses cruelly to get here so soon. Were they in such a hurry to depart this vale of tears, he wondered? He hadn’t moved. His arms hung loosely by his sides and he stared at the prancing, blowing horses they trembled, eyes rolling, foam glazing their heaving flanks. He needed to be certain that these were the men. He ought to let them speak.

“Say your piece” He said, his voice firm and clear in the exsiccated air.

The leader, a brute of a man on a dun coloured mare leaned forward, hands resting on the pommel of his saddle, reins loosely hung around the horn. He walked his horse forward a pace, his two companions each stepping once sideways keeping George in plain sight.

“You know why we’re here?” the brute asked, his voice muffled behind the torn cloth he’d worn to keep the dust from his throat on their long ride.

“I reckon I do. But I’m wondering whether you three know it your own selves”

At this the brute frowned as if he had known the answer to his question all along and was unprepared for this deviation from a prepared dialogue. He began to turn to throw a quizzical glance at one of his associates and in one swift, fluid movement George drew his pistol, cocked and fired. A small hole appeared instantly in the cloth of the neckerchief where it flapped against the man’s throat and the upward trajectory of the bullet caused the opposite side of his head to dissolve into a pink mist. This in turn occasioned the man behind and to his right to close his eyes and turn away as first blood and brain matter then fragments of bone sprayed across his face. George used this opportunity to shoot the third man in his thigh. He regretted the possibility of injury to the horse should the bullet pass through the man and into the beast but the flattened slug tore through the would-be assassin’s  femoral artery and really at that moment in time the fact that his enemy would very soon bleed to death was the salient fact and George’s fears for the well being of the horse had to be relegated to a list of concerns for future consideration.

The second man in trying to wipe his leader’s brains from his face had succeeded only in rubbing in dust from his leather gloves. This had created an abrasive paste which burned and scratched his eyes. His ears were however unaffected and the two pistol shots, so close together that his last thoughts in this world were that there must be a second gunmen they had not seen, had alerted him to the danger in which he now found himself. Or at least the fact that there had been no answering volley of fire from his erstwhile compadres suggested that he would be wise to at least attempt to get down from his horse and try to draw his weapon. George was at heart a compassionate man but this blinded, terrified and hapless creature, clawing at his holster and snivelling snot clotted curses had chosen his own path. And this was where his path had led him.  He cocked his pistol but as the man slipped from his saddle one foot caught in the stirrup and he swung to earth in a swift parabola, savagely truncated when his head struck the rocky ground, his neck breaking with a crack which echoed up the suddenly silent street.

George slowly shook his head, let out his breath and wondered at the stubborn hopeless stupidity afflicting so much of the human race. He holstered his weapon, spat, turned on his heel and headed back into town.