Category Archives: Arsenal and Me

The Arsenal and Me – Joe’s Story

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February 2005, I was aged 11:

“Sit down Joe, I’ve got something to tell you.”

My Mum made it sound like someone had died in the family, when in fact she was trying to calm the reaction she knew I’d give down before it happened.

“Your Dad’s done it, he’s got hold of those two season tickets from work, your going to Aston Villa vs Arsenal.”

I’d waited years to see my heroes, this unbelievably strong, quick, unbeatable team of Thierry, Dennis, Bobby and the rest. I could do nothing else but burst out crying. There was one catch…

It was in the Holte End, Villa Park.

holte

The “North bank of the Midlands”.

I didn’t care, I turned up in my Arsenal shirt (under a jacket that my old man made me stick on), gloves, hat and I sat there with thousands of Brummies as for the first time ever, I saw The Arsenal walk out live on to the pitch.

“Whatever you do, don’t go mad when they score” the old man warned me.

Within 10 minutes, Freddie scored and amazingly I kept my cool. But when Thierry Henry, my hero and idol from the age of 7 went through and smashed it past Sorensen for 2-0, I couldn’t do anything else but jump out of seat and scream (They weren’t going to attack an 11 year old.) My Dad eventually joined in with me, two southerners buzzing in the Holte End, facing the Gooners at the other end of the pitch. And after Cashley Cole scored what is still one of the best goals I’ve seen from the Arsenal, I was made up.
I genuinely didn’t mind cheering Juan Pablo Angel’s late consolation. My day was complete, and I have been hooked on the drug that is watching the Arsenal ever since.

Luckily, since then I’ve got in the right seat, whether that was for the final season at Highbury, the Emirates or a few away games. Me and my 17 year old brother head up there together a lot now, and people can say what they like about ticket prices, how its “wrong” and how “football has been ruined by money”. And in fairness the older fans are probably right. But for us younger lads, this is all we’ve known. And the thrill and adrenaline rush when The Arsenal hit the back of the net is like no other feeling in the world. Keep backing the lads, eventually they’ll get it right. And hopefully I’ll have a seat when the finally pick up that Premier League title.

Joe

 

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The Arsenal and Me – Chad’s Story

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First, I am a middle-aged American, so I am always the little brother, I suppose. Never to be a Proper Gooner, at least by the old meaning of the term, never to stand on the North Bank. And despite being an avid sports fan and playing the game, that’s fine. As a result, this isn’t a story about my first trip to Highbury, or a lofty tale about away boys on the terraces in the 80s, or some distant memory of watching Pat Jennings or Charlie George from my Dad’s lap. This is, however, a story with the same net result, be it plastic or proper. It’s a story of love and passion for The Arsenal. And in the end, it’s a story about my sons watching Jack Wilshere and Theo Walcott from my lap every weekend morning.

For me it started when I needed a pair of workout shorts sometime in the early 90s and found a pair of Arsenal shorts I thought were cool. I just liked the name, that’s it, pretty boring and silly, I’m aware. When you come from a place where it’s Braves and Falcons and Hawks, Arsenal sounds awesome. From there it was a random CL match aired on ESPN 2 long before the Premier League was on American TV. I’d look for Arsenal when I randomly saw the table because it was the only team I knew, or I’d remember the shorts when I heard the names of Thierry Henry or Dennis Bergkamp, who were big enough stars to cross the Atlantic. Then I grew up, got a job, and got married with ‘soccer’ always on the back burner to Super Bowls and World Series.

Then I had my first son and it started to change. Then I had to get up with said son on the weekends and was looking for something interesting on TV in the mornings. I decided English Premier League on Fox Soccer was better than any kid’s show. Then I remembered those stupid old pair of shorts and tried watching only Arsenal matches. For every sport I enjoy, I watch one team and one team only. I guess I just enjoy knowing a lot about one team and seeing their pursuit through a season.

Then I saw the since maligned Robin van Persie tally a hat trick against Blackburn—just two short seasons ago—with my son on my lap. That was that. That match was the turning point. I know a 7-1 drubbing of a side destined for relegation isn’t exactly winning the league at Old Trafford, but that was the tipping point for me. I remember my son, who was just learning to talk, singing ‘We Love You Arsenal’ at 8 in the morning. I remember him figuring out the cannon meant Arsenal on that cold winter morning. It will always be etched in my memory as one of the first sport-related things I shared with my son. Not the MLB Braves or NFL Falcons, who I have been watching since I was his age, a club thousands of miles away. The Arsenal.

1From there it was learning all I could about an incredibly rich history, connecting with Gooners—or just Arsenal fans if you prefer—from all over the world on Twitter, consuming blog after blog after blog every single day. Waking up early to watch matches, streaming weekday games at work on pop-up riddled sites, joining Arsenal Player, annoying my American friends and my wife with conversations they knew nothing about, ordering my first Arsenal shirts, singing 1-Nil To The Arsenal in the car on my morning commute, and following insane transfer talk all summer long. Funny stories, I discovered Piers Morgan through Arsenal, not CNN. My son saw an old Civil War cannon in Tennessee just last weekend and thought it had something to do with Arsenal.2

Then I had another son to begin sharing this with and it all starts again every Saturday or Sunday morning. Me and my two boys watching The Arsenal is what it’s about. The love.

I also found the get-the-fuck-out-of-my-club-boys, the Kroenke-doesn’t-care-boys, and the it-ended-when-we-left-Highbury-boys. The exclusive trying to exclude some fans instead of include, which is something that doesn’t really happen here. To me it makes no sense even having grown up right in the middle of a sports town. I would love to talk to a Braves fan from another part of the world, or an African or Asian that had even heard of the NHL Carolina Hurricanes. The Arsenal is a truly global brand and the 10th most valuable sports franchise in the world. Having a global network of fans and the added money they bring in is the reason Arsenal is able to compete at the top of the Premier League and in Europe. Why want us gone? Why assume we are plastic and ignorant? Why not try to share your experiences? Why lament changes to the periphery of the sport? Why not focus on the love of the game and the common experiences from other fans wherever they may be and whatever generation they were born into? I really feel sorry for the fans that don’t grasp this.

On Twitter, I follow Arsenal fans on five continents and feel the same passion from them as I do from the Travel Club Members I follow. Sure, I absolutely love hearing the away boys sing, and hearing the Highbury boys tell their stories, and appreciate the hell out of the pictures from grounds all over Europe, but the feeling is generally the same. Gooners in India, Nigeria, and right here in NC—shootout to Triangle Gooners, by the way—love The Arsenal. The love is what pulls me in deeper every day.

So yes, I admit it, I am American and have only been an Arsenal fan for a few years and am nearing 40. The thing is that I self-identify myself as a Gooner now, at least by the new meaning of the term, just like I self identify myself as a father, husband and Braves fan. I’m pretty much like you I think, this club is in my heart and is a part of me now. While I may never have the legacy or be a Gooner by the old meaning of the term, my sons will come up knowing about the club, and that makes me happy. My dream is to one day take both my boys to the Emirates and sing with them.

The funny thing is I never threw away those shorts even though they didn’t come close to fitting my current waist line, I am American, after all. Last season I found them at the bottom of an old drawer and had a tailor cut off the patch and sew it onto a plain cap I bought.3

I wear that hat every day.

Chad

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The Arsenal and Me – John’s Story

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My father was a docker back in the 70’s and worked a lot of shifts in those days and although he played football with me when he could he could never really take me. He did take a Saturday off one miserable Saturday afternoon and as a five year old boy took me to a rain drenched Cold Blow Lane in the old Dockers stand at Millwall.
Needless to say, the pitch was sodden the football not great and the language was not what a 5 year old boy should be hearing.

My dad though, was one of them. He knew lots of folks around the ground and had laughs with them all. Me however, sat on the bars at the Old Den watching this miserable game v Carlisle soggy wet was nearly enough to put me off going again.

Oh the game… well that finished 1-0 to Millwall with an injury time winner. Me and my dad? Yes we missed it as he wanted “a quick piss” before leaving…

My mother on the other hand wasn’t a staunch Arsenal fan but her 4 brothers were and were all season ticket holders in the West Stand (2 still are). My mothers parents died when she was 13 due to various illnesses and was the youngest of 4.

Her brothers, my uncles were 5-15 years older and all worked. My mother had to go to school, come home cook them dinner and wash and iron their shirts to earn her keep in the house… gradually they all moved away when my mum met my dad.

This brings me onto the Arsenal part and me (I know it’s taken a while). The eldest of my uncles took me to Arsenal v Ipswich in 79 in which I think was a 1-1 draw. I don’t remember much but I think Mariner scored for Ipswich. Score didn’t matter.. game didn’t matter.. I was Arsenalised.

My Uncle knew it would happen. you’ve all seen fever pitch when a young lad walks out of the West stand gobsmacked. That was me. Sold

From then on I would pester my uncles to take me games not realising it would mean one of them giving up their tickets for me to go. However, this didn’t stop my closest uncle taking me every other week to the reserve games. Proper adult football with the likes of Sparrow, Devine et al in front of just the east stand hundreds. I just loved it, watching the trains go past opposite and hearing the echo’s of players shrieking to eachother was magic. I remember a reserve game against Man U where Pearson who was kind of a star for them was playing and both stands had to be opened…. I was in love with the ground.

I found myself bragging at primary school where I’d been and brought programmes in to show my schoolmates (even when my uncle gave me a programme to games I’d never been).

I went to about 10 games a season from about 80-85 not really remembering many. Those I did remember was the days when the crowds were packed and hatred spilling around the ground. Tottenham….. I remember an Alan Sunderland turn and goal in the clock end and the berating of Spurs fans. That moment I fucking hated Spurs… don’t even know why, I was only 7-8.

My uncle took me to away games and the semi in 83 against Utd at Villa park and remember as we got in a burly Utd fan in our section with “you’ll never beat Utd” ringing in my ears. I was 9… I hated Utd now. I watched and marvelled as Petrovic played like a wizard in the first half and Woodcock scored….

I had a bad feeling and sat through the second half with my fingers crossed looking down hoping the time would tick away. Alas no, a goal from Robson and Whiteside made me hate that big fat burly Utd fan more. And Utd

Many more dross games passed and my enthusiasm got better. Pretending to be Rix (I still have my Rixy is magic scarf) at every opportunity.

Anyway in 1986 my Uncle bought me a Junior gunners season ticket for £54. I loved that he did that for me and worshipped my big season ticket book. Every game from then I’ve been too (work permitting) at home and am still a season ticket holder to this day. Anyway, the glory years of early GG I took in as an oldr teenager and really hit me more about the game. 89 Anfield will live with me forever. I was an home in my bedroom watching. With 10 mins to go I turned over to watch Cheers. I say watch but was just hoping that my Mum would come up and tell me it’s all ok. I was so sad I wanted to cry… as Cheers rolled on I heard my mum going ballistic downstairs clapping frantically.. I turned over and just had “how they’d both love to get out there” referring to GG and KD… however as it was injury time the scores had come off the screen…. I had no idea.Then..then the whistle blew and Quinny and Miller were going bonkers on the bench. I ran down and my Mum just grabbed me crying…. (making me quiver writing this).. great times. Kids from school ringing my home number to congratulate me as if it were me… I think they just knew my passion, my love.

My Uncle then bought me a 10 year Bond in the NB in the early 90’s where apart from the cup double win we did endure a lot of mediocrity..

My Uncle took me more and more away games and went Copenhagen with him for the final. We knew we would win just with our defence.

I always met before the games in the Bank of Friendship with my uncle for years and always went away games with him even if mates were coming.

We had to endure Rioch but the magic of Bergkamp’s signing… then all these rumours about a bloke called Arsene and the famous headlines of Arsene Who?

My uncle and me debated for ages and my uncle who had been going since 53 didn’t think much of it. I couldn’t convince him otherwise.

Just for a second whether you are Arsene In or Out right now. Not knowing football from That season to now and how much Arsene changed Arsenal into a dreamy football team. Just stop and think about if we’d got Frank Clark instead what life would be like.

I imagine this everyday. I got up on the Saturday getting ready for Blackburn away in 1996 in to what was Arsene’s first game.
My Uncle died on this day….

Every day I miss him and wish he’d seen one of Arsene’s teams winning.

Whether you are for or against him right now, you are privileged to have seen his teams.

My Uncle would have been.

John
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