What I’d Wished I’d Known Before Becoming an Arsenal Fan
In Wenger we trust; in Wenger we rust.
The EFL Cup semi-final against Chelsea last Wednesday was only my third Arsenal game I had ever seen live, and certainly my first of such stature. As I roared in jubilation at the full time whistle, singing, “Que Sera Sera…” I could only reflect about how I got to this personal mountain-top in my fandom. We were sixth in the table, Alexis Sanchez had just departed to Manchester United the day before, yet at the time there was no where else I’d rather have been than with those 50,000+ Arsenal fans.
I began supporting Arsenal at the jubilant age of 8 years old during the 2004/2005 season. Till this day I still rue that I spent 2003/2004 messing about — probably picking my nose — instead of watching us go unbeaten. Nevertheless, that year, I turned on the TV and was enchanted by a wizard, and his name is Thierry Henry. Like many Arsenal fans my age, Henry had me captivated. When he played, it was poetry in motion. No one made the game look so effortless. We won the FA Cup that season and over the summer break I received my first ever Arsenal shirt, for my birthday, with ‘Henry’ on the back. I was fully invested. I had just entered into a life long partnership and there was no going back. Little did I know, I had just signed up for a lifetime of heartbreak.
After fully coming on board, I was not even given a chance to get used to that winning feeling. The following season, despite struggling in the league, we had somehow managed to make it to the Champions League Final for the first time in our history. I had asked my parents if I could stay up late to watch the match and had chatted the appropriate amount of trash to my non-Arsenal supporting friends at school. I had prepared everything for what was meant to be a momentous night. So, of course, we lost. I wept. Apologies, wept is too soft of a word for what I did that night. I cried myself to sleep, inconsolably. That was the last game Henry played for Arsenal before leaving that summer. My hero, mi idolo, was gone. It would be 8 more years until Arsenal won another trophy. Although I was not aware, Arsenal Football Club were flying directly into a period historians now refer to as the banter era
If you take the time to read either or both of those threads you will find quite a comprehensive, if not colourful, recollection of the lows of supporting Arsenal over the past decade or so. From invincibles, we went to defences sporting the likes of Andre Santos, Sebastian Squillaci, Mikael Silvestre and Carl Jenkinson — who infamously scored a spectacular 30 yard own goal on his debut. Combined with goalkeeping options of Manuel Almunia (don’t get me started) Łukasz Fabiański and Wojciech Szczęsny our defence had more mistakes in it than a Student Union at the end of Fresher’s week. I must say that it is also quite difficult to inspire fear into the hearts of your opposition when you had Nicklas, the self-proclaimed best player in the world, Bendtner and Marouane Chamakh spearheading your attack.
This is not to say that there have been no heroes throughout the banter era. In fact, there have been many. However, the vast majority of them left the club either for more money, more trophies, or both — the latest in this long line of departing heroes being Alexis Sanchez. However, at this stage, I have got used to it. Adapting the words of Skepta, last year man lost Fabregas and my heart turned cold, then man lost Van Persie and my heart just froze. Hence what normally would have been a devastating loss has left me emotionless.
That being said, it has not been all bad. 3 FA Cups in the past 4 years, another cup final soon to come and of course the pleasure of witnessing a team play ‘the Arsenal way’. It would have been nice if Arsenal FC could have kindly informed me before I decided to support the club that they planned on entering a seemingly never-ending slump, however, there is not a single day I regret my decision.
Fans will continue to froth at the mouth over ‘Wenger in’ or ‘Wenger out’ and about who is actually to blame for the club’s underachieving. But, once I completed engaging with my history as an Arsenal fan and bathing in this small moment of fleeting glory, I came to the conclusion that no matter where this club is going, I am here for the ride… though I may need to plug in my seat-belt.
