by Alex Fynn
The ring of boxes is broken on the west side behind the directors’ box, with the Diamond Club. For a joining membership fee of £25,000, the 84 members (and membership to this elite was by invitation only) were entitled to purchase two season tickets at an annual cost of £12,500 each, which include one of the matchday parking spots in the bowels of the stadium, safe from the attentions of Islington Council’s traffic wardens. The area behind the seats has been transformed into a setting exemplifying corporate opulence to a standard unmatched by any other football ground. The marble floor, inlaid wood carvings commemorating past achievements, display cabinets with gleaming trophies, classic photos, repro Highbury clock, leather upholstery and glass tables all combine to give a most luxurious art deco feel to the enclave where the privileged members can enjoy complementary food and drink to a standard worthy of a Michelin star before, during or after the match. “Whilst I can never envisage myself hurling abuse at a ref whilst being enveloped in one of the plush leather armchairs,” says Brian Dawes, who had the opportunity to wander around the Diamond Club on a non-matchday, “it is somehow comforting to know that we’ve got such a place in our very own stadium, even if the whole concept gives a big two fingers to the hardcore fans supping overpriced beer on the bland lower-tier concourse.”
Directly below the Diamond Club lies the directors’ matchday area. It is a world away from the antiquated Highbury boardroom which had to double up as a reception area and could only provide a buffet, a space so confined that there was no way you could avoid the opposing directors and their guests. Now there is no need to fraternise with directors of clubs with which relations are more strained. With a room which can comfortably accommodate 120 people there are allocated tables in the style of a wedding reception (and indeed there is little to suggest that the room is anything more than a spot for an exclusive upmarket do), so there is no need for Peter Hill-Wood to dine alongside Peter Kenyon if he doesn’t want to. As in the Diamond Club, the wine flows whilst a sumptuous three-course meal is consumed, with guests often having to make the choice between the dessert course and the kick-off. As on the concourse, why rush when you can polish off the coffee and brandy and see the start on the plasma screens liberally distributed around the room? But of course, you really should go outside eventually and although the directors and their fellow VIPs are naturally located in the best seats imaginable (both in terms of view and comfort) a concession has been made to try to get them on the same wavelength as the fans by not putting in any heating, so on the coldest days they have to make do with a warming Arsenal blanket. (The accoutrements of the old boardroom have been transported across to decorate the new one situated in the turquoise building above the North Bank Bridge known as Highbury House, providing a link with the past, albeit tonally out of keeping with the new surroundings.)
The Club Level members’ seats are on the same level as the directors’ box, and their perks include free drinks at half time, which invariably sees the entire middle ring almost completely vacated after 45 minutes. As there is no control over the actual amount that can be drunk during the interval, some supporters will commandeer as many as three pints of pre-poured lager to down during the 15 minutes. As beverages have to be consumed on the concourse behind the seats, there are unsurprisingly still a large number of empty places when the second half resumes (reminiscent of the resumption of play after the lunch interval at a Lord’s or Oval international cricket match), with many opting to remain on the comfortable concourse to watch the game on monitors while they polish off their drinks. But 10 minutes of a football match is a comparatively greater slice of missed action than half an hour of a day’s cricket. If so many are happy to watch a significant part of the action on television, it begs the question as to why they don’t opt for the comfort of their own homes on the numerous occasions that Emirates games are broadcast live. Certainly, due to the sheer numbers of thirsty punters involved service is understandably slow, but the thought of missing even a minute with a fantastic view of habitually exhilarating football is a concept that mystifies many in the ‘cheap’ seats. As one of the minority who put football first, Club Level season-ticket holder Stuart Singer shares their dismay. “I also imagine that this display of apparent indifference must be a major wind-up for those who would give their right arm for such a privileged pers pective,” he stated. “Considering Club Level’s prominent position, surely the players must also be aware of all the empty seats. This can hardly inspire them to sweat blood for the Arsenal cause.”
Alan Smith concurred that the behaviour “worries everybody. It’s that feeling of theatre isn’t it? You want to feel that all the fans are dying for the second half to get underway and they’re right behind you. As a player, there’s nothing worse than seeing empty seats and then, although you’re concentrating on the game, you get this perception of people slowly drifting in. I think it does affect players.” The moral appears to be that if you invite in corporate money, you invite in corporate ways. There is no doubt that many in the Club Level are not die-hard Arsenal fans, and some might not even be particularly interested in sport. But a seat at the Emirates is one of the hottest tickets in town.
Corporate hospitality has been prioritised, and has undoubtedly affected the atmosphere, but financially the middle tier is a necessity, with the average premium category season-ticket holder contributing three or four times as much to the club coffers as the standard attendees in the lower and upper tiers. Moreover, when the boxes and Diamond Club are added to the Club Level season tickets the income from the three categories exceeds that of Highbury: fewer than 10,000 people producing an annual matchday turnover of over £35 million. So the 50,000 ordinary fans provide additional revenue (approximately £55 million a year) to that which was ever received before the move from Highbury. In one fell swoop the Emirates went head-to-head with Old Trafford as the biggest revenue-generating club football stadiums in the world – London prices and brand values allowing the club to offset the larger capacities in, for example, Madrid and Milan. Arsenal FC earns a cool £3 million-plus every matchday; a staggering 100% increase over Highbury, overhauling broadcasting as the chief revenue source. Even allowing for whopping interest payments and a substantial rise in operational costs, it would be surprising if the club does not end up with a substantial annual net profit as long as they continue to fill the stadium.
Despite the exorbitant pricing policy and with only the 2005 FA Cup to show for the previous two years’ efforts, the entire middle tier with its large number of prestige seats was sold out for the opening season. It clearly demonstrated the club’s earning potential and underlined the sheer amount of lost income from the latter years at Highbury. Yet the key question was whether people were paying for the novelty value or was repeat custom likely. And would there be others willing to replace them if they dropped out?
Initially, the premium products had been offered on a four-year basis with a built-in sweetener guaranteeing protection against possible price increases. However, with a less-than-anticipated take-up the board were forced to review their policy and offer both boxes and seats on one-year terms. The corporate market, though, is fickle. With Wembley a substantial competitor for the entertainment pound, whether companies will continue to give Arsenal their custom may well in the short term be dependent on Arsène Wenger continuing to produce immodest results from modest spending.
Due to the heady mix of success, stars and entertainment, Highbury had proved resistant to any drop-off in attendances, despite hefty annual rises in ticket prices. However, the Emirates’ pricing policy is a quantum leap from anything that had previously been experienced, par ticularly by the irregular supporter. 15,000 tickets, of which 3,000 are allocated to the away fans, are made available on a match-by-match basis. Of the remaining 12,000, the majority are in the more expensive upper tier (most of the cheaper lower tier having been snapped up by season-ticket holders). For the first two seasons’ Grade B matches against less attractive opponents, upsta
irs prices ranged from £38 to £66, whilst for Grade A fixtures (five of the most in-demand league games and selected cup ties) the same tickets started at £55 and went all the way to £94. In 2004 Peter Hill-Wood described these prices as “awful. And they’re not going to come down a lot. We’re going to try and keep the prices at a level where the lower priced seats – £30, it’s still a lot of money – are going to be very comparable with what they are at Highbury.” In 2008, he was forced to take a more pragmatic stance. “Entertainment’s an expensive business. But we’ve got a lot of people on the waiting list wanting tickets [over 40,000] so presumably we haven’t priced ourselves out of the market.” What tends to happen when silver members come to book is that all of the cheaper seats sell out quite quickly. So when, a month later, these tickets go on sale to the red members, the beggars at the bottom of the pile can’t be choosers despite the often astronomical costs of the remaining tickets.
There are signs that as time goes on, more Grade B matches might have to go on general sale as the novelty factor wears off, whilst heaven forbid if it was coupled with a run of failure and the board might have to contemplate a less-than-capacity crowd. However, given the choice, they would probably prefer a 50,000 crowd paying top dollar than to lower the cost of entry to try to ensure a sell-out and run the risk of less net income. Managing Director Keith Edelman stated at a shareholders’ Extraordinary General Meeting in July 2006 (to approve the refinancing of the club’s loan) that an average attendance of 22,000 was required for the club to break even and cover its interest charges. Asked at the AGM three months later to clarify whether this meant 9,000 middle tier supporters and 13,000 from the other tiers, Edelman denied he had never given any minimum figure, and said that anyway 32,000 was the break-even number, spread evenly over the three tiers. He was dismissive of the notion that such a scenario would ever seriously require testing, saying it was merely a model that the banks required, but ultimately an irrelevance as he could not envisage ever getting such a low attendance. And if the current practice of always recording an attendance of 60,000 despite the obviously paid-for but empty seats persists, you can follow his thought process.
The stadium’s first ever matchday (22nd July 2006) was the third and final trial run, a testimonial match for Dennis Bergkamp, with a capacity limit of 55,000. Arsène Wenger kicked a giant inflatable football towards the north end of the stadium. Supported by guide ropes, it should have entered the goal. However, the manager missed the target as a gust of wind took it onto the crossbar. It was as far off target as the board’s promise that the manager could buy any player he wanted. The figures looked good on paper, but in terms of ready cash, Arsenal had none. The shortfall was down to having received and spent on the stadium the revenue from Nike, the Emirates and the corporate box and season tickets. Club Level renewals would soon be brought forward as interest payments on the two initial loans of £210 million and £50 million were due. These were subsequently renegotiated on a 25-year term but still left the club with annual interest payments of £18 million together with almost half as much again for the property loans. In 2008, at a traumatic time for the lending market, the stadium interest payments (at around 10% of total turnover) look like a smart piece of business. Additionally, deals like the one which brought Theo Walcott to the club have been negotiated so that the transfer fees are paid in instalments, and many millions can be outstanding at any time. A good portion of the cash balance has to remain untouched to cover those payments, which customarily kick in after a certain number of appearances.
As the curtain rose on the 2007/08 season, despite playing to capacity crowds in the brave new world of the Emirates, in one sense, nothing had changed. Arsenal were still relying on their manager to buck the odds, a phenomenon by now taken for granted. But the grandeur of the surroundings merely disguised the reality that the man at the centre of it all was finding his task increasingly difficult.
CHAPTER TEN
ACCESS NO AREAS
An hour and a half or so before matches at Highbury, Arsenal’s players used to disembark from their coach having consumed their pre-match meal at their Chelsea Harbour hotel and made the short journey across town. Parked up outside the main entrance on Avenell Road, their few steps between the coach and the marble hall were invariably witnessed by hordes of fans patiently waiting behind crash barriers. For young children especially, it was a thrill to be so close to their heroes. They could shout encouragement and receive nods and waves of acknowledgement in response. At the Emirates the team coach, with its blacked out windows, arrives at the entrance in Hornsey Road. On a dull day it may just be possible to make out the silhouettes of the passengers before the electronic gate opens to admit the vehicle into the bowels of the stadium. It stops directly outside the players’ entrance and the dressing room is reached without a supporter in sight. The ‘Unbeatables’ of 2004 have metamorphosised into the ‘Untouchables’ of today.
With the move to their new home, an estrangement has grown between the fans and the players. The physical distance between the two groups and the disparity between the outrageous sums paid to these athletes and the earnings of the working man ensure there is far less empathy with the personalities who pull on the shirts. The days when Charlie George – who supported the team as a kid from the North Bank – would proudly wear the Arsenal shirt, providing a tangible bond between crowd and performer, belong to a bygone age.
Sadly, Arsène Wenger prefers it this way, with any distraction on matchdays avoided. In his single-mindedness he has – whilst forging a new identity for Arsenal – allowed something of the bond that binds the supporters to the club to slacken. Wenger often reflects on the special atmosphere at English grounds. “The first time I arrived in the UK,” he recalls, “I saw a match at Anfield [Liverpool against Manchester United] and I got a terrible shock. I had no idea football could create such passion.” Yet he is unwittingly undermining the communal feeling between spectators and performers by maintaining a policy of protecting the squad from any diversion. Of course he is not intending to drive a wedge between the two parties but with his desire for total control when his players are on duty he has perhaps neglected the value of good PR. Perhaps while the fans continue to stream through the turnstiles, the consequences of a loosen ing of the chains of loyalty can be put aside for the moment.
Thursday 20th July 2006 saw what the club termed a Members’ Day at the Emirates. It was the second of the three scheduled trial runs ahead of the first competitive fixture. At no cost, although limited in numbers through advance booking, several thousand fans were invited to watch the players go through a training session on the virgin pitch. However, due to the stipulations of the safety certificate, only the upper tiers were being utilised, thereby segregating the supporters from their favourites. (Two open training sessions had been held at Highbury where fans had also been restricted to the upper tiers.) Further, as the timing was less than three weeks after the World Cup finals had ended in Germany, only four of the 16 Arsenal representatives who had been at the tournament (new signing Tomas Rosicky, Kolo Toure, Emmanuel Eboue and Emmanuel Adebayor) managed to make it onto the pitch and they exercised apart from their colleagues, who comprised principally reserve and youth team players, some of whom had not even set foot in the stadium before and could not find the players’ entrance. Two had had to be admitted via the Armoury, the club’s new flagship store, where Managing Director Keith Edelman, despite not recognising the youngsters, had ushered them in after the security staff had brought the problem to his attention. In fairness to Edelman, the duo were not known by any of the fans queuing to get into the shop either, and so it was no surprise that what grabbed the attention once inside was the environment rather than anything that was happening on the pitch.
The session concluded with a somewhat feeble attempt to kick giveaway footballs into the upper tier where the fans were gathered. Given the manager’s distaste for the tactic of gaining territory with scant regard for possession,
it was fitting that most of his charges were unable to get the appropriate amount of ‘welly’ and that most of the balls fell well short of their target and came back down to rest in the lower-tier seats. Although it meant most of the supporters went home disappointedly empty-handed, the failure to reach the target could be said to embody the difference between Arsenal of 2006 and the ‘Row Z’ clearances that were a habitual feature of the George Graham era. Nevertheless it was poor PR. The ‘special’ day compared unfavourably with the way other clubs act. At Stamford Bridge and White Hart Lane of all places, supporters are not only downstairs, but the players spend time at pitchside signing autographs and posing for photos. On subsequent members’ days at the Emirates, the lower tiers were opened so that at least the public could get closer to the action. But there was no interaction. Even on a December Monday when the first-team players merely warmed down from their weekend exertions before sitting in the centre circle watching the second stringers do the serious stuff with a Carling Cup game on the horizon, there was no attempt to stroll over towards the fans. They were of course merely following the manager’s orders. There was to be no fraternising. This was a straightforward routine session that just happened to be transposed from London Colney and was to be treated as such with no regard for the onlookers.
If training is a rehearsal to be undertaken seriously at all times, then the training ground is Wenger’s workplace and the pitches the tools of his trade. As a perfectionist in the art of preparation he must therefore have been horrified with the dismal quality of the conditions he was forced to work in on his arrival. Arsenal didn’t even possess their own training centre. Rented from University College, London, it was a far cry from the well appointed Monaco training ground at La Turbie in the hills above Nice which Wenger was accustomed to; and his eighteen months at Grampus 8 had given him no cause for complaint.