So Paddy got up - an Arsenal anthology

by Unknown

  The game, played against the backdrop of an electric atmosphere, had everything – everything that is – but a goal. In the main that was thanks to a superb late save by Jens Lehmann who commando-rolled across his Clock End six-yard box to deny Raul when the Spaniard’s mishit shot looked destined for the back of the net. It was a fine demonstration of athleticism by the eccentric German and ensured victory without the need for extra-time. The Gunners marched on, goalless but glorious.

  Coming of age

  Two days later Arsenal were paired with Juventus in a mouth-watering quarter-final tie which saw Patrick Vieira inevitably dominate the pre-game headlines. It had only been eight months since Arsene Wenger sanctioned the sale of his protégé and the pairing felt somewhat inevitable despite the towering midfielder remarking: “At times destiny serves up some surprises.”

  Running away with the Scudetto (although they were later to be stripped of the victory as part of the Calciopoli match-fixing scandal), Fabio Capello’s side represented formidable opponents. Bolstered by the arrival of Vieira, Juve could also call on Gianluigi Buffon in goal, Fabio Cannavaro and Lilian Thuram in defence, Pavel Nedved and Emerson in midfield and strike options including David Trezeguet, Adrian Mutu and Zlatan Ibrahimovic.

  Despite the stellar cast, the only name spoken about in the aftermath of the first leg was that of Cesc Fabregas – it was without question a coming of age performance. Utilizing two years spent learning from Vieira on the training fields of London Colney, the 18-year-old Catalan skewered his old mentor like a matador in the bullring. He ran the midfield with impish authority, always showing for the ball, relentlessly eager to link-up play for his teammates and providing an end product which all but won the two-legged tie inside 90 minutes.

  Six minutes before half-time a tackle, as crunching as it was rare, saw Robert Pires dispossess Patrick Vieira and lay a ball into the path of Thierry Henry. Surveying his options the striker picked out a darting Fabregas who with his first touch controlled the ball, with his second teed up a shot and with his third dispatched the ball through Thuram’s legs and past a flat-footed Buffon. He wheeled away in celebration almost surprised at his own brilliance.

  In the second half, the diminutive maestro returned the favour for Henry. Racing through the Juventus defence from a deep midfield position he latched onto a perfectly weighted pass by Alex Hleb before cutting the ball across the box for Henry to double the lead. Game over and the Italians went into self-destruct mode. First Vieira was booked and subsequently banned from the second leg before Mauro Camoranesi and Jonathan Zebina were each sent off.

  It didn’t get much better for the Turin giants in the return leg; the crumbling Stadio delle Alpi a fitting home for a side whose European aspirations were eroding by the second. In cruise control Arsenal, having amassed seven consecutive clean sheets in the Champions League, never looked likely to give away their two-goal cushion. Seeing out a 0-0 draw, achieved with a minimum of fuss and demonstrated a level of maturity, boded well for the semi-final fixtures against La Liga opponents, Villarreal.

  Fancied for the first time

  Having vanquished Ajax, Real Madrid and Juventus – three of football’s great aristocrats – a semi-final showdown with a club making their first appearance in the Champions League was not so much underwhelming, as it was disconcerting. Given Arsenal’s travails trying to surmount the European football ladder, there was certainly no room for underestimating Villarreal. Tough opponents, with a distinctly Latin feel, the Yellow Submarines had come third in La Liga to qualify for the competition and subsequently helped knock out Manchester United before eliminating Rangers and Inter Milan. Counting seven players from South America (including the mercurial Argentine Juan Roman Riquelme and Uruguayan hot-shot Diego Forlan) they were dangerous on the break and tough to break down in the midfield.

  The pressure was on and Highbury sensed as much as the last European match ever at the grand old arena kicked off. For the first time in months Arsene Wenger’s young squad had been tipped as favourites and this sense of expectation triggered a noticeable level of nervousness, despite Kolo Toure giving the Gunners the lead on 41 minutes. As was so often the case, Thierry Henry was the catalyst. Reacting first to a cleared corner, the World Cup winner fed a cunningly disguised pass to Alex Hleb allowing the Belarusian enough time and space to flash a low ball across the six-yard box where it was crashed into the back of the net by Kolo Toure.

  While Arsenal dominated possession, the much wanted second goal failed to materialise. Villarreal were denied a stonewall penalty, Riquelme was booked and the home crowd cracked jokes about a squirrel that had made its way onto the pitch only to be greeted by chants of, ‘Gooner, Gooner, Gooner.’ In the second half Arsenal continued to press but the game petered out with both sides wary of committing too many men forward. It was to be a home win or bust for Villarreal as they settled for a 1-0 defeat in London.

  Arsene Wenger promised publicly that the team would go on the offensive when they visited El Madrigal six days later. It sounded good on paper, but when it came to it, the Gunners froze. Quiz any Arsenal fan on what they recall of the first 88 minutes of the semi-final second-leg and they’ll no doubt recall nothing more than a torturous yellow blur and frantic action in and around Jens Lehmann’s goal. Time after time the Spaniards attacked and time after time they spurned chances to equalise. Then, just as it looked as though Arsenal might close out the game, the referee awarded an incredibly harsh penalty against Gael Clichy for a nudge on Jose Mari. All and sundry knew that if Villarreal scored they would win the match in the resulting extra-time.

  The responsibility of taking the spot kick fell to Juan Roman Riquelme. As the television cameras zoomed in to capture the moment, three times they focused on the Argentine’s face before he finally, after what seemed like an eternity, stepped up to take his kick. It was impossible not to recognise the look of utter fear in his eyes. When the Argentine finally made contact with the ball it was immediately apparent that Lehmann had outfoxed him. Diving to his left the athletic German parried the ball back past his adversary before Sol Campbell stuck out a leg to put an end to further danger.

  It was football at its most cutthroat, a timeless ‘heroes and villains’ moment. For Lehmann there was sheer jubilation; for Riquelme it was a nightmare that to this day he admits was, “one of the saddest moments,” of his career. Crushed by the miss the Villarreal players could no longer muster the energy to close down their opposite numbers and when the whistle finally sounded many were inconsolable. It was Arsenal’s night.

  24 hours later Frank Rijkaard’s Barcelona ground out their own 1-0 aggregate victory versus AC Milan to ensure that they would be the opponents in Paris. It was the final the continent craved.

  Paris in the Spring

  In the eyes of the wider football fraternity, the rollercoaster journey to the climax of Europe’s premiere club competition finally elevated Arsenal to an echelon which for so long under Arsene Wenger the club had strived to reach; while for supporters, it provided further evidence of forward momentum at a time when Art Deco opulence was being traded for towering modernism.

  Ten days before the showdown in the French capital the curtain was finally drawn on 93 years of Highbury drama. The sun shone, flags were waved proudly, legends paraded, the pitch was flawless, Thierry Henry scored a hat-trick, Champions League qualification was secured (at Tottenham’s expense of course), speeches were made, the clock ticked down, fireworks exploded and tears were shed as a capacity crowd, decked out in red and white, said their poignant goodbyes. It was a fitting final salute.

  While a homely 38,359 had witnessed the end of an era in N5, it was estimated that over 50,000 Arsenal fans made the journey to Paris for the final on May 17th 2006. It was nothing short of an invasion. Around the Eurostar terminal at Gard du Nord, the streets heaved with Arsenal vendors and excited supporters who readily exchanged lager and chips for pomme frites and bière. Given the Anglo-French connection Arse
ne Wenger had fostered during his decade in charge, even the locals seemed supportive of an ‘English’ win. The biggest match in the club’s history encouraged a carnival atmosphere, although as lucky ticket-holders bid au revoir to those who had to make do with local pubs, nerves began to take effect.

  Could Arsenal really beat Barcelona? Was this finally the end of the wait for European glory? Unfortunately and heartbreakingly, it was not to be. On a night of torrential rain, Lady Luck finally chose to sever her ties with the club on whom she had doted so much in the preceding eight months.

  With Georg Frideric Handel’s “Zadok the Priest” still ringing in the ears of the 80,000 crowd, Thierry Henry twice went close to giving his side an early lead. In familiar, hometown surroundings he played like a man possessed, desperate to recompense the Arsenal contingent in what seemed destined to be his last match before a summer switch to, of all teams, Barcelona. Despite toiling relentlessly his misses in both halves were to prove costly, although arguably not as damaging as the red card shown to Jens Lehmann after 18 minutes.

  Penalised by referee Terje Hauge for felling Samuel Eto’o on the edge of the box, the goalkeeper received his marching orders despite Barcelona willingly slotting the loose ball into the back of the net. While his teammates called for the goal to stand and the German to be reprieved, there was little that could be done when the official chose to apply the letter of the law. It was an uphill battle after that, even though Sol Campbell raised hopes by thumping home a powerful header to give Arsenal an unexpected half-time lead.

  As the clock slowly ticked down, Barcelona finally and inevitably imposed their game on the Gunners. In the space of five minutes the one-nil advantage was overturned. First substitute Henrik Larsson freed Eto’o to slide an equaliser inside sub Manuel Almunia’s near post, then the Swede teed up Brazilian Belletti to drive home the winner with only nine minutes remaining. Arsene Wenger’s side had been gunned down and with no energy left to expend and lactic acid burning their muscles they limped to the final whistle, unable to muster a response.

  Initially stunned into stony silence by the cruel result, the Arsenal fans soon regrouped and found their collective voice. Over and over they cried, “Ar-se-nal, Ar-se-nal, Ar-se-nal.” It was a magnificent and devoted outpouring of passion at a moment when sullen contemplation seemed the only natural course of action. Against the cacophony of Cockney hollering, a bitterly disappointed Thierry Henry remarked, “We can be proud, whatever happened tonight, we can be proud.” He couldn’t have been more right. It had been a tremendous season and one that augured well for the future. Barcelona were champions, but Arsenal were winners as well.

  If success is measured not by arrival at a final destination, but by the spirit and endeavour laid bare while undertaking the journey, then the European adventure of 2005-06 certainly lived up to the club’s motto: Victoria Concordia Crescit.

  In the 125-years since Arsenal was founded, it remains the closest the club has come to being crowned Europe’s best side. To have been part of the experience was an unforgettable privilege.

  ***

  Andrew Allen is an occasional sportswriter with a lazy disposition. He recently founded The Arsenal Collective, which may or may not still exist by the time of publication. He cringes at talking about himself in the third person.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  I’d first like to thank all the contributors to this book, without whom it couldn’t have happened. Obviously. I laid this on them in the summer and to a man/woman they reacted with enthusiasm and interest, and kept to the really tight deadlines (most of them!). With their talent and passion for the subject matter they have made the process as simple as something like this can be.

  Thank you to David Rudnick for his outstanding design skills and wonderful cover, and to Saltwater for working so well to an incredibly tight schedule.

  To Mrs Blogs for being Mrs Blogs but also for her fantastic editing skills. Thankfully she wasn’t as punctilious when choosing a husband.

  To Blogette for not making tea. To my brother, the Mugsmasher, and my father Terry, for all their help in the last 12 months. You guys are aaaaalll right.

  Finally, a big thanks to you, reader of this book, and, I assume, reader of the blog. I’ve been writing Arseblog for nearly ten years. As much as I love to do it, it’s your comments, your emails and all your interaction that make it all worthwhile.

  From one website has grown a truly unique community, both online and off. I guess I shouldn’t be at this stage, yet I remain consistently amazed at the generosity and decency of Arsenal fans towards each other. I think of those who travel from near and far – sometimes very far indeed – to find themselves welcomed with match tickets, beers and great company. This happens not just now and again, but constantly.

  Arsenal brings people together, forges friendships, camaraderie, loyalty and so much more. At a time when it’s easy to dwell on the negatives this most positive of aspects ought to be recognised. I’m glad Arseblog has played a small role in this.

  For whatever reason we support Arsenal, be it family, nationality, falling in love with a great team (or a not so great team), or even if we have no idea how we came to be a fan, we should always count ourselves lucky to be fans of this wonderful club.

  We support The Arsenal but, never forget, we are a big part of what makes The Arsenal so great.

  Andrew Mangan

  December 2011

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  LINE UP

  1 – IN THE BEGINNING - Andrew Mangan

  2 – ONE GEORGIE GRAHAM - Amy Lawrence

  3 – THE ARSENAL: FROM OPEN SEWERS TO OPEN SANDWICHES - Tim Stillman

  4 – DENNIS - Paolo Bandini

  5 – HIGHBURY V EMIRATES - Jim Haryott

  6 – CONTINUED EVOLUTION - Tom Clark

  7 – HERBERT CHAPMAN - Philippe Auclair

  8 – WHAT IS ARSENAL? - Julian Harris

  9 – LET’S GET DIGITAL - James McNicholas

  10 – ALL HAIL THE ALMOST INVINCIBLES - Chris Harris

  11 – ARSENAL AND FAMILY - Sian Ranscombe

  12 – ARSENE WENGER AND TACTICS - Michael Cox

  13 – OUR PRIVATE GARDEN - Tim Bostelle

  14 – ARSENAL’S STANDING IN THE MODERN GAME - Stuart Stratford

  15 – WEMBLEY. BASTARD WEMBLEY - Tim Clark

  16 – BEHIND THE 8-BALL - Tim Barkwill

  17 – ON ARSENAL’S FINANCES : A GAME OF TWO HALVES - Kieron O’Connor

  18 – SUPPORTING ARSENAL FROM AFAR - Leanne Hurley

  19 – STRENGTH FROM WITHIN: FROM MEE TO GRAHAM - David Faber

  20 – STAN KROENKE : INVESTOR TO OWNER IN 5 YEARS - Tim Payton

  21 – GLORY DAYS - Jake Morris

  22 – FROM CHAMP TO CHAMPIGNON - Jonathan Swan

  23 – ON THE ARSENAL BEAT - John Cross

  24 – A NEW ARSENAL: BUILT ON A BELL LANE DYNASTY - Nigel Brown

  25 – MR F - Nick Ames

  26 – WE’RE ON OUR WAY - Andrew Allen

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS