So Paddy Got Up - an Arsenal anthology (25 page)

Fast forward to 1996. When Arsene Wenger joined the club there wasn’t any Irish culture anymore. Steve Morrow, the only Irishman at the club within a sniff of the first team, was swiftly shipped out. If there was a culture at Highbury, it was a drinking one. However, with his modern regime that espoused the benefits of moderation, stretching and broccoli, Wenger set about instilling a culture at the club that reflected his own experiences and ideas from French football. This was accompanied by a steady stream of French imports. Already reeling from the signing of Dennis Bergkamp by Bruce Rioch, the fans didn’t know what to make of the appearance on the scene of Remi Garde and Patrick Vieira. Next came Nicolas Anelka, Emmanuel Petit and Gilles Grimandi and, er, David Grondin. Later still rolled up Thierry Henry, Sylvain Wiltord and Robert Pires. And most of these players were destined for the first team. While Arsene did buy players from other countries with some success (Freddie Ljungberg, for example), his dabbling in the homegrown market was less assured. Take a bow, Franny Jeffers. We became less English, and it’s fair to say that at this time Arsene Wenger used his knowledge of French football to put his ideas into place.

With so many Frenchmen around the place, there was a decidedly Gallic air to Highbury, helped of course by France’s success at the World Cup in 1998. Arsenal supplied the world champion’s midfield, after all. ‘Allez les rouges” urged the Jumbotron on match days. “He’s quick, he’s blonde, he’s won the Coupe du Monde”, went an adaptation of the Petit chant. There were even rumours of soupe du jour being served in the North Bank. It was all much more overtly French than when similar numbers of Irishmen had been at the club: back then you wouldn’t have been able to get a pint of the black stuff to go with a bowl of champ.

The balance hung between being all out continental and retaining some British-ness. Arsenal had become less ‘English’ in the eyes of the media, who welcomed Arsene when he arrived with the tolerance and openness for which the British press is famous. They ran a smear story about him. Even other managers stuck the boot in: “What does he know about English football?” sneered Alex Ferguson, who was then forced to eat his words as Arsenal won the double. But while Arsenal retained their famous all British back five, it was still possible to see the shift in culture. We were becoming just a bit different to other clubs, although they, too, were opening the doors to more foreign players, if not yet coaches. But Arsenal were changing the fastest, and it was visible not just in the names on the teamsheet; results went our way too. Fitter, more skilful and pacy, the French revolution was plain to see when we took the field.

Not that this was all plain sailing. There was often a background crackle of xenophobia. When Patrick Vieira went on a formidable run of red cards, it wasn’t long before the fact that he was French was levered into the equation, as if this provided an insightful explanation for his dismissals. “I could smell the garlic on his breath”, squealed Neil Ruddock, after Patrick gobbed on him on his way off for an early bath.  In later years, Thierry Henry would be accused of having Gallic arrogance, although, in truth, he did suffer from a nasty bout of taking himself too seriously. One of the more risible ideas was that the new, French, Arsenal wouldn’t like it up them. The spirit of Corporal Jones was alive and well (and still is, these days it divides its time between the homes of Sam Allardyce and Tony Pulis).  Yet the duo of Vieira and Petit soon scotched this idea as they put together one of the most effective midfield partnerships ever seen. When one of them was out, there was always Gilles Grimandi, the duffle-coat wearing assassin who saw red at the Nou Camp for elbowing Pep Guardiola and got himself banned at Lazio for drawing blood from Diego Simeone. Even in retirement he showed he still had it, scything down Edgar Davids in Dennis Bergkamp’s testimonial, then giving an insouciant shrug. Check it out on YouTube – it’s well worth it.

The Frenchness of Arsenal probably reached a peak somewhere in the end of the 1990s, when the players we had were on the way to their peaks, the World Cup was under their belts and Bergkamp had just finished the best season many people have ever seen from an Arsenal player. Throw into the mix our poetry and jazz-loving captain, the erudite manager, and Highbury was beginning to feel like a left bank collective. Would we get rid of the match day programme and have an artistic manifesto instead? Would the team run out one day wearing polo necks, puffing on Gauloises Disque Bleu, indulging in a bit street theatre? Not quite; but we were unmistakeably changed from the Arsenal of the preceding years. Even after Petit left, the Pires/Henry axis ensured our French flavour persisted. Great players both, they particularly seemed to aggravate the spiteful hackers like Wise and Bowyer, who ran around in a state of frothing aggravation whenever we played them. Having been lauded as some of the finest English talent, it must have been particularly rage-making for them to realise that, actually, they weren’t that good. To have your face rubbed in it by a Frenchman, of all things, and one with elaborate facial hair, was simply too much to bear.           

Since those invincible days, the French empire has declined a bit, but it hasn’t fallen completely. It’s not for nothing that Arsenal are sometimes called the biggest club in France. We’ve still got a French manager and French players, even though with Clichy going this summer Diaby is now our longest serving one – although it feels like he’s only played about five times. But, as the spending and youth policy has developed, we’ve become less French and more global, if that’s the right word. We don’t have the singular feel we once did. These days we have players from all over. Where before Arsene relied on players he knew from French football, now he relies of youthful potential, no matter where it comes from. Still, it’s not hard to see that a group of players from one nationality could come to dominate places in the first team. It could even be British; Walcott, Ramsey, Wilshire, Gibbs, Alex Oxlade-Chamberlain, could all form the core of the first team in the next few years. Who knows? One thing that is clear is that the shared French culture at Arsenal helped, for a few years, to make us the best team around. Let’s hope that a similar thing can happen again, wherever the next group come from. Hell, even if they’re all from Iceland I’d gladly eat a rotted shark roll at Ashburton Grove if they win us the league.

Skál!

***

Jonathan Swan is the red and white sheep of a Spurs supporting family – he had to share his room with his brother and a life-sized model of Glenn Hoddle. He now writes about Arsenal as a kind of therapy.

23 – ON THE ARSENAL BEAT - John Cross

For a club known as the Bank of England, it was a period of immense change. After George Graham’s departure, Stewart Houston, Bruce Rioch and Pat Rice all took charge for brief spells at a club known for being stable, traditional and loyal. Arsenal were not used to the kind of scandal that went with Graham’s exit after he admitted taking a bung. His book’s title, ‘The Glory and The Grief’ said everything about the two sides to his memorable reign. But next was to come an even bigger change for Arsenal – the club’s first foreign manager in the guise of Frenchman Arsene Wenger.

I’ve had the opportunity to work with all of them for either my first paper, the Islington Gazette, the club’s programme or magazine, and then later the Daily Mirror. My path did not cross so much with Rioch but I was fortunate enough to have seen all the others at close hand; from my days as a young reporter covering the youth team with Rice and then later with his brief stint as caretaker boss. Houston remains charming, still does scouting work for the club and I see him about from time to time. He’s a nice man, has a great football brain and yet his time in charge after stepping up from being Graham’s assistant took a massive toll on him. Then, of course, there’s Wenger who, in my opinion, is the greatest manager the club has ever had and, taking resources into account, is the best manager in Premier League history thanks to his vision, methods and style of football. Fortunately, in a book for Arsenal fans you don’t have to defend that accolade too much, but I sincerely hope supporters do remember it amid the leanest spell of his 15 years in charge. It has been a genuine pleasure to cover Wenger and his Arsenal team. He is charming, warm and brilliant with the press. And, even more importantly, his teams play great football and have had great success. Wenger’s era came after some highs and lows with George Graham who, for a young reporter, could be a very intimidating figure. But Graham was great for me and I will always be grateful to him.

I first started covering Arsenal when I was a teenager on the Islington Gazette – a dream job for someone who grew up on the North Bank. Graham was also a dream. Long before the days of the new super hi-tech training ground at London Colney and Arsenal having a press officer, everything media-wise was done through George or his secretary, Sheila. Arsenal’s state-of-the-art training base these days is a world away from what London Colney used to be like. A pokey little hallway next to the treatment area, with the changing rooms to the left. It also used to be home to youth games and some reserve games. But that environment made someone like me feel incredibly close to the heart of the matter.

The great thing about George was that no reporters were allowed to the training ground – apart from me as the local paper reporter; the guy from ClubCall (remember that?) and I would often double up to do the programme, too. The occasional foreign reporter was allowed in to pander to Graham’s ego. He enjoyed the thought of being well regarded overseas. Graham would often complain (like many managers) that English papers wouldn’t want to talk tactics like the Italians. But if you enquired as to whether Anders Limpar (a luxury player in his eyes) could fit into the system that would quickly end any conversation. Graham was a successful player for Arsenal, a member of the 1971 Double winning side and remembered the Gazette when he came back as manager. That’s why he offered us special privileges. If I wanted to speak to a youth team player then George would have to give the green light before Pat Rice would let me. Pat was incredibly strict and protective, while the reserve team manager, George Armstrong, was one of the nicest men I’ve ever met in football. I would stand in the doorway of the little ramshackle training ground, next to the medical room – if you could call it that – and grab the players as they came past. It’s a million miles from that now, but it allowed you to build up close working relationships with players and staff, some of who are still there now like chief scout Steve Rowley, and others who have moved on such as Steve Burtenshaw.

There were characters, too. Martin Keown always enjoyed some banter, Tony Adams, David Hillier, Ray Parlour and Stephen Hughes also spring to mind as characters from that period. But, in reality, it is Graham who stands out in my mind. He could be great company but incredibly sensitive about articles – to the point of pinning some things up in the dressing room to motivate players. He also had an fierce temper. Fortunately, I didn’t upset him too often, although one such occasion still springs to mind. One Sunday newspaper had made allegations about him accepting a bung and yet he still found the time a couple of days later to ring and complain about a story I did – about the youth team. Graham was very protective about his young players. At the time, Stephen Hughes was seen as the next big thing. Comparisons to Liam Brady had been made and this really upset George. That is probably why he reacted badly and rang to tear a strip off me for reporting that he had been given an unprecedented long-term professional contract. Quite amazing when you consider that he was in the eye of the storm about bungs, and that it also came at a time when the team and the club had been rocked by various scandals, including Paul Merson’s booze and drugs confession. It was after revelations about Merson that Graham went into lock-down mode. For the first time ever, I was turned away from the training ground. Bung scandals could be blowing up and yet George’s first concern would be about his players.

Waiting in marble halls for Rice and Armstrong was also an education. Pat Rice is deservedly an Arsenal legend, and his link between past glory, the history of the club, and the present is, in my opinion, priceless. Wenger has embraced Rice as a touch of British grit in a multi-cultural environment. Don’t knock it until you remember that he was at the heart of unique glory at the club; The Invincibles season, glorious football and trophy after trophy in the first part of Wenger’s reign.  Rice has always had a drive and determination that made him get the most out of his talent as a player. You will also get very few niceties out of Rice. He’s a straight up and down football man whose first thought is football rather than PR. I often stood in those marble halls for an hour, an hour and a half, waiting for a couple of minutes to talk to Pat for the programme. You do it as a reporter. Forget press conferences. That happens at Premier League level. But those times spent in the marble halls meant you got talking to people. Youth team players, reserve players, directors, scouts and players who were to go on to become agents, pundits and writers when their playing careers did not work out. They were great times. There was a buzz when you saw a player develop. You formed little relationships and understandings. Now there’s a wave of former Arsenal players in the media like Ray Parlour, Paul Davis, David Hillier and Stewart Robson who I remember from 20 years ago. These days it’s so different. And it’s a shame that those relationships have been ebbed away.

It’s hard to imagine that there will be characters like George Armstrong at Arsenal again. After reserve games, he’d come out to the marble halls, summon me into the coaching room, talk football, introduce me to football people and make me feel comfortable with the likes of Steve Burtenshaw or Steve Rowley. People would come in from scouting missions while I was there. Not a word was ever spoken or written by me about the players. It was all about trust and they were terrific times. Then after being made to feel truly at home in the coach’s room, Geordie (as Armstrong was affectionately known) might offer me a lift home if I wasn’t driving. There are some nice people in the game. Funnily enough, I think of Sammy Lee in that way. I did a PR stunt with Umbro in 2004 ahead of the Euros. Lee took the session. Afterwards in the dressing room, he noticed a whacking great scar up my back from an operation. It was something of a conversation starter. Now, I’ll see him about on the circuit and he’s so genuine, a real character, a truly nice guy. That’s what George Armstrong was. If there’s anyone with a bad word about the late great Geordie then I’ve yet to meet them. That was the old Arsenal.