He appeared out of the stands like a pantomime villain, only replacing the long curly moustache and black cape was a hooded jumper and sagging grey jogging bottoms. Who was that concealed man getting involved in the Jack Wilshere pile-on at Villa Park? How did he manage to scuttle so swiftly with most of his arse hanging out? As he was dragged behind the curtains by the match-day stewards I was in utter appreciation of his ambitious endeavour. The rest of the Arsenal fans pushed forward to get as close as they could to their hero, Jack, and I sat back and wished I was there.
‘The Highbury Library’ they used to call it and today they tag Arsenal fans as passionless, a bit ‘arm-chair’, maybe a little too snobbish within the rich comforts of The Emirates. But we sometimes forget what a fiery area North London can be. I’m always hearing stories about Turkish barbershop men chasing down armed criminals on Haringey Green Lanes and the Algerian restaurants around Finsbury Park always have smashed windows where they didn’t the night before. On away days, the intensity of the area home to Arsenal usually shows, and the fans were at it again in The Midlands.
I understand the reasons why our new home gets a bad rap. Tickets are often sold to the wrong people, surely meaning the tickets are in the wrong hands to begin with. How is it that these shady looking guys lurking on the corner of Drayton and Gillespie can whip out 10 season tickets anyway? But I’d be surprised if any team leapt from under 40,000 seats to over 60,000 and didn’t get hit in the same way. For some it’s just too expensive, although the hardcore, I suspect, would solicit their only daughter to a crack pimp just to follow Arsenal. Isn’t that right, Eldo?
A trip to Wembley then in the Carling Cup would be a small reward, for those who stand on cold corners in Bognor waiting for a tractor to rattle by and offer a lift. Standing in the staffroom today talking to a colleague (a man of The Arsenal cloth) about the semi-final draw against Ipswich, I suddenly realised my anxiety over the possibility of getting to a final. It was a little embarrassing that this was the Carling Cup I was talking about. The Mickey Mouse now has the same importance as the Champions League. It was proof of my desperation as an Arsenal fan to get some silverware and perhaps proof of our current dip in form as a club. I guess I’ve just forgotten what being in a final is like.
So it goes out to all the Arsenal away fans, the ones who let off a flare at Stamford Bridge last season while singing “YOU ONLY CAME TO SEE EBOUE”, those who asked “SHALL WE MAKE A DVD?” at White Hart Lane after dumping Spurs out of the competition we must now surely win and the only one they were likely too. But most recently, here’s to the true villain of Villa Park. Now, school has finished early for the day, the snow is coming down outside and there are some kids who need pelting. My first snowball to connect will be dedicated to you, hooded pitch-invader.
THE ARSENAL
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