Adieu Arsène
Sunday afternoon started with the travelling
Burnley fans teasing us “you’re only here for the t-shirts”. Although a rare
full house crowd and abnormally long queues for the souvenir programme all felt
somewhat false, from the perspective of the past few seasons of a growing “time
for a change” clamour, ultimately the curtain fell on Arsène Wenger’s 22 year
long tenure on home turf amidst the perfect setting, with the blazing sunshine
the ideal backdrop to one of the most fluid and entertaining examples of
Wengerball that we’ve seen at our place for many a moon.
I’m unsure whether it was an off the boil
Burnley display that contributed to a flattering 5-0 goalfest (in contrast to
the sort of stalwart performances seen from Sean Dyche’s side in previous
encounters), or whether the Gunners were that bit more motivated by the
mortifying fear of finishing below the Clarets, forcing them off the beach and
back on the pitch for a Europa Cup qualifier as soon as 26th July.
Nevertheless, considering the anticlimactic
context, resulting from our miserable midweek failure to maintain hope of
Champions League footie, following our semifinal exit in Madrid, thrashing
Burnley was a befitting last act to a home campaign that bears comparison to
the best in the land and it provided the sort of welcome solace that ensured
Arsène got the historic send off he truly deserved.
Seeing a blubbing Gooner on his pushbike
outside the old stadium on Avenell Road prior to the game, it was evident that
this was going to be an emotional afternoon. Our tears aren’t just marking the
passing of the greatest manager that the Gunners have ever known, but the fact
that le Gaffer is likely the last of his kind in football as a whole. The
beautiful game has become such a transient business that it’s hard to imagine
there ever being another decades long dynasty of a big club dictator.
Four cup finals in the last five years is
nothing to be sneezed at and for all the incessant whinging about our
underachievement in recent seasons, I don’t think we will truly appreciate the
magnitude of Arsène’s accomplishments, until the dust has settled and we look
back in years to come at the feat of maintaining the Arsenal’s seat at Europe’s
top table for twenty successive seasons, during possibly the most challenging
period of transition in the club’s entire glorious history. Our upstart
neighbours have been gloating about enjoying a single Champions League
campaign. They and every other club would give their eye-teeth to have been
mixing it with the big boys, each and every season.
Some of us might have the two remaining dates
at Leicester and Huddersfield on Wenger’s farewell tour. Yet for the vast
majority of Gooners, Sunday was their last chance to bid the obdurate old
codger adieu. As Arsène strolled around on the pitch soaking up the adulation,
the tears were mixed with trepidation because for a generation of Arsenal fans,
Wenger’s Arsenal is all they’ve ever known.
Yet as the sun set on his last home outing,
there was some sense of symmetry, having witnessed a glimmer of same sort of
scintillating footie that signalled a revolution to the game in this country
upon his arrival all those years ago. Who knows, perhaps the inclusion of
Mavropanos might prove to be a parting gift, capable of the same significant
influence upon the team, as was seen from the introduction of a bandy legged
Patrick Vieira?
“Be careful what you wish for” was the
persistent riposte of all Arsène’s most loyal supporters and even if the vast
majority of them were left crying out for a breathe of fresh air these past
couple of stagnant seasons, there can be no denying that he’s likely to prove
an impossible act to follow.
Yet follow him someone must and if parting was,
in the words of the Baird, was “such sweet sorrow”, there remains more than a
little eager expectation in the fact that for the first time, for as long as we
can remember we have absolutely no idea what tomorrow brings. The king is dead,
long live the king!
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email to: londonN5@gmail.com
