Cup final special: memoirs of an anguished Arsenal fan
Ups and downs, peaks and troughs, agony followed by ecstasy, then more agony, vacillating between heart-wrenching pain one weekend and sheer joy the next. This is not a teenage love affair. This is not a Shakespearian sonnet. There’s only one love that breeds pain like this ladies and gentleman: my love for Arsenal Football Club.
19 years into my life, no woman has caused me more suffering and emotional turmoil than watching 11 men who often wear red and white running up and down a pitch. The last decade of this love affair has been a rough ride to say the least; years spent pining over missed chances, a trail of tear-stained kits and broken dreams that I cannot erase. Think of all the setbacks! A horrifying League Cup final defeat at hands of Birmingham, multiple Premier League leads squandered and a chronic inability to make it past the round of 16 in the Champions League. The list goes on and on, a catalogue of heartbreaks traumatic enough to be adapted into a Taylor Swift song.
Last spring however, on a glorious afternoon in late May, it finally happened. At long last the Arsenal faithful’s collective achy-breaky heart began to heal, Wembley stadium turned into a scene of dream-like bliss. After nine long, hard, trophyless years we were no longer the butt of Manchester United fans’ generic silverware gags (dusty trophy cabinet etc) and Chelsea supporters’ mocking glances from across the other end of the city. Arsene Wenger’s men were at long last back at the high table of English football as FA Cup winners.
In typical Arsenal fashion it was more of an ordeal than a football match. If ever a game encapsulated the Arsenal supporter experience, this torturous love affair, that was it. Early on Arsenal were caught napping at the back, a tentative start that allowed Hull move into a two goal lead within the first 10 minutes. A deficit Arsene Wenger’s side spent the majority of the game chasing, tugging on my heart-strings, pulling me on a dizzying emotional roller coaster with more twists and turns than the rusty waltzer at your local fair in the park that your friends dragged you on. After 109 minutes of prolonged torture, Aaron Ramsey popped up on the edge of the box with a crisp first time finish and it was over. The champagne flowed and Arsene breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe, just maybe, his side bolstered by the gleam of silverware could press on and become a dominant force in English and European football once more.
19 years into my life, no woman has caused me more suffering and emotional turmoil than watching 11 men who often wear red and white running up and down a pitch
Who are we kidding here? This is Arsenal, they’d much rather play with ones feelings than gun for glory. It’s been another typically inconsistent season. In a campaign which saw Jose Mourinho’s Chelsea lauded for their iron clad wills and astonishing consistency, Arsenal’s form has fluctuated too often to mount a serious challenge. The nadir of a season that promised much, yet delivered little was the woeful defeat to Monaco in the Round of 16 in The Champions League. This was the dream draw, it couldn’t have been any better. After being pitted against the likes of Bayern Munich and Barcelona at the same stage in previous seasons; Monaco’s name popping out of the hat seemed like a divine gift from the immortals. The stars had aligned; we were finally destined to return to the latter stages of Europe’s premier club competition. Think again. Divine omen? More like a Godly slap in the face. Despite a rich vein of form suffering just 1 defeat in 17 games, Wenger’s men somehow managed to lose and lose terribly at that, slumping to a 3-1 defeat in one of the worst Arsenal displays in recent memory. Once a heartbreaker, always a heartbreaker.
The FA Cup however, seems to bring out Arsenal’s romantic side. The last two years in the competition have been the equivalent of candle lit dinners as opposed to lonely evenings spent crying alone. Once again, Arsenal have battled through to the final round of the oldest cup competition in world football and once again, we find ourselves confronted with opposition from the lower rungs of the Premier League; this time in the shape of Tim Sherwood’s Aston Villa. Don’t let their 17th place finish fool you, the villains have all the tools to trouble Arsenal. Since Sherwood took the reins at Villa Park in February he’s turned the side into an industrious attacking team, with the likes of Fabian Delph and Jake Grealish putting in hard working midfield displays whilst Belgian target man Christian Benteke is back to his monstrous best. They spoiled what could have potentially been an epic Steven Gerrard cup final birthday bash and are more than capable of another giant killing.
The FA Cup however, seems to bring out Arsenal’s romantic side. The last two years in the competition have been the equivalent of candle lit dinners as opposed to lonely evenings spent crying alone
No matter what happens tomorrow, you can bet your house on Arsenal fans around the world holding their breath, nervously pacing up and down their living rooms, bars or wherever else and suffering immensely at one point or the other, be it before or during the game- most likely both. This is a love that harms, an affection that hurts. So I finish with one final plea: Arsenal if thou dost love me as much as I love you, do me favour and win the damn thing.
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