By Celine Dion
November 6 2011
As I remarked to Boris in the run up to the game, I love this time of year. The first icy fingers of Winter lightly stroke the backs of our necks, you go into the ground in daylight but the floodlights come on at half time, and when you leave and shuffle along in the queue for the tube, in semi darkness. With the smell of cigarettes and horse manure rich in your nostrils, hearing snatches of conversation about the game, and about the other results, it transports you straight back to your childhood.
That said, I wasn’t in a particularly football-y mood in the run up to this game. Very unusually, on Friday night I took Mrs Celine Dion out for a few drinks, and while she consumed her body weight in white wine spritzers, and talked about how I should stop going to football and buy her a new house, I admit I might have drunk one or two too many pints of Stella Artois whilst her words drifted over my head and out of the pub window.
Hence when I woke up Saturday morning, I had a strong inclination to stay in bed all day and not do anything at all. Secondly, months ago now, I purchased two seats for this game, expecting one of my mates to come along, and when he blew me out, I couldn’t interest anyone else in an afternoon at the football. This has never happened before. I stopped short of offering it on Twitter, in case my companion for the afternoon proved themselves to be an axe-murderer with Arsenal badges all over their 1970s anorak. I toyed with the idea of taking Celine Dion junior to his first game, but remembering advice from some Arsenal fans with kids of a similar age, I elected to leave him at home in front of ‘Fantastic Mr Fox’
So it was a solitary visit to the Arsenal, but one that I thoroughly enjoyed in the end. I revisited my pre-match routine from years back, and ate lunch at Wong-Kei’s restaurant in Leicester Square. For those in the know, Wong-Kei’s offers the best value Chinese food in London. It is also highly unusual for Arsenal to lose a game when I have enjoyed a steaming plate of assorted meat fried noodles beforehand.
Since I started going there at the age of 15, I have only ever eaten this one dish, and I have seen it ebb and flow in terms of quality. Today was a poorer effort, with the accent on liver, squid and fish balls, with no slices of duck or pork, but it was still a marvellous meal. So, despite an uncomfortable moment when I flicked a chilli flake into my eye, I continued on my journey to Arsenal full of delicious food and looking forward to the afternoon ahead.
I enjoy incongruous scenes at Football, and today’s’ most incongruous scene was a small collection of extremely well oiled Glasgow Rangers fans in the Clock End concourse laying into a hearty rendition of ‘Theres’ no team like the Glasgow Rangers’. I have no idea what bought them to our football club today, or what the rest of the day held for them, but I did not see them again.
I ventured out into my seats. That’s the plural. There is something glorious about having two seats, almost worth the £75. Sometimes I curled my arm around the back of the spare one, as if I were reclining in my sofa at home, watching a film. Other times I spread my legs into the space to the side of me, like a millionaire. Sometimes, I sat in both of them at the same time. I might do this again, I thought.
I have no idea why, but the Clock End lower was fantastic, and so were the team, in their way. Much like my plate of assorted meat fried noodles; the quality of Arsenals team has dropped in line with economy. But that clearly doesn’t stop people enjoying it. The Arsenal team of nowadays is efficient, like a washing machine. Perhaps one made by our washing machine corporate partners Indesit. It’s not going to jump off its moorings and clean the kitchen or make a cup of tea. But it will do an increasingly good job of washing the clothes.
It gets the ball wide, to Gervinho or Walcott, or perhaps one of the full backs, and the ball comes back into the box again, and we see what happens from there. OK there isn’t a Nasri or Fabregas to dazzle us with their imagination through the middle, but let’s remember that the supposedly better team from last year was dismantled by West Brom in half an hour, who raced to a 3-0 lead. Nothing like that happened today, or ever looked like happening.
With Vermaelen and Koscielny imperious at the back, and the much improved Santos and Jenkinson plying their trade in the wide areas, this is the defence we needed two years ago. The wide defenders like crossing as well, although the rest of the team hasn’t seen this before, and doesn’t know what to do yet when it happens. Generally speaking, as long as Van Persie stays fit, this team will carve out a selection of chances, in rather a predictable manner, and put some of them away.
As if to illustrate, the game, without ever being electric, spawned some decent opportunities from wide areas, and indeed we put two of them away before half time. First of all, the much maligned Theo Walcott cut in on the end of a tantalising long pass, had his shot, and the ball was spilled into Robin Van Persies’ grateful path. Not the best goal Robin will ever score, but the crowd lapped it up.
The Second, and a raking ball found a man left over at the far post. Unfortunately for West Brom that man was Robin Van Persie - he purposefully cut the ball back into the box, it skimmed fortuitously off Gervinhos’ heel, and Vermaelen smashed the ball into the net for an immensely popular goal.
All through the first half, the Clock End Lower had been running through the full repertoire of Arsenal songs, louder and prouder than usual. A gentleman behind me in row 27, unassuming in appearance, but mighty in voice, was on a one man mission to bring credibility back to Arsenal home fans once again. Whenever there was a silence, he filled it. Some chaps to my right, despite not having English as their first language, still implored the crowd to ‘stand up if you hate Tottenham’. And the crowd did stand up, because we do hate Tottenham. For the first time in a while, the Clock End lower did not shift uncomfortably in their seats, whilst the away fans contemptuously out-sung them.
Against the backdrop of empty places, the Emirates support is losing its hangers-on. Not once did I see a collection of tourists confounded by the card entry system. Nor did I stumble across anyone intent on filming irrelevant portions of the first half on an expensive Sony Hand-cam. At no stage in either half did I hear the rustling of Mr Kiplings’ wrappers. Just a collection of wholehearted supporters enjoying a day out in support of a decent but fallible team. Like going to the Arsenal was years ago, in fact.
Third Goal
The second half might have been a slight anti climax. The gentleman behind me had lost his voice, although we still enjoyed a hearty high five when Arteta sidefoooted home his third. My first reaction was that it was an ordinary goal. But that’s just my preconception talking. When you watch it on match of the day, you realise that if Fabregas and Nasri had been in place of Grandma and Mikel, everybody would be writing into ‘The Guardian’ about it.
It’s quite unusual for an Arsenal team to win a game nowadays without any doubt or dubiousness, but today was that day. West Brom, a pale shadow of last years team, had a half-hearted goalscoring effort. ‘You’ve only had one shot’ We sang gleefully. They tentatively had another. Showing gregarious humour and wit, we changed it to ‘You’ve only had two shots...’
The referee sounded his final whistle. I stayed to clap the team, Chesney turned to acknowledge the support, an increasing crowd favourite. We walked out into the darkness, into the smoke and burger fumes. Someone put round a rumour that United had lost 2-1 at home, but the day wasn’t going to get that good. I stopped at Liverpool Street Station for a beer and a discussion with some random gentlemen about shop fitting. I saw a final incongruous sight. Some kind of student, dressed in a full spiderman suit, including mask, was attempting to urinate from a costume that had clearly not allowed for the necessity. Everyone else in the toilets laughed, it was that kind of day. A day that I fell a little bit back in love with the Arsenal again....
Quote:Padre Pio
players like Arteta, TV, Santos are pros, they know they should deliver, could you imagine Moyes putting up with the likes of Denilson and Nasr.
They might not be stylish but they are honest players.
Wenger thought he was creating the master race in his little creche, but it was the village of the dammed
you were Right there.. no flair just very basic & functional..sometimes it seems as though i'm watching another club playing entirely till you see wenger & realize its arsenal mark what??(question for merlion96)
Quote:Padre Pio
players like Arteta, TV, Santos are pros, they know they should deliver, could you imagine Moyes putting up with the likes of Denilson and Nasr.
They might not be stylish but they are honest players.
Wenger thought he was creating the master race in his little creche, but it was the village of the dammed

Quote:Ares
Re Third Goal
"and instantly there dropped from his eyes what seemed like scales, and he could see once more"

Quote:Thats the real celine 4 u.Shane1988
Great read mate.
I prefer the optimistic, light-hearted Celine Dion.
Quote:De TimesQuote:Thats the real celine 4 u.Shane1988
Great read mate.
I prefer the optimistic, light-hearted Celine Dion.
After a while I just started acting as his wing man, trying to get chants started!!
Quote:Celine Dion
I toyed with the idea of taking Celine Dion junior to his first game, but remembering advice from some Arsenal fans with kids of a similar age, I elected to leave him at home in front of ‘Fantastic Mr Fox’
Quote:Padre Pio
They get bored at 4, even at 6 they can lose concentration

