UF’s Rivalries Series: Chelsea v. Arsenal

Ahh, The Heady Days of War

We tried this feature way back in March/April of 2008, when we were still finding our feet and figuring out how to construct complete sentences. For those of you not familiar, we brought in a few hardcore fans of teams that have major rivalries, and gave them the forum to wax lyrical about the depths and intricacies of their hatred for their rival teams.

This was one of my personal favourites, and on the eve of a pivotal EPL game between Chelsea and Arsenal, it only seemed right to bring it out of the archives. Not only did The NY Kid pen some thoughts about the Blues for this evening too, but I thought Autoglass’ timeless rant on the American Arsenal fan was prime for an encore.

Enjoy. Or not, if you’re of the Gunners persuasion.

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First, I f**king hate Arsenal. I could, and have, gone on a tear ripping these prancing, preening, Euro-hairgel-jobs and their arrogant manager. I could point out the fact that they shrink from any sort of physical play like a bunch of schoolgirls alarmed that one could actually get hurt in gym class.

We could discuss Arsenal’s inimitable “20 beautiful, breathtaking six-yard passes and a boot over the bar” style. I could spend 1,000+ words on Arsene Wenger alone, about his scorn for the very English game that has provided him with his rare real successes. Or maybe, about the fact that various managers in England have their disputes with individual managers, but that every single one of them hate that arrogant Gallic pedophile at the Emirates.

But I’m not going to do that. That is for my endless private email flame wars with my mates.

I thought I’d dig a little more deeply into why “the” Arsenal are so loathsome (aside from the fact that they insist on calling themselves “the” Arsenal.). Some self-examination, if you will.

Arsenal are going through their annual late winter run of difficult form. With a tough run of fixtures against Aston Villa, Manchester United, Chelsea, and Liverpool, they’ve drawn one and suffered a demoralizing defeat with arguably the hardest game to come this weekend. This happens every year. Yet, these results are hardly noted in the football world. While the press and the great mass of supporters natter on and on about other sides’ stumbles, Arsenal get a pass.

Yet, another year goes by and Arsenal, somewhat quietly, crash out of every competition and add nothing to their trophy cabinet and meanwhile, crisis ensues at Liverpool, or Chelsea, or Spurs, or even United. “We aren’t winning enough! What will we do?”

But we hear no gnashing of teeth from the Emirates. Gooners may be sad for a bit when they crash out of three competitions in a fortnight yet again, but they quickly bounce back to their arrogant selves.

This is because Arsenal are not about winning. This is because, at the Emirates, if Arsenal aren’t winning, it’s the game’s problem. If Arsenal do not win something, it is because that competition (most notably an English competition) does not recognize and reward beautiful football. It cannot be Arsenal’s problem. Let me explain.

I’m a Yank. I live in the States. I’ve been supporting Chelsea for 20 years (the why of that is another posting). In my time, I’ve noticed that a certain kind of Yank becomes an Arsenal supporter. Metrosexual media types. Urbane attorneys. Artistic poseurs. Types who make a statement about themselves with every choice that they make.

They select a fashionable side who have been somewhat successful but who reflect their own personal style, their refined tastes, their inflated self image. A side that says something about them. They seek to support a side who do things “better” than everyone else, a team who plays the game the “beautiful” way. These are people who listen to obscure jazz and are happiest when discussing an artist of whom you’ve never heard.

These types don’t love football as the game is actually played. The game as actually played is physical. It requires grit and steel. It’s tactical. Success requires overcoming attrition and hard tackles and opponents who take your measure, look you in the eye, dig deep and find the strength and discipline to keep to a plan and beat you.

In real football, the best side does not always win. But the sides that win over time are sides of character, steel, heart, and courage. Sides that play the way necessary to win a given match. Sides that don’t place their own self regard, and an extra step-over, above a result.

Arsenal and their supporters have no time for this. They count passes. They sing of the poetry of movement and flow. They want young, callow players who will “express” themselves on the pitch. They glory in possession and having the run of play. They are different, you see. You, the Chelsea or Liverpool supporter, are but an ignoramus. Sad, really, that you do not understand how beautiful football can be. Much like you could never possibly understand the sublime music of Warne Marsh.

So, Arsenal go to Wigan or some such. Wigan play defensively. They know they will lose if they play Arsenal’s preferred style. They don’t give a toss if Wenger finds them to be negative. The game progresses. Arsenal are the better side. But Wigan’s pitch is not perfect, and the Wigan players tackle aggressively. As the match progresses, the Wigan players (who, of course, hate Arsenal) dig deeper with each passing minute. Wigan have the gall to deny Arsenal space for their brilliance. Perhaps a leg is broken (sorry, I couldn’t resist).

When the smoke clears, one of two things happens.

If Arsenal prevail, Arsene Wenger and the London media (who provide him with daily reach-arounds) glory in Arsenal’s style and quality. Arsene will be sure to point out that he “rescued” his boys from obscurity and paid little for their services. The Yank support will turn off the telly and will put on some complicated jazz, pour a glass of Montrachet, and smugly congratulate themselves that, sometimes, style and fashion and a certain class of creativity are proven to be better than common sweat and toil. Much like how it is down at work: the cream always rises.

If Arsenal are held, Arsene will complain about the pitch, or the negative Wigan tactics, the officials, or the fact that everyone wants to “kick” Arsenal. He’ll never concede to being beaten or held. Arsenal are never beaten, nor are they every truly matched. If Wigan held Arsenal, then this is evidence of an imperfect sport. Such a result could not possibly bother us. Meanwhile, our Yank Gooner turns off the telly, briefly curses what an ugly match it was, wonders if football is too “base” for him, and perhaps doesn’t tune in again for a match until he reads of Arsenal returning to form.

Arsenal will crash out of the Prem and the Champions League in the coming weeks. This will be their third successive season winning nothing. But be patient with your Gooner friends, they are watching a different game than you. A game of flow and beauty. A game that you could not possibly understand.

Let them natter on for a while.

Then tell them that Warne Marsh sucked.