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Allow me to outline how my relationship with Arsenal began - perhaps this will help you to understand how painful it is to make this confession. Like most young boys, I inherited my love of Arsenal from my father who has been an avid Arsenal fan since he was a boy. He was brought up in deepest North London, and would deliver newspapers to some of the Arsenal (and Spurs) players who lived nearby. Younger fans might be forgiven for thinking that my father's family lived in a mansion in the stockbroker belt - in fact, it was a respectable upper working class area, it's just that 40 years ago most footballers were not millionaires, and lived in normal houses, which might be quite difficult to imagine nowadays. When I first started going to games I would use money from my weekly paper round - topped up with a couple of quid from my mum - which was enough to get me a tube ticket from the sticks of West London to the heart of the capital, Highbury, a ticket to stand on the North Bank, a burger and a programme, and still have enough to get myself a sausage and chips from the chippy on the corner after the game, eaten on the slow walk to Finsbury Park to avoid the crush at Arsenal.
At first I would go to games with my dad - my first game was in '83 when we lost 2-0 at home to a great Liverpool side, and from that moment I was hooked. Remember that scene from Fever Pitch where the boy has his first sight of the immaculate Highbury pitch - that happened to me, except that my first sight of Heaven came at the top of the concrete steps leading up to the North Bank. I soon grew out of going with my dad (I would grow back into it once my teenage years had passed), and by 13 I was going to Highbury for every home game with my mate John, a QPR fan, who would drag me to Loftus Road the other weekends. Although Rangers had a great little side then, playing attractive, attacking football, the highlight of the latter games for me would be the halftime and fulltime scores when I could find out how Arsenal were doing.
We would always get to Highbury very early and pop into the Arsenal shop, a tiny room in the shadow the East stand, managed at the time by ex-Arsenal goalkeeper Jack Kelsey. If I could afford to I would buy a photo of a player for my collection - I even had one of Gus Ceasar, that's how serious I was. In this Alladin's Cave you could find all manner of treasures, archaic badges, old programmes, unusual scarves and hats. (In contrast, I've been to the Arsenal World shop a couple of times and couldn't find a thing to buy - not even a signed photo of Stepanovs managed to tempt me to part with my money.) We were often on the terraces two and a half hours before kick-off, saving our favourite spot, admiring the pristine pitch, watching the ground fill up. The anticipation would be almost unbearable, and we released the tension by singing songs for each and every player as they warmed up, and even songs for the ground staff as they fiddled about with the pitch. These terraces were where I grew up, discovered the meaning of independence, of passion, and became aware of the amazing variety of the human race.
As far as I can see this is all gone now. Football has gradually, and inevitably, come to mean less and less to me. This may simply be due to the fact that other things in my life have increased in importance - the pressures of holding down a job, a long-term relationship, the arrival of a baby daughter to name but a few of my grown-up priorities - but deep down I believe that football has changed far more than I have. It has been thoroughly ruined, fattened up like a pig for slaughter by heartless bastards in suits and roll-neck sweaters, lounging in the executive boxes and sipping champagne with their backs to the pitch. Because of them, your club - my club - has become a company, a business first and last and everywhere in between. The football club that I loved no longer exists. Instead, we are simply customers of a corporation to whose brand we are expected to be intensely and unquestioningly loyal, a company which produces sports fashion and equipment and other merchandise promoted by staging football matches twice a week.
The amazing thing is not how far things have progressed and how much we have achieved, but how much we have lost. What is the role of sport in all this, where is there room for fun? By allowing the football club to become a football business, we have allowed ourselves to be robbed of a reason to support the team. But the men in suits want it both ways - they expect the club to fulfil its obligation of generating cash, which is its purpose as a company, yet they still expect people to feel the same emotional attachment as before. I do not own BP shares, but if I did it would be for the sole purpose of making a profit from them. BP does not expect its shareholders to love the company, nor does it expect anyone without a financial interest in its success to give a damn about its stock-market performance. So why do those that own football clubs feel that they have a right to demand love and support from their customers? Why do they feel free to ask their customers to pay exponentially more for season tickets and merchandise whilst money from the sale of star players disappears into their pockets? They make vast amounts of money from your obsession - some might say addiction - yet have no understanding of how the football club fits into your life, how much the performance of the team can effect your mood, how much even the smallest of successes means to you . We should feel incredibly insulted by this, yet are unable to criticise what has happened to our clubs without the risk of being labelled ‘disloyal' or ‘regressive'.
When I was younger, my reason to want Arsenal to win was simple - as a lone Gooner in a school full of Spurs, Liverpool and Man U fans (no Chelsea fans in those days, unsurprising since they were in the old 2nd Division), an Arsenal defeat just meant a Monday full of sly digs and insults from all directions. In fact, to declare yourself an Arsenal fan in the early 80's was to guarantee a good beating - physically or verbally - most Monday mornings, and would nowadays get you on a social services register as a sure-fire early sign of childhood mental disorder. God knows I endured my fair share of pain - the names of York City, Walsall, Wrexham and so many more will mean as much to any other Arsenal fan of a similar age. But today - aside from Arsenal being roughly five million times more successful, more popular and more acceptable - I no longer have to communicate with those mean eight year olds any longer, and am thankfully employed in an environment where an Arsenal defeat does not lead to a day of ducking behind desks and hiding in the toilets in shame. Football has moved down the list of priorities for most of my peer group, but for me it fell right off the end, replaced by the need to keep my cholesterol level down and keep my corns under control.
The truth is that, as the rose-tinted glasses slipped from the end of my nose and I saw the business in its true light, I can now hardly watch a game without becoming apoplectic with rage. Exactly when and how did cheating, faking and diving become acceptable and so common as to hardly warrant a passing comment? When did the laws of the game change to allow the constant haranguing of officials and other players? Why wasn't this behaviour squeezed out of the game the moment it appeared? Did no-one notice, or did no-one care? Of course, players trying to ‘win' penalties is nothing new (although ‘win' implies an element of sport, doesn't it?), but certain players are now under the impression that they are free to create a penalty without any help from the opposition. Penalties used to be played for by taking advantage of defensive lapses, going down under a sloppy, mistimed challenge (Jeffers and Owen still practice this ancient art), but nowadays players can trip over their own heels and get the decision (stand up van Nistelrooy, if you can). Naturally, people will try to justify this behaviour: “It's not the players' fault, it's the referee's - it's him who makes the decisions not the players, and if he gives a penalty then it's down to him”. Well, if you believe that football is now entirely a business, where this kind of sneaky rule-breaking is acceptable as long as you aren't caught, then fine, but if you believe that football should retain at least some element of sportsmanship and fair-play then this is plainly wrong. The referee must act under the implicit assumption that players try to play within the rules, and his role is to decide the punishment when rules are inadvertently broken. This patently no longer applies. The problem is that to be shown to cheat does not negate the result of the game, as it might in horse racing for example. The natural step would be to change the rules so that incidents could be reviewed during (or even after) a game, and the decision (or even the result) changed. But to me this still would not answer the question, what happened to the sport of football?
Ah, I hear you cry, this might be true of European football but not British football. Sorry, wrong again, and increasingly so. Yes, European football makes me sick (more specifically, Italian football) with its gamesmanship, its blatant and constant conniving and cheating, devoid of any redeeming feature except the odd spectacular goal, and almost makes me think that British football is not so bad after all. However, we are not as far away from that nightmare as we would like to think, and we are drifting inexorably closer. The reason is that it has been decided that for Arsenal to have to play Wolves, Southampton and Middlesbrough is not enough for a team of our pedigree, and instead we are encouraged to think that Barcelona, Juventus and Real are our true rivals, not Spurs, West Ham or Watford. Europe is where the challenge is, we are constantly told. In fact, Europe is simply where the money is, for our club to sell its product to TV networks. Please ask yourself, what is in it for the Arsenal fan, and compare this to the obvious benefits to the corporation and the European teams who do not have the strength in depth throughout a well-established league system. Look through your football history books and you will see that English football existed perfectly well for over a century without the Champions League to distract its top clubs, and the fans that followed their teams around the country, to Burnley, Preston and Norwich, were every bit as passionate as today's fans, if not more so. Playing in Europe was once an exciting bonus for the team that won the League or the FA Cup. Nowadays, with business plans built around qualification for the Champions League 2nd stage for the foreseeable future, there is no bonus, no exciting adventure into the unknown, just progress or failure. To not qualify for the Champions League 2nd phase is a financial disaster, manifested in the consequential loss of valuable advertising space to a rival company. Win, or bust. That is the gamble that has been taken with your football club. Where on earth has the romance gone?
Perhaps you might still be under the impression that it is not Arsenal that I have fallen out of love with but modern football in general, and more specifically the influence of those faceless businessmen who have hijacked the beautiful game and started to milk it dry. Well, yes, and no. Football, the thing that once meant so much to me, has gone bad, for me there's no doubt about this, but what really hurts is that Arsenal are very much a part of this process, they have participated in a small way, and although they are probably one of the least worst offenders, rather than make a stand they have followed the crowd. To make a stand might lose them money, therefore putting them at a disadvantage to Manchester United. Remember that the way we feel about United - that they abuse their position of power to protect their financial interests, manipulating governing bodies in big and small ways to ensure that they remain at the top, getting away with behaviour that no other team would - well, that's how most teams view Arsenal, and they are absolutely right. Arsenal is now a business first and last, nothing else is allowed to encroach upon this. Arsenal must maintain and increase market share, turnover and profit, must expand and develop its brand, and must push for survival at the expense of all rivals. Make no mistake, it is already happening - apart from the obvious rivals, Arsenal have a vested interest in the destruction of Orient, Barnet and Brentford, since these teams detract from our market share and reduce our profit. To buy one of Watford's players would be to give money which might ensure their survival, therefore slowing our development. Their current fans are our future market just as much as the Japanese and Americans, and the sooner these small clubs fold the better for Arsenal. Has it not occurred to you how it can be that teams from the lower divisions can be going to the wall for the sake of a few hundred thousand pounds when the likes of Leeds can afford to spend that on terrapins for the Chinese fountain in the cleaning lady's penthouse flat. The amount of money swilling around in English football is obscene, yet the rules of business disallow, say, Arsenal bailing out a third division team, since there's no immediate profit in it for us. So English football is severed at its roots, and the only alternative for the few survivors is to compete in the murky world of European football. Business wins, football loses.
The bottom line is that the spark - and the sport - has gone from the beautiful game. It hurts me to admit that my love affair is over, because I am well aware that Arsenal FC are now at their peak, they have never had a team of players as good as this one. Just say the names Henry, Bergkamp, Pires, Vieira and hear fans of other teams weep. I believe that, with their move to a posh new stadium, Arsenal may be on the verge of moving up into the very top tier of world football, alongside the likes of Real and Juventus, but perhaps herein lies the root of my problem with modern football. There is no doubt that Arsenal are taking a risk in moving, severing an essential link with their history and becoming completely reliant on high finance, projected cash flows and marketing opportunities. Make no mistake, there will be no second chances if things do not go to plan - high finance will not give a damn about the thousands of people who care about the club but have no financial interest, and no account will be taken of the supporters' views or of the glittering history of our club. If this project - perhaps we should say experiment - does not run smoothly, then there will be no talk of ‘loyalty', the plug will just be pulled. And even if the ground is built, has anyone thought what will happen when the bubble bursts - when the cash cow dries up - and Arsenal are left playing in a half-empty stadium that doesn't belong to them?
However, my disenchantment runs even deeper than the fact that the soul of football has been sold to the devil. Allow me to give my opinion on a matter that has vexed us all this summer and will no doubt rear its ugly head again next summer. Patrick Vieira is undoubtedly one of the best players ever to wear an Arsenal shirt, and the man who was chosen to take over the Captain's armband from Tony Adams, a great man constructed in the image of Arsenal. Vieira's importance to the rhythm and balance of the team cannot be overestimated. However, deep down Vieira does not have the feeling for the club that even the most casual fan has. To him, Arsenal is an employer, albeit one that he would acknowledge has been very good to him, and he does not hide the fact that a better offer from a bigger club will see him go. I know, some will justify it by saying, “Well, that's life, if I was offered more money to leave my company then I would go”. Absolutely right, and so would I, but this is just confirmation of my suspicions that football today is only business, with no trace of sport left. Why would Vieira play for Arsenal for £60K a week when he could play for Chelsea for £120K a week? Why would he stay at Arsenal and compete in the Champions League when he could play for Real Madrid and have a much better chance of winning (and receiving the substantial financial reward)? The answer to these questions used to be ‘loyalty', ‘sportsmanship' and ‘for the challenge', but today there is no answer. Of course he must be allowed to go, and we must wish him well. But think about the numbers: £60k a week means that, if Vieira were to stay at Arsenal for the rest of his career, he would get paid something in the region of £30million, much more if we take into account bonuses and sponsorship. How can any reasonable person think that he's losing out by staying at Arsenal? To sacrifice the opportunity to make more money is not the same as losing money. Greed is the only reason he will leave, his greed and others' greed. Make no mistake, he will leave, and it will be because his agent and those with a vested interest in his transfer will convince him to leave. The hardest fact to bear is that some of those with a vested interest in Arsenal selling their best player are ‘Arsenal people'. Why do you think this story comes round with such regularity? Because Arsenal want it to, they want their players to be seen to be desirable, to increase their price when they finally do leave. There is no justification in a business holding an asset whose market value rises above its true value, and so his eventual sale is almost inevitable.
So what happens to someone like me, a lapsed Gooner, who has lost the love of their life? Well, they just get over it and start again. Personally, I'm going back to real football, to the non-league game. I live five minutes from Molesey FC, and I think that they deserve my support. Thankfully it will be a good few years before they are fighting off illegal approaches from Real Madrid, or before their players are having clandestine dinners with the manager of Manchester United, and for this I am happy. Perhaps I'll be lucky enough to watch the development of the next Owen, Ronaldo or Zidane, and if so then deep down I will be hoping that they end up making their fortunes at Arsenal. I may even settle for seeing the next Neil Shipperley, Andrew Impey or Kevin Gallen, as long as they play the game in the right manner. I might even get my grinning mug on Football Focus on FA Cup 3rd Round day, celebrating our 2nd Round win over Godalming & Guildford. Maybe I'll find out what it's like to win promotion - I can already feel that big shots of the Ryman Premier League quaking in their boots.
Despite finding happiness in another's arms, and hopefully going some way to justifying my reasons for leaving, I am prepared for a negative reaction. I am well aware that there is a deep-seated belief that a team is for life, and five years ago I would have been the first to agree. I have often berated those who change their allegiances with the breezes of fashion. However, I firmly maintain that my case is different: Arsenal left me, and I am not choosing another team but rather another sport entirely, real football, as far from the cashflows and balance sheets of professional football as I can get. So, thanks for the sweet, sweet memories (Anfield 89, Copenhagen 94, Wembley 98), but I refuse to be a consumer, and I refuse to be treated like a brainless addict. I am a football fan, after all.
Paul Holtom
pavlos@nme.com