Tamer Fakahany
I’m suffering.
Me and hundreds of thousands of other Gooners from the environs of Ashburton Grove, to Abuja, Anchorage, Auckland and back.
In my 40th year of supporting the club, nearly twenty of those as a season ticket holder (my cousin Tom carries on the family tradition in my absence) with regular attendance before then, I was transferred to New York from my NW London home in March 2010. A promising push for the title was about to derail, another one has bloodied this April.
I’ve worshipped at the altar of Arsene, but think painting people as the AKB brigade or the AMG faction is simplistic. It’s far more complex than that surely, for me and countless others.
I’ve always thought, and I imagine many have shared this feeling, that the only person suffering more than me at the worst moments is Arsene. He does bleed for the club, but he must either change, and by that be influenced by new assistant coaches, experiment with different tactics and spend... or go upstairs.
I’ve watched very single game live (some surreptitiously, going quietly bonkers, at work) for the past year in this exile and the inevitable pain has been no less hellish to take.
I made it back for one match this season, the debacle at Wembley. Feverish thoughts of flying back for the home game against Manure, a possible title-decider, have been shelved with remorse.
After the Liverpool and Spuds matches, thoughts have been swirling around my head back to the halcyon days, and then to when it all turned to sh*t.
That moment was when Thierry missed the golden chance for 2-0 against Barcelona in the Stade de France in 2006. We were on the cusp of a sixth trophy in five years, but the latest installment of the barren years had actually just been born.
Sitting there with my Gooner comrade in arms Greg - we’ve followed the Arsenal faithfully home and abroad - we knew it was a massive turning point, but I just didn’t know it would lay the basis for the coming five years. It wasn’t Jens getting sent off (thanks for coming back and briefly giving the side some bollocks at the seaside.)
And let's face it, it's been one huge blow after another since that moment:
Three lost finals, four lost semis, four major tilts at the title that all imploded.
0 for 10 in major pushes for silverware.
Transfer window after transfer window of disappointment (Arshavin aside).
Best squad?? Mental strength?? Please don't insult my intelligence and love for the club.
We look like a side that can score at random and concede at anytime.
I’m well aware the board, and particularly the new owner, will continue with Le Boss’ self-sustaining model. Great economics, but diabolical for us supporters.
I just cannot countenance the thought of seeing The Three Amigos - Denilson, Eboue and Diaby (a little less so, all the talent, no heart) - in Arsenal colours again.
When Cesc goes in a few weeks - for no more than £25-30 million - and the money isn’t spent again; and we’re told the squad doesn’t need any major new additions, again, it will be simply too much to bear.
And the cruel heartbreak will continue unabated.
