Tom Martin
As we approach the first anniversary of the London riots, there will inevitably be loads of columns in the press and in blogs reflecting on the causes, catalysts and consequences of last year's looting. Opinion will be split, with some saying that spending three years at Her Majesty's pleasure for looting a bag of value rice from Hackney Tesco or a couple of hair-straighteners from Boots is too soft a sentence, and some will say that the riots were the result of government cuts and lack of opportunity and that it was only a matter of time before something like this happened.
As some people will be reflecting on their own memories of events, I'd like to do the same. As most of you don't know, my birthday is on the 9th of August, meaning that not only do I share a birthday with the likes of Joe Mercer, Whitney Houston, Audrey Tatou, John Key (the New Zealand PM), Roy Hodgson, Filippo Inzaghi and, sadly, Mikael Silvestre (possibly the most insulting signing Wenger has ever made) but my birthday last year was postponed because of the pseudo-Biblical, end-of-days vibe that was going down in London. But thanks to a certain Ray Parlour, I didn't mind as much.
Those of you who know me will know that Ray Parlour is one of my favourite ever players to don the red and white, and I still believe to this day that Wenger got rid of him too soon. I loved the fact that, whilst he wasn't as good as some of his team-mates, he would give everything for the cause and from time to time he would have his moment in the sun. Then there were incidents like letting loose a fire-extinguisher on a load of Spurs fans in Pizza Hut, a moment that would make a cult hero out of anyone playing for Arsenal. But the efforts he consistently made on the pitch were what cemented his position as a club legend in my book.
Yes, maybe his distribution was a little wayward from time to time, but he would at least try and win the ball back when he gave it away, and I can forgive a player’s flaws if I can see that he’s making the effort. I remember being disgusted when I heard fans booing him on occasion, and I hope those so-called fans hang their heads in shame, as they made me more ashamed of being a Gooner than fans who regularly leave the ground with 15 minutes to go and the knowledge that I support the same team as the slimy toad known as Piers Morgan.
So where does the Romford Pele fit in when it comes to my experience of the riots/27th birthday, I hear you ask? Well, I'm about to tell you. With all the medals he won in his career, combined with that cheeky Essex wit, Ray tops up his income on the motivational speaking circuit. And, around the time that the riots kicked off / a day or two before my birthday, he ended up giving a talk at my friend Mel's workplace. Mel's not really a football kind of girl, but she did know I'm an Arsenal fan, so she texted me saying that Ray was giving a talk and were there any messages I wanted to pass on. I merely texted back saying to tell him I think he's a legend and carried on with my day at work. Twenty minutes later, Mel calls my phone saying she has someone on the line who wants to wish me a happy birthday.
Lo and behold, who else could it be but possibly Arsenal's greatest cult hero of the Wenger era? 'Oh my god, Ray is that you?' I answered. 'Yep, it's me, Ray Parlour, happy birthday Tom.' He went on to ask me if I had anything planned for my 27th birthday. I asked him what he did for his 27th birthday and apparently it involved taking Marc Overmars and a few other foreign team-mates to the Romford Social Club, as they were yet to experience the joys that the jewel in the London Borough of Havering's crown had to offer. I ended up talking on the phone to him for a good ten or fifteen minutes, picking his brains and listening to all his anecdotes and stories involving that goal against Chelsea in the FA Cup final (in your face Lovejoy!), the two hat-tricks he scored, captaining the side that destroyed Inter in their own back yard, the Invincibles year and, of course, drenching the Spurs fans in Pizza Hut.
I also mentioned that I had met him briefly in the flesh back in 1994 before a Wimbledon game at Selhurst Park, where he and a few others signed my programme, but that I wouldn't be overly offended if he didn't remember me. The conversation concluded with me thanking him for all the effort he consistently put in over the years, how it was a shame he left when he did (I thought he easily had a year or two left in him) and that he deserved his place on the legends mural that adorns the Emirates. Thanking him felt a bit like that moment in the film Dodgeball when Vince Vaughan thanks Chuck Norris during his little cameo near the end. And like Chuck, Ray deserves his own internet meme, especially if Phil Neville got one for tackling Gareth Bale a couple of times. When Ray Parlour does a press-up, he doesn't push himself up, he pushes the earth down...
On a serious note, when I spoke to him, Ray was funny, charming, down-to-earth and very considerate. He could have made his excuses, but he took the time to have a good old chinwag with me for ten to fifteen minutes even though he wasn't obliged to. At one point Mel said he wandered off with her phone as we were so deep in conversation.
At the aforementioned Wimbledon game back in '94, what I really wanted was to get Ian Wright's autograph, and at one point I thought I might get it. I was in the family enclosure by the tunnel where the players came out, and so both sets of young fans (I was ten at the time) were getting autographs from Wimbledon and Arsenal players. Having got the squiggles of the Romford Pele, Alan Smith, Lee Dixon, David Seaman and Tony Adams (as well as Vinnie Jones and Hans Segers), we saw Wrighty walk, and both sets of fans were clamouring for his autograph, but, being the considerate soul he was, he merely grunted and ignored us all and it was then I first became familiar with the saying, 'never meet your heroes'. But after chatting to Ray, I realised the saying didn't include talking to them on the phone. So thanks for making my 27th birthday and the riots so memorable, Raymondo; you’re just as much a legend off the pitch as you were on it. And finally, Ray Parlour does not bow to the Queen; the Queen bows to Ray Parlour.
