Andrew Cohen
Central to the debate between AMGs (Arsène MUST at all costs and as soon as possible GO) and AKBs (Arsène knows just how to please me in bed) is a question of faith. One set has no faith and the other total faith - both of them often in spite of the evidence. So here is some evidence.
In 1982 or thereabouts, Arsenal still had two of their three great Irish players. Liam Brady had gone to get some medals, realising that Arsenal would never reach greatness under Terry Neill, especially with Liverpool dominating the league for the foreseeable future. It was a reasonable decision for the most gifted player of his generation. He had the decency to go to Juventus to further his career. We were sad but resigned to it.
Shortly thereafter, one Frank Stapleton decided to go. Frank was not, unlike Brady, a genius, but was a very good player and a very competent striker. To the fury of the fans, he chose to go to Manchester United, and was duly rewarded with some cup-winners medals. But he had shown disloyalty to the club that had picked him off the plane from Ireland and made him an international.
In addition to the pain of betrayal, there was the realisation that Arsenal would again sink into the slough of the second-rate within the top flight. And so it was, until George Graham came along, who Bertram Mee-like, threw out the fancy dans and wasters and restored our self-respect. Drilling the defence every day, the fortress became impregnable and the midfield never went to work without an orthodox destroyer in place.
David O'Leary, who had remained loyal, had his reward under Graham. George himself ran out of ideas and was dismissed by the Board under the excuse of the unauthorised-commission saga.
In came Mr Wenger. Building upon the inherited foundation of solid defence, he placed two French colossi in midfield in the form of P. Vieira and E Petit. Whatever attacking options he promulgated, the strategy of necessity contained a recognition that, in England, you have to have a solid defence and the ability to win the ball in midfield.
We won a lot of stuff and saw football that we never believed we should see our team play. We went unbeaten in a season. We went to the European Cup Final.
All empires end. There are no exceptions: Rome, the Mongols, Spain, Britain, Woolworths and, in due course, America and Tesco. Rome fell disastrously and left a legacy of great architecture and gladiator films. Spain behaved appallingly and remains residually hated to this day. Britain ran out of money, gave in - for the most part gracefully - and we all still play cricket with each other.
And so we come to Mr Wenger's empire. I had feared that, by the time he was sacked or resigned, we would be relegated to the position in which he found us in 1997: UEFA cup material. I was wrong. The departure of Robin van Persie to Manchester United shows that we are, in fact, back in 1982. That which George Graham built has been destroyed.
We do not have as much ambition as the second-best team in England. To be sure, RvP will be getting more money, but not that much more. At United he has hope. At our end we have none.
Now, it is true that my chagrin is part of a general falling out of love with football which has nothing expressly due to Mr Wenger. He loves not the Oligarchs or the Oil Sheikhs. He certainly doesn't like agents. But, you see, I would like there to be a recognition that a strong defence and a muscular midfield are essential in England. No team wins the title without it. Again, there are no exceptions. And with Arsène, who is (apparently) about to sell his only defensive midfielder to Barcelona, we are never going to have what we need to win - because he doesn't believe in it.
I wish RvP all the best, and thank him for having the guts to break the omerta that the Wenger myth depends upon. But I'm stopping all of the AKBs from adoring their pictures of the Chef D'Equipe, and, before they say so, I wish they would go there, because the club who want to play the beautiful game but can't keep a clean sheet have played in lilywhite and blue since 1961. The AKB's natural home is White Hart Lane, a club without a hope in Hades of collecting the title.
