Bob Bayliss
Ed’s note – For those who feel there is something that needs to change at the club – be it the ownership, the board or the manager – remember that you have an opportunity to make your feelings known at tomorrow’s match by raising a sign that you can print at home on 12 minutes, 78 minutes and at full time. Full details and links to print out a sign can be found here.
I want to take you back to 1971. It was, for one sport-mad ten-year-old boy from Islington, a “very good year”, as Frank Sinatra used to put it. His beloved Arsenal won their first-ever league and cup double, and he actually got to hold the FA Cup at Islington Town Hall during the parade, due to his Dad being on the council. He was the envy of all his school friends the next day when his picture was published in the special souvenir edition of the Evening Standard. He was into cricket, too, and his county, Surrey, won the county championship that year after a long period in the wilderness. And there was one more sporting highlight.
In March of that year, Muhammad Ali fought Joe Frazier for the first time. Both boxers were at the peak of their powers. Most of this boy’s school-mates were Ali fans, natch, but this boy loved Joe Frazier and really wanted him to win. His mates all challenged him to a bet on the outcome, so the boy gulped and asked his Dad what he should do. “Take the bet, I’ll underwrite it” came the response. Dad was vindicated, and the boy came home from school the next day happy and richer.
Three years later, the two fought again, by which time my hero Frazier had been battered by George Foreman and was a shadow of the boxer he had once been. Ali, on the other hand, while he had clearly not been as good as Frazier while both were in their prime, had stood the test of time better. Before the fight the now 13-year-old boy asked his Dad “Shall I see who wants to bet me this time?”. “If you do, you’re on your own, son” came the reply. Thankfully for his pocket he took the hint.
You may be wondering what all this has to do with Arsenal, or with Arsène Wenger. However passionate I now am about wanting him gone, I don’t forget that he was once a great manager. Just as Frazier’s greatest rivalry was with Ali, so Wenger’s was with Alex Ferguson. When both were in their prime, in the late 90s, there was very little to choose between them. If pushed, I’d say that during that halcyon time Wenger was slightly the better of two fantastic managers, and, were it not for Dennis’s missed penalty at Villa Park in the FA Cup semi-final replay, the history books might have reflected that.
But, just like Joe Frazier, Wenger lost his powers far earlier than his great rival did. While Fergie successfully reinvented United so that they continued to be a major force even after the financial doping of Chelsea and Manchester City, Wenger continued to be outpointed, even if his loyal fans would perhaps fairly say he has never been knocked out. Yet, in the end, even Fergie was wise enough to know when it was time to go, as a champion, when he no longer had the energy or powers to rebuild an ageing United team.
You’ll have worked out by now that I am of course the boy in the story. You can tell that I have a long memory, and just as I will always respect Joe Frazier for being the greatest boxer of his time, so I will always respect Wenger’s earlier achievements. But he has taken way too many punches, and it is way past time for the towel to be thrown into the ring. If he hangs on one more season, I fear he will be remembered by most for all the wrong reasons. Is that really what he wants? I know I don’t.
