Arsenal, Identity, and Evolution
Cashing-in those Karma-Chips
This week I’ve got something a little different for you all. After a sharp and tasty reminder of Why Football Is The Greatest Game EVER, I’m going to offer you a longer read only a click away.
(Btw, for readers who love “the dog and I” intro’s, don’t worry, I’m just resting them for a moment).
But first…
I was standing in front of the screen, head down, eyes on the floor, already processing our loss. A Manchester United team packed with minor-criminals smashing and grabbing 3 points at the Emirates. Again. Oh man. Not them again.
I can’t really stand Gary Neville and his pseudo-sycophantic blathering. He’s convinced he’s got a Formula One brain blasting out first class football analysis, but there’s actually a lawn-mower engine driving his stuttering Man U branded drivel. Scholes is just weird. Beckham, such an egomaniac he crowds himself out of his own stratosphere. The ex-Goalie, ScchhhMyyykel? So much smug self-importance laced with conceited puffery. He looked more comfortable with himself than the sofa he was sitting on. (Apologies, as regular readers know I’m not really one for demeaning our fine brothers in football. After all, it’s merely the flutter of a butterfly’s wing and you might have become a Stoke fan or whatever).
Deep scars were laid down during the Fergie-Wenger Wars. They were turbulent times back then. A petulant and passionate rivalry between the two of the best footballing clubs of the 90’s and early 2000’s. In my mind, United are still an arch nemesis even if they’ve seen better days. Oh god. And now they’ve beaten us. Again.
But, I’m a stubborn sucker for punishment. I never walk out of a match. I never turn off the screen. I’ve seen too many “Bournemouth’s” over the years. You just never know. Remember Kanu’s hat-trick at Stanford Bridge in 1999? I was listening on the radio (a massively underrated way of experiencing a game and something I’ve hardly done in decades). I can still smile at the memory of Kanu's final goal. So stick it out till the bitter end I say, and take what life doles out, wide eyed and ready.
Because sometimes, once in a while, life takes pity and rewards downtrodden souls standing in front of screens with their heads down and their eyes on the floor.
When Rice took the ball on his chest, there was some kind of a fissure in the matrix, hadn’t we seen echos of this before? The goal had more of a Nelson versus Bournemouth feel than the last-minute Eddie winner against Man U from last season. The slowing down of time, the path laid out waiting for the ball to glide through, the camera angles, the over-sugared celebrations. And Rice’s joy. What a strangely rewarding experience it is to watch a person rapturous in joy.
When Rice booted that ball (and he really booted it didn’t he?) I had half an eye on Gabriel dancing with Evans, wondering if the ref might attempt to insert himself into the narrative. Then I watched Onana move his arm oh so slowly, slowly, slowly to stop the ball and then dink, dink, dribble, the ball teetered over the goal line and I watched as Evans began appealing to the ref but by then it was too late. instant mayhem was released.
These are the moments. Aren’t they? Aren’t these the very moments we live for as fans. The neck wrenching turnaround from bleak agony to triumph. The stomach churning breathlessness of North London’s most rewarding emotional roller-coaster ever. Fabio Super-Sub Vieira launching another inch perfect full-run pass onto the feet of Jesus and Jesus’ little cut back to open the goal. It’s the redemption, the cashing in of all those Karma-Chips, the explosion of peace.
Fantastic match. Fantastic result. And what a way to get there.
OK, after this short text, why not take a moment and enjoy an article I wrote over the summer. It’s a fascinating journey through Arsenal’s evolving personality and the immense changes that have occurred since the George Graham years. Put the kettle on :)
Here’s the first couple of paragraphs, then click on the link to finish the read. I really recommend giving it a go, I think you’ll enjoy this one, besides it’s worth it just for my Forest/Farmer look in the byline image.
Arsenal, Identity, and Evolution
Once, while out skating, I took a crack to the back of my head in a fall, knocking myself out. When I began to come around, I experienced an accelerated evolution of consciousness itself. My vision went from nothing to blurry to sharp. I began to pick out objects that morphed into people hovering around me. As I lay on the cold ice I detected the sensation of the sun on my face and the weight of my body.
But I had no idea who I was. There was thinking going on, but who was doing the thinking was a mystery to the thinker. It was as if I was a floating mind with no identity to root me into my body. I could have been anyone. Eventually (a matter of a half a minute or so that felt like an eternity) I regained a sense of myself. My identity returned and I got to my feet and skated off the same person I was before I fell. I think. I hope.
However, identity, this thing we think we are, is a social construct, not some fixed immutable physical attribute. It can be disconcerting to think of the self as fluid, considering we cling so hard to the concept, but this fluidity and the ability to alter one’s “identity” isn’t a bad thing at all (although a more considered approach than a blow to the head is always a better idea), and it’s always good to let the mind roam free.
Transformation is a matter of survival in the reality of an ever-changing environment. Especially because everything we know, all patterns and customs, always eventually stagnate as new emergent systems form and new approaches and thinking supersede older ones. We all operate in an ever-changing world and if we want to survive and flourish, we need to adapt and evolve or we perish.
This is true for individuals, for organisations, and even for living species. And, not surprisingly, it’s even true in football. Football teams have identities that are fractal-like; players have identities, the team itself has one, the club as a whole has one, and the fans have one too. All of these identities are fluid and subjective and interrelated. If all these multiple identities can align into a Super-Identity then football teams become successful. Arsenal has been on this journey of alignment since Mikel Arteta was appointed manager. For Arsenal fans this journey is one hell of a ride. And it’s really only just begun.
When Mikel Arteta took over in December 2019, Arsenal were at a tipping point. They needed a whole new approach in an ever-changing footballing environment or they risked terminal decline. In fact, that was partly the reason Arteta was appointed, to get his hands dirty and make some difficult and necessary changes. Arteta wasn’t coming just to coach the team, he was coming to sit the entire club down on the psychiatrist’s couch and have a good long talk about self-image and character. Arteta had a project. He was coming to make some changes.
At the time of Arteta’s arrival, Arsenal’s glory years were in the past with their reputation overshadowing their performances. After 22 years Arsene Wenger had been (awkwardly) relieved of his duties and the appointment of Unai Emery was a gamble that didn’t pay off. By the time Emery was sacked, Arsenal were suffering from some serious confidence issues and sliding down the pecking order.
Cashing in all those Karma Chips indeed, Jonathan! I believe I'm still low-key exhausted from the expending of emotions (and the sheer whiplash) from Sunday night, but wouldn't change it for the world. Loved revisiting your FP piece; we look forward to seeing your work there again in the future :)