Bukayo Saka - The Humble Superstar

Playing with telepathy, empathy and joy

The dog and I have made frequent hikes across a frozen meadow throughout the winter, inevitably coming to the attention of the resident crows. They took to sweeping in and flying low over my shoulder to alight on our path. They had observed my occasional offerings to the dog, who they contemptuously swooped and tagged as he sauntered about, and they wanted in on the goods. We’ve now got a gang of crows wandering along around us, occasionally umbrellaring above as I casually fling dog treats on our journey across the meadow. They’re smart birds and good company. They’ll know us next year and resume the game.

I got to thinking at one point, as they blacked out the sky, of another great umbrella under which all life thrives. Fans of every type. And after a weekend of bizarre on and off pitch shenanigans (here’s looking at you PGMOL) I thought I’d remind us of how wonderful football can be, and tell the tale of an incredible Arsenal player whose own journey brought about a wave of collective goodwill that, at a pivotal juncture, made football proud. So when I got home I wrote this. Enjoy.

We live in a world of spectacle where superficiality reigns supreme. So much of our common experience is filtered through myth and fakery that we need to constantly update our skills for discerning truth, for detecting genuineness and for navigating the sea of misinformation. It’s not easy. We are social creatures and to truly trust one another we need a clear signal through all this noise.

So we are constantly crying out for true authenticity to emerge from our world of uncertainty, for the facade of charade to collapse and for real people to step through the smokescreen.

And, on occasion, once on a blue moon, we’re lucky. Every now and then a person so natural, so comfortable in themselves, so assured, steps out of the artificial cloud like a fresh breeze on a stifling day and we see them, really see them, and it’s an immense relief.

Bukayo Saka is one such person and you know it, you don’t need me to tell you, you just know it. He’s simply an authentic human being. I know it's ridiculous, I know it’s too much, but in our media-driven era of symbolic bullshit whenever the true human being shines through, they make you proud, they make you want to be a little bit nicer, a little bit more honourable, a little bit kinder, and when that happens, it's a rare and humbling thing. Saka is that guy.

Bukayo Saka’s journey has been tantalising from the beginning. The usual social media driven storm where an over-hyped academy kid takes on the world suckers me in every time. The combination of my eternal optimism and the sly editing on every crash-course from the You Tube University of Armchair Scouting never fails to reassure me that I’m witnessing the early stages of the new Maradona, the new Messi, the new Zidane.

But the first time I saw Saka playing, this fairy story transformed from fiction to fact. There was something about him. This kid drew the eye. Give him the ball. Give HIM the ball. His then slight frame jinking and accelerating like a little whirlwind which, as the seasons have passed, has grown from tornado to hurricane. His early ability to draw in defenders and then blow them away with a turn or a pass. His directness and determination and the way the ball followed him about, loyally hitched to his feet, waiting for that moment when boom the net ripples and the stadium erupts into song.

During those early years there was something about Saka that shone. He was obviously blessed with natural ability, but he also had the intelligence and the humility to allow himself to be guided toward football excellence. He was plainly a balanced and superb athlete, with an added infectious bubbling joy for the game, an eagerness to be better and the natural decency to allow himself to thrive under coaching. Saka’s all round qualities gave him the potential and ability to play the game, read the game and affect the game. He was inescapably heading for football greatness.

It’s obvious that football is about scoring goals, of course it is, but for teams to score goals the individual players need to, as if by magic, morph into a meta-team where the ball will ping between them almost as if it’s conducting itself into the goal. But when this happens it isn’t magic, teams gel when players are comfortable in themselves and when they know how to build relationships, to understand what’s in the mind’s of others, to read their intentions, to know their tendencies. And they need the confidence and camaraderie to be able to share themselves with others as well. Great footballers have to be great athletes but the best footballers are social animals with telepathy, empathy and soul. To be the best you need smarts of every type. Sound familiar? That’s Arsenal’s number seven in a nutshell.

But, as I said, the world is a spectacle where superficiality reigns supreme. Empathy and soul can be in short supply. So despite all his abundance, it hasn’t always been an easy ride for “B”. Thierry Henry once said the true hero isn’t the guy who scores the penalty but the one who steps up to take it. The risk is enormous because, as Henry made clear, “People don’t care about how you feel as a human being”, and not scoring that pen against Italy brought Henry’s words crashing down on a 19 year old Bukayo Saka.

These are the moments that test us and in this case we were all put to the test. Falling is the easy bit, it’s the getting up that tells us who we are. That missed penalty, arguably the biggest moment in English football for who knows how long, can cast a dark shadow across a person for the rest of their life. This was a moment where the football world could lurch one way or proudly go another. And at first, there was a moment when the monster of football’s past nearly had life breathed into its demented lungs as a mindless minority went berserk.

But instead of feeding the demon and allowing stupidity to spread, fans from every club rallied and wrenched the game from the hands of the fools. A warm emotional maturity spread and people allowed themselves the grace to reach out to a young man, lift him and set him once again on his way. This was a beautiful moment, not only for Bukayo Saka, who bravely stepped up and took his responsibility like the hero Henry knew he was, but also for football itself. And possibly (hopefully) Henry slightly miscalculated our capacity for caring, because from Saka’s Wall to the gracious applause that spontaneously broke out in grounds around the land, we witnessed testament to the healing power of people opening their arms in kindness and the mutual expression of friendship, acceptance and belonging.

And what was the upshot of this spontaneous display of decency? What happened when true football fans took a fully formed superstar bubbling with unlimited potential, wrapped their mighty arm around his shoulders and offered a rare thing in big money competitive sport, a human gesture of gentle support? Well, what happened was Bukayo Saka finding the space and the confidence to return immediately to his brilliant best. And because he is who he is, he did just that. And because true fans rallied, he was able to do just that.

When the season started he played with his head up, running at defenders, smartly combining, creating triangles within triangles, turning on the shoulder and leaving opponents scrambling, driving toward goal, anticipating passes, receiving passes that dropped on his toe from a thousand feet, firing low crosses, lofting high crosses, making goals, taking goals but most astonishing of all, Bukayo Saka stared fate in the face and stepped up, squared his shoulders and prepared to once again take responsibility and face that penalty spot, alone, with the football world holding its collective breath. Saka scored his first penalty since that penalty and he hasn’t missed one since.

If I think about why I’ve dedicated literally thousands of hours to following Arsenal I think of players like Bergkamp with his gunslinger cool mentality conjuring new footballing realities in real time. I think of players like Henry, a man designed by footballing gods to adhere to the rules whilst breaking all of them. I think of Robert Pires and Ian Wright and Tomas Rosicky. Players like these were wonderful but now they’re players from days gone by.

Today, I think about a player like Saka, a kid from Ealing, who unlocked beauty and deep joy both on and off the pitch. A player who’s heroics set forth a wave of fellowship that swept around the land and initiated a moment of bonding and camaraderie that’s grace momentarily removed the mirage of separation. A kid from Ealing who broke the facade of superficiality by just being himself. We’ve had some wonderful players in the past, and now we've got Saka, whooshing along, shaping the joys for days to come.

So there you go Gunners, have a kind week and don’t forget to subscribe and share the joy with Arsenal Wonderland.