Goodbye Andrei!

Give him a ball and a yard of grass,

He'll give you a move with a perfect pass.

Give him a ball and a yard of space,

He'll give you a pass with godly grace.

I am going to miss Andrei Arshavin. He might have left Arsenal distraught and overweight and the club most probably won’t suffer because of his departure. But I will miss him nonetheless.

I am not going to discuss what went wrong with his Arsenal career. Maybe it was because he was played out of position. Maybe he was uninspired by Arsenal’s slump. Maybe he was past his prime.  Or maybe it's because he was just plain lazy.

I don’t care about that anymore.

The reason I love Arshavin so much is this. There are many players who I keep wishing Arsenal would sign up. But the Russian happens to be the only one from that list that Arsenal actually went ahead and signed. For a club record!

I first saw him play for Zenit St Petersburg in the 2008 UEFA Cup final. He set up both goals in the 2-0 win. Then, at the Euros, where he dazzled everyone with his pace and imagination. Holland were favourites till Arshavin singlehandedly ripped them apart in the quarterfinals. After shining at the international stage, a move to England or Spain was imminent and there were rumours of a January bid from Arsenal. I never thought it would happen though.

I still remember how the transfer deadline was extended because of the unrelenting snow and how, against all odds, the little Russian put pen to paper and joined Arsenal. I remember the first interview too, where on being asked about Arsenal’s recent goal drought, he cheekily said, “I am here now!”

Things didn’t pan out too well for him. After a promising start, he fell out of favour. Initially making headlines through goals and assists, feints and dribbles, it was his refusal to track back, his lack of application in training and his expanding waistline that later made the news. But I still didn’t give up on him. I’ll tell you why…

When Arsenal desperately needed a goal and there were 20 odd minutes left on the clock, bringing Arshavin on was never a bad move. (In the Manchester United game, his entry wasn’t booed; the fans were protesting Chamberlain being subbed off). Arshavin could be out of form or returning from injury or on a goalless streak, but you still wouldn’t be surprised if he set up a goal or scored it himself.

Face it! If it wasn’t for Arshavin’s precise cross, Thierry Henry wouldn’t have scored that late, late winner against Sunderland. Arsenal wouldn’t have had the much needed 3 points. And Henry wouldn’t have had his fairy tale finish to his EPL career. Yes! In his last Arsenal appearance, Arshavin came on in the 87^th minute and still managed to set up the winner.

The departure is untimely but it is ironic too. For someone who arrived after the transfer deadline, it is only fair that he should leave after it too. His stint at Arsenal might not be the most memorable but it had its moments.

He scored some real beauties in an Arsenal shirt. His maiden goal against Blackburn. The four against Liverpool.  The long ranger against Manchester United. His fifth at Anfield. The late brace against Atletico Madrid. And of course, the winner against Barcelona.

Goodbye Andrei. Thank you for all the memories!

How it all began!

I almost became a Manchester United fan.

Till 2003, the only football I watched on TV was during World Cups and Euros. Club football wasn’t a fad in school back then. I heard a few friends discuss Manchester United and a certain David Beckham. They lavished praise on his crosses and freekicks. I decided to find out for myself and tuned in to ESPN over the weekend.

And I saw Henry score for Arsenal.

It was a goal elegant in its simplicity. A teammate released the ball into space and Henry raced past the fullback on the left. Shoulder to shoulder one instant, blistering pace saw Henry get to the ball two paces before his rival. He didn’t pause to control the ball or look up at where the goal was. One touch was all it took. 

Effortlessly he curled the ball around the advancing goalkeeper. The ball lay spinning just inside the far bottom corner of the net as Henry ran past the Highbury faithful, arms outstretched. I had just witnessed a classic Henry fadeaway. Elegant in its simplicity.

I didn’t know the player or the club then. Two minutes of rapt attention to the commentary enlightened me on both details but I cannot remember which match it was. So many of his goals in red and white were scored in this fashion that I cannot be entirely sure which one it was.

At that moment, I had been baptized as an Arsenal fan. One touch with the inside of his right ankle and Henry had ensured I would be a Gooner for life.

I almost became a Manchester United fan. But I saw Henry score for Arsenal.

Arsenal till the day I die!

You want me to come over, I got an excuse,

Might be holding your hand but I'm holding it loose,

Go to talk then we choke, it's like our neck's in a noose,

Avoid the obvious when we should be facing the truth,

Start to think it could be fizzling out,

Kinda shocked because I never really had any doubts,

Look into your eyes and imagine life with out ya'

And the love kick starts again... kick starts again!

-Example

I once read somewhere that love is like temporary madness. It erupts like a volcano and then subsides. And when the lava subsides, you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether the roots are so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part.

The Invincibles is distant memory now. A six-year trophy drought definitely indicates that the lava has subsided. And the nightmare that unfolded at the Theatre of Dreams (the irony, eh?) last night suggests that the honeymoon period is well and truly over.

And so I ask myself... Why do I put up with all this? All the pain, the agony, the humiliation? Why do I invite the jeers of the rival fans? Why do I lose my sleep and appetite over a club on the other side of the globe? Why?

I would be lying if I said I don't care about silverware. Ofcourse I do. Who doesn't? I pine for a time when they are hard pressed for space in the Emirates trophy cabinet. I wish Arsenal were ruthless on the field. Untouchable even. Or (God forbid) Invincibles again.

But like Nick Hornby wrote in Fever pitch... After a point, the brand of football that your favourite club dishes out cannot be compared to the food they serve at your favourite eatery. Quality takes second place. Consumption is top priority. It is all that matters. While I would be overjoyed if they won a trophy or two, I am happy as long as they take the field every Saturday night.

On nights like these when I've lost my appetite and sleep seems unfathomable, I just have to remind myself about why I used to rush home to the television after chemistry tution in tenth grade. Or why I took three buses to my friend's place in the other end of chennai when I barely knew the friend or the city well enough.

I think of these and a other million instances when Arsenal took centre stage and everything else in life was mere background detail. And then for a moment, I pause to think of how empty life would have been without Arsenal. Then the love kick starts again.

I am Arsenal till the day I die!

FAIRFURREN CESC FABREGAS!

And so you sailed away

Into a grey sky morning

Now I'm here to stay

Love can be so boring

Nothing's quite the same now

I just say your name now

But it's not so bad

You're only the best I ever had

You don't want me back

You're just the best I ever had

-Vertical Horizon

First things first, I harbour no ill feelings towards Fabregas. He is not deserting Arsenal, he is just going back home. Barcelona is where he grew up, where he learnt to play football, where he belongs. And eight (ultimately fruitless) campaigns is more than one can ask from someone destined to become one of the greatest playmakers in history. Anyone else would have left the first time Barca came calling. But credit to Fabregas, he was patient. He tried really hard for the Arsenal cause. Despite never having the teammates he deserved, he trudged on. There is no denying that ever single time he put on an Arsenal shirt, he played his heart out. He played through pain and injury. He played an entire match with a broken foot just to help Arsenal draw level with (of all teams) Barcleona. And that is the true mark of the man!

But it's sad nevertheless to watch a player with that kind of dedication and quality leave. All those defence splitting passes, all those spellbinding goals, all those heartlifting performances. And to think he hasn't even touched his prime.

Towards the end of the 1999 flick Fight club, Edward Norton’s character, in a moment of clarity tells Marla Singer: "You met me at a very strange time in my life!" In a slightly different context, that's exactly how I feel about Fabregas. He happened at a very strange time in Arsenal's history. Though he will always be regarded as an Arsenal legend, his stint lacked the one single yardstick that defines a great player: silverware. 

He joined in 2003 but was never really an Invincible. The 2005 FA Cup is the only medal that he won in eight seasons in London. Had he played in any other era at Arsenal, when trophies weren't so hard to come by, when there was genuine quality within the ranks, we would have seen the true potential of the man.

Football folklore abounds with stories of what might have been. This is one more chapter I guess. It is heartwrenching to see him leave. He was my favourite player since Thierry Henry. Hopefully Jack Wilshere will take over his mantle at Arsenal.

Fairfurren Cesc Fabregas. Thank you for eight years of magic. I hope you touch the skies. And I hope you return someday to grace the Ashburton turf. 

And even if you don't, you will always belong!

WHAT SHANKLY SAID!

There's nothing like taking on the English Champions in England and beating the pulp out of them. Both on and off the field. It doesn't matter if you take a few grazes yourself. Something to remember it by!

Champions League final: 28th May, 2011, Wembley, England. Manchester United 1 Barcelona 3.

Football is not a matter of life and death. It's much more important than that!

Sachin Tendulkar. God. World Champion. 'nuffsaid.

Silence!