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!

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!

And Lampard scores for Arsenal!

There is this thing about football, this unexplainable something. One day it breaks your heart and makes you feel like its the end of the world. And then the very next day, it lifts you from the dumps again. You don't forget the past, you don't move on, the scars still remain, but still there is something else to look forward to. Something new.

One night you cannot eat, you cannot sleep, in the wake of a defensive lapse that cost your club a chance to win their first trophy in six long years. You lose faith, you question your belief, you forget the hunger for football, the joy you derive from it. Or so you think! Because two days later you see your immediate title rivals collapse to a crushing defeat, a result which breathes new life into the title race.

To watch Chelsea come from behind and inflict a 2-1 defeat over Manchester United at Stamford Bridge in a match that saw every decision go against the visitors, something that had Alex Ferguson fuming at the touchline, did not banish the memories of the Carling Cup final defeat to Birmingham City. But it soothed the pain.

Ferguson shook his head in disgruntled frustration as his face came close to resembling a radish. One of those rare nights when things didn't go his way and the referee appeared to have forgotten that he was on the Scot's payroll. It made my day just as it had spoilt his.

Frank Lampard's winning penalty means that with a win over Sunderland, Arsenal can close in to within one point of leaders United, who next take their susceptible away form to Anfield. Kenny Dalglish will be well aware of Liverpool's legacy and will want to halt United's charge towards an unprecedented 19th domestic title. If he denies United the points, he will be doing Arsenal a huge favour.

I never thought this day would come but for the next few days I wholeheartedly pledge my support and devotion to Liverpool. Come on you Reds! You'll never walk alone! King Kenny! Go Gerrard! Meireles the Merciless! Suarez is the Man! Carroll for President! and all that jazz.

Go now and beat those ****!

(To avoid a lawsuit, I believe I should mention that the title of this entry was inspired by a text message from Joshua Moraes sent soon after the Chelsea-United tie.)