Arsènal

Fast forward to Sunday lunchtime on 12th August 2007. Wenger is still in his post (the second longest serving Premier League manager after Alex Ferguson) and Arsenal are about to play their opening fixture of that season’s Premier League campaign, albeit in their very own 60,000-seater stadium a world away from Highbury in every sense apart from distance. The 11 starters are totally devoid of any British presence, although there is room for just one Englishman, Theo Walcott, to be squeezed onto the bench. (In fact, Arsenal’s use of foreigners is the highest by far of any club from the major European leagues.)

How did it come to this? One of the great clubs of English football unable to find a place in the team for anyone from the country in which they play? The search for an answer reveals how Arsène Wenger went about creating the modern Arsenal, one so far removed from the regime during the fading years of the George Graham era that only the red shirt with white sleeves would be recognisable to those who watched the team in the early 1990s. It is the story of how Arsène Wenger built three distinct Arsenal sides, assimilating past, present and future, to procure trophies and thereby lay the foundations for future prosperity at a time of financial uncertainty. It is a unique blueprint for the making of a modern superclub, to a point where, by the time his current contract expires in 2011, Arsenal could be the world’s richest club. By the conclusion of the 2006/07 season, they had risen to the heady position of third in the world money league with an annual turnover of more than £200 million (with the inclusion of its property revenues) on a net transfer spend of less than £4 million a season over the 11 campaigns that their manager had overseen. To achieve this whilst delivering seven major trophies and producing the most entertaining fare in the country can be summarised as ‘the Wengerian miracle’.

The personnel Wenger inherited in 1996 were comfortable with the 3–5–2 formation that Bruce Rioch had introduced and they expressed their wish for the new boss to persevere with it. After all, they were lying second in the table on goal difference, in spite of a series of off-the-field upheavals. Over the course of less than three months, three different men had selected the first team. To add to the climate of uncertainty, club captain Tony Adams faced up to his demons and admitted he was an alcoholic to his colleagues, who probably weren’t as surprised at the revelation so much as the transformation of the man who was making it. As his teammate Ian Wright commented with no ironic intent, “For Tony to admit he is an alcoholic took an awful lot of bottle.”

With change and an accompanying foreboding in the air, the paramount need was for a sense of togetherness, which the new arrival effected by maintaining the existing formation as the players had requested. Had he insisted on his preferred 4–4–2 line-up, perhaps the outcome would have been even better than the third spot they attained, missing out on Champions League qualification on goal difference to Newcastle, seven points behind champions Manchester United. It would be the last time that Arsenal finished outside the top two until 2006, and the last time that Arsène Wenger would compromise on his modus operandi.

Still, a lot of the groundwork accomplished in Wenger’s first months would bear fruit the following year, despite the players’ initial hostility. This was epitomised by Tony Adams: “At first I thought, ‘What does this Frenchman know about football? He wears glasses and looks more like a schoolteacher. He’s not going to be as good as George [Graham]. Does he even speak English properly?’” But having got their way over their preferred system, they conceded to Wenger’s newfangled preparatory methods. With a nucleus of largely English players, he concentrated on improving their physical well-being, introducing dietary changes and training that was geared towards tuning rather than testing bodies.

Sessions were much shorter than hitherto and involved much more preparatory work – stretching and jogging – to lessen the chances of injury. Regular psychological and physical examinations and continuous monitoring confirmed how effective the new methods were. During the week, the manager had to rely on his players choosing to consume copious amounts of water instead of (dehydrating) alcohol when left to their own devices. Ian Wright probably headed for the nearest takeaway as an antidote to the nourishing fare he was provided with at the training ground: “He has put me on grilled fish, grilled broccoli, grilled everything. Yuk!” Shortly after his arrival, Wenger justified his reforms: “It’s silly to work hard the whole week and then spoil it by not preparing properly before the game. As a coach you can influence the diet of your players. You can point out what is wrong. Some are wrong because they are not strong enough to fight temptation and some are wrong because they do not know. As a coach I can teach the players what they do wrong without knowing it is wrong.”

Perhaps it was no coincidence that the players shipped out within a year of Wenger’s arrival were those who found it most difficult to adapt. John Hartson’s temperament was the polar opposite of the Zen-like manager’s (whilst his bulky physique suggested a liking for consuming something the manager would have disapproved of). The final straw for Wenger was probably Hartson’s New Year’s Day appearance as a substitute against Middlesbrough, in which he received two yellow cards for dissent and then foul and abusive language to leave his teammates a man short. On Valentine’s Day the striker was sold to West Ham, with no love lost.

Paul Merson on the other hand had been rejuvenated, the inherent discipline aiding his determination to rid himself of his drug, alcohol and gambling addictions. Summing up the psychological benefits he received, Merson memorably stated, “The new manager has given us unbelievable belief.” The compliments, however, were not mutual. Perhaps Wenger felt Merson had his best years behind him. To the player’s surprise and despite having performed well, he was told in the summer of 1997 that an offer of £5 million from Middlesbrough had been accepted and Merson reluctantly departed the club he had joined 13 years earlier. It was unfortunate, as in his new surroundings, he would eventually fall back into his old habits. However, his selection by Glenn Hoddle for England’s 1998 World Cup squad showed that his short time under Wenger had been personally rewarding.

To the outside world, it was surprising to perceive that Wenger’s decision-making had a ruthless edge, that he was a manager who, ultimately, would take whatever steps he was convinced were needed in the interests of his team. Although he would never talk in negative terms, sudden transfers and loans spoke volumes, often to the bewilderment of those who were brusquely deemed superfluous. Notable later examples of players who Wenger anticipated were starting on the downward slope would be Patrick Vieira and Thierry Henry – proof that there were no exceptions, whatever their status and past contribution.

More than a decade on, and the notion that footballers used to abuse their bodies as a matter of course seems absurd, such is the omnipotence of Arsène Wenger’s example. As one of many Scandinavians who adapted to the rigours of English football, Tottenham goalkeeper Erik Thorstvedt recalled the prevailing conditions pre-Wenger: “The British player eats the wrong food, drinks too much and doesn’t train properly yet has this tremendous will to win.” Whilst this quality was sufficient to paper over the cracks for many British managers it was never enough for Wenger. The right diet and exercise were only a means to an end, to provide the optimum conditions to enable technique to flourish. But when allied to what Wenger habitually referred to as ‘desire’ [for victory] then, with hindsight, his success was inevitable.

Even if, technically, many Premier League teams still fall short of continental standards, behind the scenes the influx of specialists – including psychologists, dietitians, masseurs, osteopaths – at every top-flight club was as a direct result of them absorbing Wenger’s methods and beliefs. Of course, they were only adopted because they achieved results. Why should a footballer be any different from an Olympic athlete? Is he likely to perform to his potential if he enjoys a slap-up meal and a few pints the night before a big match? Merson later reflected, “No matter how great a player Thierry Henry is, if he started doing what I was doing when I was playing for Arsenal [under Graham], he probably wouldn’t score another goal. When we were doing it everyone else was doing it as well, so it levelled itself out, but you can’t do it any more, not in the Premier League.”

Yet at the outset the resistance to a man whose ideas were so at odds with the established culture of the game in England bordered on xenophobia. Certainly, fabricated stories about Wenger’s private life that led to him having to face down a melee of journalists on the steps outside Highbury in his first weeks indicated a move to belittle him and make him persona non grata at the earliest opportunity. Alex Ferguson didn’t exactly help matters with comments like “He’s a novice and should keep his opinions to Japanese football.” In direct contrast to the widespread insularity he encountered – it took a while for the penny to drop – an open-mindedness and an awareness of conditions outside the United Kingdom explains exactly why Wenger was able to buy quality players at bargain prices from the overseas markets (not least France) until other managers were forced to open their eyes by the progress of the ‘novice’. His first hand knowledge of continental football gave the Arsenal manager a similar advantage to that George Graham had enjoyed in his early days when he plundered the lower divisions to build his backline.

The benefits were long-term, as a critical factor in his good start was the revival Wenger inspired in the old English die-hards who had lost their ‘desire’ under Graham. The defence that Wenger inherited – David Seaman, Lee Dixon, Nigel Winterburn, Tony Adams, Steve Bould and Martin Keown – was stacked with experience, but the consensus between both fans and pundits was that time waits for no man and physical decline was beginning to show signs of setting in. They were won over simply because as their fitness dramatically improved so did their performances. Tony Adams put it down to physiology. “There’s no one better at preparing players physically, knowing what they need to be at the peak of fitness,” he said. Steve Bould stressed that he “felt so much fitter under Wenger. I wasn’t injured so much. I felt a lot more supple. We would never have lasted so long without his special methods.” The reactionary Little Englanders who had walked off with pretty much everything the game had to offer were reinvigorated. The defensive unit was reborn in the face of a fresh challenge, and did their stuff – as they entered their thirties – consistently enough to compete once again for the title.

And the pupils opened their teacher’s eyes. Lee Dixon recalls that Wenger “was surprised how good we were as footballers and how intelligent we were. He’d thought we were like robots just doing what we were told. So when he tried to expand our game and let us go out and express ourselves, we were able to do it. When he first came he was going to let us all go.” Steve Bould concurred: “He left us alone during that first season because he only arrived in September, but I think he imagined he was going to have to replace us the following summer.” There is no doubt that a huge contribution to the early headway was the defenders’ willingness to approach their task with a greater sense of purpose than the mere denial of opponents that George Graham required. “You were allowed to do what you wanted in many ways,” recalls Nigel Winterburn. “There weren’t any restrictions. He left it up to us whether we went forward or not. He trusted our judgment.”

Winterburn’s words point to Wenger’s singular approach to coaching. There is very little instruction. Even the juvenile stand-in is not sat down, lectured and told what to do. Having prepared his troupe to perform both physically and mentally at their optimum level, the manager relies on their intelligence and skill to come up with the winning formula. As UEFA coach and former Arsenal midfielder, Stewart Robson, observes, “he develops players not by fantastic coaching but by giving them the environment to express and experiment themselves. He takes the fear out of their play by coaxing them to be more elaborate, precise and imaginative.” As Wenger himself sums up, “I would say that usually to win is a consequence of the quality of play you achieve.” (Although the scintillating play served up in the 2002/03 and 2007/08 seasons show that the theory isn’t perfect.)

Wenger’s training exercises are deployed not just to hone technique but to instil continuous thought, to get everyone into the habit of making the right choices and being able to read what their teammates are instinctively going to do. Wenger saw evidence of the success of his methods in his 2007/08 central midfield partnership of Cesc Fabregas and Mathieu Flamini: “Going forward they are technically good and very mobile. They have a good understanding and cover each other well.” When everything is going to plan, positive, incisive one-and two-touch play becomes second nature, and at their zenith, competitive matches resemble training-ground exercises and vice versa. A pattern of play is unfolded: vision, movement, speed and fluidity.

During the short 20-minute drive from Totteridge to London Colney, Wenger will plan his day ahead. The actual training sessions themselves conform to a pattern although, as Wenger says, “In order that they retain their enthusiasm, the boys mustn’t know exactly what’s coming.” And he adds, “The two criteria for a good session is that it is conducted with a good spirit and that there is the satisfaction which is derived from whole-hearted commitment.” It is the highlight of his day. Nothing gives him more pleasure than being out on the pitch with his team. Training only lasts an hour and a half and he is at a loss to understand, and certainly would not tolerate, any player who does not put his heart and soul into every session. It is no co-incidence that at Arsenal no-one shirks training. Although he is omnipresent with the shrill sound of his whistle signifying the start and finish of each practice, Wenger doesn’t appear to coach his charges in the strict sense of the word. The main message is to merely clarify what is expected from them.

With the incidence of midweek matches there tend to be only two rigorous sessions per week during the season. All begin with warm-up exercises and jogging which are usually delegated to Wenger’s trusted technical aide Boro Primorac and assistant manager Pat Rice, followed by a number of drills, each lasting around 20 minutes, under the manager’s eagle eye. Invariably the first is a control and pass examination designed to provide the aptitude and confidence to replicate the technique under match conditions. To facilitate commitment to the task in hand – there is no chance of the players knowing exactly what’s in store for them and therefore being able to coast – a small-sided game follows. It is unusual in that it can feature four goals, one on each side of the pitch, with Wenger’s whistle forcing swift decisions and precise shooting to locate the right target. Next comes the one-on-one test. From 30 yards, the attacker has to eliminate his marker and score as well as satisfying Wenger’s stopwatch, which, according to Bob Wilson, Wenger uses “to his own beliefs, which I think are based on medical science. And if he says the exercise is going to last for eight minutes and 20 seconds, then that is exactly what happens.” Kolo Toure commented, “I have Thierry Henry, Adebayor and Van Persie and if they don’t score I am pleased.” While all this is going on the goalkeepers are put through their own specified paces. They then join their teammates for the concluding episode: a full-scale 11-a-side game played under match conditions, which both sides do their utmost to win. It was under such circumstances that the newly acquired Thierry Henry learnt of the punishment he could expect from Premier League defenders after undergoing a no-holds-barred initiation in his own back yard at the hands, or rather the feet, of Tony Adams and Martin Keown.

The mental abilities of his charges to absorb what they are taught without having their hand held is a key factor in Wenger’s decision on who he prioritises for his top 30, his meaningful first-team contenders. Regarding Kolo Toure, he admitted, “Technically he might have been less gifted than some of his young teammates [at ASEC Mimosas in the Ivory Coast], but he had that charismatic attitude which makes a difference.” The charismatic attitude is more accurately described as being smart enough to make the best use of natural ability coupled with the fervent desire to do so. Toure remembers of the Ivorian academy that gave him his first real opportunity, “I was not the best player in that group, but I was the cleverest. In football, and in life, you have to be clever. Now when I call the others I advise them what they have to do and I hope they can make it, too. If they use their brains, they will be much better than me.” However, he certainly wasn’t clever enough to work out what Wenger had in mind for him. It is only with hindsight he now understands how he was subtly handled. “When I came at first I did extra training every day,” he remembers. “At that time he [Wenger] spoke to me every morning and afternoon. The coaches knew my qualities but told me how to do different things. They never told me what they were thinking. They just took me aside each day and gave me advice and instructions – and then I began to see what was happening [that he was being groomed for a pivotal central defensive role].”

And the element of surprise can be disconcerting. More recently, Wenger’s ever-inquiring mind has discovered that by timing how quickly the players receive the ball and then lay it off, he can enhance their movement and interplay. Specifically, statistics can prove or disprove what he picks up from the touchline. He can tell Fabregas that despite the media consensus that the midfielder has put in another outstanding display, he occasionally dwelt on the ball to the detriment of a passing movement. The player may argue but the figures enable the manager to have the last word. “Technical superiority,” he says, “can be measured.”

The spadework for Kolo Toure’s conversion from midfielder/full back to centre back was accomplished during pre-season – the most important weeks of the year for Wenger. It is surely no coincidence that Arsenal have won titles – 1998, 2002 and 2004 – the seasons following summer months with no World Cup or European Championship finals taking place. With such a high-quality cosmopolitan squad Arsenal supplies more and more internationals to these tournament finals. And so after the extension of their seasons into June or in some cases mid-July, the early part of Wenger’s critical pre-season preparation has to take place without them. The manager knows from experience that it is best to give them a complete break and phase them in when he can. Nevertheless, it appears that the fatigue endured and the lack of an optimum pre-season preparation takes its toll and the team invariably fall short of its target – agonisingly so in 1999 and again in 2003 when they set the pace with scintillating football but ended up in second place.

When the manager does speak to the group, “he does it quietly in a way that makes you listen,” says Toure. So no bombastic rallying call, but a calm message, delivered with an authoritative voice that manages to enthuse and persuade his players with the conviction that, as the fans put it, “Arsène knows”. “He believes,” says Bob Wilson, “that you can only rollock a team, have a real go at them, three or four times a season. Otherwise, the impact is lost. Similarly, at half time, he believes the words he wants to say are best expressed when the players have calmed down. And he can then make his points in a quiet, controlled manner and know there is more chance of him getting through to them.” And sometimes he finds that it’s not necessary for him to say anything: the players having worked out what is required by themselves. So well drilled is the squad in his way of thinking that even in the dire circumstance of potentially losing their unbeaten record to Liverpool in April 2004, Vieira and Henry did his team talk for him and the second half saw them exemplifying everything that Wenger could have wanted as they turned a demoralising deficit into a crucial victory.

He sends his team out to play chess rather than to fight. Passion should not overwhelm reason, and yet having prepared the players physically and mentally they are left to decide the best moves for themselves. Those who question the wisdom of this strategy might point to the 2005 penalty fiasco when Robert Pires and Thierry Henry conspired to miss in a bungled attempt to re-create a Johan Cruyff /Jesper Olsen Ajax spot kick from the 1980s, where the pair played a one-two before scoring. With Arsenal only being 1–0 up against Manchester City, it was a risky manoeuvre, although the manager refused to condemn his charges afterwards, perhaps because there was no further score in the match.

To the uninitiated, it may appear a conundrum how Wenger achieves so much which seems to be beyond the scope of other managers with greater resources. Whatever the secret is, there is a steady flow of requests from coaches of all nationalities and via the UEFA network (where Wenger frequently plays a leading role in the technical curricula) to visit Arsenal’s training ground to try to ascertain at first hand what the ‘magical’ methods are. In February 2008, Diego Maradona was the latest in a long line of the great and good of the industry who wished to make their way to London Colney. When told of the Argentine maestro’s request, Wenger’s immediate reaction was “Why does he want to come and see me?” and the answer given to him by the messenger was “Because you are Arsène Wenger.” Another of football’s iconic figures, Marco van Basten, the future Holland manager, spent time at London Colney during the 2003/04 season as he prepared to return to the game as a coach. Having benefited first hand under the tutelage of the legendary Dutch manager Rinus Michels and the innovative Milan coach Arrigo Sacchi, it was a compliment that he felt he could further his education by watching the Arsenal boss at work.

However, the Wengerian masterplan could not be described as one of tactical innovation. He rarely radically alters his team’s approach in the manner that other managers, such as José Mourinho are quick to do when unforeseen obstacles have to be overcome. It seems his chief tactical quandary is whether to field a 4–5–1 formation (most often deployed in the cagier, tight Champions League encounters), a 4–4–2, or its slight variation 4–4–1–1. That appears to be the extent to which any account is taken of what the opposition’s strategy might be. Arsenal invariably try to play in the same manner whether up against Milan or Middlesbrough, relying on the quality of the interplay to create chances rather than any strict pre-determined positional alignments. When critical voices are raised to the effect that Wenger takes no account of the opposition, he is riled: “Do you really think,” he responds, “that I have been a football manager and I do not look at the opposition at all? How can people think like that? That means I am more stupid than stupid. Of course we change our game. We always try to express our strong points. It doesn’t mean we do not look at the opposition. Of course we do. It is very difficult to understand how people think that when we play in Europe, we just walk out there and do not consider who we are playing.” Certainly, whatever the formation it can be very fluid, dependent on the personnel involved. The wide midfield players have licence to roam and interchange without precise managerial instructions and generally create havoc when the team is on song.

Conversely, there is a lack of flexibility to Wenger’s substitutions. For anything other than time-wasting reasons approaching the 90th minute, they are invariably made for physical rather than tactical reasons. An observer who took Wenger at his word when he told him “Nobody is perfect, least of all me” ventured a leading question: ‘Why do you always watch the match from the touchline?’

“Such as,” replied Wenger, “I know that a guy will ‘die’ after an hour because I know in the last three games his high intensity dropped 30 or 40 per cent and he will not be capable to keep going.” (Even so, Wenger doesn’t always practise what he preaches. He still blames himself for not acting on his instincts and withdrawing Robert Pires before he ruptured his knee ligaments against Newcastle in 2004. Pires himself admits, “My injury was due to mental tiredness and [for] that I was at fault because I was not focused enough.”)

So the wide midfield players are withdrawn for fresh legs around the 70-minute mark and, depending on the state of play, either a central midfielder (if the team are leading) or a striker (if they are not) will be replaced, usually by a like-for-like change. There is rarely any element of surprise in the player withdrawn or the time of the switch. What improvisation that does occur is down to the ability of the players to do the unpredictable with their movement on and off the ball. Wenger can be acclaimed as an icon for the discovery, preparation and development of footballers of all ages, but he is no tactical magician. However, he certainly knew enough to realise Arsenal were better served by a 4–4–2 for his first full season.

Allied to that simple tactical change, made in the summer of 1997, Wenger’s first league title was arguably the direct result of the willingness of the defensive domestic stalwarts to adapt. Another who changed his ways was Ray Parlour, who became a regular for seven seasons before following Paul Merson’s exit route to Middlesbrough. Satisfied with his options for a number of key roles the manager was able to devote his transfer budget to strengthening the midfield. It seems no coincidence that in his first year, Wenger released Eddie McGoldrick, David Hillier, Andy Linighan and Ian Selley alongside Hartson and Merson, whilst acquiring a number of replacements, only one of whom (Matthew Upson) was English. Amongst the new arrivals were Marc Overmars, Emmanuel Petit and Gilles Grimandi. The first two facilitated the adaptation to a 4–4–2 system. Overmars was a speedy winger from Ajax. With his negligible defensive contribution, he would have been unsuited to the 3–5–2 of the previous campaign and was purchased in the full knowledge that such a line-up was now obsolete. Petit had been groomed by Wenger at Monaco, and was earmarked for central midfield.

So it was out with the trio of Platt, Vieira and Merson, who had been flanked when going forward by two wing backs, and in with a four of Parlour, Vieira, Petit and Overmars. Grimandi was a versatile defensive player signed along with Petit from Monaco, who joined Platt as a valuable substitute. Wenger saw the key defensive element of his 4–4–2 formation as the central players, with the midfield duo screening the centre backs. It worked particularly well with Vieira and Petit in front of Adams and Keown, and after a team meeting midway through the 1997/98 season in which the central defenders reminded their colleagues that they needed more help from the midfield in halting opposition attacks, they initiated a long unbeaten run that culminated in the double. (And the defensive quality was maintained the following season, with Gilles Grimandi often deputising for either Petit or Vieira pointing to the manager’s priority that defending through the centre was more important than on the flanks.) The price to pay was a reputation for ill-discipline and a high yellow and red card count. There was a steely side to Arsenal to accompany the silkiness of their football, but the trouble with officials that came as a consequence reprised the ‘backs against the wall’ mentality associated with the great teams in the club’s history.

As wide players, Overmars and Parlour were inevitably more comfortable in possession than Dixon and Winterburn had been as wing backs and allowed the team to push on and hurt opponents further up the field. It was a move towards controlling matches through dominating both possession and territory. With a midfield all keen to demonstrate a positive approach, the defence passed the ball more, or brought it out themselves, instead of playing a long percentage hoof simply to relieve pressure and go for territory. It was certainly easier on the eye and the team began to earn a reputation as entertainers. So much so that as the season progressed, Overmars’ attacking inclinations altered the system into a de facto 4–3–3. Now the chant “Boring, Boring Arsenal” initiated with just cause by opposition fans was purloined and lustily sung with ironic relish by Gooners. And there was hardly time to wallow in an old favourite from the Graham years, ‘One-nil to the Arsenal’, as the goals came thick and fast to render it redundant.

It is significant that, as the seasons passed, Arsenal developed their ability to hold onto the ball higher and higher up the field. By 2008 they had reached a stage where they have comfortable possession of the ball in exactly the same areas that Graham’s men used to lump it up to. Now there are a number of teammates to assist in keeping possession, working the ball out of defence and through the midfield so that the opponents often withdraw into a mass of bodies within 30 yards of their goal line. This is one of two Pavlovian responses; the other is to engage in combat, to ‘rough ’em up’. Consequently, the priority is to try to make greater use of width, to add variety to the attacking options when allied to the intricate interplay.

But it all began over a decade ago with an English back four bringing the ball out of defence and refusing to give it away cheaply. The coup de grâce came in the final home match of Wenger’s first full season. With three fixtures remaining, Arsenal simply had to beat Everton to be able to celebrate a first title since 1991 in front of their own public. At 3–0 up with the clock ticking down, the red and white ribbons were already on the trophy. Arsène Wenger made a rare sentimental substitution, replacing forward Christopher Wreh (another Monaco import) with Steve Bould. The veteran slotted into central midfield and set up the fourth and final goal, playing captain and fellow central defender Tony Adams into the Everton half to beat the offside trap and smash a glorious half volley into the net with his weaker left foot. It was, in a snapshot, an example of the total football Wenger had inspired. Bould, with a reputation as a defensive destroyer who loved nothing better than the now outlawed sliding tackle from behind, producing the sweetest of passes into the path of a colleague who had cruelly been labelled a ‘donkey’ by the Daily Mirror in his earlier years.

Yet, it was not a matter of complete harmony for those presented with their medals at the conclusion of the game. With his outspoken views on broccoli, an inevitable clash of personalities between the manager and his star striker had always loomed on the horizon. In the early part of the campaign, there was a great deal of media attention surrounding Ian Wright breaking the club goalscoring record, overtaking the 178 goals notched up by Cliff Bastin. Having achieved the feat, Wright declared he wished to move to the Portuguese club Benfica, who had made an enquiry about his availability in December. With the teenager Nicolas Anelka and the unproven Christopher Wreh as his only back-up forwards, Wenger wasn’t about to sell his principal striker and did not appreciate his public comments on the matter whilst being interviewed on BBC’s Match of the Day. Moreover this incident occurred at the conclusion of a difficult run of league matches that saw the team drop 16 points in eight outings, capped by a 3–1 home defeat to Blackburn. Wright then aggravated his situation by aggressively gesturing to fans about their lack of support during the Blackburn defeat from the dressing room windows facing the Avenell Road. He created enough of a furore for the police to be called to warn him about his behaviour.

However, Arsenal soon discovered what life without Wright would be like a month later when he suffered a hamstring injury in an FA Cup tie at Port Vale. Nicolas Anelka became the regular starter in Wright’s absence as the team then embarked on an undefeated run that only ended when the title had been secured with two games to spare. This consistency was carried over to the FA Cup and the club won its second league and cup double. Anelka’s ability was such that a flourishing future without Wright could be now be contemplated, a preposterous notion at the start of the season. The manager’s faith in the inexperienced teenager in preference to the safer, more conservative option of the experienced campaigner became, over the years, a regular occurrence when exceptional talent, however youthful, was on call. The later departures of Patrick Vieira and Thierry Henry took place under similar circumstances.

Wright was out for several weeks, but once fit the manager resisted the temptation to recall him until the title had been wrapped up. It was a difficult time for the player, anxious to prove his fitness with selection for the England squad for the 1998 World Cup Finals imminent. He started the final two league fixtures, but it was Christopher Wreh who got the nod to partner Anelka for the final commitment of the season – the FA Cup Final against Newcastle United.

Arsenal were two up with 20 minutes left on the clock at Wembley. The first substitution had already been made: Wreh had been replaced by David Platt. With the fans clamouring for Ian Wright, there was the opportunity for a sentimental gesture (Wenger was happy enough to do it in 2004 to ensure Martin Keown qualified for a Premiership medal). As the final whistle approached, there was movement on the bench as one of the substitutes removed his training top. That he did not actually get on before the end of the match was irrelevant to the supporters, as the intended replacement was not Wright, but Gilles Grimandi. It was an unaccommodating decision, the denial of an appearance, however brief, a final dagger in the heart of a player who professed to bleed Arsenal. It soon went from bad to worse as Wright failed to make the final squad for France 98 and was forced to spend the World Cup as a television pundit. In fact, Wright had already worn the red and white shirt for the last time as during the close season he was sold to West Ham.