Arsènal

Whatever people were calling the new residence, the funding was in place and Arsenal’s new home slowly took shape over a two-and-half-year period. The nightmare of unpredictable costs that had blighted the construction of Wembley was avoided when the board negotiated a fixed-price contract which meant that Sir Robert McAlpine would bear the expense of any unforeseen problems, with hefty financial penalties to be incurred on late delivery. Of course the price was only fixed if Arsenal didn’t fall prey to the usual temptation of clients radically changing their minds during the construction process. That this didn’t occur is testimony to the clarity of forward thinking by the directors at the planning stage. In fact, the stadium was handed over two weeks early in July 2006, allowing the club to stage three preliminary events to gain the necessary local authority safety certificate ahead of the first competitive fixture.

“To design and deliver such a beautiful stadium on such a restricted site, with different ground levels, railway lines and countless other obstacles in the way – well, to be honest I can’t think of a more challenging stadium development in the modern era,” commented Simon Inglis, stadium expert and author of the seminal work Football Grounds of Britain. “Herbert Chapman and his contemporaries set a very high standard during the 1930s. Now Arsenal has done it again at the start of the new century. The Emirates really is a cut above any other club stadium in the Premiership, as was Highbury after 1936. When I watched my first match in the new stadium, my main impression was that I was now, for the first time – with respect to the City of Manchester Stadium – in Britain’s first truly 21st-century stadium. It felt to me as if I was at a World Cup, in another country.”

The reason for such critical acclaim is that first and foremost, all the criteria for a state-of-the-art stadium are in place. Wherever you sit the sight lines are excellent and the roomy, padded seats make other stadiums feel constricted and passé and thankfully do not spell out a sponsor’s name. Unfortunately, though, like most clubs in the Premier League, Arsenal have yielded to the temptation of installing an LED system, an animated electronic advertising medium replacing the traditional perimeter boards (which UEFA later forced the club to resurrect for the Champions League). An intrusive eyesore to fans at the ground and television viewers alike, how ironic then that it is directly in the line of vision of the best seats in the house.

The concourses are broad, well lit and amply stocked with refreshment areas, from the ubiquitous fast food facilities all the way to waitress service in the Diamond Club passing by the bars and restaurants at the Club Level on the way. “We expect,” says Simon Inglis, “experienced stadium architects like HOK Sport to get the basics right. But it is rare to find a client in the football world to go the extra mile on fixtures and fittings.” (Unlike other football stadiums, public areas and works of art – including two cannons and the spelling out of ‘ARSENAL’ in huge concrete letters – add another dimension.)

Just as Herbert Chapman left his imprint off the pitch, so will Wenger. Apart from the cups and championships the former acquired, he was the catalyst behind changing the name of the Gillespie Road Underground station to Arsenal and promoted the idea of stadiums with roofs and floodlight football. Wenger will leave behind a first-class training centre at London Colney, the Emirates pitch (having been heavily involved in the process that determined its dimensions and the quality of the playing surface) and other areas where he was directly involved at the design stage such as the dressing rooms and treatment areas that will be a boon for future generations. Notably, the horseshoe format of the home dressing room has been specifically designed to allow the manager to dominate the room, unlike the traditional rectangular changing areas with seats on all four sides, where it is possible for players to avoid his eye. On first seeing it, Alan Smith was surprised: “The dressing room is just so plain, with the slatted wooden benches and the lockers. There’s no sign there that it’s an Arsenal dressing room and I think Arsène asked for it to be that way.” Of course he did. Nothing to distract the focus of his players. Whatever Arsène wanted, Arsène got. And he was insistent that there would be no shortcuts to compromise optimum matchday preparations. So ample space was also given over for a massage and treatment area, a gym, a hydrotherapy pool, showers and baths, and a wide warm-up area leading to a tunnel some four times the width of Highbury’s tight squeeze. The overall impression is of functional comfort, in contrast to the antiquated conditions of the past. By comparison, whilst not ramshackle, the opposition dressing room gives the impression that it had nowhere near the same care and attention lavished on it.

Not that the stadium is perfect. Based on the model HOK employed for Benfica’s Estadio da Luz (Stadium of Light) constructed for the Euro 2004 Championships, in contrast to Highbury’s traditional British rectangular shape with four distinct stands and open corners, the contours form a closed oval. Due to the height restriction imposed by the local authority, the only way to reach the required capacity of 60,000 was to seat a large number of the fans much further away from the action than they had been used to. To make matters worse, the North Bank bond holders had been prioritised and could opt for places alongside the pitch ahead of those who had sat in the equivalent spot at Highbury. Thus, many long-term supporters from the East and West Upper tiers found themselves several rows further back than they would have wanted (on top of the greater distance from the action for everyone).

Quite simply, the intimacy of the old amphitheatre was now just a memory, the relationship between the performers and the audience changed for ever, an inevitable consequence of the move upmarket. Gone was the intimi datory feel of the home fans breathing down the necks of the opposing team. Any hostility towards opponents would have to be created by the noise provided by the extra number of home supporters. In an attempt to re-create the big night atmosphere at Anfield and Celtic Park, the club decided to find an ‘anthem’ to produce the same effect as ‘You’ll Never Walk Alone’. They chose Elvis Presley’s ‘The Wonder of You’, a decision that had hardcore supporters squirming in embarrassment, although familiarity has started to encourage some scarf waving when it is played as the teams wait in the tunnel.

It is unlikely that Arsène Wenger had a great deal of input into this aspect of the stadium design, although he would probably have been in favour of creating more space between the touchline and the stands to allow for his substitutes to warm up properly and lessen the likelihood of injuries that might be caused by chasing a ball running out of play and crashing into advertising hoardings. But if Arsène prefers to watch from the poor viewpoint of the technical area because he can’t stand the separation from his players, how does he think the fans feel, with their heroes that much further out of reach?

The change in atmosphere aside, the crowning glory of the Emirates is that the sheer scale of the arena creates a striking impression. Perhaps this reflects its unusual setting. Suddenly, emerging out of the capital city’s concrete jungle, Simon Inglis’s matchless 21st-century stadium rises like a phoenix out of the ashes of an area whose heyday had long passed. Normally you would expect to find a similar structure alongside a major thoroughfare and approach it through soulless walkways. Continental in conception, the location is both traditionally and contemporaneously British in character. Surrounded by terraced houses, cheek by jowl with luxury apartments in the process of construction (some courtesy of Arsenal, the property company) and serviced by multicultural supermarkets and takeaways, the stadium exemplifies football’s place in the community in today’s urban London. Unfortunately, despite the 60,000 capacity it is still not possible to roll up on matchday and buy a ticket. Only season-ticket holders and members have the right of entry and there are thousands waiting to join them (although locals and owners of one of the newly built Highbury Square flats had the opportunity to jump up the priority list).

For the fortunate thousands able to get in from the start there were four categories of membership: platinum (for those who had bought season tickets in the expensive Club Level middle tier), gold (ordinary season-ticket holders), silver (members who were given the first opportunity to purchase individual match tickets on a game-by-game basis) and red (who could buy any remaining match tickets once the silver membership’s four-week preferential period had elapsed). There were 9,000 platinum members, 36,000 gold, 22,000 silver and 80,000 red (the red category – the final one on the registered fan food chain – is the only one open to new comers). In the event that a fixture fails to sell out, only then would non-members get their chance. However, there seemed little likelihood of this ever happening if the experience of the first season was anything to go by and one suspects that only a sustained lack of success will see non-members ever attending in any great numbers. With over 100,000 silver and red members paying £26 and £25 a season respectively just to have the opportunity to buy tickets, the system suited the club just fine.

Naturally the Emirates had teething problems, not least the difficulty of getting away after the final whistle. From the first games, as the clock wound down an expanse of red seats started to become part of the scenery as thousands headed for the exits early in the hope of beating the crush in the streets outside. Although the local council had expected Holloway Road and Drayton Park stations to be upgraded, Transport for London decided that the cost of £70 million was not justified for fewer than 30 matchdays a year, which put excessive pressure on the Arsenal, Finsbury Park and Highbury & Islington stations. Local authority parking restrictions had made it a chore to travel to matches by car, so the by-product for those who did not live within walking distance were inevitable post-match queues to get on the available trains, a situation exacerbated with the authorities themselves on a learning curve, refining their own crowd-control arrangements match by match. “The bottom line,” as Mark Woodward, who travels from Felixstowe by road and rail put it after the first few weeks, “is that different people have different journeys to make, and with no upgrade in the transport infrastructure, coupled with the 20,000 increase in attendance, people are still adjusting to the new realities and the number leaving early has increased.” A few months were needed for the club, police and local authorities to adjust to the new environment. By the time the Emirates opened for a second season, they had all mostly got to grips with the situation, although old habits died hard for many who had become accustomed to beating the full-time exodus.

Inside the stadium there were new experiences to come to terms with too. Gone were the cramped conditions of the old ground, so that there were not only more ways to spend money on food and drink but it could be consumed in a far more agreeable environment, not least on the upper tier concourses which afforded spectacular vistas of London on all sides. The view from the Upper East side also encompassed Highbury, which brought home the remarkable feat of moving just round the corner. Or at least it did, until the flats in Drayton Park were built and most of the old stadium demolished.

In spite of the increase in the number of outlets, with the amount of additional customers many would vacate their seats after 30 minutes to beat the half-time rush, and those who did wait until the interval would find themselves at the back of the queue and unable to return until the second half was already underway. At times it felt less like being at a football match and more like an NFL or baseball game, where spectators seem permanently on the move in and out of their seats regardless of what is occurring on the field of play. Further, because of the larger seats, to let someone by everyone was forced to stand up, thereby blocking the view for up to four rows behind them. It was not surprising then that many long-term season-ticket holders bemoaned the change from Highbury, exasperated by the new breed of so-called fans who seemed to care more about their stomachs and journeys home than supporting the team they had paid so much to see.

Of course, compared to season-ticket holders and ordinary members, on a per capita basis there were more important revenue streams coming from different levels of VIPs. One of the main reasons that the directors were desperate to move was the lack of availability for premium seats at Highbury – either for affluent individuals or the corporate market. Where the new arena undoubtedly did not disappoint from the start was in bringing in much more revenue than Highbury ever did. The middle tier of the Emirates has over 9,000 premium seats – 7,000 going to Club Level members paying between £2,500 and £4,750 for their season tickets and 2,000 in 150 hospitality boxes, prices for which range from £65,000 to £150,000 a year (which was probably the cost of a couple of weeks’ salary to at least two of the boxholders, Thierry Henry and Dennis Bergkamp). These prices applied for the first two years of the stadium’s life so will inevitably increase from the start of the 2008/09 season.

The ring of boxes is broken on the west side behind the directors’ box, with the Diamond Club. For a joining membership fee of £25,000, the 84 members (and membership to this elite was by invitation only) were entitled to purchase two season tickets at an annual cost of £12,500 each, which include one of the matchday parking spots in the bowels of the stadium, safe from the attentions of Islington Council’s traffic wardens. The area behind the seats has been transformed into a setting exemplifying corporate opulence to a standard unmatched by any other football ground. The marble floor, inlaid wood carvings commemorating past achievements, display cabinets with gleaming trophies, classic photos, repro Highbury clock, leather upholstery and glass tables all combine to give a most luxurious art deco feel to the enclave where the privileged members can enjoy complementary food and drink to a standard worthy of a Michelin star before, during or after the match. “Whilst I can never envisage myself hurling abuse at a ref whilst being enveloped in one of the plush leather armchairs,” says Brian Dawes, who had the opportunity to wander around the Diamond Club on a non-matchday, “it is somehow comforting to know that we’ve got such a place in our very own stadium, even if the whole concept gives a big two fingers to the hardcore fans supping overpriced beer on the bland lower-tier concourse.”

Directly below the Diamond Club lies the directors’ matchday area. It is a world away from the antiquated Highbury boardroom which had to double up as a reception area and could only provide a buffet, a space so confined that there was no way you could avoid the opposing directors and their guests. Now there is no need to fraternise with directors of clubs with which relations are more strained. With a room which can comfortably accommodate 120 people there are allocated tables in the style of a wedding reception (and indeed there is little to suggest that the room is anything more than a spot for an exclusive upmarket do), so there is no need for Peter Hill-Wood to dine alongside Peter Kenyon if he doesn’t want to. As in the Diamond Club, the wine flows whilst a sumptuous three-course meal is consumed, with guests often having to make the choice between the dessert course and the kick-off. As on the concourse, why rush when you can polish off the coffee and brandy and see the start on the plasma screens liberally distributed around the room? But of course, you really should go outside eventually and although the directors and their fellow VIPs are naturally located in the best seats imaginable (both in terms of view and comfort) a concession has been made to try to get them on the same wavelength as the fans by not putting in any heating, so on the coldest days they have to make do with a warming Arsenal blanket. (The accoutrements of the old boardroom have been transported across to decorate the new one situated in the turquoise building above the North Bank Bridge known as Highbury House, providing a link with the past, albeit tonally out of keeping with the new surroundings.)

The Club Level members’ seats are on the same level as the directors’ box, and their perks include free drinks at half time, which invariably sees the entire middle ring almost completely vacated after 45 minutes. As there is no control over the actual amount that can be drunk during the interval, some supporters will commandeer as many as three pints of pre-poured lager to down during the 15 minutes. As beverages have to be consumed on the concourse behind the seats, there are unsurprisingly still a large number of empty places when the second half resumes (reminiscent of the resumption of play after the lunch interval at a Lord’s or Oval international cricket match), with many opting to remain on the comfortable concourse to watch the game on monitors while they polish off their drinks. But 10 minutes of a football match is a comparatively greater slice of missed action than half an hour of a day’s cricket. If so many are happy to watch a significant part of the action on television, it begs the question as to why they don’t opt for the comfort of their own homes on the numerous occasions that Emirates games are broadcast live. Certainly, due to the sheer numbers of thirsty punters involved service is understandably slow, but the thought of missing even a minute with a fantastic view of habitually exhilarating football is a concept that mystifies many in the ‘cheap’ seats. As one of the minority who put football first, Club Level season-ticket holder Stuart Singer shares their dismay. “I also imagine that this display of apparent indifference must be a major wind-up for those who would give their right arm for such a privileged pers pective,” he stated. “Considering Club Level’s prominent position, surely the players must also be aware of all the empty seats. This can hardly inspire them to sweat blood for the Arsenal cause.”

Alan Smith concurred that the behaviour “worries everybody. It’s that feeling of theatre isn’t it? You want to feel that all the fans are dying for the second half to get underway and they’re right behind you. As a player, there’s nothing worse than seeing empty seats and then, although you’re concentrating on the game, you get this perception of people slowly drifting in. I think it does affect players.” The moral appears to be that if you invite in corporate money, you invite in corporate ways. There is no doubt that many in the Club Level are not die-hard Arsenal fans, and some might not even be particularly interested in sport. But a seat at the Emirates is one of the hottest tickets in town.

Corporate hospitality has been prioritised, and has undoubtedly affected the atmosphere, but financially the middle tier is a necessity, with the average premium category season-ticket holder contributing three or four times as much to the club coffers as the standard attendees in the lower and upper tiers. Moreover, when the boxes and Diamond Club are added to the Club Level season tickets the income from the three categories exceeds that of Highbury: fewer than 10,000 people producing an annual matchday turnover of over £35 million. So the 50,000 ordinary fans provide additional revenue (approximately £55 million a year) to that which was ever received before the move from Highbury. In one fell swoop the Emirates went head-to-head with Old Trafford as the biggest revenue-generating club football stadiums in the world – London prices and brand values allowing the club to offset the larger capacities in, for example, Madrid and Milan. Arsenal FC earns a cool £3 million-plus every matchday; a staggering 100% increase over Highbury, overhauling broadcasting as the chief revenue source. Even allowing for whopping interest payments and a substantial rise in operational costs, it would be surprising if the club does not end up with a substantial annual net profit as long as they continue to fill the stadium.

Despite the exorbitant pricing policy and with only the 2005 FA Cup to show for the previous two years’ efforts, the entire middle tier with its large number of prestige seats was sold out for the opening season. It clearly demonstrated the club’s earning potential and underlined the sheer amount of lost income from the latter years at Highbury. Yet the key question was whether people were paying for the novelty value or was repeat custom likely. And would there be others willing to replace them if they dropped out?

Initially, the premium products had been offered on a four-year basis with a built-in sweetener guaranteeing protection against possible price increases. However, with a less-than-anticipated take-up the board were forced to review their policy and offer both boxes and seats on one-year terms. The corporate market, though, is fickle. With Wembley a substantial competitor for the entertainment pound, whether companies will continue to give Arsenal their custom may well in the short term be dependent on Arsène Wenger continuing to produce immodest results from modest spending.

Due to the heady mix of success, stars and entertainment, Highbury had proved resistant to any drop-off in attendances, despite hefty annual rises in ticket prices. However, the Emirates’ pricing policy is a quantum leap from anything that had previously been experienced, par ticularly by the irregular supporter. 15,000 tickets, of which 3,000 are allocated to the away fans, are made available on a match-by-match basis. Of the remaining 12,000, the majority are in the more expensive upper tier (most of the cheaper lower tier having been snapped up by season-ticket holders). For the first two seasons’ Grade B matches against less attractive opponents, upstairs prices ranged from £38 to £66, whilst for Grade A fixtures (five of the most in-demand league games and selected cup ties) the same tickets started at £55 and went all the way to £94. In 2004 Peter Hill-Wood described these prices as “awful. And they’re not going to come down a lot. We’re going to try and keep the prices at a level where the lower priced seats – £30, it’s still a lot of money – are going to be very comparable with what they are at Highbury.” In 2008, he was forced to take a more pragmatic stance. “Entertainment’s an expensive business. But we’ve got a lot of people on the waiting list wanting tickets [over 40,000] so presumably we haven’t priced ourselves out of the market.” What tends to happen when silver members come to book is that all of the cheaper seats sell out quite quickly. So when, a month later, these tickets go on sale to the red members, the beggars at the bottom of the pile can’t be choosers despite the often astronomical costs of the remaining tickets.

There are signs that as time goes on, more Grade B matches might have to go on general sale as the novelty factor wears off, whilst heaven forbid if it was coupled with a run of failure and the board might have to contemplate a less-than-capacity crowd. However, given the choice, they would probably prefer a 50,000 crowd paying top dollar than to lower the cost of entry to try to ensure a sell-out and run the risk of less net income. Managing Director Keith Edelman stated at a shareholders’ Extraordinary General Meeting in July 2006 (to approve the refinancing of the club’s loan) that an average attendance of 22,000 was required for the club to break even and cover its interest charges. Asked at the AGM three months later to clarify whether this meant 9,000 middle tier supporters and 13,000 from the other tiers, Edelman denied he had never given any minimum figure, and said that anyway 32,000 was the break-even number, spread evenly over the three tiers. He was dismissive of the notion that such a scenario would ever seriously require testing, saying it was merely a model that the banks required, but ultimately an irrelevance as he could not envisage ever getting such a low attendance. And if the current practice of always recording an attendance of 60,000 despite the obviously paid-for but empty seats persists, you can follow his thought process.

The stadium’s first ever matchday (22nd July 2006) was the third and final trial run, a testimonial match for Dennis Bergkamp, with a capacity limit of 55,000. Arsène Wenger kicked a giant inflatable football towards the north end of the stadium. Supported by guide ropes, it should have entered the goal. However, the manager missed the target as a gust of wind took it onto the crossbar. It was as far off target as the board’s promise that the manager could buy any player he wanted. The figures looked good on paper, but in terms of ready cash, Arsenal had none. The shortfall was down to having received and spent on the stadium the revenue from Nike, the Emirates and the corporate box and season tickets. Club Level renewals would soon be brought forward as interest payments on the two initial loans of £210 million and £50 million were due. These were subsequently renegotiated on a 25-year term but still left the club with annual interest payments of £18 million together with almost half as much again for the property loans. In 2008, at a traumatic time for the lending market, the stadium interest payments (at around 10% of total turnover) look like a smart piece of business. Additionally, deals like the one which brought Theo Walcott to the club have been negotiated so that the transfer fees are paid in instalments, and many millions can be outstanding at any time. A good portion of the cash balance has to remain untouched to cover those payments, which customarily kick in after a certain number of appearances.

As the curtain rose on the 2007/08 season, despite playing to capacity crowds in the brave new world of the Emirates, in one sense, nothing had changed. Arsenal were still relying on their manager to buck the odds, a phenomenon by now taken for granted. But the grandeur of the surroundings merely disguised the reality that the man at the centre of it all was finding his task increasingly difficult.