Arsènal

An hour and a half or so before matches at Highbury, Arsenal’s players used to disembark from their coach having consumed their pre-match meal at their Chelsea Harbour hotel and made the short journey across town. Parked up outside the main entrance on Avenell Road, their few steps between the coach and the marble hall were invariably witnessed by hordes of fans patiently waiting behind crash barriers. For young children especially, it was a thrill to be so close to their heroes. They could shout encouragement and receive nods and waves of acknowledgement in response. At the Emirates the team coach, with its blacked out windows, arrives at the entrance in Hornsey Road. On a dull day it may just be possible to make out the silhouettes of the passengers before the electronic gate opens to admit the vehicle into the bowels of the stadium. It stops directly outside the players’ entrance and the dressing room is reached without a supporter in sight. The ‘Unbeatables’ of 2004 have metamorphosised into the ‘Untouchables’ of today.

With the move to their new home, an estrangement has grown between the fans and the players. The physical distance between the two groups and the disparity between the outrageous sums paid to these athletes and the earnings of the working man ensure there is far less empathy with the personalities who pull on the shirts. The days when Charlie George – who supported the team as a kid from the North Bank – would proudly wear the Arsenal shirt, providing a tangible bond between crowd and performer, belong to a bygone age.

Sadly, Arsène Wenger prefers it this way, with any distraction on matchdays avoided. In his single-mindedness he has – whilst forging a new identity for Arsenal – allowed something of the bond that binds the supporters to the club to slacken. Wenger often reflects on the special atmosphere at English grounds. “The first time I arrived in the UK,” he recalls, “I saw a match at Anfield [Liverpool against Manchester United] and I got a terrible shock. I had no idea football could create such passion.” Yet he is unwittingly undermining the communal feeling between spectators and performers by maintaining a policy of protecting the squad from any diversion. Of course he is not intending to drive a wedge between the two parties but with his desire for total control when his players are on duty he has perhaps neglected the value of good PR. Perhaps while the fans continue to stream through the turnstiles, the consequences of a loosen ing of the chains of loyalty can be put aside for the moment.

Thursday 20th July 2006 saw what the club termed a Members’ Day at the Emirates. It was the second of the three scheduled trial runs ahead of the first competitive fixture. At no cost, although limited in numbers through advance booking, several thousand fans were invited to watch the players go through a training session on the virgin pitch. However, due to the stipulations of the safety certificate, only the upper tiers were being utilised, thereby segregating the supporters from their favourites. (Two open training sessions had been held at Highbury where fans had also been restricted to the upper tiers.) Further, as the timing was less than three weeks after the World Cup finals had ended in Germany, only four of the 16 Arsenal representatives who had been at the tournament (new signing Tomas Rosicky, Kolo Toure, Emmanuel Eboue and Emmanuel Adebayor) managed to make it onto the pitch and they exercised apart from their colleagues, who comprised principally reserve and youth team players, some of whom had not even set foot in the stadium before and could not find the players’ entrance. Two had had to be admitted via the Armoury, the club’s new flagship store, where Managing Director Keith Edelman, despite not recognising the youngsters, had ushered them in after the security staff had brought the problem to his attention. In fairness to Edelman, the duo were not known by any of the fans queuing to get into the shop either, and so it was no surprise that what grabbed the attention once inside was the environment rather than anything that was happening on the pitch.

The session concluded with a somewhat feeble attempt to kick giveaway footballs into the upper tier where the fans were gathered. Given the manager’s distaste for the tactic of gaining territory with scant regard for possession, it was fitting that most of his charges were unable to get the appropriate amount of ‘welly’ and that most of the balls fell well short of their target and came back down to rest in the lower-tier seats. Although it meant most of the supporters went home disappointedly empty-handed, the failure to reach the target could be said to embody the difference between Arsenal of 2006 and the ‘Row Z’ clearances that were a habitual feature of the George Graham era. Nevertheless it was poor PR. The ‘special’ day compared unfavourably with the way other clubs act. At Stamford Bridge and White Hart Lane of all places, supporters are not only downstairs, but the players spend time at pitchside signing autographs and posing for photos. On subsequent members’ days at the Emirates, the lower tiers were opened so that at least the public could get closer to the action. But there was no interaction. Even on a December Monday when the first-team players merely warmed down from their weekend exertions before sitting in the centre circle watching the second stringers do the serious stuff with a Carling Cup game on the horizon, there was no attempt to stroll over towards the fans. They were of course merely following the manager’s orders. There was to be no fraternising. This was a straightforward routine session that just happened to be transposed from London Colney and was to be treated as such with no regard for the onlookers.

If training is a rehearsal to be undertaken seriously at all times, then the training ground is Wenger’s workplace and the pitches the tools of his trade. As a perfectionist in the art of preparation he must therefore have been horrified with the dismal quality of the conditions he was forced to work in on his arrival. Arsenal didn’t even possess their own training centre. Rented from University College, London, it was a far cry from the well appointed Monaco training ground at La Turbie in the hills above Nice which Wenger was accustomed to; and his eighteen months at Grampus 8 had given him no cause for complaint.

The manager was so keen to upgrade Arsenal’s facilities that the players joked about an ‘Arson Wenger’ being responsible for the fire that destroyed the out of date changing rooms. When questioned by Remi Garde, one of his first signings in London, in an interview for French television to celebrate his decade of service at Highbury, the former utility player asked, with his tongue firmly in his cheek, “Do you remember that you set fire to the place in order to get a new one built?” “I can assure you today,” replied the accused, “that it was a true accident. That it burnt down was certainly a stroke of luck as it helped accelerate the building of a new centre and the development of the club.” The unspoken thought was that Wenger could now build his secret empire, away from prying eyes with outsiders only tolerated as and when necessary.

First and foremost there are ten full-sized pitches that would grace any Premier League ground, two of which are specially heated to 17°C so that no session ever needs to be postponed even in the coldest of temperatures. Each pitch is used for no more than five consecutive days before being left for ten to recuperate. The pitches are complemented by a gym, a hydrotherapy pool and medical centre, a first-class restaurant, changing rooms and offices. Ironically, the sumptuous centre is sited literally a stone’s throw from the old training ground but it is light years away in terms of its conception and self-sufficiency.

With the complex being designed to accommodate the entire squad of first team, reserves and youths, and to simplify the tasks of the coaches and the players at the different levels, according to David Dein, Arsène, “was involved [in the design] down to the last teacup”. Not that there would be much need for this type of crockery, as the traditional heavily sugared workman’s tea beloved by British players was now strictly off the menu. Nutritionists and chefs joined an array of medical and fitness specialists to produce a variety of healthy-eating choices that are supervised by Wenger himself.

However, whereas the players needs are prioritised – they also have the use of private, spacious and comfortable changing rooms – the manager’s own office is just big enough to meet his basic needs. When one visitor commented on the lack of luxury, Wenger quipped, “I have another one at the stadium and that is modest as well.” In 2003, he said, “I know only three places in London – my house, Highbury and the training ground.” And it is at the training ground that he spends most of his working hours. Left to his own devices, he puts in long shifts in a small ground-floor space with a prosaic view of the car park with photos of, in his own words, his “inspirational captains”, Adams and Vieira, on the walls (Henry is due to join them). The room is divided into two, with a large desk and a three-seat sofa the key items in each section. “The couch is for negotiation and the desk for the agreement [of deals]”, explains Wenger.

He also has a third office at his Totteridge home, even smaller than the other two, although this one is mostly used by his wife and daughter when they are on the computer. The only football item on display is a framed Arsenal shirt signed by the players with the inscription ‘Arsène 50’, a gift on that auspicious birthday. From the outside, the only visible clue as to the identity of the owner of the pleasant, though by no means the most imposing house in the road, was a discreet ‘Support the Arsenal’ exhortation on an upstairs bedroom window. However, as soon as this information got into the public domain, the sticker was hastily removed.

There is a different tempo to home life that provides Wenger with the opportunity to escape the frustrations and tensions of a high-pressure job that is carried out in the unforgiving glare of the media spotlight. Gone during the most intense of moments is the calm aura that he was able to display whilst still relatively fresh from his time in Japan and the equanimity he had adopted there. Now his body language reveals a man all too wrapped up in the stress of delivering results and the high expectations his success has induced. But not once he gets home. The presence of his daughter, 11-year-old Léa, who cares little for the vagaries of her Papa’s vocation, provides a healthy counterbalance that allows him to relax and enjoy his time off. As a diversion he might read a historical biography and take up the challenge of getting a ball on target. A basketball hoop is set up in the garden and is frequently used to improve his shooting and help him unwind. However, a giant television screen is the focal point of the living area and invariably tuned into Canal+, Sky Sports or Setanta, revealing that football is not only the man’s trade but his passion as well. The hours spent in front of it are tolerated by an understanding family who accept that he is incapable of ever totally switching off.

Less than 24 hours after the callous Champions League quarter-final elimination by Liverpool in 2008, although one of the lowest points in the manager’s career, he appeared outwardly untroubled as he relaxed in the bosom of his family, despite admitting, when asked how he was going to pick the players up for a championship-deciding encounter at Old Trafford in four days’ time, “I have no idea.” That was tomorrow’s work and tomorrow could wait. His wife Annie plays no small part in creating a tranquil home environment and despite the wealth they enjoy, there is no live-in help. Relations often come to stay and the Wengers prefer to live without any extran eous intrusion.

Annie Wenger is a charming and attractive woman who epitomises French chic. She was the perfect adjunct to her husband when she was invited by the directors to unveil a specially commissioned bust of him at the 2007 AGM. Commemorating his immense contribution to Arsenal, the sculpture symbolically reprised that of Arsenal’s other managerial legend Herbert Chapman, which famously stared out from the entrance hall at Highbury. Wenger was genuinely surprised to see his wife perform the ceremony to rapturous applause. Later she won over the shareholders as she chatted to them over refreshments after the formalities of the meeting were over, whilst her husband posed for photos and signed countless autographs as is the custom at the AGM.

Back at home, the Wengers take in two newspapers, The Daily Mail and L’Equipe. The former was originally ordered on the recommendation of David Dein when the Wengers first set up home in London, for no other reason than being a halfway house, neither red top nor broadsheet, and more often than not goes unread. Not so the French daily sports paper L’Equipe, despite being delivered a day late. Consequently any major controversies concerning the club are read about from a French perspective, though the primary reason is to keep up with football in his native country. He is also a regular reader of L’Express, the French weekly news magazine. Although he quite enjoys jousting with the media at his weekly press conferences, he neither knows nor cares what they have to say about him except in so far as he is resigned to the fact that whatever he says is only fodder for opportunistic headlines.

Consciously or not, he has brought much of the bad PR upon himself. “Yes – I am a bad loser,” he says. “I’ve heard that. I think even my wife would agree with you that I’m a bad loser. But I try to be fair. For example when we lost 4–0 at Manchester United [in the FA Cup in February 2008], I had nothing to say. When we lost after the 49th [unbeaten] match, I didn’t agree with the way things happened. And what is difficult now in the modern game is that you cannot express a number of opinions, as only one opinion will be taken out and the whole headlines will be made on this one opinion. So for example at Wigan [in March 2008] we didn’t win. I said we didn’t fight very well for every ball, we didn’t take our chances, we lacked a little bit of spark and the pitch was atrocious. What came out was only that the pitch was atrocious and that I am a whinger because we didn’t win the game. But I tried to give some credit to Wigan but that never came out. And what is terrible for me is that you come to a position where you cannot make any fair statement any more. Because only what interests people will be taken out of your statement [by the media].”

When David Dein was still around, he and the press office would brief Wenger in full when deemed necessary. Unlike his former colleague, Dein devours everything the fourth estate has to offer so nothing ever passed his eagle eye and often an erring scribe was taken to task for any perceived misdemeanours. In his view, so far as Arsenal’s good name was concerned life is too short not to carry grudges. When Newsnight questioned the propriety of Arsenal’s relationship with Belgian club Beveren, Dein took the investigation as a personal affront against the club’s way of doing things, forgetting perhaps the opportunistic signings of Anelka and Fabregas. The BBC Sports department were consequently given the cold shoulder, not that they had anything to do with what Newsnight got up to. In his own mind, the vice-chairman had been hung out to dry too often for comfort and his blanket wariness of the media was transmitted to the press office who picked up their cue from him.

With a keen sense of their own importance, the Arsenal press office see themselves as self-appointed vigilantes for the club’s cause. Wherever possible, criticism is not tolerated and the poor unfortunate purveyor of unacceptable comment or even a journalist who has not applied for accreditation in the accepted way will find their position undermined. Those who go a step further and dare to criti cise the press office itself soon find that it is a sure way to become the recipient of a banning order. Complaints to UEFA have not softened their attitude. Only the football correspondents of the major national newspapers appear beyond the reach of their rough justice. Even a favourite son is not beyond retribution. When Alan Smith in his role as a Sky pundit ventured to suggest that it takes two to tango in the Old Trafford fracas of 2003, his next assignment for the club magazine was promptly cancelled and he remained persona non grata for some months. In the view of many fans, this was just desserts. “He was towing the Sky line and not being objective,” said one, “therefore a double crime.”

As the director ultimately responsible for the public face of the club, David Dein would often take up the cudgels at the request of the press office for the perceived injustices Arsenal had suffered. But he was loath to get involved when fielding complaints about their behaviour. On one occasion he was phoned by the head of the press office regarding a story that was about to break which alleged that one of the club’s forwards had hit his girlfriend. In an effort to play down the situation Dein asked rhetorically, “What do you expect me to do? He’s a striker isn’t he?” Similarly Wenger will often turn a blind eye to petty injustices, not because of any unfeeling on his behalf but because they are a distraction from the job in hand. He admitted, “David does my dirty work [dealing with agents] for me.” It also suits his purpose for the press office to manage events even if he suspects they might be carried out with a heavy hand. But heaven help them if they intrude on team matters.

Wenger, as always, is most interested on what happens on the pitch. On occasion that he catches a glimpse of himself on the touchline his own behaviour can astound him. When watching Arsenal games on television, he may catch sight of an agitated figure on the touchline and stare at his antics in disbelief. At difficult times he makes a conscious effort not to let stress undermine him. However, he does not always succeed. “I’m usually calm,” he says, “but I am concerned that, with calm people like me, when I lose my temper it may quickly become extreme.” In one of the rare instances of this actually happening, it was a member of the press office who was the recipient of an astonishing amount of vitriol after an un necessary distraction compounded a poor performance in a key Champions League away match earlier in the evening. Wenger is always keen to get home as quickly as possible after a match, and was therefore furious that the whole party had to wait for one player to finish an interview arranged with the local media.

Wenger’s press conferences on the day before a match are held at the training centre. They used to take place in a room adjacent to the players’ dining area, but with contact inevitable as both parties went about their duties, the risk of fraternisation was more than the press office was prepared to countenance. So the media gatherings now take place in a separate building across the car park, where there is no danger of stumbling across a player. In fairness to the press office, it is hard work getting the stars to do anything that the manager does not personally give permission for. Interviews are often tied up with personal sponsorship obligations, but it is hard work to persuade players to sacrifice time for the club’s own media, such as the official magazine and Arsenal TV, launched in 2008. The players are even more elusive when it comes to what are described as ‘commercial and community’ duties. The standard Premier League contract stipulates that tasks involving club services (such as signing sessions in the club shop) or promoting relevant campaigns (for example visiting schools to endorse the Kick Racism Out of Football initiative) should be undertaken for at least four hours a month. But in common with a lot of other clubs Arsenal do not rigorously enforce this clause. They are lucky to get four hours a season from some of them. So when the Supporters Services Centre located within the All Arsenal store under the Highbury House building was officially opened in the presence of a collection of invited supporters, the ceremonial ribbon was cut by 1980s captain Kenny Sansom and the club’s reserve right back Justin Hoyte. The stars have, it seems, got better things to do than meet their public. Paid extravagantly, they profess their love for the club and the fans and kiss the badge to demonstrate allegiance, but their words and gestures can ultimately be seen as insincere when they are actually asked to give something back that their agents and their consciences have ensured they are not obliged to.

When the club arrange their annual end-of-season dinner to raise funds for the year’s nominated charity – in 2008, the local Treehouse school for autistic children – tickets are sold at premium prices, with the attendance of Arsène Wenger and the first-team squad the main attraction. With the guarantee of a personal greeting on arrival from Wenger and being joined for an after dinner chat by one of the squad, individual places can cost up to an astonishing £2,000. And yet the staff responsible for organising the event are afflicted by the perennial fear that the players may not bother to turn up. Only a few are known for being generous with their time – Gilberto, Gaël Clichy and Theo Walcott amongst them – a sad state of affairs and further evidence of an ever-growing chasm between those who ‘represent’ the club and those who pay to keep it going.

The situation is exacerbated by regarding the media – the conduit between the players and the fans – as tolerated rather than encouraged. They are certainly put in their physical place at the Emirates by the incorporating of the press box into the lower tier, towards the corner flag. At Highbury, the press had plum positions at the front of the East Upper Stand, next to the directors’ box. The view at the Emirates is far inferior, but if a number of the expensive seats upstairs do not have to be sacrificed for the hacks, all the better. Before the Premier League, the press were regarded as fans with typewriters. Now tolerated in the main as a necessary evil, no club building a new stadium or even refurbishing an old one is ever going to allocate them the best seats in the house. However, UEFA and FIFA, at major international tournaments, wherever possible, ensure they are placed adjacent to the VIP seats.

At the end of Arsenal matches, the press office comes into its own. A jobsworth’s paradise, having watched alongside the newspaper reporters, they have a clear idea of any controversial issues from the evidence of their own eyes and the television monitors, and thus the likely line of question ing to be taken in the post-match player interviews. Being ‘on message’ is key, and woe betide any player who says anything controversial or even interesting. As employees, the players toe the company line for fear of being stitched up, an anxiety indoctrinated into them during their media training sessions held as part of their education once they have signed pro forms aged 16 – a justified anxiety perhaps, given that a voracious football media with pages and airtime to fill often look to spin a story or even invent one. Senior staffers such as Thierry Henry marked the youngsters’ cards for them.

UEFA and Premier League regulations insist that the players depart through the ‘mixed zone’ where the waiting media try to accost them for a sound bite. Unfortunately, the rules stop short of insisting that the players actually speak and most choose not to, particularly after a poor result. Even those who deign to utter their thoughts do so with a member of the press office hanging over their shoulder to steer queries away from unwelcome territory. There is no avoiding the cameras though, unless your manager feels that the BBC has exceeded their remit and should be ostracised as Alex Ferguson has notably done, starting a trend amongst fellow managers with thin skins. Sky and Setanta pay the piper millions more and usually get their choice of post-match interviewees.

After the final whistle, especially if events have not turned out as planned, emotions can run high. Certainly, comments are made which are regretted in hindsight. It was surprising that Arsène Wenger should have fallen foul of the strict Arsenal protocol in the aftermath of the match at Birmingham which began his woes in the run-in of the 2007/08 Premier League campaign. Striker Eduardo had suffered a broken leg from a challenge by Martin Taylor, who received a red card and the automatic three-match ban that went with it. “The tackle was horrendous and this guy should never play football again,” Wenger told the BBC after the match. The press office would have briefed any players the broadcaster requested to be non-committal about the incident, but the last person they were going to instruct was the man most responsible for the image of the club. The manager subsequently felt his reaction to have been excessive and issued a retraction later that day.

Another bane of the press office is the close relationships some foreign players have with their native media. Copy approval for many written media interviews is demanded as a matter of course, but if players talk to journalists of their own accord, the worst they can fear is a slap on the wrist. Not something that will cause the likes of Jens Lehmann and William Gallas much trepidation, so they often use their compatriots to get a message across that would never get through the normal British channels.

So when Eduardo, broken leg in plaster, was quoted from his hospital bed by the Brazilian newspaper O Globo as saying “To go in like he [Martin Taylor] did, it had to be with malicious intention”, the story was quickly picked up by news agencies and circulated in English. The press office were not happy, and a reproduction of the story on the Sky Sports News website was later withdrawn. Whether or not Eduardo had actually been interviewed over the telephone within 24 hours of the injury is questionable, although it is interesting that Arsenal’s own official website carried the remainder of the interview, evidently having deemed the less controversial part of it to be credible enough for reproduction.

Arsène Wenger is of course a law unto himself and will speak to whoever he chooses. So he has direct contact on a regular basis with a couple of favoured French writers on L’Equipe and France Football (as well as being retained by France’s main commercial channel TF1 as a pundit providing regular comments for the weekly news programme Telefoot and for the live broadcasts of the national team’s games). As a courtesy, they inform the press office that they have spoken with the boss. The information tends to be grudgingly received, probably because there is nothing they can do to prevent it, despite the fact that the French journalists are unlikely to fall into the category of writers who would opportunistically exploit their access.

In elevating Arsenal into the club it has become, Arsène Wenger has encouraged a culture of separatism. The notion of control permeates the organisation. The manager has reason to ensure his players are controlled in what they can eat and drink and how they train, but the idea extends to other areas that cocoon them. There is little exposure to the paying public or the media, except in situations that are heavily supervised. The culture of the club is very pro tective, very inward-looking. There may be surprise and spontaneity on the field, but elsewhere there is none and the club should be confident enough to allow the human touch to proliferate without fear of a backlash.

With the apprehension over terrorism, players are advised not to do lifestyle pieces and interviews carried out under the copy approval arrangement often have mentions of players’ religious beliefs removed. You wonder whether, had Brazilian superstar Kaka ended up in north London, his ‘I belong to Jesus’ vest under his shirt would have had the postscript ‘but the press office would rather you didn’t know’.

The notion of the Milan player plying his trade at Arsenal is not so fanciful, as Brazil was not unchartered territory for Arsène Wenger in less busy times. “It’s my big regret now that I cannot travel,” he reveals. “I like to travel to watch players and find people. I found Silvinho and Edu on my travels. I knew Kolo Toure since he was 16. I helped create the Kolo Toure school [in the Ivory Coast].” (And there are other more specific regrets. Claude Makelele and Petr Cech are two notable examples of star quality that Wenger was aware of when they played in France, but who he allowed to slip away.)

As other managers had their eyes opened by Wenger’s groundbreaking voyages and followed in his footsteps, so Arsenal had to put together a more structured operation to ward off the increasing intrusion into what once was virgin territory for other British clubs. Nowadays the scouting network does the travelling for him while he sits at home in Totteridge and does the best he can. Kaka had already been snapped up but occasionally television will give him the chance to catch sight of a potential signing his scouting team have been reporting on. He would certainly have had ample opportunity to verify the good reports on José Antonio Reyes and Bacary Sagna ahead of the decision to bring them to north London. However, the number of potential purchases watched chez Wenger that have simply fallen outside the available budget is a moot point.

Yet it was one that David Dein was all too concerned about. “Arsène has to sell before he can buy,” he said before the January 2007 transfer window. The perspective back in 2004 was that the stadium was going to make that situation obsolete. “What I want is to put this club on a level where we have a 60,000-seater stadium and if the manager or the board takes the right decision we can compete with everybody in the world,” said Wenger at the time. “At the moment, I am sitting here – if Milan or Man United or Real Madrid is after the same player, I say thank you very much, I’ll go somewhere else. And I want one day that the manager – if it’s me or somebody else – can say, ‘OK, how much is it? I can compete.’ And that gives you a guarantee, but at the moment if we are wrong in the buys, we cannot compete. If you get one or two buys wrong, you are dead. With the biggest clubs it is different. They can say, ‘OK, this year we were wrong. We’ll put in £50 million again and we will be right next time.’”

By March 2007 it seemed as if nothing had changed. The team were out of the Premiership title race, still adapting to a life of careful husbandry at the home that was supposed to ensure that they were able to vie with their free-spending rivals. However, the club simply had too much money tied up in property development, particularly Highbury Square. And until all the money was in from the sale of the flats there would have to be economic sacrifices in the short term, a situation many fans, David Dein among them, were having trouble getting to grips with. Now was the time for the man of action who had seen off Terry Neill and Don Howe to return with a vengeance. If Arsène needed £50 million he should damn well have it and in the vice-chairman’s view that is exactly what he did need and he was going to ensure that he got it.