All right, so now what the fuck do we do?!
I’m kidding of course. We don’t have do anything, not until May 30th anyway, and that can wait. Imagine the luxury of that. The Champions League final is on the horizon, but we can just chill. Relax. Enjoy ourselves. Whether near or far, we can all find ways to do that.
I loved the pictures and the videos and the stories of the scenes around the stadium on Tuesday evening. Not just because it was Arsenal fans celebrating an Arsenal victory, but I heard so many friends, and otherwise, talk about how wonderfully it represented the diversity of the area and how the club was fundamental to that. People of every stripe congregated to share something special, something positive, something to celebrate.
At a time when it feels like large gatherings of people are often built on divisiveness and hate, this was all about love. Love of the team, love of the club, love of the achievement, love of fellow fans regardless of what they look like, who they worship, where they come from, who they love, or anything else. Fuck knows we need more of that, and while I recognise Arsenal winning the title in this context, in these particular set of circumstances is rare and hard to replicate, I don’t think that fundamental connection on a human level should feel as hard to find as it so often does.
We talk so often about how the players represent the club, but in this instance the fans were a perfect representation of an ideal of Arsenal many of us have. Open, inclusive, welcoming, but rooted in the heart of North London whether you’re watching from the other side of the Atlantic, Africa, Asia, Australia, wherever. There isn’t anywhere in the world that doesn’t have its own Arsenal community that loves the club with the same passion and fervour. I loved those scenes. I lived vicariously through those who were lucky enough to be there, and the way it was documented through pictures and videos and everything else.
In a round-up on Arseblog News about how our crew reacted, Andrew Allen wrote:
After standing in the middle of it all for a while, watching the fireworks and strangers hugging and chanting, I took myself off for a quiet moment. I sat on the steps by Block D, where I’ve entered the stadium for the last 20 years, and had a little cry. To the lad in the 93/94 shirt who was sobbing nearby, that hug was special, man. I hope you enjoyed your night.
Maybe they’ll never see each other ever again, but what a moment. A release of emotion that was both organic and necessary. I told the story on the Arsecast Extra with James, but on the day of the Burnley game, I went to see the David Bowie thing at the Lightroom in London. It’s basically a film on a loop with clips of his music, interviews, him talking about his work, art, literature, and more, played in this cool room with the visuals projected on three sides. I recommend it if you have a chance to go and you have any interest in David Bowie.
I sat there thoroughly enjoying it, thinking ‘This is so cool!’ with my Bowie nerd hat on, when all of a sudden, as he was singing Heroes, I just burst into tears. Out of nowhere. And it wasn’t because I suddenly missed a man I’d never met while I listened to a song I’ve heard 10,000 times. There’s been a lot of emotion this season during our treacherous journey to the title, and part of my coping mechanism means it’s been tamped down internally. It’s got to come out somewhere at some point though!
Call it a pre-emptive strike, or something, but I know it was connected to football, to what was still at stake at that point, how much it meant to me and, by extension, to everyone else connected with Arsenal. I sat there in the dark for another little while, before I felt confident I wouldn’t just walk down the road crying, and I felt a little lighter. Walking out of the bar on Tuesday evening, where I learned that Arsenal had won the title, it was like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. Since then, I’ve had a tear in my eye here and there, but good ones. Happy ones. Occasional bittersweet ones, but they’re better out than in, as they say.
I said this in my part of the round-up I linked to earlier, but I do want to take a second to thank the team here at Arseblog who have been along on this journey for so long. To have the privilege of doing what I do is something special on its own, but to share it with so many talented and accomplished people, many of whom are more than colleagues but great friends, makes it even more so. Love you guys.
And you the readers, the listeners, the subscribers, the ones who make this community what it is – thank you. Everyone has an opinion about football, there’s so often divergence and disagreement, but 99% of that on this site is generally respectful. There are always gonna be one or two along the way, but they’ll scuttle off into the shadows now with nothing to say when there’s success, waiting for the next hiccup before they come crawling out of the woodwork. Tedious bores, unlike the rest who can accept we don’t all think the same, we shouldn’t all think the same, and that’s what makes football so compelling.
I have literally hundreds of messages, via various open channels of communication, that I will do my absolute best to reply to, but please give me a bit of time. I’m inundated and slightly overwhelmed, but in the words of Mikel Arteta, “Be patient, it’s coming …”.
I think Tim’s column is essential reading too today, and because of everything that’s happened, the podcast schedule is completely out of whack. I don’t know what’s going on and when, but I’ll do my best to get stuff to you as and when I can make it happen. But look, as I said at the top, winning the league means we can chill and relax, so why don’t we just chill and relax.
Que sera, sera my fellow champions. Till tomorrow.