2005 - The last time

2005 FA Cup Final

After a year away we were back in the FA Cup Final in 2005. Our group didn’t take a minibus this year as we hired a people carrier instead. I was the volunteer to drive and we set off shortly after breakfast on the day before the game. As usual the car was decorated in Arsenal colours, the red and white ribbons supplemented by a small amount of yellow to ensure we weren’t confused with the Mancs in any way. The usual beer and brandy was piled in to the car as we headed out of Dover for one final Cardiff away day (actually some of us went to the Charity Shield the following August for one last game in Wales). In the car were Dad, Mark, Gary, Bill, David and Frank. Again we picked up Matthew at Maidstone, while Mick was working in Swindon and would make us a two car convoy half way down the M4. I remember David being mightily impressed that Mark had bought lime with him to add to his beer and describing him as a “pro” when it came to preparation.

Dennis was inspired by our singing...probably

We got to Membury services without incident and there was the usual round of brandy coffees for the passengers. Shortly after that we hit the traffic. They’d been talking on the radio about road works affecting the M4 and how it would disrupt travel for those going to Cardiff for the game. They weren’t wrong. This was the first time any of our journeys to Wales had been affected by traffic. As the traffic jam wore on we were overtaken by two large Range Rover’s, bedecked in red and white. As we pulled alongside them again I noticed that the driver of the front one was none other than Mrs Bergkamp – the one behind was being driven by Dennis’ father. The horn on the car was sounded many times and the windows put down in our motor as a rousing chorus of “Bergkamp Wonderland” filled the motorway air. Dennis’ wife was on the phone and she held it out of the window as we sang. I can only assume that at that time we were actually serenading the Great Man at the other end of the line. The Bergkamp family seemed to enjoy the attention and it showed how normal they were that they had decorated their motors for the Cup Final as any fan would.

We were stopping in Chepstow, as we had for the Chelsea game three years earlier. Andy, Tony, Sue and Buster were coming up from Cardiff for the evening as we prepared in the usual fashion. Unfortunately I missed all the pre-match drinking. After a couple of pints I was feeling really unwell. I returned to the hotel and slept deeply until the following morning. I don’t know what it was, and it was rare to sleep so soundly before a Cup Final. When I woke up the following day I was fine.

We drove in to Cardiff bright and early, but that was about the only thing that was bright all day. No sooner had we taken up our position by Cardiff Castle than it started to rain. Dad was interviewed by TalkSport, and we tried to recreate my goal at Highbury from the week before for Sky Sports, but it wasn’t a great action replay if I’m honest (God knows where we got a football from). As the day wore on we were joined by a number of familiar faces as a large amount of Dover Gooners had managed to lay their hands on tickets for this game. A long-time friend and Manchester United season ticket holder from Dover also caught up with us before we went in to the ground. To be honest, though, it lacked the atmosphere of the other trips to Cardiff. The weather didn’t help, of course, but there was an edginess to the atmosphere because of the relationship between the two Clubs and the two sets of supporters. There was no element of people seemingly being there just to enjoy the day. United were also just about to be sold to the Americans so their fans were more than touchy to any baiting on that front as well.

Jens the hero

Inside the stadium we had very similar seats to those we’d had for the Chelsea game. What followed was a Cup Final to match our 2001 game with Liverpool in terms of how one-sided it was. The difference was that we were the ones just waiting for the opposition to get the goal their play warranted. With Thierry Henry injured we had the ridiculous sight of Dennis up front on his own. For all his greatness, Dennis was not a target man. At no time in the entire game did our defence get any respite. Ronaldo gave Lauren the most torrid game I’d ever seen him have. Lehmann, Toure and Senderos (Sol Campbell was left out) were imperious at the back, with Vieira and Gilberto working like Trojan’s ahead of them. Chance after chance came and went for United and us fans were suffering. The players didn’t lack for support from our end, but they just weren’t at it.

Somehow, thanks largely to Jens, we made it to extra-time. Robin Van Persie had come on for us and he had our only shot on goal with a free-kick that produced a good save from Roy Carroll. At the other end the chances kept coming. The best opportunity they had fell to Ruud Van Cheatalot with a header from about two yards that Freddie somehow deflected on to the bar. I suppose we should have realised at that point that this would be our day. Jose Antonio Reyes was ridiculously sent-off with about ten seconds to play for two bookings – the second a result of Ronaldo literally running in to him and then going down and holding his face. If you watch the TV replays you can see Reyes’ arm touches Ronaldo in the chest, and the cheating little scumbag lays on the floor looking between his fingers at the referee to see if the card is coming out. We could all see it was nothing in the stadium at the time, but that summed up the referee Rob Styles. The final whistle was blown and somehow we’d survived two hours of being battered by Manchester United. God knows how.

Paddy's final kick

The penalties are fairly vivid to me. None of us were quite sure who would take them with Henry and Pires not on the pitch. Lauren and Ashley Cole were certainties. But Freddie hadn’t really taken  any, Patrick Vieira had missed them in the past (including in a UEFA Cup Final shootout) and Robin Van Persie was very young. Ralph stepping up to take our first, having seen United score, got us off to a good start – top corner. Then it was Jens Lehmann’s time to be our hero. Scholes should have been sent-off during the game for some of the most horrendous fouls you’ll see in an FA Cup Final (he always got away with it) so it was justice that he should have his penalty saved. It’s a weird feeling in a shootout because, until it’s properly over you can only half cheer the goals and saves. In truth our penalties were outstanding. Freddie despatched his to put us ahead, while Cole always put them away for Arsenal. We were nervous when Robin Van Persie stepped up, but he was nothing if not confident – top corner again.

Players and supporters in similar pose

And so it came down to Patrick. None of us knew then how significant this kick of the ball would be in terms of his Arsenal career, and that it would herald our trophy drought. I can see him kicking that ball now. I had the perfect view. Closing my eyes I can see Carroll go the right way, and I’m convinced he got fingers on the ball, but it flew in to the top corner. The Arsenal end absolutely erupted. What a noise. What a celebration. Patrick went straight to Jens who had outrageously been overlooked as Man of the Match in favour of the goalless Rooney. The relief of winning after taking such a beating in the game was unreal. The jumping about and the hugging was as massive as ever. Gary jumped on me and nearly knocked me out! We’d won the Cup again. Nothing beats that feeling of winning something.

Patrick lifts the Cup to the Arsenal fans

We were all delighted that Reyes was allowed to pick up his winners medal having been sent off so ridiculously by an overzealous referee, determined to make headlines for himself. Then Paddy stepped forward and lifted the Cup. What final act to perform as an Arsenal player. Another great lap of honour was enjoyed by us all. You never tire of those moments.

The winning scorer celebrates

I drove out in to the M4 traffic jams with a very happy car load of Gooners. A Man Utd minibus tried to drive me off in to the central reservation after Matthew had responded to their unprovoked abuse by calling them all w*****s. He wasn’t wrong. Incidents on the M4 after the game had been a feature of two of our Cup Final’s there – some people just can’t take losing, can they? We got back to Dover at gone 10pm and joined in an impromptu drink or three with other celebrating Dover Gooners at my brother’s house. I think I’d earned a lager or two. Who'd have known we still wouldn't have tasted that success again some nine years later? I can honestly say that, because of who we beat and the way we were hammered on the day, this was up there with the very best feelings of them all.

Some of this on Saturday please Arsenal

I really hope you’ve enjoyed my reminiscences of Cup Final’s past over this week. It’s been great fun writing them and recalling the good times we've all had, both at Wembley and in Cardiff. Sadly we can't all be together again on Saturday because of the way the tickets have been allocated. That's a shame that should be highlighted both to Arsenal and to the FA. I'm one of the lucky ones as I will be at Wembley again. I feel, as ever, privileged.

Tomorrow I’ll be previewing the 2014 FA Cup Final so please check back for that. I hope I’ll have a new story to tell by the time I get home late on Saturday night.

2003 - The forgotten (and friendly) FA Cup Final

2003 FA Cup Final

Nobody ever seems to talk about the 2003 FA Cup win. For some reason it’s been almost totally forgotten. Okay, it wasn’t a great game, but it was still Arsenal winning a trophy. I wonder if part of the reason is that we’d blown the Premier League Title in the final few games of the season and the press went on about it being nothing more than a consolation prize. Maybe that was the case for those watching it in a pub. For those of us watching it in the flesh it was nothing other than priceless, as it always is when you win a trophy. There’s nothing like being there.

We took another fun bus to Cardiff for the game. This time we were staying in Cardiff itself the night before the match. We left Dover early afternoon, but not without drama. My future wife had kindly ironed my home shirt, ready for the game, only to iron a bloody great hole straight through the front of it. That meant an emergency trip to JJB in town to purchase another one - £40 worse off, but properly attired for the Cup Final (the burned shirt had “Bergkamp 10” printed on the back and ended up being signed by the Great Man later that year.

On the bus we had a newcomer as Haydn joined me, Dad, Mick, Mark, Frank, Gary, Bill, David and Tony for the journey down, picking up Matthew at Maidstone on the way. Young Haydn was a dead ringer for Ruud Van Nistelrooy and not a huge drinker. He was certainly in the wrong place that day. The beer was cracked early and we were on our way to another FA Cup Final. We hadn’t gone 100 yards from the pub before the bus had brushed a parked car – the owner was known to Bill and he was happy to take a Cup Final programme in lieu of the scuff on his bumper. Thankfully the red and white ribbons weren’t damaged and we moved on down the road.

When we stopped at the services on the M4 we had Haydn’s first incident. The coffees (tea) in my case were purchased and laced (more than just slightly) with the usual brandy. As I said, Haydn wasn’t a drinker. The boy was ashen after taking a massive mouthful of his coffee. He went for a walk. Suffice to say he didn’t finish his coffee. All the more for Gary, as I recall.

Saints fans recreating 1976

We were at the hotel nice and early that afternoon and straight in to the bar. There were a few Arsenal fans already there, and a few Southampton supporters too. The Saints’ fans were determined to enjoy the occasion no matter what and I thought it was a great idea of theirs to wear a replica of their 1976 Cup Final shirt once they were confirmed as the “away” team. I remember us wondering if Peter Rodrigues was skippering them the following day.

We were joined in the early evening by our Highbury “neighbour” Glenn, and by Andy Gibbons and his mate Buster (who lived in Cardiff). The evening wore on and we were getting hungry. There was a Toby Carvery attached to the hotel and that got my vote, hands down. My brother, however, had suggested a curry. Buster knew of a curry house somewhere nearby and so it was settled. As we were finishing our drinks there was a noisy hen party making their presence known in the bar. Haydn went off for a slash and we went out to the taxi. My brother Mick, who always “organised” these trips away, counted the heads and we were off, in two minibuses (including our own driver, Geordie John – the Dad of Scott who’d driven us the year before – and had never been for a ruby in the past). By this time it was peeing down with rain. We were all in Dover Gooners t-shirts or Arsenal attire of some type or another, but Haydn had dressed up for the evening out. When we got to the curry house we realised that young Haydn wasn’t with us. Having nipped off to the toilet, Mick had then miscounted and we’d left the lad at the hotel. We piled back in and headed back to find him. Walking down the road in the pouring rain, with no idea where he was actually going, was a soaked to the skin Haydn. We got him in the bus and he told us he thought it was some sort of initiation we were putting him through! His nice shirt was wrecked and Gary was particularly unhappy that the boy had walked away from a massive hen party to come and eat Indian food with us bunch of drunks! In fact he has never allowed Haydn to forget it.

Now drunk people and curry houses are not a great mix, are they? So imagine drunken Arsenal supporters taking up half the restaurant and noticing, on the wall, a framed picture of St Mary’s Stadium, marking this venue out as the favoured meeting place of the Cardiff branch of the Southampton Supporters Club. Unperturbed, we ordered (with some help for John who knew only of the “mag-maloo” which is apparently the hottest dish you can by in Newcastle). I don’t do spice so I picked the bog standard chicken curry. Those waiters knew what they were doing. Not one of us around that table had ever eaten anything like the nuclear explosions on a plate that were presented to us. John, being a Geordie, loved it. My a**e hated it. And was still hating it 48 hours later (a late recognition of the fact that half the cans of beer we’d been drinking were past their sell-by date might also have exacerbated that situation). I reckon the local Saints’ fans would have enjoyed the story of how the Arsenal supporters were stitched up in their restaurant the night before the game.

Back at the hotel there were a few more beers, and some chat with a few of the locals, and a fine day and night came to an end. The best thing about the booze is that it might just knock you out enough to overcome the excitement that usually prevents a decent kip the night before a Cup Final.

Under the roof

After a decent breakfast the following morning it was quickly in to the city where we, again, found ourselves outside Cardiff Castle. This year, however, the weather was abysmal. As a result we were all crowded in to a bus stop with our beer for the day, sheltering from the downpours. The FA had already announced that the game would be played under a closed roof for the first (and only) time. The last person to join the party was my colleague Wes who had booked late on to the Travel Club coaches, but would return in celebration with us on the minibus after the game. One last can and it was off in to the ground.

Our seats for this Final were on the opposite side of the pitch to where we were for the Chelsea game a year earlier, but with a similar view. The roof being closed made for a really odd kind of feeling. There was a weird sort of echo to everything and it was a bit like being in a massive 5-a-side hall.

I think that years “Abide With Me” was the most emotional one I’ve yet experienced. The presence of the massed ranks of Southampton supporters meant there were large numbers there determined to lap up the whole thing. I remember a middle-aged Saints fan appearing on the big screen in tears at the end of the hymn with tears rolling down his cheeks. If that doesn’t underline the importance of the FA Cup to the fans then nothing can. It also underlines what it means to be there in person – nobody watching in a pub or anywhere else can get that feeling, and that’s why we go to games.

Bobby scores the winner

I remember us getting off to a fine start and Lundekvam should have been sent-off in the very first minute for a professional foul, I think on Thierry Henry. We continued to dominate without creating too much clear cut, but we made the breakthrough just before half-time. Dennis Bergkamp and Freddie Ljungberg combined, unsurprisingly, to get in and shoot. Freddie’s effort was blocked, but it fell to Bobby who poked it in. There’s nothing like a goal in the FA Cup Final and the Arsenal end (and much of the other end if truth be told) erupted in noise that echoed around the closed in stadium.

Luzhny - the real Man of the Match

We had a slightly weakened side out, to be fair. Sol Campbell was suspended after being ridiculously sent-off after Solskjaer’s play acting a few weeks earlier, Patrick Vieira was injured and also absent. As a result we had Ray Parlour playing a rare game in the middle alongside Gilberto, while a half-fit Martin Keown was slotted in alongside Oleg Luzhny at centre-back. The Horse was playing his final game for Arsenal along with David Seaman, who was Captain in Vieira’s absence. Luzhny was absolutely immense that day. Without a doubt it was his best performance in an Arsenal shirt and it was an injustice that Thierry Henry was made Man of the Match ahead of the Ukrainian. By the end of the game Martin Keown was basically playing on one leg and Luzhny was standing firm against the Southampton onslaught. We were trying to hit them on the break and maybe could have had a goal or two more, but with a few minutes to go Henry and Pires were already playing out time in the corners of the pitch. This was making us all very anxious as you just felt Southampton would get a chance at some point.

Big Dave goes out on a high

With a minute or two left Southampton gave it everything and started to threaten. Brett Ormerod got the drop on our defence for the only time all day and hit a stunning volley towards the roof of the net. David Seaman made one final contribution with an outstanding save (he’d already got us to Wembley with “that” stop in the semi-final against Sheffield United) to tip the shot over the bar. I’d seen Seaman duck under similar near-post shots from Giggs and Batistuta in recent years, so to see him stand up and make that save was fantastic. Our greatest goalkeeper was going out on a high at Cardiff. We cleared the resulting corner and the final whistle went. The celebrating began.

Bobby with the FA Cup

Haydn was sat to my left and he was in tears at the final whistle. He told us that he never thought he’d get to see something like this in the flesh. The roar that greeted Seaman and Vieira lifting the Cup together was as big as any other I’ve heard down the years. The Southampton fans were the first losing supporters I’d ever known to stay en masse for the trophy presentation, but such was their determination to take in everything and to give their players thanks for the experience. 

Dodgy conga

Our players set off on the usual lap of honour, with the music blaring and the supporters singing, though I’m not sure what the conga they did was all about. Kolo Toure was doing somersaults and getting cheered in the process. For all the media who had gone on about us getting some sort of “consolation prize” they couldn’t have been further from the truth. Winning the FA Cup in 2003 was every bit as special as the other times I’ve been through it. Magnificent.

Walking back to the buses with the Gooners was great as usual. There was singing and celebrating on the streets of Cardiff. I remember us seeing Jerry (Gunnersaurus) and Daniel Quy and serenading Jerry with the Freddie Ljungberg song, changing red hair for grey in his case, as they waited to pack people off on the Travel Club coaches that they organised. We boarded the fun bus and headed back East.

I have to apologise to the others on the bus for the state of my guts that evening. I’m sure that what was being created wasn’t natural in any way. Matthew owned a pub just outside Maidstone and we piled in there when dropping him off for some more beers and a bit of pizza to finish the day. One of the pizzas was spicy. That wasn’t good for me. As a result Haydn wasn’t the only one to get home that night with a sense of relief that he’d survived the trip. Another great day of Arsenal glory was at an end.

2002 - MY memories of the Ray and Freddie show

2002 FA Cup Final

Having travelled to Cardiff on the train from Paddington in 2001 we decided to take a minibus from Dover for the Chelsea game in 2002. The previous year had seen a magnificent day in the Cardiff sunshine spoiled by Steve Dunn’s deliberate act of stopping Arsenal from winning the FA Cup (just check the video from that match and tell me there isn’t something fishy about a referee who seemed to make it his personal quest to upset Dennis Bergkamp). The highlight of that train journey the previous year had been at Reading station where a train full of Arsenal supporters spied a train spotter in a Tottenham shirt at the end of the platform – we were the first train of the day and it absolutely erupted once this cretin had been seen.

Back to May 2002 and we set off on the afternoon before the game after a quick drink at The Boar’s Head. The fun bus, bedecked in its red and white ribbons, was packed with beer and crisps and brandy and Dover Gooners – there was me, my Dad, my brothers, Bill, Gary, David, Frank and Tony, with Scott, a Newcastle fan, doing the driving for us. The singing was good (or largely out of tune) and we made good time all the way to Bracknell where I insisted on an impromptu pee stop by the side of the road. Having been abused mercilessly for curtailing the progress I was amazed to see every other sod also get off the bus to relieve their aching bladders.

Having stopped on the M4 for diesel and a small (!) brandy coffee we eventually got to our hotel in Chepstow around tea-time. A quick change of clothes and we headed off up the hill to join Frank Stubbs and the Maidstone Gooners for a night of good food and drink to prepare for what lay ahead the following day.

Pre-match in a magnificent stadium

We were all up early the following morning for a cooked breakfast, and some more brandy. We were “joined” by a family of Chelsea supporters who I don’t think were regulars at the Shed back in the 80’s. Gary offered them some brandy to usher in the day only to be told in a very plummy accent “We do our celebrating after the game”. Naturally they were told to expect a very sober day in that case. Off in to the bus again and we were in Cardiff early doors. After a quick walk around, and meeting Peter Nicholas briefly, we settled in front of Cardiff Castle with the remaining beers to enjoy the Cardiff weather and hospitality once again.

It's only...you know the rest

Having got in to the ground nice and early I once again marvelled at the Millenium Stadium. It is one of my favourite grounds that I’ve ever been to. Our seats were high up in the top tier, about the edge of the penalty area at the end we scored both goals, opposite the tunnel. I can remember the usual business of each Club getting to hear from their usual PA announcer before a song was played for a bit of a sing-along. This was the season of Freddie, of course, and the song played for us was “Can’t Take My Eyes Off You” by Andy Williams. The song seemed to float across the sea of flags that was now in the Arsenal end and the singing of our version of the chorus was loud.

We love you Freddie...

I don’t recall too much of the first-half, save for a Bergkamp header that floated just over the top. We were all pretty relieved when Jimmy Floyd-Hasselbaink had to be replaced as his hamstring injury hadn’t really healed properly and he was never fit in the first place. Two minutes later Ray Parlour let fly with that shot. What a celebration. It was the usual scene of jumping and shouting and flag waving joy. We seemed to have them on the rack and Thierry Henry and Ashley Cole seemed to tear Chelsea apart down our left. Following what had happened twelve months ago each missed chance had us more and more worried. Then Freddie went down the left and left John Terry on his back side. When he curled that ball you just knew it was going in. You also knew we’d won the FA Cup. One of my abiding memories is of watching the replay on the big screen and seeing Lee Dixon, warming up behind the goal, take off in celebration in front of the Arsenal fans.

Within a minute Henry was replaced by Kanu and my brother immediately pointed to the slumped shoulders of the Chelsea players – they were still petrified by the Nigerian after his hat-trick at Stamford Bridge three years earlier – and they simply couldn’t get the ball off him in those last ten minutes. The rest of the game is a blur, and I don’t really recall the trophy presentation. 

Tony and Patrick

I do remember vividly parts of the lap of honour. Most of all I remember Ashley Cole coming back out of the tunnel with the Cup and running to our end because we were all still in the stadium. The reason we were all still there was because Lee Dixon hadn’t left the pitch yet. He stood there in the centre-circle just looking at the Arsenal supporters, dancing away to the songs, determined to take in everything on what would be the last time he would be around such an occasion as a player. The only shame was the chanting of his name was being drowned out by yet another oppressive PA system.

Ray and Freddie

The walk back to the minibus was fantastic. Arsenal everywhere, singing Sol Campbell songs and Freddie Ljungberg songs and Arsene Wenger songs. Fantastic. Back on the bus it was more of the same. We drove out of Cardiff with the sliding door cracked open and me and Gary hanging out of it singing “We love you Freddie” to everyone on the pavements and in the cars. Magnificent memories if, looking back at it, a little bit stupid in safety terms!

That's why Sol left Tottenham

The frivolity did stop on the M4 when, in the traffic jam, we found the bus (with door shut) the object of hostility from a similar vehicle containing the more thuggish elements of the Chelsea support (I should mention that three of our group were over 60 years old). By now a couple of us were dying for a pee again but we couldn’t stop because of these nutters. When they pulled off in to the services we piled out on to the hard shoulder – our driver Scott, an ex-Royal Marine, was also out of the bus but he wasn’t stopping to relieve himself so much as to look for the Chelsea fans!

Dicko with the spoils of the season

We made it back to Dover safe and extremely happy at the end of a long and fantastic couple of days. The first part of another Double was in the bag, but I wasn’t able to go to Old Trafford the following Wednesday (unlike most of the others) as I was in the middle of a four week training course. What a week to be a Gooner.

1998 - MY best Arsenal day

1998 FA Cup Final

Two weeks before the 1998 FA Cup Final Arsenal had already won the Premier League. I’d been to the games at Anfield and Villa Park that followed the win over Everton but they’d been absolute non-events. The players and the supporters were already focused on Wembley and the chance to replicate the greatest achievement in the history of the Club. Throughout my childhood my Dad had told us all about “The Double Year”. To be honest it was completely mythical to someone of 19 years-old and something that I never considered I would ever see Arsenal do.

The most exciting view in football

May 16^th 1998 was very hot. It really was what you might call typical Cup Final weather. The black and white of Newcastle, against the red and white of the Arsenal supporters provided as good a visual spectacle as we’d experienced five years earlier against Sheffield Wednesday. For some reason we didn’t go to the other end of the stadium this time to see the teams arrive. Instead we went and found our seats good and early. We were up behind the goal, a fair distance back, but right next to the exit on the end of a row. Basically it was as good a view of the pitch as you could get at Wembley in those days. On the way in I’d bought myself a new flag (my Wembley flag from Luton in 1988 had started to show the effects of age and being flown from a car window in 1993) and it was a big red beast with a yellow cannon on it – I still have it to this day. That flag would get some serious action that day.

Tony Hadley sang the national anthem before the game and was met with loud cheers from our end as a famous Gooner. I suppose plenty was already going our way. When the game started Arsenal were quickly in control and Ray Parlour was setting about Stuart Pearce in a big way down our right. He laid one on a plate for Nicolas Anelka but the youngster headed over the open goal he’d been presented with. Aside from that Anelka’s pace was far too much for Newcastle’s Dad’s Army side. A midfield including David Batty was never going to be a match for Vieira, Petit, Overmars and Parlour, while Christopher Wreh’s non-stop running was slowly wearing out Howey and Dabizas.

Marc celebrates

It was a matter of time really before we got the first goal and Overmars was the man who did it, right in front of us Gooners. Again it was a mad celebration. We continued to dominate the first-half though chances were not too clear cut. Shearer was getting more and more frustrated and elbowy up front for them and just before half-time he mowed down Tony Adams in the corner of the pitch. TA6 got up and laughed at him, Shearer got booked (he should have walked if truth be told) and the Arsenal fans launched in to “One England Captain” to serenade the bitter idiot – remember Shearer was only playing after he blackmailed the FA in to not suspending him for kicking Neil Lennon in the head two weeks earlier by threatening to not play at the World Cup.

I can still see this clearly

Half-time came and went and Arsenal were comfortable. In the ten minutes or so after the break it was apparent that we were too comfortable. First of all Dabizas looped a header on to the bar and then Shearer capitalised on a stumble by Keown to hit the post. This roused us lot behind the goal and I recall clearly being one of the first off my seat to scream  “COME ON!!!” at the players. The noise level rose from us supporters as we could see the players starting to throw away their clear superiority. That was the end for Newcastle, as it happened. Ray Parlour and Lee Dixon down Arsenal’s right started to dominate the game completely, and David Platt came on to play the supporting role to Anelka (as well as kicking anything that threatened to move). When Parlour lobbed the ball over the defence and we saw Anelka charge clear we all looked to the linesman. From my seat I had the perfect view of Anelka’s shot and I could see it was in long before it hit the net. We knew then that we were going to win the Double. Again there was jumping about and deafening noise and cuddling people and going mental.

Super Nic celebrates his goal

Parlour simply got stronger and stronger in the oppressive heat. He hit the post late on after a storming run past most of their defence and Overmars was about six inches away from scoring with a 40 yard volley that Shay Given just about climbed for and clung on to. On the one occasion Newcastle got in late on Nigel Winterburn came from nowhere to make one of the great Cup Final tackles as Shearer drew his foot back to score. Standing ovation for Nutty Nige. Then Gilles Grimandi appeared on the touchline, stripped for action. A lot of us were bit incredulous at this as Ian Wright and Steve Bould were also among the subs. The ball subsequently didn’t go out of play before the end of the game – I suspect an Arsenal player would have booted it out had one or both of the others been getting their deserved taste of the Cup Final.

The final whistle brought delirium in the Arsenal end.  As I said, it was something I never thought I’d ever see. I’m sure all of us youngsters were the same. For people like my Dad who’d been there in 1971 he’d been one of the few to witness both. I cried at Wembley after the game ended – we’d done the Double!

Scorers with the Cup

I don’t really recall a lot more from inside Wembley after the game. I do remember the PA blaring out “Walking On Sunshine” and the Arsenal fans singing along to every word while the players dances in front of us. Wrighty tried to orchestrate one of those run and dive things that the Chelsea players had done the year before, but thankfully most of the others weren’t up for copying those no marks. I also remember him planting an Arsenal flag on the centre-spot and him and Lee Dixon sitting in the centre-circle with the Cup for a while. We all filed away eventually.

Walking back to the car there were a lot of very gracious Geordie fans (the older ones at least) who were applauding the Arsenal fans and telling us we had the best side in the World. I’ll never forget that. Lots of them were shaking hands with us as we all walked back to our cars or to the station. Then, outside The Torch pub a couple of them put their hands out to shake, only to pull them away and tell us to “f***-off”. It was a shame as the vast majority of the Newcastle fans had been great that day. And, yes, they did get a mouthful back.

The car journey back through North London was like nothing I’ve ever experienced and never will again. It goes without saying that the traffic was horrendous, but that doesn’t matter when you’ve won, does it? Coming through Archway there were, randomly, a load of Newcastle fans outside a pub opposite the station. What you thought might be ugly was nothing of the sort as they raised their glasses to the Arsenal procession back to Highbury. In the traffic jam in front of us was a limo from which emerged through the sunroof the comedian Alan Davies, beer in hand and smile on face. There were literally Arsenal songs being sung in the traffic jam. Behind us, meanwhile, was a luxury coach. It was me who noticed that, sitting in the seat at the front of it, was Charlie George – this was one of the Arsenal staff coaches. In the stationary traffic my brother got out of the car and knelt in front of the coach to bow before a beaming Charlie.

From the bottom end of Archway Road, all the way to Highbury Corner, it was like being in a carnival. There were hundreds (probably thousands) of people on the streets greeting us all back from Wembley like some kind of returning war heroes. People were leaning in to the cars and hugging us and shaking our hands and there was more singing and car horns blowing. Quite simply it was the most amazing scene. All the buildings seemed to have Arsenal flags on them that hadn’t been there earlier in the day. What a feast for the senses.

Arsenal's Double Winners

You never want that sort of thing to end and I’d love to do it all again. Sadly I don’t think I’ll ever have a better day at football than 16^th May 1998 – glorious and memorable in every way you could imagine, but if I do then it will be well worth it!

MY story of 1993 - Late Night Linighan

Game One

The first FA Cup Final I attended was in 1993. I was two weeks old when Alan Sunderland “beat the f*****g b******s” at Wembley in 1979 and was still considered a little too young attend the following year when Terry Neill’s men succumbed to West Ham towards the end of the longest season ever. I’d already been to Wembley with Arsenal in 1988 to see us throw away the Littlewoods Cup against Luton, then again that August for a 4-0 pre-season win over Spurs and the Charity Shield defeat to Liverpool a year later. Tickets were too hard to come by for me to attend the Tottenham defeat in 1991, but I’d already been to the old place twice already in ’93 for the FA Cup semi-final and League Cup Final wins. By the time we got there again for the FA Cup Final I think Arsenal and Sheffield Wednesday were sick of the sight of one another, though how anyone could ever tire of going to Wembley I could never imagine.

Wrighty celebrates his Saturday goal

The first thing that sticks in my mind from that Saturday, as with the League Cup Final, was the way we were outnumbered by the Wednesday fans when we went down to their end to see the team bus arrive. With them having to travel from Yorkshire the vast majority of their supporters were there early, whereas the Gooners were mostly jumping on the Tube or whatever to get there. Our vantage point was great to see the decorated cars arriving in the Wembley car-park (ours was also decorated, but parked on a well-off housing estate somewhere behind Brent Town Hall). Our coach was the second to arrive so most of the Yorkshire types had dispersed leaving us to welcome George Graham’s boys at pretty close quarters. The contrast of our red and white flags and shirts against their blue and white has always stuck with me, and I always think it looks great on the video from that day.

We had seats at the front of what might have been termed the “upper” part of the old Wembley terracing, with a wall separating us from those in the seats in front of us. We were directly behind the goal that both goals were scored in that day. I can still remember the reaction to Ian Wright’s opener and the deafening Wembley noise that greeted it. The goal itself is fuzzy to say the least. In truth it was a poor game. Wednesday equalised and there really wasn’t much else of note. I remember a bloke (who sat near us in the East Stand and always seemed a bit of a clown if I’m honest) spending extra-time reading his programme such was the excitement on offer. Pat Rice had taken to the pitch before extra-time began to try and whip up some noise from our end, but it was all to no avail and we had to come back the following Thursday which meant an early start for my Dad (I think on the Monday morning) to get to Highbury and queue for the tickets for the replay (being a replay the “FA Family” weren’t invited which meant 40,000+ Gooners would be in attendance).

Game Two

The Thursday was a pretty grim and wet day. A quick change of clothes after school and we were on our way to Wembley for the fourth time in six weeks. When we got there my Dad went to get the programme and there had been some cretin pushing and shoving in the (small) queue. Dad came back to where me and my two brothers were and this same idiot, some short fat little t****r with milk bottle glasses, stood close by. He eye-balled the Old Man who indicated that perhaps he ought to behave. The fat boy moved in to square up and my eldest brother simply moved across him, so chubby moved away. As we turned our backs he launched himself at Dad and my brother with fists pumping. It was a very glancing blow, but as the mug ran for it my other brother caught him one hell of a crack with a kick to the back of his leg. Just as we launched our pursuit a slew of coppers appeared telling us to “calm down”. They weren’t interested in the fact that two of us had been assaulted. We walked all round Wembley trying to find this little runt, but without luck. We never knew if he was Arsenal or Wednesday. If you’re reading this, you little fool, I hope you were a Wednesday fan who went home with a horrible bruise and the thought that you’d had another wasted trip to London.

My memory tells me that kick-off might have been delayed as the Sheffield fans were stuck in traffic on the M1. As it was they hadn’t sold most of the tickets in their end. Quite simply people from up there couldn’t afford another trip to Wembley, but it served them right for insisting on their semi-final with Sheffield United being played there.

Our seats were much better for the replay, just about in line with the penalty area at the Arsenal end of the ground, on the same side as the Royal Box (I would sit in almost the very same seat when we played our second season of Champions League fixtures at Wembley six years later). From up there, however, you couldn’t see that Mark Bright had elbowed Andy Linighan. I remember quite vividly John Jensen totalling Chris Waddle early on. These days it would be a clear red card and was clearly a deliberately orchestrated move to put Waddle out of the proceedings. I can see Wrighty’s goal as I write this and the reaction to it in our end. The question was whether we could hold on this time.

In truth the replay was a really good game, despite what the reports from the time might have you believe. We had Jensen and Paul Davis in midfield and they dominated that area for most of the game. Where we had a problem was that Wrighty wasn’t fit and Paul Merson put in one of the worst performances of his Arsenal career – he squandered a couple of great chances and continually gave the ball away all night. At the back Tony Adams and Big Andy were immense, despite the broken nose and the threat of Bright and David Hirst, as well as Waddle and Sheridan.

Their equaliser is also etched on my mind. From where we were it seemed to go through David Seaman. Everyone around us saw the same thing – Seaman had let one go through his hands on the big occasion again. For the next five or ten minutes we were convinced he was all over the place, his confidence completely shot to pieces. Of course, watching the game on video the following day you realised their equaliser was deflected, and that’s why Seaman looked so awkward as the ball went in to the net. Within minutes Bright missed a sitter that would have seen us lose the game.

Chances for both sides came and went in the rest of the game and during extra-time – Merson missed when clean through by hitting it straight at Woods, and then Bright was about an inch away from heading in past Seaman. I think everyone was resigned to penalties as we made slow progress down our left. I recall us having at least two throw-ins as we got up there end and then John Jensen hit a shot that we were right behind. There is no doubt in my mind that the ball was going in the top corner until it was deflected away for a corner. At this point we all seemed to rouse ourselves. One last effort. Up went the determined “Arsenal, Arsenal, Arsenal” chant (you can hear it clearly on the film of the game) as the centre-halves trooped up one more time (I’d only ever heard that chant once before at that time and it had been at Anfield in 1989). Again, sitting here typing this, I can see the header flying towards goal. I can see Woods parry it, and I can see the defender hoofing it in to the roof of the net. My God it was pandemonium. I had never, ever, experienced a moment like that. The noise, the colour, the jumping around uncontrollably, the sight of 40-odd thousand Arsenal fans going completely mental. You can’t recreate that kind of moment in time. You can’t buy that feeling of happiness, relief, joy – there aren’t enough adjectives to describe it. Quite simply, that moment when Andy Linighan scored is the reason we do this whole going to football thing. It wasn’t until after the final whistle I realised it wasn’t Tony Adams that had scored – the penny dropped when TA6 escorted Linighan towards the Arsenal fans pointing at him to get his moment of adoration after the game had finished. I don’t know why I had thought it was Tony. I didn’t care, really, just as long as somebody had done it.

Not long afterwards, of course, it was all over. John Jensen cleared a corner at the near-post and the whistle went. More jumping around. Incredible scenes. I suppose the last minute nature of the win adds to the release in that sort of situation. Having half a stadium full of your own makes that moment as well – maybe The FA should take note.

Tony presents the hero to the Arsenal fans

Tony lifted the Cup towards us all and we went mad once more. The lap of honour seemed to last for ages and the players really milked it that night. Most of the attention of the fans was on Linighan, but even more so for David O’Leary whose name was sung long and loud after his last ever game for us. The song that really sticks with me, probably because it’s a bit corny, was “ee-aye-addio we won the cup”. I suppose it had been 14 years at that stage since Arsenal supporters had last sung it and, let’s be honest, it’s pretty catchy once it gets going.

Leaving the ground was something else. Weirdly, right outside our exit was a payphone and we called home to speak to my Mum and our 9 year-old sister who had been entrusted with recording the game on BBC1. When we finally got outside the concourse around the stadium was a sea of red and white with people dancing and singing. We cut across one of the banks and down the steps to try and get across the throng close to where we needed to go to get back to the car without joining the crowds on Wembley Way. Out on the high-street there was more singing. There is (or was) a petrol station just down from Wembley Park Underground that had seen its forecourt taken over by the massed celebrating Gooners who were no doubt seriously worrying the police sitting inside the van that was there. All these things are clear to me, all these years on.

The boys celebrate with the FA Cup

Many Gooners will be familiar with Mad Mickey who was also known, in those days, as “George”. He was a character who went home and away, a guy with dreadlocks and an Adidas Arsenal coat, always carrying an Arsenal flag. We saw him as joined the queue for the tube, and then we saw him again, just down from Highbury Corner as we drove back through North London. Even as we headed towards the turning for the A2 there was a bloke and his little boy with their Wembley flags heading in to a mini-cab office, everyone acknowledging the red and white ribbons on the car. The last “bonus” of the night came in the shape of a terrible traffic jam at the Blackwall Tunnel – getting home at about 2.30am meant no school the following morning!

Ten days and counting - where's the merchandise Arsenal?

 1971

I toyed with the idea of writing a retrospective on the last day at Highbury today as it's the anniversary of the final game there. I've decided that I'll save that for a while and maybe mark it at the ten year point. Also you're going to be getting lots of old stories over the next ten days, more of which at the bottom of this post.

I've already reached the point where the excitement has built up too much ahead of the FA Cup Final. With the 4th place trophy already secured there is only one thing to concentrate on and last night I couldn't sleep from thinking about Wembley. God knows how I'm going to be by the night before the game. The tickets arrived today so that's going to make the anticipation even higher. It seems, however, that Arsenal Football Club are not quite so excited as the supporters might be.

Before the Newcastle game I had a walk around the stalls outside the ground. I always buy a Wembley t-shirt when we get to a Cup Final and I wanted to see what the vendors had on offer. As it happens there wasn't that much of a selection. To be honest there was a general lack of Wembley gear to be had. But what little there was still outweighed what I found in the official Arsenal outlets. The Club had literally nothing on sale for Wembley. 

Having walked all round the All Arsenal Store (The Armoury had been closed for renovation with two home games still to be played - only at Arsenal) I asked one of the lads working there if there was anything for the Cup Final. He explained that, due to The Armoury being closed, they had all the stock from the other shop in there. My answer was "And...?" The Arsenal employee then told me that they were hoping to get in "some stuff next week". Given that the final home game was being played on Sunday this just about summed up the commercial strategy (or lack of one) at Arsenal Football Club.

I've looked at the Arsenal website just now and there is still no merchandise on offer for the FA Cup Final. Just think of the money that the Club is missing out on here. What would the "Worldwide fan base" be willing to part with for a piece of the FA Cup fever that they can only see from afar? Figures released a couple of months back show that Arsenal are lagging behind Manchester City, Spurs and co in commercial revenue income. I can fully understand making less than Manchester United and, maybe, Liverpool. But for Arsenal to be making less money on branded tat than Tottenham, City and Chelsea is unacceptable. In such circumstances an FA Cup Final should be a licence to print money. You really have to question what Ivan Gazidis and his various minions are paid for. With a sporting juggernaut the size of Arsenal a gang of trained chimpanzees could run the business better. Who knows, if commercial revenue was at the level it should be they might not have had to put ticket prices up by 3%. But then again...

1979

I've deliberately used pictures from 1971 and 1979 on this post as they will be forming no part of the series that will start on the site at the end of this week. The Norwich match rather gets in the way of the original plan but, starting on Friday, I'll be posting my recollections of the FA Cup Finals I've seen us win. Given as how I was born two weeks before the 1979 Final I can't really comment on that day. So, Friday I will post a piece I've written on the two games from 1993. The weekend will be concentrated on the last Premier League game of the season (if I get to write anything over those two days - work may well get in the way), then on Monday it will be 1998, Tuesday will be 2002, Wednesday will be 2003 and Thursday 2005. The night before the Final I will be writing a special preview ahead of the big day. As I said at the top, I'm already at the sleepless night stage. Still ten days to go.

Newcastle, St Totterinham's Day, Sagna and Wenger futures, Emirates Cup

The players lap of honour

It’s been the best part of a fortnight since I wrote anything on the site. Plenty has been happening but I just haven’t got around to saying my bit on it. Suffice to say that things have gone pretty well for Arsenal since I last put finger to keyboard and the minimum objective for the season, a place in the Champions League qualifiers, has been achieved with surprisingly little angst.

Everton had been on a wonderful run while we struggled to overcome our injury issues and the hammerings that put paid to our Title challenge. The recovery of Aaron Ramsey and Mesut Ozil has given the team a boost just when it was needed most, while Everton’s players suddenly froze when faced with having their destiny in their own hands. Given the weight of our results up until the middle of February it would have been a travesty had Arsenal failed to gain at least that fourth place finish.

I went to the game on Monday night last week against Newcastle and I thoroughly enjoyed the performance, not to mention the fact that we were able to celebrate St Totterinham’s Day once again (more on that below). Arsenal were nothing if not professional on Monday. Newcastle were the worst side I’ve seen us play all season such was their lack of effort. With the exception of the outstanding Krul in goal for them I wouldn’t have been happy for those players to get their wages last week. I normally feel sorry for Newcastle fans in any case, for no other reason than that they must surely deserve some pity. However, the travelling barcodes last week were genuinely in receipt of my sympathy. They had travelled in numbers for a Monday night game in London (it’s always the fans who attend that are shafted by the TV companies), and then had little prospect of being able to get home due to the TFL strike (the traffic around Islington was horrendous after the game), and their players genuinely couldn’t have given less of a s*** about them. I know the Newcastle fans have understandable issues with the owner and Alan Pardew, but the players that took the field against us last week were an utter disgrace to their shirt. Arsenal’s players, meanwhile, did what they had to do on the night. I thought Ramsey and Ozil were superb, with the German seeming to have bulked up a bit during his enforced rest from the team. The third goal was a beautiful footballing move and my view was perfect to see the cross that led to it – from the moment it left Ozil’s left foot it was always going to be a goal. As I said, it was a thoroughly enjoyable evening and a perfect end to my personal season at home. Sadly work prevented me from attending the West Brom match yesterday, but I will be at Wembley on 17^th May.

That shadow is getting longer

As much as Spurs are an irrelevance in the grand scheme of things it is always nice to remind their deluded morons of our continuing superiority over their terrible football club. Remember this really was going to be their year after they’d “invested” the Bale money on a number of “top, top players” (at least according to the Redknapp’s and Savage’s of the footballing fraternity). On that subject, has anyone checked to see if Eric Lamela (£30m!) is even still alive? Then, of course, there was Roberto Sol(GOAL)dado (£26m!) with his one goal from open play. £100m+ down the drain. Maybe next year, eh Spurs?

If you don't sign, don't play

The lap of appreciation and the post-match Tweets seem to indicate that Bacary Sagna definitely won’t be at Arsenal next season. Arsene Wenger made it quite clear that Arsenal have done all they are going to do in their attempts to persuade him to stay on, and that is up to Sagna. It’s a shame as Sagna is a fine player. He has been, undoubtedly, one of the better signings made by Wenger since we left Highbury and has probably deserved to have been surrounded by better players in his time with us (somehow Debuchy, of Newcastle, keeps him out of the French side at the moment – that’s a bloke who made Podolski and Monreal look like Thierry Henry in the pace stakes last week). If he wants to move on to a foreign side for the last few years of his career then I don’t really begrudge him. I really feel he could be a massive squad player for us in the next couple of years with his ability to move in at centre-back as the legs start to go, but he clearly wants to go somewhere else. Where I will have a problem is if he moves to another Premier League side. There is obviously talk of a move to Manchester City being on the cards. If he does that then I will lose all respect for Bacary Sagna. With Pablo Zabaleta (as good as Sagna might be, Zabaleta is head and shoulders ahead as the best right-back in the country) in their team it would show he is leaving for the money as his time on the pitch would be severely curtailed at the Etihad. In the meantime, for all he’s been a great player for us, I wouldn’t be upset to see Sagna left out of the last two games of this season. By not agreeing a new contract he is stating he doesn’t want to be an Arsenal player anymore. Can we really rely on him to put his foot in to a 40-60 tackle in the last minute of the Cup Final, knowing that a third broken leg would mean he was out of Arsenal and out of football? The answer has to be no. For that reason, as far as I’m concerned it should be a case of “Thanks Bac, but it’s time for Jenkinson to play as he is truly committed to this Club.”

Going nowhere it would seem

On the subject of contracts it seems we are stuck with Arsene Wenger for at least another two years. Le Boss was quite unequivocal in his answer yesterday when asked if he would be here next season. It begs the question as to why he hasn’t actually signed the deal yet, but I gave up trying to understand Wenger years ago. I really felt that the capitulation in the Title race, due purely to his lack of tactics and lack of signings in areas in which everyone knew we were lacking, would see the end of his tenure. The pressure, regardless of any 4^th place finish, has been growing for so long that I felt he might decide discretion was the better part of valour. However, he is nothing if not stubborn, as we should all know. A fourth place finish, with an FA Cup win (God willing) would have given him the ideal chance to leave with glory. There is no doubt in my mind that Arsene deserves to go on a high, rather than what was looking increasingly like a long and drawn out humiliation. What better chance might he get than if we can beat Hull in a fortnight from now? If he does indeed stay on then the Board must grow a pair and force him to spend the available money on top players (and I don’t mean spend for the sake of it as Spurs did last year). The usual nonsense was being uttered by him on Friday about the World Cup being in the way of transfers and all that rubbish, but he has to be made to understand that nobody falls for this anymore. If he’s staying then he must stop handicapping himself and the Club from genuinely challenging for top honours.

One final thing to touch on as far as Wenger is concerned is that I hope the Champions League semi-final results (and Barcelona’s defeat in the quarter-final and ongoing problems in La Liga) will force him to realise that the “tiki-taka” era is dead and buried. I wrote a piece last year following Bayern Munich’s season from Heaven that said how Wenger had been right with his original philosophy whereby his teams dominated through having big, physical specimens on the field, all of them obviously blessed with superior technique, but strong and quick and mobile too. Guardiola went in to Munich and got the same players to play like his Barca team. Bayern had hammered Barcelona last season playing fast, physical football. To see them similarly destroyed themselves by Real Madrid’s pace and power, while trying to play the pass, pass, pass and pass again stuff of Guardiola should have woken Wenger up. If he gets the chance to bring in Fabregas this year he should do it (the thought of him being passed up to go t Man Utd is too much, frankly, whatever the issues around him leaving us may have been), but every other signing we make should be more Petit/Edu/Gilberto/Vieira/Henry than Hleb/Nasri/Arteta/Vela. The age of the small technical player has passed (if it ever existed in the first place outside of Barcelona – a team blessed with a one-off midfield pairing of Xavi and Iniesta with the genius of Messi – Spain benefitted too, of course with Villa and/or Torres up front) and I want to see the pace and power brought back to Arsenal. If you look at the way Yaya Toure often dominates Premier League matches you can see where we need to go, but can Arsene?

Looking forward to this already

The last thing I want to write about today is the Emirates Cup. I, for one, am very pleased with the line-up this year of Benfica, Monaco and Valencia. We’re getting to see three teams we’ve not seen a lot of down the years for a start. I’ve read on Twitter and some internet forums how people think it’s a second rate group of sides that’s been invited this year and how some “wouldn’t be seen dead” or “wouldn’t waste my time and money” attending “this rubbish”. These, of course, are the exact same people that would see defeat to either Benfica or Monaco as the first sign of the apocalypse ahead of the new season. This “joke” of a line-up includes top Spanish opposition, the Portugese (and possibly UEFA Cup) Champions, and the expensively assembled Monaco team with its attendant links as a Club to Arsene Wenger.

The sort of people that are moaning about it also use it as a sign of “the greed” of the Board. Again, these are the same people that moan we are lagging behind the likes of Manchester City and Tottenham in terms of commercial revenue. It may have escaped the notice of these people that Emirates Cup weekend sees 60,000 families, tourists, once-a-year visitors and regulars alike attend the stadium on two days in a row. This year those 120,000 people will be met by an Arsenal Football Club knocking out it’s new Puma kits, as well as paying for the privilege of being there in the first place. The broadcast rights to the four live games across the two days will be picked up by BT Sport or Sky, thus adding to the revenue generated. With the exception of last year when Arsenal outrageously invited Galatassaray the Emirates Cup is one thing they get absolutely right year on year. I’m already looking forward to it and might even go on both days if tickets are kept to a reasonable price. I think it will also provide the first visit to Arsenal for my youngest son – it’s a perfect opportunity for him to get his first taste of it all.