Arsènal (7 page)

Having lived in Monaco for many years, it is the cruellest of ironies for a Tottenham fan that the biggest one of all, Irving Scholar, the most cosmopolitan and outward-looking English chairman of his time, should have passed up the golden opportunity on his doorstep. Scholar and Wenger were enthusiasts on the same wavelength regarding how their obsession should be played. Unfortunately for Wenger Scholar preferred Terry Venables as Pleat's replacement, a decision that came back to haunt him when the club went into debt and Scholar was forced to sell his shares to the Alan Sugar/Terry Venables partnership.

Although he wasn't on Tottenham's wishlist, it didn't stop Wenger's winter escapades which of course went far beyond White Hart Lane. As luck would have it, on one of his trips, lost in the bowels of Highbury, Wenger stumbled into the Ladies' Lounge (even as recently as 20 years ago, no directors' WAGs were allowed in the Arsenal boardroom). Rescued by Mrs Dein, who took him to meet her husband, the two men struck up an immediate rapport. On his own in London that night, the Deins took Wenger along to a friend's dinner party where the unexpected guest endeared himself to everyone by the panache he brought to an after-dinner game of charades. At the time, his English was only passable, but he immediately impressed David Dein with his intelligence and the Arsenal vice-chairman made a mental note of the fact that here was a different species of football man. “One for the future,” Dein recalls thinking.

Having a yacht moored at Antibes on the Côte d'Azur, just along the road from Monaco, Dein became an increasingly frequent spectator at the Stade Louis II, where the post-match tradition of dinner with the Monaco coach was inaugurated and his admiration subsequently increased by leaps and bounds. Dein was convinced that if ever the Arsenal leopard was going to change its spots, he had the answer in waiting.

Although the club did not announce that Arsène Wenger would be coming until some weeks into the 1996/97 season, it became the worst kept secret in football. Rioch was dismissed days before the first league match of the new season and Stewart Houston was once again asked to take charge until Wenger's arrival. Houston then received an offer from Queens Park Rangers and jumped ship before the new number one arrived, ironically recruiting Bruce Rioch to assist him at Loftus Road in a reversal of their roles at Highbury (though apparently Houston couldn't rid himself of the habit of, from time to time, referring to Rioch as “Boss”).

Pat Rice took charge for the remaining matches until Wenger had completed his obligations to Grampus 8 in Japan. His first sight of his team in the flesh was their late September elimination from the UEFA Cup by Borussia Mönchengladbach in Germany. His first match in charge was a 2–0 victory away to Blackburn two and a half weeks on. By that time, Arsenal fans had already seen the debut of a young midfielder signed on Wenger's recommendation before his arrival had been officially confirmed. (“I had to be quick because he was on the verge of signing for Ajax,” he recalls. “I intercepted him when he was in Holland.”) Probably only footballing francophiles were aware of the 20-year-old before he joined, but Patrick Vieira's evident talents indicated that the new boss certainly had an eye for a player.

CHAPTER THREE

On 12th October 1996 Arsenal took the field at Ewood Park to face Blackburn Rovers in an auspicious Premier League encounter. Auspicious because it marked Arsène Wenger's first match as the manager of Arsenal Football Club. His starting line-up that Saturday afternoon consisted of nine Englishmen, a Welshman and a Frenchman. His five substitutes were all English.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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