Terrace Chants: Father Wenger

Arsene Wenger is like a father to many people like me, a father that once took us to LegoLand and has promised, but failed, to take us back since.

This is going to be bias.

At 19 years old my love for Arsenal has always been fused with my idolisation of Arsene Wenger. Growing up with Arsenal, the reign of Wenger has always been an unchallenged monarchy – a new dynasty driven by an intricate passing game, highlighting the aesthetic element of the game.

Watching players, leaders such as Viera and Henry spearhead a unit of players – all responsive, dedicated –  who return to their dressing room after 45 minutes and listen to the breakdown and wisdom of the gaffer. The lessons of half time were physically written on the pitch.

I’m not saying we aren’t capable of learning now, but being 2 – 0 down to Watford, at home, watching the lacking response laced with very little passion is the most frustrating part of watching Arsenal this season.

With players like Alexis Sanchez wasting his energy on over-dramatic body language, appearing to feel as though they are bigger than the club, I have to question how much control does Wenger has over the dressing room.

I have all the time in the world for the young players, the world-class players, the essential players in our team. I have no time for no heart. I want them to want it as much as I want them to want it.

15/02/2017 – Bayern Munich 5 – 1 Arsenal.

Maybe its time to move out of Dad’s house.