An Arsenal Life; Gooners, Emirates and All

Greetings to all as we head into what promises to be a very tight and tense period of the English Premier League calendar; Christmas. Not often words one might associate with the festive holiday, but it seems many loyal Gooners are gearing up for one of the closest league battles in recent years.

After a twenty-three hour flight from Sydney to Heathrow, I stepped off the plane to arrive at a destination I had dreamed of coming to since my youth, London. Walking out of the airport, I was welcomed with a wonderful cold breeze and a sprinkling of light rain; somewhat of a rarity back in my 30+ temperature home.  Loving the weather, I was looking forward even more to the massive Gunners v Chelsea clash.

The first English Premier League game for yours truly, and it’s my boyhood team Arsenal up against current EPL leaders, Chelsea. Mind you, it did take some effort to even get tickets, but that story is for another day.

As I geared up for the big game, threw on my “Nasri 8” home jersey and placed my camera in the pocket of my jacket, and got on the (very impressive) Tube to Arsenal station. As I left Bayswater with my Tottenham (curse!) loving cousin, and changed at Edgware, more and more Gooners stepped on. By the time we had got onto the Piccadilly line, the train was more than half full of Arsenal supporters. Magnificent.

Walking over the bridge, there it stood, The Emirates Stadium, what a sight to behold. I posed for some souvenir pictures before heading to Gate L. My blood started to pump as I heard the boisterous noise of Gooner and Matchday booklets being sold. We were fairly early, but when we got into the stadium and to our seats on the upper tier, both of us could only sit in awe.

Slowly, the stadium filled and after the late hourly rush where the stadium almost doubled in capacity, we were set for a wonderful evening. I was ready to see my beloved Gunners get stuck into some Chelsea scum. Yeah, that didn’t happen.

As the players walked out to a deafening roar and completed their mandatory handshakes, the game got underway. The chants began as the game panned out. As the guy next to me found his seat four or five minutes in, I jokingly asked, “A bit late there hey mate?”. He laughed and replied in a classic London, yes London, accent, “Yeah it was that bloody dad of mine who couldn’t find the f**king tickets!”. I pat him on the back as we both shared a laugh. This was the life.

I was pretty happy with the first half performance, that’s what I said to my cousin after about 38 minutes. Then we all know what happens. Ccccashley sets up two goals for a 2-0 deficit for the Gunners at the break. Shock might be an understatement. The Chelsea supporters were “going f**king mental”, as they say.

The mood dropped considerably, but when Arshavin ‘seemed’ to have netted the equaliser, a renewed hope went up that we might still get a result from the game. A few chances, a penalty call and another Drogba rocket however saw the Gunners lose their first game at home for the season. It was also the first time they had been kept scoreless at home this season and saw them fall, a daunting, 11 points behind Chelsea. Oh, and can someone please do something about that bloody Drogba!

As we left the stadium for the tube, a man from a local food-support charity was politely yelling to everyone to donate. However, he did brighten most of our nights very slightly when he said, “One person asked me if we feed Spurs fans. I said yes, to the lions”. Brilliant stuff.

First ever EPL game, what a result. I’ll be fair, the experience was amazing though and I might not see such a game ever again with the amount of quality on the field at the one time.