London Calling
Premature Adjudicators...The Ref That Blew Too Soon

‘We’re on our way, we’re on our way, we’re going to Paris, we’re on our way’ has become such a theme since we started singing it last year that it’s become a constant background to life this year – I dread to think how many times I’ve been humming or mumbling it walking down the street, or even watching tv. But now, after all this time, I’d only gone and bloody arrived!

Paris.

Arsenal. Barcelona. Paris. Champions League Final. It really can’t get any better, can it.

I flew from Newcastle to Paris Tuesday lunchtime. You’d think I’d stand out in my Arsenal shirt flying from Newcastle, and I did, but that was only because I was wearing yellow and the other eight Gooners on the City Hopper were wearing home shirts. A couple were wearing kilts as well but I didn’t ask…

As I wasn’t on Ryan Air the flight went smoothly and landed where and when it was supposed to. I was in Paris for two nights so only having hand luggage I was straight off and heading for the Metro when I got a call from Dr Dom asking what time I was flying over. Turns out he’d only just left the airport in a taxi to his hotel and since I was staying there as well he doubled back for me. Now I’ve frequently mentioned how I love collecting freebies but this has got to be the best one this season. Dr Dom had to attend a conference in Paris (all ex’s paid) on the Tuesday through to Friday and when he mentioned it months ago I was the first one to cotton on to the second bed in the room! Plush gaff as well, but so it should be for the 440euro a night a twin room costs!

Dr Dom had to go straight off to some do or other so I had a leisurely shower and got a taxi over to Gare Du Nord which seemed like a good idea since loads of people said they’d start there and I wasn’t meeting anyone ‘til a bit later. We got fairly close before the driver advised me to walk the last bit as the centre of Paris was grid locked. Later reports estimated 50,000 Arsenal and 35,000 Barcelona + all the media and I think Paris was a little surprised by it all! The whole area around GDN was a sea of red and white, as literally thousands of Gooners seemed to have decided to settle there for the duration. I stayed for a few drinks and it seemed that every 15 minutes hundreds more Gooners were streaming out of the station to join the loud but peaceful party.

From there it was down to a bar called The Great Canadian by St Michel on the Seine. That was where we’d agreed to meet up and also where BBC radio were broadcasting various bits from over the two days. I did wonder if the radio was quite ready for Exiled In Newcastle so I steered clear when they were going round interviewing fans in the late afternoon sunshine. Sitting outside the bar watching the Seine and talking about Arsenal playing in the European Final the next day. And drinking. Yes I was enjoying myself.

At around 7 the Police phoned the bar and said everyone had to get inside by 8 or they’d shut the bar so they put a guy on the door to stop people taking their drinks out. Unfortunately this happened as I was at the bar getting a round in. Girl asked if they were for inside or outside, did our drinks in plastic glasses and by the time I got to the door I couldn’t get out with them! Well the guy was quite sound and after some negotiations we came to an agreement that the drinks weren’t going outside…so we had to come inside! Think I need to work on my negotiating skills.

We drank a lot. We sang a lot. ‘We’re on our way’ went on solidly for over two hours at one point. We drank more. Myself, Mac Andy and (the non Dr) Dom stayed there until they finally stopped serving, then found a bar a few yards away that was still open enough to let us have another. After that the others all headed off in a taxi in one direction and I got in another with a random Gooner we found wandering around in the road towards GDN where the party was still in full swing. Woohoo!

It was fantastic. The area was still full of Gooners but now there were lots of Barca around as well and everyone just wanted to enjoy them selves. Myself and random blokey joined a table of Barca fans who proceeded to buy all our drinks after I performed some instant freeform poetry about the final…in Spanish. Well, it actually went down really well, but I’ve absolutely no idea how I ended up doing it. The why was beer, obviously.

Match day. Had a lie in then after a shower I was off to The Canadian again to meet Mac and Andy at midday. (It was quite a good place to meet actually. Get off the Metro at St Michel. See the river. Turn left. 100 yards.) They weren’t there but I was also meeting a guy off Arsenal-Mania and thankfully he turned up so I didn’t look too sad! Then I got a tap on the shoulder ‘Are you Exiled?’ Guilty as charged it turned out it was another guy I ‘knew’ quite well off ‘Mania. I found out Mac and Andy were off helping someone to sniff out a ticket for any kind off reasonable amount for a mate. They didn’t and it turned out touts were wanting (and getting) over 3000euros per ticket. Bastards one and all. Anyway, we got sweet talked by a girl from BBC London into having a chat and if anyone listened I was the cool one. Ahem.

Dom turned up (Dr Dom was at a champagne reception) and after a few drinks (I was sticking to OJ/lemonade because I figured any top up on last night and I’d not remember the match!) we headed off to GDN to meet my brother who was coming in via Amsterdam, hooked up with him remarkably easily and headed off to the ground on the (superb) metro system. There was one hearts in mouth moment when there seemed to be a power cut and the train glided to a halt in the darkness. No! But much to our relief the lights were back on within seconds and we were speeding up again within 30 seconds.

We got to the ground a good couple of hours before the game and I went off to buy some programmes for myself and a few George wanted for himself and friends. George wasn’t there which was a travesty. It’s not so much that he didn’t get a ticket it’s the fact he never got the chance to apply. Being a silver member despite having been to all the homes for years and having more away credits than a lot of people who were there he was never given a shot. He wasn’t bitter about it but he just couldn’t stomach the idea of being in Paris and faced with paying a crazy amount to see the game – because he knew faced with the option he probably would have done. Find the official merchandise stand (they never make finding THEM difficult) and they’re sold out. Turns out some bright spark at UEFA had decided that a crowd of 80,000 would only need 20,000 programmes! What are we supposed to do, share one between four? I was quite upset to be honest because I collect programmes. Not just the games I go to, I’ve got virtually every single programme for every match Arsenal have played since I was born. The only ones I haven’t got are a few for a couple of obscure friendlies abroad and a couple of the away Fairs cup ones. Bloody expensive they are. I knew that there’d be loads for sale on ebay and I’d get one for a price but I really begrudge having to do that when I’ve been to the match and got there early. Bloody ridiculous.

Got over it quickly though. At least I had a ticket that was the main thing. And a great ticket as well… behind the goal level with the edge of the box 5 rows back. We hung around with Dom, Alistair and Joel for a while and spent a while in one of the entertainment fields basically having a beer and talking about how great it was to be at the Champions League Final! About an hour before kick off we split up to go to our different entrances and almost as soon as we got through the security checks (very thorough but they didn’t take my batteries) we bumped into Mac who looked confused - and he was because he wasn’t sure whether he was more angry or happy. He smokes roll-ups and has this old silver tin. They’d only gone and confiscated it! He’d tried arguing but the best they’d do was give him a ticket to collect it on the way out. Almost immediately this Gooner who’d seen what happened and had 200 ‘duty frees’ gave him a packet of fags straight off and wouldn’t take anything for them.

We were in our seats before all the opening ceremony type guff, which to be fair was pretty good, but good as it was it was just killing time before the game started. There were free t-shirts from Arsenal on our seats and everyone was really up for it. This was it; this really was the big one.

We got off to a great start but the ref was the real star. After all I’ve said about refs this season I suppose it was bound to happen. Technically he had to send Jens off, but that’s only because (as he admitted) he blew far too soon. Poor Jens – it was instinct and he knew he was off but he wasn’t at fault. Gutted for Bobby as well. He had to be the one to go but it was such a sad way to bow out of the club. Almunia came on and I for one panicked. I said it earlier in the season (to be fair just before he put in a string of reasonable performances) and I’ll say it again – the guy ain’t good enough. I have absolutely no confidence in him. I was so worried then suddenly Sol scored. OH MY GOD! We went completely Jens. 10 men. Arsenal. Against Barcelona. COME ON! Almunia even pulled off a reasonable reaction save which I’ve heard some people laughingly call a world class save when in reality the ball went so close to his hand that if he hadn’t got something on it he’d have been laughed at. By halftime we were hanging on without really looking in danger but having to work for it.

Went for a chat with Mac who was sitting a couple of yards away. Well when I say chat, we didn’t really say a lot. There was just this unspoken thing that we could do it but didn’t want to jinx it. Everyone around seemed quietly confident we could hold what we had and that’s how we went into the second half.

I’m not really sure exactly when the rain started but it sure as hell came down by the bucket and just got harder and harder. The only saving grace was that with everyone standing up for the 90 minutes at least we were only getting wet from the waist up. But we were wet. Please don’t underestimate how wet we were because we were really wet. But in a strange way it added to the dogged resilience the team were showing and the worse the weather got the more we sang. It was fitting as well that every decision appeared to be going against us and every time we broke one of our players got body checked.

Then… I mean, near post. Keepers just don’t let them in at the near post. You cover the near post; you don’t leave a bloody great big gap for them to score in. When the Barca end had calmed down (how the hell do they always get those flares and massive flag poles in when we can’t get baccy tins or normal short poles!) someone started to chant ‘We’ll win ‘cos we’re Arsenal’ and I was singing as loudly as anyone, I just didn’t believe it. We couldn’t bring the ball out and even if we lasted the 90 extra time would have killed us. Then the second came and it was all over. We had a few attacks but it just didn’t look like it would happen. Reyes was booked for someone feigning injury after fouling him (as was Thierry earlier) and we huffed and puffed but the fat lady had sung.

Some people left immediately the final whistle went, but not that many. Most seemed to stay and salute the team as they collected their medals then watched the jubilant Barca players getting the trophy. Bugger. I can understand why people leave the moment the whistle goes but I think you’ve got to stay and watch because for a start the players have got the whole way to the final which is some achievement, but more importantly it makes the next big win so much sweeter. The phone system seemed to have gone into meltdown (about 30 minutes later I suddenly got dozens of text messages – all from England before and during the game) so Carlos and I headed back towards GDN because his hotel was right by the station and he was sharing with Dom, who also had the same idea. Off out for drinkies and although one place had lost a front window I would imagine it was some kind of accident because there weren’t that many police around and everywhere was still open and serving.

Later we went back to their hotel for a smoke and a minibar. Their room had a big window, which opened out towards the road and had a peep show place opposite. Just as we’re opening the window there’s a couple of teenage Gooners apparently deciding whether to go in. Well, a spontaneous chorus of ‘We can see you sneaking in’ burst from our window and the poor buggers sprinted off into the night. I hung around there for a while then decided to head back to my hotel so I went down to the taxi rank. It was about 3am by then and although there was a long queue there were very few taxis turning up so it wasn’t going too fast. Everyone in the queue was either Arsenal or Barca, no one French at all which seemed strange although with hindsight I guess it would suggest it wasn’t a good place to wait for a taxi! Anyway, all of a sudden this guy says ‘Bugger this – I’m not waiting anymore’ and pulls the biggest, stinkiest spliff I’ve ever seen outside a Cheech and Chong movie out of his jacket. After he passed that round the taxis probably didn’t come any faster, but to be frank no one cared anymore.

As it was around 4am and I didn’t know what time Dr Dom was expected to be a grown up I tried to let myself into the room quietly but that went wrong when I caught my finger in the door so we opened the mini bar. Turned out that not only did he have a programme, he had a spare I could have as well. Sod ebay and the buggers that were there at lunchtime buying them by the boxful!! So all praise Dr Dom for not only getting on a conference in Paris just the right week to give me a free bed but also a free programme. Think I paid him back later though. Whilst they got programmes up there they didn’t get t-shirts and I managed to track down a mate who had an unworn one but wasn’t too bothered. He also gave me a Villarreal shirt he’d swapped with a fan out there that he didn’t really want. Offered to pay the guy but all he wanted was a ‘beer or two sometime’. I then got cheeky and asked him about his final salute shirt from the Wigan game but I fully understood when this guy who has no interest in memorabilia told me he’d had the shirt, programme and a-z framed with an aerial photo of Highbury for his study.

Met up with my brother (haven’t the heart to call him Jinxy) in The Great Canadian for lunch on Thursday. Noticed the beers had gone up from 5euros to 6.50euros and when I asked the guy he said that because there had been so many Gooners in the place he’d decided to make all drinks 5euros ‘cos he’d make plenty and it’s speed things up. Fair enough really. Took a stroll down the bank of the Seine and bought a few bits and pieces before both heading to the airport for teatime flights. I was back home by 9pm and the moment I sat down I realised just how knackered I was.

It’s hard work being a fan and ironically the more successful your club is the harder it gets. I know the players do lots of travelling as well but for the fans it’s generally the cheapest route of cramped planes and low rent hotels. Don’t get me wrong, I love it – every damned minute of it – but I need a break so badly. The last few weeks of every season especially consist of bouncing from one place to another ignoring the things that you ‘should’ be doing because you’ve used up all your energy following your team.

But once it’s in your blood you just can’t stop. You scrimp and save so you can afford to pay your season ticket renewal when it’s due which just happens to be the same week you’re in Paris (to be fair Arsenal later put the date back until June 6th) and as soon as you post it you know that’s another year gone. Another diary ruled by the fixture planners. But you know what – I can’t wait for it. I wish it was pre-season and I was packing my bag for Austria. DB10 (and some others) won’t be there, but I will. And it’ll be…

Come On You Red And White Goal Scoring Dreeeeeeeeam Machine!