'It's up for grabs now'

Article by e-Arsenal's Lewis Borg-Cardona

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Twenty-five years ago today I was about to embark on an overnight Stagecoach journey from London to Edinburgh. For those of you not privileged to have endured the privations of a road trip on the cheapest way to travel the length and breadth of Britain in the 1980s, just think the romance of Greyhound travel across rural America as portrayed in Hollywood classic It Happened One Night; minus the romance, rural America, or any pretence to Hollywood. Believe me, the chance of sitting next to an eighties equivalent of Claudette Colbert was nil. As it happened, that particular night I was joined by a bevy of (Lager) Lovelies, sat next as I was to an inebriated Glaswegian, whose only luggage appeared to be a six pack of Tennent’s. The slurred conversation – of the “Sees you, Jimmy…” variety - was less than stimulating. But did I care? : I cared not a jot, because Arsenal had just won the League on Merseyside.

The greatest day in the history of The Arsenal ? Those of an historical bent might argue that the very first title, that of the 1930/31 season (secured in a 3-1 win against Liverpool in front of 39,000 supporters at Highbury), was more significant. Those youngsters who’ve only known the Wenger era might believe the 2-2 draw at White Hart Lane to secure the 2003/04 Invincibles season, or the 3-2 comeback win to lift this season’s FA Cup at Wembley, is more glorious. But those of us who lived through the 1988/89 season know for sure that nothing will ever beat the feeling engendered at Anfield with just 25 seconds of the match remaining; as Michael Thomas - seemingly in slow motion - took an age lifting the ball over Liverpool’s Bruce Grobbelaar to score the second, Championship winning, goal, accompanied by Brian Moore’s classic commentary.

Of course the younger generation of Gooners can experience that moment vicariously, via the excellent Fever Pitch. As my seventeen year old daughter did once again just the other week, luxuriating in the glow of the FA Cup Final triumph. The following day, waiting in the comfort of The Highbury Barn for the open-top bus parade to pass, she was the one to suggest we watch the film once more that evening. Not surprising, considering her Arsenal supporting life prior to that weekend had seen her endure Arsenal’s loss in the Champions League Final of 2006, plus the League Cup Finals of 2007 and 2011. Not to mention her old man’s resulting rage and ill-tempered surliness. Sure, I’d taken her to Islington to celebrate the 2005 FA Cup win; but hey, she was only eight at the time, and anyway, we all know in our heart of hearts, that was a pretty hollow victory. Now, after nine years of hurt, she was ready to celebrate.

As we watched Fever Pitch again that night, the memories of 88/89 came flooding back; both good and bad. Yes, I too had stood on the North Bank during the unremarkable 1-0 victory over Newcastle, as the horror of Hillsborough first filtered through. Although, in those days, pre-mobile phones and the internet, it wasn’t until I got home that evening that the full tragedy unfolded on television before my uncomprehending eyes.

I was a Highbury regular that season, in a much simpler age when one merely had to turn up on the day itself to secure a spot on the North Bank. Sure, if the visitors were Liverpool or Manchester United, it was best to get there an hour or so before kick-off; whereas for the likes of Luton or Sheffield Wednesday, a half hour before was more than sufficient. But I didn’t attend away matches, so there was never any question of going to the crucial Anfield game in person; even if I didn’t already have to contend with the troublesome journey to Scotland that nearly scuppered my opportunity to watch the match at all. As it was, with the game ending at nigh on 10pm (it had started late due to traffic congestion), I had to rush out of my flat at the final whistle to catch my coach from Victoria station, leaving my flat mate to celebrate alone. And he was a United fan, so his take on events was somewhat different to mine.

In his excellent 2009 book The Last Game: Love, Death And Football, Jason Cowley suggests the cathartic events at Anfield, that evening of 26th May 1989, gave birth to a new start for the national game. 25 years ago a renaissance began and both Arsenal and Liverpool fans should feel proud their sides contributed to that singular event. That Arsenal’s players ran out on to the Anfield turf with bouquets of flowers they then proceeded to pass to all parts of the ground, in memory of the Hillsborough disaster, has never been forgotten on Merseyside. That stunned Liverpool fans remained in their seats at the end of the match to applaud the Arsenal team, in recognition of their Championship victory, has never been forgotten in N5.

For me, it was right up there as one of the best moments in my life. As Nick Hornby writes in Fever Pitch: “…be tolerant of those who describe a sporting moment as their best ever. We do not lack imagination, nor have we had sad and barren lives; it is just that real life is paler, duller, and contains less potential for unexpected delirium.”

Yet even now, as I watch that last minute Michael Thomas goal for the umpteenth time, I still think he’s going to cock it up.

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