My obsession with a French football coach

Let me declare right up front my position regarding Arsenal Football Club, who recently took out the 2013-14 FA Cup.

I’m obsessed with Arsene Wenger.

I know this appalls some people, but I find the Gunners manager fascinating, and sexily cerebral. And quite simply, I credit him with inspiring my appreciation of football.

Having grown up in a rugby league-loving family I had little time for, or understanding of, the round-ball game until I was in my late forties.

In 2002, returning to the general media after an extended stay on planet rugby league, I started hearing on a regular basis, via the BBC World Service, the velvetty, cultured tones of this man who was a manager in the English Premier League.

Clearly English was not his first language but I was captivated by the way he handled himself in front of a microphone.

At first it made me chuckle thinking how articulate he was compared to the many NRL coaches I’d been observing at close range for the previous several years. Having gone from Rugby League Week to ABC NewsRadio (a national network that featured BBC programming overnights) I found myself listening a lot to BBC Sports programs that were on air during my commute to work.

It didn’t take long to realise this Arsene Wenger was something of a big deal in the world of English Premier League.

Then, to suck me in further, a war or words erupted between Wenger and the manager of Manchester United, Alex Ferguson. This was especially amusing because although, theoretically, Ferguson had English as his native language, his thick Scottish accent made me feel like I needed subtitles on radio to follow his comments, while Wenger kept stunning me with his eloquence and subtle humour.

When Ferguson said he thought Manchester United were a better team than Arsenal Arsene responded with:

“Everyone thinks they have the prettiest wife at home.”

It was sometime during the 2002-2003 season when Wenger accused Fergie of “triumphalism” that I capitulated completely. Sure, it was just one word but a word I tried, unsuccessfully, to imagine Wayne Bennett using.

Or Steve Folkes. Or even Gus Gould. At that point my soccer resistance collapsed completely. I decided that the coming clash between Manchester United and Arsenal was compulsory viewing.

And that’s where it started. Up until that point I’d never watched an English Premier League game – or any game from the UK apart from the odd FA Cup final which I’d found generally unrewarding experiences.

That night Man United and Arsenal drew 2-2 but Arsene Wenger, who I’d never even seen before, strode onto the sideline looking elegant and urbane while Ferguson looked like supporting cast member in some UK comedy starring Dennis Waterman.

And the game itself was exciting to watch. At this point you have to take my word for it that as mesmerising as I found Wenger, I didn’t continue getting up in the middle of the night to watch him and his understated reactions in the technical area.

I liked watching the way this side went about their business. I wasn’t well enough educated in the game to understand that Wenger had a particular attacking philosophy that was diametrically opposed to the dour style of game I’d been been exposed to in previous brushes with English football. And I certainly wasn’t aware at that stage about his very particular philosophy on recruitment and retention that has caused many to question him in recent years.

“We do not buy superstars, we make them.”

I started reading whatever I could lay my hands on about Wenger and my instincts that he was something out of the ordinary were confirmed. He was an economics graduate from Strasbourg University.

He’d had an unorthodox route into Premier League via coaching in Japan and he’d brought with him ideas about diet and preparation that were quite revolutionary at the time of his arrival in London in 1996.

“What’s really dreadful is the diet in Britain. The whole day you drink tea with milk and coffee with milk and cakes. If you had a fantasy world of what you shouldn’t eat in sport, it’s what you eat here.”

He was even less a fan of his players established diet in which the four good groups apparently consisted of steak, eggs, chips and beer.

The year I fell for Wenger, and through him for Arsenal, the Gunners blew a big lead and were run down in the title race. I was disappointed, but the excitement of knowing at last I’d got a sense of why football fans banged on about “the beautiful game” out-weighed the disappointment and I couldn’t wait for the following season.

It sure turned out to be worth waiting for. They went unbeaten for the entire season and eventually extended that run to 49 games without loss.

It hasn’t been all beer and skittles since then. For starters, in Wenger world there is not much room for beer – the son of an Alsace publican is not fond of alcohol and, in the lead up to last weekend’s FA Cup final I was sick with worry. Not because I need my team to win a trophy to feel good about them or myself, but because it feel like Wenger might get pushed out if Arsenal didn’t beat Hull City.

Since an FA Cup final win in 2005, Arsenal had gone without silverware until last weekend’s FA Cup final win. That is nine years without silverware, a stat that Wenger critics had bandied about at every opportunity.

Some alleged supporters (yes, looking at you Piers Morgan) have been calling for him to be sacked for not spending enough money buying big name players.

Maybe I’m biased, or not wired like others but while I like trophies, I’m in awe of Wenger’s ability to spend a fraction of what his main title rivals spend each season and keep his team in the top four.

Title winners this season, Manchester City have spend around 100 million pounds to every one million Wenger has spent over the last eight years. Chelsea, also funded by oil billionaire money, have thrown money at everything that’s moved for a decade or so.

But every year Wenger keeps his team in the top four, qualifying for the European Champions League 17 years in a row – and every year they’ve played football that’s worth watching.

Am I easily pleased? Is it wrong to be proud of a club that doesn’t believe in buying titles and sacking managers? Now that we’ve won a trophy, the 2013-14 FA Cup, my life isn’t changed although it’s nice.

Knowing there’s silverware in the cabinet at Emirates is one thing, but knowing Arsene will still be in the dressing room next year is far more important to me,