I sometimes consider my relationship with football as like that of a young teenage girl and the troubled older guy, I like to think he has a motorbike, tattoos and an attitude problem. I am the teenage girl in this erratic fantasy; and no matter how much football lets me down I will always want it . Sometimes I hate football; I hate the money, the commerciality, the lack of fair play and the ill feeling that sometimes surrounds it. I find it hard to connect with the modern day footballer and this fuels my occasional repulsion but like that renegade older guy I can never quite let go all of a sudden something happens which reminds me why I fell in love with it in the first place. Last night a little bit of that magic was back exploding into life in North London like a firework display of joy.
Trademark Thierry Henry that touch, that curve, that majesty. The powerful display of emotion in his celebration churned at my very own emotions, even as a neutral I could only be lost in the moment and it would have been impossible to stop a wry smile streaming across my face. Arsene Wenger has gained a bit of a reputation as a grump merchant in recent years but the joy on his face was clear to see. Let’s not forget he is the man who plucked a skinny wing back called Thierry Henry from the perilous trapdoor of football talent and moulded him into the most feared individual player in the world. For Henry to come back and score again is the stuff of dreams and a story I will tell for years to come.
Let’s not forget Thierry Henry was once the king of the jungle and that’s why I wasn’t too surprised to see him score as others have been, including him if I may be so bold to say. Arsenal use a bottled brand of playing football. All their teams play in this passing way, a blueprint laid down by the masterful Frenchman that is Arsene Wenger. This brand of football was built around, in part, Thierry Henry. The pass from Song (who is fast becoming the most improved player in the Premier League) was perfect, Vieira-esque I dare say but it was more the way the goal was scored that made it so magical. Yes if he had scrambled a backpost header it would of still been a great occasion but to score something most people would consider a typical Henry goal made the moment just that every bit more perfect, from the left, on his right bending the ball around the straying goalkeeper who is left on the dirt helpless and defeated. Vintage.
Perspective is a dirty word; it removes all the fun, thrill and excitement out of life. Yes it was a Championship side, yes he may have added a few extra pounds, his turn of pace may be in the same place as Michael Owens, but he is still the king of the jungle in the eyes of Arsenal fans and who are we to deny them this moment of unbridled ecstasy. Sometimes things happen that just awakening a little flame inside you and Thierry Henry managed to do that by kicking a ball of leather into a net last night and it’s hard to explain how football can continue to make me feel like that, it’s impossible to comprehend, in the words of Thierry himself it’s a real case of ‘je ne sais quois’ that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. Football hey, it’s quite brilliant at times.
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