Up the Arsenal
How the hell did I get here? It’s 7:00 am on a Saturday morning and I’m already at the pub. Seems like I was just here last night. Seems like I spend quite a bit of my life here. And why am I here? The Arsenal, of course. Ah the Arsenal, the best football (not american) team in the entire world. London’s finest are playing this morning, and though I am two thousand miles away my heart pumps nothing but red and white.
” the wanky tottenham hotspur went to rome to see the pope
the wanky tottenham hotspur went to rome to see the pope
the wanky tottenham hotspur went to rome to see the pope
and this is what he said “Fuck Off!” “
So maybe that’s not the most clever song but it does what it’s supposed to. I hate those fucking yids! I’m sitting here eating my bangers and toast drinking a pint of Smithwick’s all the while getting ready to cheer my gunners on to victory. Sorry West Brom today just isn’t going to be your day, or year come to think.
How, you may ask, does a thirty year old Texan come to fall in love with a “soccer” team that plays across the pond. A team that to date I have never seen live. I didn’t grow up watching “soccer”. During my childhood “soccer” was synonymous with one thing, sissies. So why all the new found appreciation? It’s all direct tv’s fault.
I had satellite in my old apartment. My wife and I were about to kill each other living in such cramped conditions, or more accurately she was about to kill me. (You know how us writers are a sloppy, slovenly lot.) So we moved to a bigger apartment on the opposite side of our building. Our building coincidently was erected in 1909 and is a state historical landmark. It’s also made of solid concrete which satellite signals just don’t seem to want to penetrate. Since the dish would have to face the southeast and we live on the west side of the building it would be impossible.
Enter the cable guy. He hooks us up and I find a little gem of a tv station called Fox Soccer Channel. They were playing English Premiership Classics and Arsenal was playing Tottenham Hotspur at White Hart Lane. This was the year the went unbeaten and won the league. I don’t remember who scored, or what the score even was I was just enthralled by the way this Arsenal team played. And afterwords the team celebrating a league championship at the home of their most hated rivals.
We won the league,
We won the league,
We won the league at Shite Hart Lane! (sung to when the saints come marching in)
And I was hooked. I am hooked. I’ve got my replica kit on and a pint in my hand and all is right with the world. Even if I have to wake up before dawn and drive back to the pub to watch. Up the Arsenal!
