Thanks Dad
Jan 2nd, 2008 by 'holic
‘You’re coming to us for the new year, aren’t you dad?’
‘Yes son. Do you know I still haven’t been to Ashburton Grove yet?’
So at ten yesterday morning the ‘holicmobile was pointed up the motorway, destination Cockfosters. I took Dad to his last game at Highbury in the farewell season by train, and the many steps between Paddington and Arsenal took their toll. He was exhausted at the day’s end. Now eighty-five, I didn’t want to put him through the same experience.
This was one of my better ideas. When the M25 is clear it is a wonderful road, and two hours after leaving the west country we were stepping out onto Holloway Road in search of brunch. Thank goodness one of the Columbian establishments was open, thank you Cafe Rincon, and a hearty full English provided the fuel for a circumnavigation of the Grove.
He was less impressed than I had imagined with the giant ARSENAL letters at the approach to the South Bridge, but pleased, I think, to see the old clock facing us as he got his first full view of the impressive structure.
It was a couple of hours to kick-off so when we saw the museum was open we just had to pop in, didn’t we? Thanks are due to the staff, the doorman who enquired if I was sixty in an effort to save me three quid (I think!), and to the guide who noticed the careful descent of the steps and offered us a trip back to ground level in the lift when we had finished. Dad’s artificial knee was grateful.
From the space age structure outside the old man was transported back through the decades. Alex James’ boots, kits and medals from the thirties to the present day took him back to the games he had seen, and players he had known. Every now and again there was a glint in the eye. I’m glad we went in.
He just about mastered the electronic turnstile, and once inside offered to buy us both a coffee. Over three pounds lighter he was clearly bemused by the catering prices. ‘Over six quid for a pie and a drink? Goodness me’. A return lift journey to the upper tier didn’t yield the view of Highbury I had hoped for. The flats on the opposite side of Drayton Park have hidden from sight the place where we spent so much time together in years gone by.
The first view of the arena clearly impressed. Dad had a good look around the stands as I went to plant ‘holics pound on a 3-0 win. Aren’t you glad I didn’t have time to get my prediction online! The musical entertainment was not entirely to his taste. ‘Not exactly the Metropolitan Police Band, is it?’, he observed.
The players came on, we observed a minute of silence for Phil O’Donnell, and little more than a minute later Eduardo grabbed the opening goal, courtesy of the creative genius that is Cesc. We sat back and prepared to observe the slaughter that would surely follow.
To their credit, West Ham made serious efforts to level matters in the opening half. They had clearly identified the area between Hoyte and Toure as Arsenal’s weak spot, and spurred on by a clearly fired-up Freddie Ljungberg they exploited it at every opportunity.
Thankfully their finishing did not match their approach play, and they paid the ultimate penalty when Adebayor rounded Green and finished superbly from the tightest of angles. When Freddie hobbled out of the contest, to generous applause from the home support, West Ham ceased to be a threat.
The second-half saw the introduction of Hleb, and the quick-passing style returned briefly, much to Dad’s delight. ‘It’s marvellous to watch when they start playing like that’. The only problem for me was the lack of a third goal that would have paid for a coffee or two!
At the final whistle a tour of the club shop was in order, although sadly the sale didn’t yield any bargains worth queueing up for. ‘I’ll buy a mug if they are a pound’, said Dad. ‘So would everybody else in here’ I told him, ‘Six to eight pounds is the price’.
The prices apart it was clear the day had left an impression on someone who first watched Arsenal in the Chapman era. I’m pleased because I owe him my Arsenal allegiance. In the first thirteen years of my life Arsenal were in a slump, but every fortnight he would take me to Highbury. I stood no chance of following anybody else, and haven’t I just been richly rewarded down the years.
Thanks Dad.
…And Thanks ‘Holics
With the holiday coming to an end I would just like to thank those of you who left good wishes over Christmas and the New Year. Obviously I haven’t been around much but I would like to let you know your thoughts were much appreciated.
15 Responses to “Thanks Dad”
My study of the Arsenal doesn’t quite stack up – the Chapman era. Hopefully it’s to my credit if I admit up front that I’m a new arrival to the bandwagon.
Nice story. 85 years old, good for him. It must be amazing to able to tell stories of the Chapman era and beyond. Like you, my dad started taking me in the late fifties/early sixties when we were rubbish and like you I stuck it out. In those days you could get in at half time because they would open the big gates, I think to let people out!, so me and my little mates would walk in, I lived five minutes away then so no problem. I really do thank my lucky stars I was born in Highbury, just think, three to four miles down the road…..no, don’t think!! keep up the good work.
I´m another old f..t (66 in a couple of weeks) and born in Plimsoll Road – 200 to 300 yards from the old stadium, so I was chuffed to read the above piece. Good for your dad introducing you to the greatest club. My lad now supports Arsenal (from a distance – we live in Spain) and we´ll have to take his son to the Grove as soon as he´s old enough.
Let´s keep our fingers crossed for the end of season – I´d be quite pleased with F.A. Cup, league championship AND Champion´s League success!
Great reading about an 85 year old fittish supporter who can just about make it to a game. He must have had a few tears here and there. I remember my Dad getting emotional when we won the league in 1971.
My first game in 1964 was against Chelsea which included Venables. After then I would be standing behind the goal at 1.30pm every other week at the lovely age of 14. Those were the days, fish and chips for 1 shilling and 6d.
I do really feel old now.
Come on you Gunners!!!!!
Great story! I’m sixty something and started going to Highbury with my Dad in the fifties. We really were rubbish then but the fans still believed. I was in the crowd when we played Leeds in front of five thousand fans. A far cry from today.
Unfortunately my Dad passed away well before the Wenger era. He wouldn’t believe what’s going on today!
Wow, I was in the crowd against Leeds as well. The game was so bad some chap played a bugle to the ‘Last Stand’. Those were the days.
But no one seems to state that there was a European Cup Final on TV that misty and damp night.
I am so so so glad I chose to support in 1961 the North London underdogs to the then magical Spurs. Every sodding kid in the street seemed to support Spurs so I went for the Gunners.
What a nice storie. Hope your father enjoyed the day!!
What a nice storie. Hope your father enjoyed the day!! I remember in the summer when I took my father to the Arsenal-Inter game. It was his first time at the Emirates and its the first time in my life that i’ve never heard him speak!! He loved it. Taking him to the Spurs game next week!!
Hope u dont mind Gooner, but i’ve put u as a link on my blog.
I LOVE YOU ARSENAL I LEKIY WENGER
Three cheers for the ‘holicdad.
Good stuff ‘holic.
Goonerman, behind the goal?
You’re not badger John by any chance, are you?
Great story ‘Holic and I wish your dad the best – I hope I’m still around to support the best team in the world at his age.
I’m only in my early 40s but I remember plumping for the underdogs like Goonerman and immediately fell in love with the club. At this stage I was eight years old. It was 1972 when Leeds were flying high with Bremner, Lorrimor and Alan Clarke, et al. Despite being in London, all the kids supported Leeds (like they do ManUre these days!!) and we were in the FA Cup final against them. I can still recall the feeling when Alan Clarke scored a diving header to make it 1 – 0 and I lost my pocket money.
Over the years, I have watched some shocking football, but have some great memories – normally at the end of decades i.e. 1979 against ManUre and 1989 against the scallies.
All those years of freezing my nuts off on a half-empty North Bank have paid off because we are now being rewarded with the best football I’ve ever seen – in my opinion it’s better than Brazil in the 70s!!!
I emigrated three years ago to Australia and I have not seen The Grove (well the finished article and not just a building site) yet, so nice one Holic-dad, and know that I’m very jealous now. Some lucky sod has my season ticket at The Grove and I hope their singing loudly on my behalf.
Long may it last and Happy New Year to all gooners around the world.
Up The Arse
Enjoyed your story ‘holic. I was brought up in Highbury but my family weren’t into footy at all. When I was 9 (1965), my mate Jimmy started talking about Spurs because his dad had taken him to WHL.
I was interested in his stories about Greaves and Gilzean, so I started talking about Spurs at home. Fortunately, my oldest sister’s boyfriend (now my brother-in-law) said, ‘I’m not having that!’ and took me to Highbury. Narrow escape, huh.
Keep the blog going. It’s one of the best Arsenal blogs.