It would come to be known as The Miracle In Munich: the night an unfancied, under siege Arsenal team overcame all the odds to defeat Bayern Munich on their own turf.
Trailing by three goals to one from the first leg, the Arsenal boys somehow managed a 3-1 victory of their own, forcing the game into extra time.
Then an Arsenal fourth – scored by Theo Walcott after a devastating break – booked the North London team a berth in the next round of the Champions League.
Well… maybe that’s how it will be remembered.
And right now, with a few days to go before kick-off in the Allianz Arena and every footballing outcome still a possibility, that’s how I prefer to see it turning out.
I don’t want to preview the game here (Big Raddy will do that better than anyone in the business on Wednesday morning) but my irrational feeling of optimism about the game has set me to thinking about how different supporters handle these occasions in such different ways.
On paper and on all recent evidence, we have not got a prayer of getting through to the next round.
Bayern properly thrashed us at the Emirates – leading many Arsenal fans to liken their style to that of the “old Arsenal” of the early Wenger years.
Oh what we would give for “New Arsenal” to have some of that combination of athleticism, power, skill and efficiency!
Yet despite all that, I cannot help but feel hopeful for the game. My (fantastical) reasoning goes along these lines:
- We nick a slightly lucky goal “early doors” (a big looper over the ‘keeper off Mertesacker’s left shoulder, for example).
- Bayern don’t want to risk anything silly happening, so they sit back to protect their aggregate lead.
- With 15 minutes of normal time remaining, Gervinho (on for Podolski) goes on an amazing run down the left wing. He beats one, he beats two, he beats three, he goes back and beats two again for good measure then he decides to put a deadly cross into the box. Now we all know what Gerv the Swerve’s crossing is like, right? The cross spins off his boot into the top of the net. Two nil to the Arse.
- A minute later, with Bayern still shell shocked, a Tomas Rosicky screamer puts us three up. If we can hold on for a little over 10 minutes we’re through!
- But this is Arsenal. Bayern come out all guns blazing and score just before the final whistle.
- We look dejected and knackered going into extra time. Bayern are all over us but the Pole in Goal is in the form of his life.
- From one Munich attack he pulls down a top-corner bound Kroos rocket with one hand and in the same motion sends it down the right wing where Cazorla picks it up and plays it first time to Wilshere “charging through the midfield.” Jack surges past the Bayern midfield, spots Theo Walcott’s run and plays him in.
- Theo finishes like we know he can. Cue pandemonium.
Clearly this makes me a certain type of fan. Let’s classify my subgroup as “the Delusionals.”
The Delusionals
Our favourite quotation is from Marshall Foch, a French First World War general who said, during the First Battle of the Marne: “My center is yielding. My right is retreating. Situation excellent. I am attacking.” Now that’s what you call optimism.
We assume that the light at the end of the tunnel IS the end of the tunnel, and not an oncoming train;
We never look a gift horse in the mouth (which is why we have seldom had success betting on the gee-gees).
When the weather forecast says “rain” we think “great – don’t have to wash the car.”
Sometimes people take advantage of us.
But there are some other identifiable sub groups in Arsenal supporterdom, whose strange and particular characteristics also emerge in the run-up to a difficult game:
The Duvet Wearers
These timorous souls may share some of the hope expressed by the Delusionals, but they do not share the blind optimism.
They deal with the stress of the impending fixture by hiding from it – sometimes literally – under the duvet (hence the name).
More subtly, you might find the Duvet Wearer taking a keen interest in cricket or rugby in the days before the match. Or in gardening if they are not into other sports.
When asked “do you think we can do it in Munich?” they might typically reply “ummm, eh? I was just thinking have you seen that new Sri Lankan spinner? Wrists like a corkscrew…”
In general life, Duvet Wearers are the sort of people who put unopened bills straight in the drawer in the hope that they’ll go away.
The Private Frazers
These supporters are so called because they remind me of the great Dad’s Army character played by John Laurie. (If you’re not familiar with Dad’s Army, it was a classic, brilliant British sitcom of the 1960s and 1970s). Whatever the situation, Private Frazer could be relied upon to take account of all the circumstances, weigh them up carefully, then declare: “We’re all doomed. Doomed I tell you! We’re doomed.”
Arsenal’s Private Frazers are the ones who can’t deal with hope. They feel that if they hope too much and we end up losing, the disappointment will crush them. To protect themselves they deny the possibility of success. I know many Gooners who fall into this camp (one friend of mine – also known to Mickydidit – regularly bets on the opposition and generally predicts disaster in all our games).
Day to day, the Frazer approach to life is to expect the worst in all things. If someone approaches a Frazer in a supermarket to tell them that they are the millionth person to walk through the doors and they have won £10,000, the Frazer will suspect a scam and run away, leaving the next person (quite possibly a Delusional) to walk away with the dosh.
The Bowies
These fans, like the pop legend, swing both ways. In the days before an important tie they alternate between raging optimism (“Come on! We can do it! Remember Anfield 1989!”) and utter desperation (“Sob! We can’t even beat Bradford, what chance have we got against the best team in Europe?”).
Living with a Bowie during these times can be quite stressful because there are so many ch-ch-changes.
In normal life Bowies are entertaining to be around, but somewhat frustrating. For example you book dinner with them at a great Italian restaurant because you remember that when you last met up some months earlier they were raving about Italian cuisine. But when they turn up they look faintly offended and tell you they can’t stand the stuff.
I’m married to a Bowie.
The Steady Eddies
I would like to be a Steady Eddie. These lads (and lasses) are very measured in their attitude to the upcoming game. They’ll say things like “Look, it’s obviously a huge ask to win by three goals in Munich but you never know. Let’s just hope it’s a great game of football.”
In real life, Steady Eddies are seldom discombobulated, they are rarely surprised and when they are, they react very calmly.
They have low stress and live long lives.
Boring bastards.
If you feel you don’t fit into any of these groups (all of whom, incidentally, are just as passionate about Arsenal as each other) then perhaps you might like to suggest which ones I have missed.
Or just share your own approach to a big and difficult game.
RockyLives
Posted by RockyLives 
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