Arsènal (22 page)

He also has a third office at his Totteridge home, even smaller than the other two, although this one is mostly used by his wife and daughter when they are on the computer. The only football item on display is a framed Arsenal shirt signed by the players with the inscription ‘Arsène 50', a gift on that auspicious birthday. From the outside, the only visible clue as to the identity of the owner of the pleasant, though by no means the most imposing house in the road, was a discreet ‘Support the Arsenal' exhortation on an upstairs bedroom window. However, as soon as this information got into the public domain, the sticker was hastily removed.

There is a different tempo to home life that provides Wenger with the opportunity to escape the frustrations and tensions of a high-pressure job that is carried out in the unforgiving glare of the media spotlight. Gone during the most intense of moments is the calm aura that he was able to display whilst still relatively fresh from his time in Japan and the equanimity he had adopted there. Now his body language reveals a man all too wrapped up in the stress of delivering results and the high expectations his success has induced. But not once he gets home. The presence of his daughter, 11-year-old Léa, who cares little for the vagaries of her
Papa
's vocation, provides a healthy counterbalance that allows him to relax and enjoy his time off. As a diversion he might read a historical biography and take up the challenge of getting a ball on target. A basketball hoop is set up in the garden and is frequently used to improve his shooting and help him unwind. However, a giant television screen is the focal point of the living area and invariably tuned into Canal+, Sky Sports or Setanta, revealing that football is not only the man's trade but his passion as well. The hours spent in front of it are tolerated by an understanding family who accept that he is incapable of ever totally switching off.

Less than 24 hours after the callous Champions League quarter-final elimination by Liverpool in 2008, although one of the lowest points in the manager's career, he appeared outwardly untroubled as he relaxed in the bosom of his family, despite admitting, when asked how he was going to pick the players up for a championship-deciding encounter at Old Trafford in four days' time, “I have no idea.” That was tomorrow's work and tomorrow could wait. His wife Annie plays no small part in creating a tranquil home environment and despite the wealth they enjoy, there is no live-in help. Relations often come to stay and the Wengers prefer to live without any extran eous intrusion.

Annie Wenger is a charming and attractive woman who epitomises French chic. She was the perfect adjunct to her husband when she was invited by the directors to unveil a specially commissioned bust of him at the 2007 AGM. Commemorating his immense contribution to Arsenal, the sculpture symbolically reprised that of Arsenal's other managerial legend Herbert Chapman, which famously stared out from the entrance hall at Highbury. Wenger was genuinely surprised to see his wife perform the ceremony to rapturous applause. Later she won over the shareholders as she chatted to them over refreshments after the formalities of the meeting were over, whilst her husband posed for photos and signed countless autographs as is the custom at the AGM.

Back at home, the Wengers take in two newspapers,
The Daily Mail
and
L'Equipe
. The former was originally ordered on the recommendation of David Dein when the Wengers first set up home in London, for no other reason than being a halfway house, neither red top nor broadsheet, and more often than not goes unread. Not so the French daily sports paper
L'Equipe
, despite being delivered a day late. Consequently any major controversies concerning the club are read about from a French perspective, though the primary reason is to keep up with football in his native country. He is also a regular reader of
L'Express
, the French weekly news magazine. Although he quite enjoys jousting with the media at his weekly press conferences, he neither knows nor cares what they have to say about him except in so far as he is resigned to the fact that whatever he says is only fodder for opportunistic headlines.

Consciously or not, he has brought much of the bad PR upon himself. “Yes – I am a bad loser,” he says. “I've heard that. I think even my wife would agree with you that I'm a bad loser. But I try to be fair. For example when we lost 4–0 at Manchester United [in the FA Cup in February 2008], I had nothing to say. When we lost after the 49th [unbeaten] match, I didn't agree with the way things happened. And what is difficult now in the modern game is that you cannot express a number of opinions, as only one opinion will be taken out and the whole headlines will be made on this one opinion. So for example at Wigan [in March 2008] we didn't win. I said we didn't fight very well for every ball, we didn't take our chances, we lacked a little bit of spark and the pitch was atrocious. What came out was only that the pitch was atrocious and that I am a whinger because we didn't win the game. But I tried to give some credit to Wigan but that never came out. And what is terrible for me is that you come to a position where you cannot make any fair statement any more. Because only what interests people will be taken out of your statement [by the media].”

When David Dein was still around, he and the press office would brief Wenger in full when deemed necessary. Unlike his former colleague, Dein devours everything the fourth estate has to offer so nothing ever passed his eagle eye and often an erring scribe was taken to task for any perceived misdemeanours. In his view, so far as Arsenal's good name was concerned life is too short not to carry grudges. When
Newsnight
questioned the propriety of Arsenal's relationship with Belgian club Beveren, Dein took the investigation as a personal affront against the club's way of doing things, forgetting perhaps the opportunistic signings of Anelka and Fabregas. The BBC Sports department were consequently given the cold shoulder, not that they had anything to do with what
Newsnight
got up to. In his own mind, the vice-chairman had been hung out to dry too often for comfort and his blanket wariness of the media was transmitted to the press office who picked up their cue from him.

With a keen sense of their own importance, the Arsenal press office see themselves as self-appointed vigilantes for the club's cause. Wherever possible, criticism is not tolerated and the poor unfortunate purveyor of unacceptable comment or even a journalist who has not applied for accreditation in the accepted way will find their position undermined. Those who go a step further and dare to criti cise the press office itself soon find that it is a sure way to become the recipient of a banning order. Complaints to UEFA have not softened their attitude. Only the football correspondents of the major national newspapers appear beyond the reach of their rough justice. Even a favourite son is not beyond retribution. When Alan Smith in his role as a Sky pundit ventured to suggest that it takes two to tango in the Old Trafford fracas of 2003, his next assignment for the club magazine was promptly cancelled and he remained
persona non grata
for some months. In the view of many fans, this was just desserts. “He was towing the Sky line and not being objective,” said one, “therefore a double crime.”

As the director ultimately responsible for the public face of the club, David Dein would often take up the cudgels at the request of the press office for the perceived injustices Arsenal had suffered. But he was loath to get involved when fielding complaints about their behaviour. On one occasion he was phoned by the head of the press office regarding a story that was about to break which alleged that one of the club's forwards had hit his girlfriend. In an effort to play down the situation Dein asked rhetorically, “What do you expect me to do? He's a striker isn't he?” Similarly Wenger will often turn a blind eye to petty injustices, not because of any unfeeling on his behalf but because they are a distraction from the job in hand. He admitted, “David does my dirty work [dealing with agents] for me.” It also suits his purpose for the press office to manage events even if he suspects they might be carried out with a heavy hand. But heaven help them if they intrude on team matters.

Wenger, as always, is most interested on what happens on the pitch. On occasion that he catches a glimpse of himself on the touchline his own behaviour can astound him. When watching Arsenal games on television, he may catch sight of an agitated figure on the touchline and stare at his antics in disbelief. At difficult times he makes a conscious effort not to let stress undermine him. However, he does not always succeed. “I'm usually calm,” he says, “but I am concerned that, with calm people like me, when I lose my temper it may quickly become extreme.” In one of the rare instances of this actually happening, it was a member of the press office who was the recipient of an astonishing amount of vitriol after an un necessary distraction compounded a poor performance in a key Champions League away match earlier in the evening. Wenger is always keen to get home as quickly as possible after a match, and was therefore furious that the whole party had to wait for one player to finish an interview arranged with the local media.

Wenger's press conferences on the day before a match are held at the training centre. They used to take place in a room adjacent to the players' dining area, but with contact inevitable as both parties went about their duties, the risk of fraternisation was more than the press office was prepared to countenance. So the media gatherings now take place in a separate building across the car park, where there is no danger of stumbling across a player. In fairness to the press office, it is hard work getting the stars to do anything that the manager does not personally give permission for. Interviews are often tied up with personal sponsorship obligations, but it is hard work to persuade players to sacrifice time for the club's own media, such as the official magazine and Arsenal TV, launched in 2008. The players are even more elusive when it comes to what are described as ‘commercial and community' duties. The standard Premier League contract stipulates that tasks involving club services (such as signing sessions in the club shop) or promoting relevant campaigns (for example visiting schools to endorse the Kick Racism Out of Football initiative) should be undertaken for at least four hours a month. But in common with a lot of other clubs Arsenal do not rigorously enforce this clause. They are lucky to get four hours a season from some of them. So when the Supporters Services Centre located within the All Arsenal store under the Highbury House building was officially opened in the presence of a collection of invited supporters, the ceremonial ribbon was cut by 1980s captain Kenny Sansom and the club's reserve right back Justin Hoyte. The stars have, it seems, got better things to do than meet their public. Paid extravagantly, they profess their love for the club and the fans and kiss the badge to demonstrate allegiance, but their words and gestures can ultimately be seen as insincere when they are actually asked to give something back that their agents and their consciences have ensured they are not obliged to.

When the club arrange their annual end-of-season dinner to raise funds for the year's nominated charity – in 2008, the local Treehouse school for autistic children – tickets are sold at premium prices, with the attendance of Arsène Wenger and the first-team squad the main attraction. With the guarantee of a personal greeting on arrival from Wenger and being joined for an after dinner chat by one of the squad, individual places can cost up to an astonishing £2,000. And yet the staff responsible for organising the event are afflicted by the perennial fear that the players may not bother to turn up. Only a few are known for being generous with their time – Gilberto, Gaël Clichy and Theo Walcott amongst them – a sad state of affairs and further evidence of an ever-growing chasm between those who ‘represent' the club and those who pay to keep it going.

The situation is exacerbated by regarding the media – the conduit between the players and the fans – as tolerated rather than encouraged. They are certainly put in their physical place at the Emirates by the incorporating of the press box into the lower tier, towards the corner flag. At Highbury, the press had plum positions at the front of the East Upper Stand, next to the directors' box. The view at the Emirates is far inferior, but if a number of the expensive seats upstairs do not have to be sacrificed for the hacks, all the better. Before the Premier League, the press were regarded as fans with typewriters. Now tolerated in the main as a necessary evil, no club building a new stadium or even refurbishing an old one is ever going to allocate them the best seats in the house. However, UEFA and FIFA, at major international tournaments, wherever possible, ensure they are placed adjacent to the VIP seats.

At the end of Arsenal matches, the press office comes into its own. A jobsworth's paradise, having watched alongside the newspaper reporters, they have a clear idea of any controversial issues from the evidence of their own eyes and the television monitors, and thus the likely line of question ing to be taken in the post-match player interviews. Being ‘on message' is key, and woe betide any player who says anything controversial or even interesting. As employees, the players toe the company line for fear of being stitched up, an anxiety indoctrinated into them during their media training sessions held as part of their education once they have signed pro forms aged 16 – a justified anxiety perhaps, given that a voracious football media with pages and airtime to fill often look to spin a story or even invent one. Senior staffers such as Thierry Henry marked the youngsters' cards for them.

UEFA and Premier League regulations insist that the players depart through the ‘mixed zone' where the waiting media try to accost them for a sound bite. Unfortunately, the rules stop short of insisting that the players actually speak and most choose not to, particularly after a poor result. Even those who deign to utter their thoughts do so with a member of the press office hanging over their shoulder to steer queries away from unwelcome territory. There is no avoiding the cameras though, unless your manager feels that the BBC has exceeded their remit and should be ostracised as Alex Ferguson has notably done, starting a trend amongst fellow managers with thin skins. Sky and Setanta pay the piper millions more and usually get their choice of post-match interviewees.