My years covering the charismatic, respectful and empathetic Arsenal manager Arsene WengerBy Jeremy Wilson
If covering Sir Alex Ferguson was very famously like standing in the eye of a storm – or at least a hairdryer - the experience with Arsene Wenger was more akin to a bi-weekly audience with a charismatic professor of social anthropology.
Open conflict was rare but it was the depth and breadth of Wenger’s insights – and the distance he travelled on some of his tangents – that set him apart among football managers.
With who else in sport could discussions range from global politics, religion and poverty to his fears for the impact of technology on relationships and why he eventually expects a world government? Happiness, he once told us, was only possible in the present due to the regrets of the past and the uncertainties of the future. He would, in quite abstract terms, even sometimes discuss the meaning of life itself. “The only way to deal with death is to transform everything that precedes it into art,” he said. “We must try to make every day as beautiful as we can.”
Many of these conversations did not make it to print amid whatever other day-to-day narrative was unfolding but is why that book he has always promised has such potential.
Managers are largely perceived through the prism of their post-match interviews and, in Wenger’s hatred of losing and refusal to ever get too outwardly high in victory (he learnt such restraint from sumo-wrestlers in Japan), he would often come across as either quite sour or dull.
Nothing could have been further from the truth and it was the trips abroad or press briefings on a non-match day that gave the best sense of the real Wenger. He laughed easily and, in his regular (always unfulfilled) challenges to take on journalists in a one-on-one match, clearly found our collective lack of athleticism amusing.
I remember happening to be walking with him towards a stage for the opening of the gardens on the old Highbury pitch when he pointed to a small patch of grass that could have been no more than six metres square. “The perfect size for a game between the journalists,” he said, grinning at his own joke.
On another occasion during a pre-season trip to Hangzhou in China, I had the slightly uncomfortable experience of suddenly seeing Wenger get on the treadmill next to me in the hotel gym. “Summer training for the journalists?” asked Wenger. There was then about five minutes of small-talk, with me generally listening while he pontificated about the Chinese and Japanese economies. Then, once Wenger had warmed to running pace, he somehow communicated via an unspoken medium that it was time for silence. When I dismounted the treadmill 25 minutes later looking like I had fallen into a swimming pool, Wenger was still going. An occasional sharp breathing noise – like when you press the button on a steam iron – and the bead of sweat that had formed on his forehead were the only outward signs of effort.
My favourite insights came from meeting his big brother Guy and some old school friends in his home village of Duttlenheim. The football club was still the centre of community life and they recalled how Wenger’s father had run the team and provided their headquarters in the family’s pub. The young Arsene would stay up to pepper the adult players with questions about football and life.
This inquisitive streak was always still evident in dealing with his players and he would invariably give them the benefit of any doubt. This was tested in 2009 when Nicklas Bendtner came out of a nightclub with his trousers down. The pictures were damning but Wenger told us that his striker had not been drinking and someone had simply pulled down his trousers just as a photographer approached.
“And you believed him?” we asked, utterly incredulous. “Yes,” replied Wenger, betraying no flicker of doubt. He rarely got angry, even with the media, although was often at his best when the questioning became most hostile. He served fewer bans to journalists in 22 years than Ferguson in just his last season at Manchester United.
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Bob Wilson, Arsenal goalkeeping coach 1974-2003
He is without doubt one of the three greatest men I have ever met in my life. I'm not just talking about his football knowledge and how he changed the game in this country, but as a human being. Through difficult times, when my wife and I lost our daughter in 1998, he was extraordinary. On a pre-season tour to Austria, he sat with me, talked about Anna and the human spirit. I will never forget that. He is an academic in love with football. If I throw up any topic, he always makes me think about it in a different way. He is a complete one-off.
Lynne Chaney, Arsenal stadium staff 1987-present day
I was working in the box office when he was appointed in 1996. David Dein brought him around to meet all the staff and, when he came in, I didn’t realise he was the new manager. I thought he was a professor. He went around shaking every hand and was so polite.
I later started working on the players’ charities and requests from supporters. He would take time out every week to sign dozens of letters to fans who were ill or messages of condolence to those who had lost loved ones. When I reached 30 years at the club, he came to my table that day at the stadium to congratulate me. My brother was a guest for the occasion and he took time out with us both.
Robert Pires, Arsenal player 2000-2006
I used to play for Metz when he was the manager of Monaco. He called me one day and said, ‘I’ve seen you a long time, since you played for Metz, now you play for Marseille but for next season I need you’. In 2002, I missed the end of the season with Arsenal, missed the World Cup with France. I remember after the [knee] surgery I was in France and, every morning, I repeat every morning, at the same time, he called me just to say, ‘How are you?’ For me, psychologically, this call was very, very important. I call him boss, not Arsene. Even now he is the boss.
Mark Halsey, Premier League referee 1999-2013
As a referee, I never had a problem with him and, as a person, I saw a completely different side. It was in 2009. I had been diagnosed with cancer and my wife was battling leukaemia. Arsenal were playing Bolton and he came up to me, gave me a hug, shook my hand and said, ‘Is your wife here? Please take me to her’. She was up in the players’ bar with all the families and friends. He gave her a hug, asked her how she was and chatted away with us.
This optimism about people and their motives could be a weakness but, for all the plaudits he received about his early sports science, tactics and transfer strategy, his greatest strength lay in his empathy with people and what made them tick.
You would be hard pressed to find a critical former player.
Robert Pires continued training with Arsenal in recent years simply because he loves spending time with Wenger. Majority owner Stan Kroenke told me that Wenger was one of his “favourite people I have ever met” and, as summer trips to Asia always confirmed, he could leave business leaders entranced with his theories on human motivation. Wenger’s first prerequisite in a player was never technical but what he called their “stamina of motivation” and capacity for accurate self-reflection. “There is a little butterfly in all of us that tells us where we stand,” he would say.
By the end, of course, the judgments on Wenger himself arrived from every direction and were often harsh. Yet like a great rock being subjected to a relentless pounding from the furious seas, he remained a resolutely present, if weathered, feature of English football. That landscape will change irrevocably on Sunday afternoon. And it will also be diminished.