At Least Don’t Blame His Bust
By Narendranath Pingle
Gilberto intercepts and passes to Vieira;
Vieira to Bergkamp, who picks out a run
By Pires, adept, at will, to tear a
Most dogged defence apart, which being done
There, as always, is Henry, to sear a
Hole in the pitiable defence; all while having fun
And there sat, passive, untouched, Arsene,
By football England had never so far seen.
Yes, that magic has gone but the magician remains,
He who pulled off trick after trick,
That wizard still our custodian remains.
But the world has a history of detesting magic,
Of wizard and witches, only remain remains.
The Church of Allland, Fleet Street, also xenophobic,
Ridicules and derides him while poisoning minds,
Especially those misplaced ones, at the hinds.
“Revolt then!” “Enough now.” “This will suffice.
I and Arsenal both deserve better,
Down with Wenger and his philosophies.
The ruin of this great Club leaves me bitter,
I want success, at any bloody price
And stop being cowards in the market who dither…”
“Constructive criticism will be kind of you.”
“What else was that, fool? How very blind of you!”
“You see the youth academy, he has…”
“It produced Adams, would anyway produce Wilsheres.”
“He has helped build a world-class…”
“With no success at all for six years.”
“He has developed van Persie and Fabregas…”
“All sissies, disloyal, uncommitted chokers.”
How tragic that lies gain acceptance when repeated oft,
While truth, if repeated, seems to have its veracity lost.
“This Club is stagnating under Wenger,
Poor commercial deals have burdened the gates…”
“The Club is growing, while becoming younger
And how is he responsible for market dictates?”
“Is he paid to fatten the accounts by the banker…”
“So it is only fiction that your appetite sates!”
Secret, sensitive subjects when in public are tossed,
Emotions and prejudices arise, reason is lost.
“Yes, perhaps, Arsene is after all stupid,
In wanting to fulfil a pauper’s princely dream,
While tolerating this unwarranted hatred,
When he could manage the most expensive team,
Far better compensated and celebrated, in Madrid,
But his love for Arsenal obliterates all else for him;
Here, where no vice is too low and all have a price,
He alone is above personal glory and avarice.
I trust Arsene, we owe it to him for the past
And for the future, in which glory alone can I sense.
He shall restore both us and him to the topmost,
Though he might ask you for a little patience;
Further, I can even boldly forecast,
(A chance I shall never risk with anyone else)
That Arsene will leave the affairs in such a condition,
That his successor too shall succeed in succession.
I hope one day you too shall realize his value,
Though that gent might have long been gone;
Should you ever leave your armchair, (shall you?)
You would know what miracles have been done.
But should fanatic fools take over and before you knew,
The Arsenal Way was kicked aside for the Chelsea one,
And God forbid, the Club goes bust,
I hope at least you won’t blame his bust.”
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