This week I tell a short
tale. I tell a tale of a not-yet great Dane who after two years absence is in
search of redemption.
So I start with the mad, disheveled Viking from the land which gave
us delicious pastries and beautiful blonde-haired women. After showing a fair
amount of promise as a young warrior, he let his mind wander and became
obsessed with his own talents. Like Anakin Skywalker he thought himself better
than he currently was, in fact, he thought of himself so highly that his
confidence ratings were officially off the scale.
Although ambition and confidence is often regarded as essential to
achieving one’s dreams, this Dane was leaning dangerously over the thin line
between that and arrogance.
Eventually, he fell. Drawing another parallel to Star Wars and
Anakin Skywalker, he had become seduced by the dark side. He became flippant,
impatient and unpredictable. He used his own vast amounts of frustration to
build a wall of ego around himself, one which no mere mortal could breach,
unless red-lipped and breasted. The more he forced his progress, the worse his
performances became and when eventually he drove everyone away from him, he was
exiled; cast away to the Land of Sunder…
In Sunderland they seemed to like him and now and then he showed flashes
of the talent he does indeed possess. Alas! His record was still less than
impressive and so he was forced to use what Nordic magic he had learned as a
child to deceptively convince Juventus to employ his services. There he was
nothing but a reserve, an understudy and a cripple. He spent most of his days
on the bench of condemnation with nothing to do but look on and reconsider his
unfulfilled life.
He searched and searched for a new beginning in a distant land, but
was unable to secure a future anywhere because of his reluctance to part with
his gold. His wall stood firm yet again. So, after contemplation, he decided to
return to North London and went to visit his old mentor, Arsene Wenger the
Wise. Wenger was also in need of bodies for the attacking regiment within his
army having failed to lure any of the Uruguayan Biter, Argentinian Poacher or Scouse
Ogre. So they talked…
Wenger: “Ah, Nicklas you av returned!…But why?”
Nicklas: “Nobody would pay me the gold I requested, master.”
Wenger: “Still little bit greedy, I see. And you look most jaded,
Nicklas. I am at the moment not so convinced by your mental strength.”
Nicklas was slient. He was rendered speechless by Wenger’s
expression of disappointment. He slumped deep into somber thought.
Wenger: “Nicky, look at me…To achieve something great, you must
first achieve at least something.”
Nicklas: “What about in Turin”
Wenger: “Appearing just enough to pick up a winners medal is not
achieving something. That is simply leeching off the success of others. But I
thought you were more than a leech, Nicky? You said you were the best, a
champion…What ‘appened?”
Sobered by Wenger’s words, Nicklas got down on his knees and begged
his mentor for forgiveness.
Wenger sighed and turned to the window, overlooking his Colney Empire.
Wenger: “You must not seek forgiveness from me, Nicky. You must seek
it from the supporters. The only way you can do that is by fighting with ‘eart
and passion. If your ego really won’t let you do that, then at the very least
do it for yourself, because come summer you will ‘av to justify your worth to
others in order to earn anything near the amount we ‘av to give you ‘ere.”
Nicklas: “I will try. I will start by changing my egotistical squad
number to a more normal one.”
Wenger: “That’s a start, Nicky. Now go and get fit, because I do not
like the way they eat in the Alps.”
With that, Nicklas rose, thanked Wenger and left…
Will Nicklas throw down his selfish, egotistical ways and focus on
the football? That is yet to be seen. According to Aristotle, a tragic hero
always faces death as the ultimate punishment for not heading warning earlier
in his life. But this is not a play or a film, this is reality and hopefully
Nicklas has learned a lesson of sorts and will grab his second chance by the
horns. Nicklas, over to you…
Thanks for reading,
Billy Dunmore.
I’m a 20 year old student and lifelong Arsenal supporter residing in North West London. From the North Bank Highbury with my old man – when I was knee high to a duck’s arse! – to Club Level at the Emirates, and now having to find my own means of following The Arsenal, I can’t keep myself away from the alluring red and white…
After recently discovering a passion for writing about The Arsenal that matches my passion for supporting them, I’ve written numerous articles for various Arsenal blogs. In ‘Welcome To The Gunners’ Town’, I now have a place where I will be writing on a regular basis. Through the highs and the lows, the cheers and the jeers, I hope to provide my own balanced opinion and commentary on all things Arsenal.
“Once an Arsenal man, always an Arsenal man”
… Amen, Bob Wilson. Amen.
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