1989...

There's probably a few of you out there who remember a certain side who used to absolutely dominate English football in the 1980's. You might even say they dominated Europe to a certain extent, what with 4 European Cup wins between 77-84. That's right, those scouse gits, Liverpool...*spits*. Hard to believe today but Liverpool were a side to be feared and admired while full of stars, the predecessors to Manure's 90's dominance *spit spit*.

Let me take you back to the season of 1988-89. Arsenal had been going nowhere special for a few years, and hadn't won the League title for some 18 years. That season however, George Graham had welded them into a tight unit, as Tony Adams (then Arsenal captain) put it in his biography: "We probably weren't the most talented team, but we were probably the most organised and disciplined..." Liverpool were coming to the end of their dominace but weren't yet aware how bitter the taste would be to their season-end...

The latter stages of 1988-89 were overshadowed by events at Hillsborough. I remember being frozen in shock as events unfolded live on TV. Football carried on, though it was undoubtedly influenced by the disaster. In fact, the Liverpool v Arsenal game that was going to decide the title was postponed until the end of May, partly because of the disaster, partly due to fixture congestion. Arsenal had looked like they were going to walk the title but with just a couple of games left a home defeat to Derby had let Liverpool back in.

Now, in the deciding game of the season, the very last game of the season, Arsenal had to go to Anfield, a place pretty much regraded as a fortress, and win by two clear goals. Mission impossible. Public sympathy was also with Liverpool, since it had been their fans killed at Hillsborough. OK, so double mission impossible.

The game was of immense interest and was shown live on TV. I remember watching nervously as the game unfolded and willed Arsenal on non-stop. I had Liverpool supporting mates at work and knew I'd never hear the last of it if Liverpool won. I had also never witnessed an Arsenal title-winning team and had feasted on the pictures of 1970-71 way too often - it was time for my own special memories, a memory that could warm the cockles on dark, cold nights (OK, I didn't know then that I was headed for Israel...).

0-0 at half-time was still OK. Nervy but still OK. The second half was still young when Smith headed in a goal for Arsenal. But wait...the ref had to consult his linesman...but he eventually gave it! YES!!! Arsenal continued attacking almost incessantly, but Liverpool were doing enough to hold on. Even though they were going to lose 1-0 on the night, it was still enough for them to win the title. Bastards! The 90 minute mark came and went and Liverpool players and fans had started believing it was theirs...

...when suddenly in the final seconds, a pass from Dixon found Smith who found Mickey Thomas, the ball bobbled and fell nicely for him, and yes, there it was, a sweet chip over Grobbelaar! FANTASTIC! PANDEMONIUM! The legendary Brian Moore declared "It's up for grabs now..." as an overjoyed Thomas flipped over in pure, spastic delight. The enormity of coming to a place like Anfield and stealing a 2-0 win was just too much...This surely was one of the most dramatic finishes to a season that there will ever be. Just what football should be all about...

Me, I had a great time at work the following day. I was also resigned to the fact that this Arsenal team could actually win things and I'd have to stick with them no matter what. The next year saw me head through Europe and arrive in Israel, but thousands of miles wasn't about to break the allegiance...

My first magical gooner moment revolves around the magical Cup Final of 1979. I was ten years old and remember being mesmerized by those final four or five minutes, when it all seemed to be going pear shaped...

I had probably been hardcore gooner for at least a year or two (after flirting with the idea of supporting QPR and even, God forbid, Newcastle). And yes, I had watched, appalled, as Arsenal had lost the previous year's final to Ipswich. Yep, Ipswich...at least nobody in my class supported them, otherwise I might have had hell to pay...

1979 was going to be different of course. We now had Brian Talbot on our side, who had helped Ipswich beat us the previous year and who was aiming to become the first player to win two back-to-back finals with two different teams. Our opponents, however, were a little more accomplished than lowly Ipswich - if we were going to cover ourselves in glory, we had to overcome Manchester United.

The final itself wasn't the most exciting, until the last 5 minutes. Arsenal had control of the game and were leading 2-0 when United suddenly bounced back with 2 quick goals. All seemed lost, the commentator was rasp, the Manure fans were sure one more goal would do it...when up popped Liam Brady (*falls to knees in 'we're not worthy' mode*) on the left wing, a cross was delivered and, yes, YES, YESSSSS, Alan Sunderland managed to get his foot to the ball and steer it home! A few moments later, it was all over, Arsenal had done it! Pure, fucking bliss.

Me, I got my hand-knitted scarf out (red and white of course, cheers Mum), got on me bike and went off down the road, ecstatic. (I even remember calling a friend who supported Manure from a nearby phone box, the price of a call - 2p!)

My first magical gooner moment. The moment I knew I had made the right choice. The moment I knew I was with them for life...