A Home in North London

A personal essay by Seth Haws

I had never been to England, but I did not need to for Arsenal to feel like my home.

Wembley Stadium, in London, England, UK, has a seating capacity of 90,000, making it the largest stadium in the country. On May 17th, 2014, 89,345 of those seats were filled with people ready to watch the Hull City Tigers take on North London’s own Arsenal Gunners in the 133rd FA Cup final, the world’s oldest soccer competition. Kickoff time was 5:00 PM British Summer Time.

The Haws Residence living room in Redlands, California, USA has a seating capacity of seven, making it averagely sized for the neighborhood. On May 17th, 2014, one of those seven seats was filled with one new Arsenal supporter ready to watch his first ever FA Cup final, making him Southern California’s newest soccer fanatic. The Fox Soccer Pregame Show was 8:30 AM Pacific Daylight Time. 

Arsenal fans have a tradition: every time the Gunners reach a cup final, we sing an old folk song adopted from the U.S. military called “She Wore a Yellow Ribbon.” This tradition started in the 1970’s. Three years in a row three different squads reached three different cup finals. Three years in a row those three squads wore their signature yellow away jerseys. Two of those years they lost the cup final, one year they won. All three years we sang. Most fans don’t know how this tradition started. I only know it because I feel a certain kinship with the song. If the most storied franchise in British soccer history can pick up an old folk song along the way then there should be plenty of room for me. Now I get to chant these lyrics. The same anthem that roars through Wembley echoes through my own suburban home. Two adopted members in the same family. 

Twofold tragedy strikes. Two goals scored in ten minutes cut the singing from the air. Half the stadium’s chants are hushed. Half the stadium’s nails are chewed. Half the stadium’s confidences crash into nervous despair. My couch matches half of that stadium.

More Than Just a Game

How did I get here? I don’t play soccer. My friends don’t watch soccer. It was a fateful glance at a passing television screen that unraveled into an obsession. Concentrated research proved that Arsenal was the only suitable home. They were misunderstood like me. They had always been underestimated and over criticized, undervalued and over analyzed. It’s just a matter of time until the chips fall in the right way to reveal their true value. Yeah. It’s just a matter of time. Soccer is like a teenager’s life in that, sometimes, it can be brutally unforgiving. Many times the side that plays better, passes smarter, shoots sharper, blocks bigger, runs faster, chants louder, writes cleaner, leans closer, looks cooler, and works harder does not win. Yeah. Soccer is unforgiving. Sometimes it doesn’t care who deserves the win. In North London I found a sense of unity, community, and immunity. I found a team that battles their external demons by striving for internal harmony. I found what I want to be. I’m sure there’s a proverb somewhere in there. 

Teenage me wearing my then recently acquired
Nike Dri-fit Lukas Podolski #9 Arsenal Home Kit.

The eyes that, one year ago, had never even seen a single game of professional British soccer now scoured the screen. The ears that had never heard the smooth sultry calls of famed announcer Ian Darke now hung on his every word. The hands that had not touched a jersey in anxious anticipation now clutch the Nike Dri-fit Lukas Podolski #9 Arsenal Home Kit desperately. 

Proof of Worth

All of my training has prepared me for this. This is far from over. I clench my jersey harder. I mutter encouraging remarks more furiously. Come on Ramsey. Let’s go Giroud. A ball cracks off the crossbar. You coulda handled that better Cazorla. Time passes. Rosicky subbed on now? Are you sure about that? In Wenger we trust. Come on you Gunners. You call that a foul ref?! If I ride the emotional wave I know that it can’t ride me. Probably another proverb in there. Too much time passes. Sloppy ball control on the back line. It’s time to play as a unit. We just need to jive a little bit more. A shot shanks wide. A gasp. Leveled eyes dart across the screen. Not enough time passes. After eighty minutes of hard work the game is tied. We’re off to extra time. Win or lose I hope it ends here. I don’t think I have the stomach for penalties today. We don’t need luck. We have skill. Ramsey scores an absolute screamer. Who else could it have been? Again the energy in the living room matches half of that stadium.

I have never felt so at home. Nothing had changed about my living room between now and ninety minutes ago, but at the same time everything changed. We did it. I relish our victory. I entered my living room a nervous fan and now emerge a glorious victor. Elation fills my heart as I leave the living room to do my chores with a head held high. We won the FA cup.












image credit:

"FA Cup Final 2014, Arsenal vs Hull (39 of 39).jpg" by philipc is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 2.0

"FA Cup Final 2014, Arsenal vs Hull (28 of 39).jpg" by philipc is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 2.0