Ibrahimovic's Arsenal comments have bitter undercurrents of truth

It’s popular consensus that the Arsenal fan-base is a sample space volatile and extreme in its emotions. A comfortable win will result in much whooping, festivities and more swollen chests on view than at a Superman convention. A limp defeat will see bin-bags and pitchforks surface in ominous unison, ‘Wenger Out!’ and ‘It’s all Squillaci’s fault!’ gurgling at the tip of every tongue. Whether it’s clutching at non-existent title chances till it’s mathematically impossible, or bleating on about TheLongestTrophyDroughtInWorldFootball, gooners never do anything half-heartedly, bless their souls.

In this world of instant ArseRage, when Zlatan Ibrahimovic went and opened his gob after the 4-0 mauling of the Gunners in Italy-

“When you don’t win anything for years, people understand why you leave like Cesc Fabregas,”

“Football is all about winning. If you don’t win you want to go.

“I don’t know Robin personally but I remember him from Holland and what a talent he was – now he is complete. I don’t know what he is thinking but I know what I would do.”

All he was doing was flicking a lit match into the tinderbox that is the current Arsenal support. Pandemonium ensued in twitterland; abuse and bile got flung in the lanky Swede’s general direction as every gooner (me included) expressed marked indignation at his gall to cast aspersions on our quality or van Persie’s loyalty.

But if one takes the tints off for a second (I know it’s difficult, they’ve almost been sown into our eyes by some sort of reconstructive surgery by now) there are a few things that you can’t disagree with, no matter how hard you try.

First off, I heartily agree with all those who find Ibrahimovic detestable. His entire demeanor stinks of a mercenary who wouldn’t piss on someone to put out a fire if he didn’t find some incentive in doing so. But the more distance you take from the affair, the more footballers you compare him with, you find that Ibrahimovic is becoming the norm, not the exception. He’s a part of the ever-increasing pool of suited-and-booted hitmen footballers who work for rubles and/or trophies, preferably and. Loyalty doesn’t come into the equation at all, with some sort of distant affection for the club being the best thing a modern footballer can muster. Samir Nasri, Emmanuel Adebayor, Fernando Torres, Ashley Cole, Zlatan Ibrahimovic; the list tends to non-exhaustive. When he says-

“I have made a lot of moves in my life – I take it as a challenge, an adventure. And I have won eight titles in eight years with different clubs in different countries. If you succeed that’s when you become a real champion, that’s when you get more respect.”

You feel slightly sick at the mechanistic nature of it all, but the mentality is only spreading. Life is short, money is good, silver even better, and loyalties can eff off. The modern footballer looks here to stay. At first glance (and many glances later in fact) van Persie thankfully doesn’t seem to fit into the IbraDouche mold that so many other players do, his loyalty to the club and a desire to give something back fuelling his goal-ridden season, as he tries to lift an ordinary side to something they’re not.

But that’s when Ibrahimovic’s comments about Arsenal in particular come in. He quips about a supposed comfort-zone that players are lulled into after sometime at a club-

“But if you stay in one place all your life it is easy to play football. You are at home, you are in the comfort zone. But if you move to five different places it is a real test.”

And, hand on heart, how many of you think that there are no such players at Arsenal? Players who gratefully gobble up the bumper salaries given and coast along with weeks upon weeks of rank mediocrity; with no failure being punished and umpteen second chances being given. It’s a life difficult to come by at most football clubs- posing for the clickety-click of the cameras, kicking a ball around and not being very good at it, but still pocketing a hefty sum when the bills have to be cleared. I’m not going to name any players here lest the Arsenal contingent descends upon me in great vengeance and furious anger, but we have a fair few coasters in my view.

Not that van Persie is one of them, mind you; he hates losing, every single performance being driven with the craving of three points. But once he sees the coasters around him, lying static and sipping pricey pina-colada, and once he sees a world chock-a-block with modern footballers who change clubs faster than changing underwear (and being successful at it) what is he going to do? Will his underlying sense of loyalty prevail, making him the Casablanca who goes down with this red-and-white ship? Or will he wave his goodbyes, sad but necessary for the betterment of his career? If Arsenal’s current decline continues, it would take a brave betting man to put money on the former.

And that’s all I allow myself to think about it, as I return to blinkered mode with tints on, swearing rustically at Ibrahimovic with speckles of spit flying hither, thither and every whither. There’s only so long an Arsenal fan can be balanced about things, you see. Zlatan, you cun-