Cool, calm, efficient ... but where's the drama?

13 April 2012

Considering that the Premiership title was up for grabs here, the build-up to the match on TV was curiously muted.

The most exciting news that emerged from one whole hour's preamble was that Dennis Bergkamp was mysteriously confined to the Arsenal bench with a slight cold. I wondered if his mum had sent in a note to the management.

Whatever, there was precious little sense that destiny was on the prowl at Old Trafford. Blackburn boss Graeme Souness, whose team were to contribute to a thriller at Liverpool, hazarded a guess that "United might turn them (Arsenal) over".

Manchester United manager Sir Alex Ferguson appeared to accept the inevitable by declaring that, if his team had to lose the league title, he would prefer to lose it to a team that attacked.

His opposite number, Arsene Wenger, coolly struck another dart into the choleric one's heart by announcing that the psychology of managers plays a big part.

Briefly, the game crawled from beneath all this circumspection and threatened to become a spectacle.

Manchester United were clearly rattled by the prospect of becoming yesterday's men, to the extent that their players seemed determined to extend the crisis in the NHS into the field of private medicine, such were the number of hospital tackles flying in.

Naturally, Martin Tyler's co-commentator Andy Gray was in his element. "Players get fired up," growled the former Scotland and Everton striker, approvingly, after one yellow card. "The temperature's up," he added helpfully after a second a minute later.

On the touchline, Sir Alex was adding his blood pressure to the cause. As the match began to drift away from the home team, the wad of gum in his cheek became larger, the masticating of it more vigorous.

Should he have chosen to spit it out towards the end of the game, that would have constituted assault with a deadly weapon. When I was at school, I was cautioned against the chewing of gum by teachers, on the grounds that it was made of horses' hooves. I wonder if anyone has ever mentioned this to Alex, as a renowned racing man. Perhaps, last night would not have been the right moment.

Suddenly, after all the introspection, the game was over. Arsenal were the deserved winners, but in order to be real champions, there is a problem they must address: they have no talent for drama.

Perhaps the noted sang-froid of the manager has affected them. Maybe they have no urge to tread the boards of a different theatre of dreams. But when Manchester United win or lose, they have the ability to summon up resonance.

There are tears of joy or the gnashing of teeth. The heavens move or hell rumbles.

Arsenal, if they really want to be considered great, have to learn some theatrical lessons. Players may hug and kiss the turf, but they have to learn how to rise to the occasion in the manner of an Olivier rather than some jobbing actor.

Those of us watching on the small screen are waiting for something to thrill our souls.

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Cool, calm, efficient ... but where's the drama?

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