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Have a favourite Arsenal goal, player or match? Want to share the experience of your first ever game or the atmosphere at a Cup Final? Ever met someone who has played for the Gunners? 

We want to hear from Arsenal fans willing and eager to share something personal about their love for the club. All you have to do is email us via the CONTACT page mentioning 'MEMORY BANK' in the title. Your entry can be as long or as short as you like, just do your best to stick to the Queen's English. 

 

Friday
Nov042011

Going underground

BY JOE MARDON / @TheArsenal_

Without the required away credit I relied with gratitude on a rather unique way of securing a ticket for the league clincher at White Hart Lane in 2004. A players comp. A home players comp which would see me seated in the home end for a game where keeping my mouth shut was just too big a challenge.

Heading to the underground, Chelsea were one-nil up at St James's Park, a scoreline which meant we wouldn’t, despite our unbeaten status, be able to secure the title at the most desired of venues. By the time we arrived to collect our tickets outside the main entrance, that score had swung the way of Newcastle who were now leading 2-1 against the only club capable of denying us the title.

When the full time result from the North East was confiemd I literally rubbed my hands together at the thought of what lay ahead. Spurs faces bore resignation as I took my seat amongst the nervous home fans, in the front row of the upper tier. I was only five seats along from our excited travelling army.

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Friday
Nov042011

56 Years and Counting

BY STEVE RONAY

One Saturday in 1955 my dad decided it was time for my first visit to Highbury, so we set off on the 20 min walk from our Stoke Newington home. It was a walk we would do hundreds of times over the years and one which held the same magic despite the ageing process.

It took several years before I had the chance to taste the success of winning silverware, but after the Fairs Cup win against Anderlecht it wasn’t long before the Double of 1971. Despite the eleven year wait I wouldn’t change a thing, in those preceding years I watched Jack Kelsey, Jimmy Bloomfield, Joe Haverty and then suffered the heartbreak of David Herd being sold to Manchester United. After that I had the chance to experience the careers of George Eastham, Joe Baker and the legend that was Georgie Armstrong. Over the years I saw so many heroes wear the famous Red and White of my beloved Arsenal.

When I left England to live in the USA my Dad phoned with the news that we had beaten Liverpool at Anfield with a last gasp goal by Mickey Thomas to take the League title again. He died before the arrival of Arsene Wenger in 1996 and the chance to experience the champagne football he brought to Highbury, but how I wish he could have seen Vieira, Bergkamp, Pires and Henry in their pomp.

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Thursday
Nov032011

Amongst Friends

BY JAMES CURRIE / @JAMESCURRIE

"Dad, I want to support a football team but I don't know which one, how do people decide which team to support?" 

As a 7 year old in 1992, i had no idea how important the answer to that question would be. My Dad informed me that one of the ways in which people "choose" their football team was to find out the team closest to their place of birth. A quick scan of the map using our fingers to measure the distance, eventually confirmed that I was born slightly closer to Arsenal than I was to Tottenham (phew). 

And so it was to be Arsenal. This felt like a good decision and I looked forward to sharing this new part of my identity with my classmates the following day. For the next year or so, I began my apprenticeship of fandom. I had provided my parents and family with a new world of birthday and Christmas gifts that would guarantee to delight.

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Thursday
Nov032011

Taking to the Pitch

BY ALEX G

Back in April 2006, I entered a competition with my O2 to play in a five-a-side tournament at Highbury just after the end of the last season and before the redevelopment work started. I got a call about two weeks later telling me I had won and could bring a squad of eight to play in the tournament.

The whole day was amazing! I scored a half volley in matchday goal in front of the North Bank during an extremely unruly warm up session. My team finished second bottom of the whole tournament in the end, we only scored two goals of which I got one, but we still got to walk through the Marble Halls, out of the tunnel and onto the pitch. We even changed in the home dressing room and it still gives me shivers when I think of the players that have graced that pitch and to think I too had the chance to experience it.

What’s more Charlie George, who was one of the guests for the day, likened me to a gazelle! I’m sure it was sarcasm, but who cares! It was a great day and I’ve been left with amazing memories.

Wednesday
Nov022011

It Is Quite Clearly Not Just A Game

BY WILL GARWOOD

Picture a loving father presenting a brand new bicycle for his ten year-old son's birthday, then picture him smashing it up in front of his eyes. It was the same feeling we all went through the night of the 17th of May 2006 when the Champions League slipped through our hands.

Imagine your faithful wife taking off with your best friend and that might just come close to the feeling of humiliation as Newcastle came back from four goals to snatch a late draw. Finally, visualize yourself being beaten to the ground and kicked and stomped on no less than 8 times, and you will fully understand the trauma we all suffered at Old Trafford this year.

Why do we bother? I've been asking myself that question ever since the day my dad told me I was to be an Arsenal fan. Because we do. Because we are Arsenal. There are days when I wish my dad had told me I was to be an Orient fan, life would have been so much easier, but I am Arsenal, and Arsenal am I.

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Wednesday
Nov022011

February 16th, 2011 

BY SAM DREW / @chroniclesofal

As I swung my left leg into my dad’s car and pulled the door shut, I had no idea what I would witness in the 90 minutes that I had been building up to for ages.

Dad, my brother and I were about to set off to London – the Emirates Stadium, to be precise – to watch the Arsenal against the best team in the world; FC Barcelona. Some had even called them the greatest side ever. Arguable, yes. But they’re definitely up there.

It was lucky that I was going in the first place. We have two season tickets (immensely lucky too) and normally I take turns with my older brother. However, he usually pulls rank over me when it comes to the big games. For example, last season’s Barcelona game was his as soon as the name was pulled out of the hat.

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Tuesday
Nov012011

A Different Brand of Class

BY RYAN SNYDER / @RyanPSnyder

I sort of chose Arsenal like I choose wine - by the name and the label. I mean, a cannon? How awesome is that? But, of course, there was more to it than that.

As an American, I was never able to watch much English football. Though I'd played "soccer" most of my life, I'd never actually watched any, apart from during the World Cups. But I loved the sport. It was fascinating and enthralling, and I wanted a team to call my own.

Unfortunately it was still off-season when I came to this decision, so I had nothing to watch just yet. I spent my time huddled excitedly in front of computers in my school library, reading and learning about each team instead of doing work for my classes. An education could wait. I was choosing a future much more important.

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Tuesday
Nov012011

Getting the Feel For It

BY TOM ADAMS / @TomEurosport

Earliest football memories are invariably coloured by strong sensual motifs, whether it be the sound of tribal chants emitting from an as yet undiscovered stadium as you approach tentatively for the first time, or the sight of 11 giant men emerging from a tunnel resplendent in colours that are destined to nestle deep into your heart.

Mine are no different. I can still vividly recall Luton Town away on Boxing Day, 1991: sat surreptitiously in the home end at Kenilworth Road, alongside my Dad, I can still hear the frightening intensity of the Luton chants, as the wooden stand shook beneath me; can still recall gazing out and seeing Paul Merson, David Rocastle, Ian Wright and Anders Limpar, my childhood heroes, representing my club with pride; can still feel that funny sixth sense, as we lost 1-0 to a Mick Harford goal, that live football had a cruel streak that no combination of the literature that shaped my early years – mostly Match, Shoot and Pro Set cards - could ever prepare me for.

But those are not my earliest memories of being an Arsenal fan. My earliest memory is instead dominated by another sense entirely: touch.

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Monday
Oct312011

One Helluva Player

BY ALAN DEBOER

As a southern Californian, soccer did not come naturally to me. My mom was scared of having me play the game because "all that hitting the ball with your head might cause brain damage." As I got into high school, I had a counsellor who loved soccer, and so I watched the World Cup a bit in order to have something to talk about with him. The 1994 World Cup was in the United States, after all.

During the 1998 World Cup, I remember watching more games, specifically the Dutch team, where I was wowed by two things. First, there were twin brothers with the same last name ‘deBoer’ as me. Could it be? I'd never imagined hearing my surname being called out on the television as a sports star. Secondly, there was a helluva player named Dennis Bergkamp who scored a wondrous goal against Argentina that got me quite excited. I decided I MUST watch this man more.

I discovered that Bergkamp played for the Arsenal, and slowly started incorporating the team into my life. I would at first just check results and see how the team was doing. However, after watching a few games as the Arsenal became more prominent on US television, I quickly fell in love with the whole team. Ljungberg? Now there's a punk I could relate to. Titi Henry, Vieira, Keown, Parlour, Edu, Pires. It was heaven!

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Monday
Oct312011

A Day Out In Liverpool

BY CHRIS JOHNSTON / @ChrisTheSarf

Friday 26th May 1989 started out much as any other, I woke up, grabbed a coffee, and read the newspaper. Looking at the back page, I noticed quite a lengthy article about the evening’s game at Anfield. There was a slight panic as I checked for the millionth time that my ticket was still in my wallet.

Arsenal had been due to play Liverpool earlier in the season, but events at Hillsborough saw the game postponed, and rearranged as the very last game of the season, and although not planned when the game was rearranged, it was now the title decider. That ticket in my wallet was priceless, and I assured myself that I was keeping it regardless of how much I would inevitably get offered for it outside the ground. On went my Arsenal shirt, I grabbed my Arsenal scarf, and a thin jacket and headed off to the train station.

I lost count of the amount of times I checked on the train to see if the ticket was still there. I had worked out my entrance point, and the approximate position I would take up on the terrace in the corner of the ground. My train pulled into Liverpool Lime Street at almost the same time as a London connection, and suddenly there were hundreds of Arsenal supporters everywhere.

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