The Daily Novel

Certainly not in the new Arsenal Emiriates Stadium where I went last night, along with nearly 60,000 others, to see the end-season match against Manchester City. I had a bird’s eye view of the pitch from my seat on the top row of the top third tier of this rather splendid 21^st century temple for those who worship the gods of footballing. And to help me observe what was going on the pitch and amongst the crowd I had a choice of two giant television screens.

The veteran Arsenal fan I talked with thought it was a vast improvement on the old ground up the road. But there were a couple of things that irritated me. Despite the vast improvements in technology the sound system was even more discordant than the tannoy systems that were the norm in my youth. And the stand cover magnified some of the discordant noises, like those produced by the drum of one Arsenal fan who were more concerned to make a loud noise rather than make music. His frenetic beating drowned out the few Manchester City supporters who were singing Blue Moon, from a similar Hollywood stable to the one which gave Liverpool You’ll never walk alone.

There was so much amplified noise that when at least 50,000 people jumped out of their seats and cheered Arsenal’s first goal, it did not seem to raise the decibel level that much. Nothing compared to the full throated roar from the 70,000 Molyneux crowd which greeted a Wolves crowd in the days of Billy Wright and Bert Williams. That could be heard all over the town so that you could calculate the score from the crowd noise. When the visiting side scored the cheers of their supporters was drowned by the nasal groans of the Wolverhampton natives.

I saw no sign at all of hooligan behaviour either in the ground or in the streets coming and going to the match. It may be that all the hooligans have identified and banned. Or it may be that the hundreds of stewards manage to contain the potential trouble makers. Despite the presence of a far more women, children and babies than in my day, it is still a dominant macho culture. Though smoking is banned as soon as you are inside the gates, the consumption of alcohol, which fuels hooliganism, is encouraged. There a large bars at every level. The pints are lined up on the counter, and you cannot buy a half pint. It is a pint or nothing. And I saw huge quantities consumed both before the match and at half time. But strict rules are also enforced. You cannot take your drink to your seat and drink it slowly while you watch the match. (unless you lace your diet coke with a shot or two of rum).

By the time the second half begin I was beginning to join to feel again my own boyhood enthusiasm for the game and participate in the partisan fervour. I was, of course, cheering Manchester City. I have had so love for Arsenal ever since they poached Billy Wright from Wolves to manage their club. And, as it happens, City is the club of the father of my grandchildren, and of my lawyer.

Oh, you want to know about the match? Outside my expertise. But this link will give you the verdict of The Guardian sports desk.