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For the first time in over 500 days, Charles Watts’ father was able to go to the Emirates and our Arsenal correspondent went along with him
I’ll never forget the moment that the reality of attending live football during the pandemic really hit home.
It was July, 18, 2020 and I was walking up Wembley Way just over an hour before Arsenal’s FA Cup semi-final with Manchester City was due to kick off.
I reached the top of the famous ramps as I approached the stadium and looked around as I prepared to record a video. I couldn’t see a single other person.
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It was FA Cup semi-final day at Wembley and I was standing on my own with no one else around. My heart sank.
This wasn’t the first game I’d been to after ‘Operation Restart’ had kicked into gear; in fact, it was my 11th. But it was the one that really made me realise just how poorer football was without fans.
Perhaps during the previous games I was just happy to be back doing my job again, or that the surreal nature of the situation had stopped me really taking a moment to appreciate how hollow things now were.
But that all became abundantly clear that afternoon at Wembley.
This should have been a huge occasion. Usually Wembley Way would be awash with colour. One side red, one side blue as fans streamed up the ramps towards the stadium.
But it just wasn’t the same; it wasn’t football.
And it was exactly the same feeling as I made my way into the ground and looked around at 90,000 empty seats.
I remember when the referee blew his whistle to get the game under way. It was a sound that should have been greeted by a giant roar. This time? Nothing. Silence, aside from the shouts of the managers on the touchline.
From that moment on, reporting on football felt like a very hollow experience for me.
There were some good games along the way and some great goals, but it wasn’t football. Not really. Each match felt like a slightly glorified friendly.
Despite that, I never lost sight of how fortunate I was to still be able to go to the games each week.
I know I was in a privileged position to be travelling up and down the country going to games watching the club I not only report on, but support.
Millions of Arsenal fans around the world would have given anything to swap positions with me on a matchday, including my father – who has been a season ticket holder since 1990 and has sat in the same seat at Emirates Stadium since the move from Highbury in 2006.
For years now I’d grown used to taking my seat in the press box before a game and waiting for the same text message. It would usually arrive at about 2.30pm and always read ‘Where are you?’
I’d send one back then look across to the opposite side of the stadium where I’d see my dad look down at his phone, then look across to find me, put his arm up in the air and start waving.
It was the same routine, every game, for years.
I can’t tell you how much I missed that during the pandemic.
One of the hardest things about achieving my ambition of becoming an Arsenal reporter was having to give up sitting in my actual seat in the stadium next to my dad every other week.
Going to Arsenal as a fan had been something I’d done on a near weekly basis since 1991. Watching games from the press box took some adjusting to and I still find it difficult now when the likes of Spurs, Manchester United and Chelsea roll into north London.
But still being able to see my Dad at games made that transformation slightly easier and so looking across at his empty seat during the pandemic felt completely wrong.
I knew how much he missed it, so sometimes I’d walk around to the entrance of turnstile J and take a picture just to send to him, or I’d send him a photo of the area where he would usually be sitting as I walked past on my way to the press box.
They were just little things, but I knew they made him feel just that little bit closer to his beloved Arsenal on a matchday.
Dad is 76 now. He was raised in Holloway just a stone’s throw away from where the Emirates now stands. Arsenal is in his blood and the fact he couldn’t go every week left a big hole in his life.
It was a hole he obviously tried to fill by doing other things and he would still watch every game from home, but he freely admits it just wasn’t the same. A victory didn’t feel as good and a defeat never felt as painful.
The relationship was still there, but there was a disconnect that only absence can bring.
And that’s why last Sunday’s game against Chelsea was so special.
Forget the result and forget the negativity that currently surrounds Arsenal. That game against Chelsea was about more than that, just as it was for fans around the country who made their way back to support their clubs over the opening fortnight of the new season after 18 months away.
I knew exactly what going back to his seat for the first time since that win against West Ham 533 days earlier meant to my Dad and that’s why I had to go to the game with him.
It was the first time I’d sat in my actual seat since 2018 and walking through the streets on the way to the game was very special. It was like old times again.
I was moaning about Arsenal while my Dad was being positive. He was pointing out houses that his friends used to live in, while I was asking him for money to buy a burger from one of the stalls outside the tube station. It was like we had never been away.
For the first time in a long time, going to football felt normal again and even a demoralising defeat couldn’t take away what a special feeling that was.
I’ll be back in the press box when Norwich head to Arsenal on September 11 and my niece will be sitting in my seat next to Dad.
Once again, I’ll be looking forward to receiving that text message at 2.30pm and seeing him frantically waving trying to get my attention. I can’t wait.
Welcome back, Dad.
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