When fans say they
"hate" a footballer, it's usually a facade concealing the florid,
full-blown jealousy that strikes them every time they see him celebrating a
victory or kissing his newly adopted crest. That’s how I felt when the infamous
little boy…devil…whatever inside Robin Van Persie said the club wasn’t moving in the
direction he wanted. It sucked seeing him score against us. It hurt seeing him
lift a trophy he could never get his hands on at the Emirates. But what hurt
more than this confessed jealousy was the betrayal that triggered it all. Yes,
I use the word ‘betrayal’ to describe the actions of a player that this club
and its loyal fan base stood behind through his darkest of days. A hot-headed
injury prone Dutchman from Feyenoord once accused of rape; a man even his new
followers labelled a rapist. The club and more importantly the manager firmly
took his side. The fans followed.
Alas, 1.5/8 good seasons later he
decides the club isn’t good enough for him. And he got what he wanted… for a
while at least. What followed his trophy winning season under the reigns of Sir
Alex Ferguson was a series of unfortunate events that would make even Lemony
Snickett shudder. An injury plagued second season left United finishing in 7th
place under their new manager, David Moyes. Louis Van Gaal took over soon after
and for a second RVP saw a glimmer of hope at resurrecting what was once a
stellar career. Alas, the same man who made him the Dutch captain and hi-fived
him after he scored demoted him to the bench at United. Indeed, so miserable
was his next 2 years at United that he decided to leave England altogether. Things
only got worse however. At his new home in Turkey, no one even recognizes him.
Not only has he lost his Dutch captaincy but has also been reduced to being a
bench warmer at his new club, Fenerbahce.
As I write this Van Persie is slowly
but surely descending into oblivion. He has lost the respect of all his
followers at England. Wenger, his former mentor whom he once called a father
refuses to even recognize him. And his new supporters despise his apparent
lethargic attitude on the field. RVP is currently training at the Dutch camp
attempting a last gasp effort at qualifying for next year’s Euros at France.
Unfortunately even a win against Czech Republic might not be enough to qualify
if Turkey manage to get a single point against Iceland. It’s almost as if the
fate of his nation is analogous to his own.
At the age of 32 and at the
twilight of his career it is hard to tell whether there is any chance of a
revival for Robin. He will probably never play in a major tournament again if
Holland don’t qualify. He will be 35 years old in 2018 when the world cup at
Russia comes around and a career riddled with injuries doesn’t sound very promising
for the veteran striker. Sigh… if only he had never… ahh forget it.
They say the opposite of love is
hate but it isn’t. It’s indifference.
And unfortunately, Robin; that’s
how most Arsenal fans feel about you now. We have new heroes to worship, new
silverware to polish and if we want to look back and feel nostalgic about the
yesteryears we need only step outside the Emirates and gaze at the statues of
Henry, Dennis, Adams and Herbert Chapman. Infact, one of them, Tony Adams once
said: “Play for the name in the front of the shirt and they’ll remember the
name at the back”. For 1.5 seasons you gave us that. A teaser of what you could
do; a sample of the kind of havoc you could wreak on the strongest of defences.
For those 1.5 seasons you made us feel almost (2003/4ish) invincible. But you
only played for the little boy inside you, didn’t you Robin? And look where that
got you. This is what happens when you bite the hand that feeds you.
You were always a great player.
At Arsenal you could’ve become a legend. Fans worshipped you. Today, at this
stage in your career there is nothing you can do that can bring you that
status. You ruined everything, Robin. And you know what the worst part is? It’s
that nobody seems to care anymore. Arsenal have moved on. United never really
cared much anyway. They have Anthony Martial now; I hear he’s the next Thierry
Henry. Hmm… I wonder, have you ever heard of a hot prospect being called the
next Robin Van Persie? I don’t think so. You could’ve had it all, Robin. At
Arsenal you were the king. I admit, you’re the striker we still haven’t
replaced on the field. But we’ve definitely replaced you in spirit. Nobody
cares anymore, Robin.
I sincerely hope and pray by some
stroke of fortune you and your country do manage to qualify for next summer’s
tournament in France. I think you deserve that much. One final shot at
greatness. But know this… that this sentiment comes not from love but sympathy.
I pity you Robin. I feel sorry for you. And that for me is the worst kind of
feeling one can ever have.
