Stillness and Speed: My Story (15 page)

Was there anywhere else you could have gone? Arsenal wasn’t as big then as it is now.

‘There were several options. Germany was in the picture as well, but I just couldn’t see myself there. The thought of playing for Bayern, it just . . . didn’t fit. And after
Italy, Spain didn’t fit either. My mind was set on England. Man United weren’t interested and I wasn’t going to go to somewhere like Newcastle or Liverpool because of the
travelling from Holland. Spurs was mentioned, and that had been Hoddle’s team, but even then I considered Arsenal to be a bit above Spurs. I’m not sure why. So I went back to Holland
and Rob [Jansen, my agent] went to London. He already knew people at Arsenal because of Glenn Helder and Jan Wouters, who nearly went to Arsenal as well. The funny thing is, I really didn’t
know anything about Arsenal’s reputation at the time for playing ‘boring’ football [under George Graham]. I’d seen a big article about the club in
Voetbal
International
, the Dutch magazine, and it sounded good. They seemed to have a settled, stable team, with a lot of players of a certain age. I thought it would be easier for me to come into a
team like that. I just had a good feeling about them. They had players who had authority: Tony Adams and the two full-backs [Lee Dixon and Nigel Winterburn] always played, they also had John Jensen
at that time, Ian Wright, Paul Merson. This was not a collection of strangers. Eight or nine of these guys always played. I thought: “That suits me.”

‘They had done well in Europe, too: they’d won the Cup Winners’ Cup in 1994 then been in the final again the following year. For clubs in Holland, doing well in Europe meant
getting past the quarter-finals. So I thought: “Yeah, it’s a big club, it’s in London, and it’s the way I want to play football. And Highbury is known for being a nice
ground as well. Let’s see what happens.” I never expected to be there eleven years! Not at all! To tell you the truth, when I was at Inter I was thinking of playing until I was about
twenty-eight and then going back to Holland. Just take a few years in England . . . But it all changed once I was in London.

‘The main thing for me was to move forward and get away from Italy. And it was my own adventure again, like when I chose Inter instead of Milan or Barcelona. I thought: “I’m
the sort of player you don’t see at Arsenal, so maybe I can show people this is my way of playing.” Glenn Hoddle had stood out in this league and my way was similar to his way. I knew
you could have space in England. So after a week, I made the decision and at the end of June I went with my wife to England for the first time, in the Channel Tunnel.

‘When I arrived the contract talks were still going on, and the medical had to be done. We stayed in the Four Seasons Hotel and Gary Lewin [the Arsenal chief physio] picked us up and took
us to the stadium. He was unbelievable the way he helped me in my first season. He sorted out everything, he was always friendly, jolly and funny, and he knew everything about the club. And then I
saw Highbury for the first time . . .
wow
! This was football! I loved all the houses around it, then you turn the corner and there’s the stadium! That’s not Dutch, nor Italian;
you don’t see it in Europe. It’s just typically English. And you see the Marble Halls of course.

‘So I remember coming up the stairs and then I met my agent. My brother Wim was there as well. And I saw in the room two people from Inter who were finalising the deal. It struck me:
“I’m a thing you buy and sell. I’m a commodity.” It was a strange feeling. Then I go up the stairs and I hear there’s probably going to be a press conference. They are
just talking about money and this and that. And then that was all done, and they opened the doors to the pitch. Nature! The grass! It was perfect. As soon as I saw the pitch, I thought: “This
is fantastic!” Then it’s the press conference with Bruce Rioch and David Dein and they’re showing a little videotape with some of my moments, with goals and assists, and the music
in the background is “This is The One” by The Stone Roses.’

‘
Immerse me in your splendour / All the plans that I have made . . .
’

‘Really? I didn’t know the words. But it was a good song, and my moments on the video were good, too. It was kind of nice. Then we went on to the pitch for the famous photoshoot of
course, with the shirt, with Bruce, and I remember I had to stand on a little wooden plank because the head groundsman Steve Braddock wouldn’t let me stand on the grass! I thought: “I
like this better than Inter.” At Inter, they put you on a pedestal and I wasn’t ready for that. I didn’t have that status and it didn’t fit my character. Straightaway in
England it felt more normal. And it wasn’t like Holland, where no one is allowed to be higher than anyone else because “we’re all the same”. England is in between, I think.
It’s a nice balance. Instantly, I felt: “I’m appreciated here, they’re really happy that I came.” But at that time it was a bit strange because I really didn’t
know what kind of player I was. How would I fit into the world’s top hundred players?’

You didn’t think you might be near the top?

‘Not at all. Not
at all
! OK, I thought, I’m a good player, I’d done well at Ajax. But Ajax is Ajax. Ajax is Holland, and in my mind Holland is not rated in the world
like England, Spain, Italy or Germany. I thought: “The normal person in the street probably doesn’t even know me.”

‘Then we get back to the hotel. The deal’s done, and we’re in our room relaxing. As normal, I look up the sports headlines on teletext. We get the BBC in Holland so I know
about Ceefax. I call up Page 301 and I’m shocked. The first two lines are in huge letters: “BERGKAMP JOINS ARSENAL.” For the first time it hits me: “
Woah!
What’s going on here?” I’m in this big country. I’m in London. I’m in this huge strange city where they drive on the left and . . . I’m on teletext. Me! They
must rate me here, they still expect me to be like Van Basten or Gullit. I don’t think of myself like that. Quickly, I go to Page 302, the football page, and there it is in more detail:
“DUTCH STRIKER GOES FOR £7.5 MILLION.” It was the first time it really hit what people expected of me. I looked at Henrita: “This is amazing! I have to step up.” After
Italy I had so many doubts. So many. Even when I played well, I always had to defend myself. And now you are in a hotel room and you see that. Physically it does something to you. Through your
spine you get a feeling and you get a little bit emotional as well. And you look at your wife and your wife looks at you and you feel: “Wow, this is unbelievable!”

S
O
D
ENNIS HAS
signed for Arsenal, seen himself on Ceefax. He now sets off to drive home via the Channel Tunnel – and
promptly gets lost. ‘I wouldn’t say
lost
. Not lost. We just took the long way because we made a mistake with the map. We’re on the M25 and come to . . . is it the
Maidstone turn-off? We made a mistake and ended up going the wrong way along the M25 south of London.

‘We needed petrol so we pulled into a garage. You know how it is in a garage. There were two petrol pumps, one in front and one behind, and when I arrive the only free space is the one
behind. But the car in front has just paid. As I’m filling my car, he drives off. Then another car comes up behind and they’re like: “Jeez! Why didn’t this idiot drive
through to the next space?” I can see a lot of movement in that car. The guy is really angry and as he drives past me and goes into the space ahead, I can see him still gesticulating and
talking to his wife . . .’

The angry man from the other car recalls: ‘I was driving home to Croydon, and I remember there’d been talk that Dennis Bergkamp might sign for Arsenal. “I hope it’s true.
God, I hope it’s true!” Anyway, I had to stop for petrol at the Clacket Lane Services [on the M25] and there was this big foreign BMW 7-Series parked on the wrong side of the pump. My
first thought was: “Who is this fool?” I mean, who’d put their car in a fucking stupid place like that? So I get out of my car to tell him what I think of his parking, and he gets
out of his car . . . and it’s Dennis Bergkamp! I literally
screamed
! He’s being Zen-Master calm, and I’m screaming because I’ve been praying that it’s true
that Dennis Bergkamp is going to sign for Arsenal . . . and
here he is
!’

* * *

D
ENNIS TAKES UP
the story: ‘He’s shouting: “Debbie! Debbie!! Look! It’s Dennis Bergkamp!” And then he runs over to me and
gives me a big hug. I was quite cool and down to earth, you know, but he was so happy to see me I thought: “Jeez, I feel welcome!” Think about it. It was during the holidays. The season
hasn’t started yet. And it was south of London in a place I wasn’t supposed to be. How many people live in London? Seven million? And I’ve just run into Ian Wright, who is going
to be my striking partner for the next few years . . . If we’d met at the training ground or a petrol station near the training ground or near the stadium or something, OK. But in the middle
of nowhere? On the day I signed? It was amazing at the time and it gets more amazing when I think about it now. What are the odds? It was meant to be! It was like a love story. Well, not a love
story but . . .’

There was another surprise in store. For Ian, the pleasure of playing alongside a footballer he hugely admired was soon doubled by the delight of rooming with his new friend. On their first
night together, Dennis is in the bathroom getting ready for bed. The door swings open, Dennis walks into the room and Ian is shocked: ‘I’d never seen a footballer wearing pyjamas
before! Normally a player will have nothing on. And Dennis comes out in full pyjamas! That stands out more than anything else. It was so lovely. PYJAMAS!! It was so sweet, and so family and so
genuinely the right thing to do. He did that all the time with me. I’m not sure if I went out and bought pyjamas because I wanted to copy him. I don’t think I did but I certainly
thought of it. Did he tell you he used to make fun of me for talking in my sleep?’

Dennis: ‘Really? I don’t usually wear pyjamas, so I’m wondering why I did. It’s probably from my time in Italy.

Ian also said you made fun of him because he sleep-talked.

‘With Ian you never know if he’s making fun or if it’s true. One night I remember, in the hotel, I was reading a book, and he was falling asleep, like normal. Suddenly he gets
out of bed and goes “Hello.” Is he making fun of me? “Hello?” He walks to the door, and listens at the door and goes “Urgh! Urgh!” and makes other weird noises,
and then returns to his bed, looks around and goes to sleep. And his eyes were open the whole time. It was really strange.’

D
ENNIS
B
ERGKAMP HAS
been playing for Arsenal for a month and after seven games still hasn’t scored. Because of his
experience in Italy, he’s not reading the newspapers. He hears, though, that the
Sun
is running a competition to see which of North London’s hapless new signings will be the
first to break their duck. Will it be the modestly heralded Chris Armstrong at Spurs or Dennis? Three days previously, when Arsenal played at Hartlepool in the League Cup, Tony Adams scored two
goals, Ian Wright one, Dennis none. The
Independent
’s reporter puts it as gently as possible: ‘Arsenal supporters are beginning to view a goal by Dennis Bergkamp in much the
same light as a small child regards Christmas: they know it is coming, it is just the wait that is unbearable.’ The next match is at home to Southampton.

Dennis: ‘At that time the away fans would be singing:
“What a waste of money!”
when I missed a chance. I thought: “Wait a minute! [
laughs
] You
can’t say that!” But I kind of enjoyed it. It was funny and I could understand. I was also a bit upset with myself for not scoring. I only realised later that the tabloids made a huge
thing out of it, which was lucky because that would otherwise have become a big thing on my mind. Against West Ham, I think, I missed two or three really good chances which I should have scored
from, and I had a feeling that it affected our fans as well, in that there was a little bit of “hmmm . . .” in the crowd. They didn’t want to boo me or anything but they were
like: “What’s wrong?” At Inter they would boo for sure, and Ajax fans are very critical as well. They’ll boo you when it’s nil-nil at half time. So I was expecting it.
But the Arsenal fans stayed calm and that sticks in my mind. I think my problem was that I was still in Italy mode. I expected it to be tougher in England. I was getting much more space but I was
still thinking: “I’ll just lay the ball off here . . .” It wasn’t a lack of confidence. It was more that my focus wasn’t really on scoring goals any more. In Italy you
have to look more for penalties and free-kicks around the box or a deflected shot. And of course, it shouldn’t be taking me seven games to adjust. But I’d started with the idea it would
take a few months to get used to things. Then I realised I had to speed things up. “OK, this is all good, I feel great on that pitch. I’m enjoying football again. It’s fantastic
here. I have to be patient but also positive.” People hadn’t said things directly. They’d come up to me and go: “You’re doing well, but . . .” I knew what they
meant. I was feeling the same thing myself. In training the players couldn’t help making little comments. They appreciate you, they think you’re a fantastic player and a nice person . .
. but they expect you to do something. And there had been an interview with Alan Sugar saying something to the effect that foreign players only come here for the money. I thought: “You
can’t take six months [to score]. You have to step up now . . .”’

Ian Wright remembers: ‘When Dennis started at Arsenal he didn’t start great. There were murmurs from the fans and I remember him getting stick from a player from Hartlepool. This
player from fucking Hartlepool was saying stuff to Dennis! I kind of took it personally myself. Dennis was playing well, but for some reason goalies were making saves against him or whatever. And
the next game was against Southampton at Highbury. In the first half I remember Glenn Helder crossing it, and the ball comes a long way, and I see Dennis winding up . . .’