Stillness and Speed: My Story (19 page)

Things changed for the better at Arsenal, didn’t they?

‘Oh completely. I give Gary a lot of credit. He was very open to new ideas. He thought things through and it all changed very quickly. Like having a masseur. In my first season David Platt
had a masseur, and that was new. In my last year at Arsenal we had three masseurs who came in the day after a match . . . So in ten years it changed from “Why do you want a masseur? To work
on your muscles? Get lost!” to three masseurs! And of course all the clubs copied. Now everybody does that. It changed very quickly.’

So you got on well with the medical staff at Ajax and Arsenal. But how was it at Inter?

‘Different! In late 1994 I had a groin problem. I’d had it for a few months and it was starting to get really annoying. I’d seen lots of doctors and tried everything. In the
end I told the club I wanted to get a physio over from Holland. They wouldn’t accept that. A physio flew down and came to the training ground and tried to be friendly and normal, but they
just wouldn’t let him be there. So he treated me at home instead. In the end, around Christmas time, I said: “OK I’m going home for a week and I’ll get my treatment
there.” They said: “No, no! You must stay here!” I said: “No, I’m going home to my family. That’s what I need and that’s what I’m doing. And
I’ll get my treatment there.” They said: “In that case we’ll send a doctor over.” “Fantastic!” I said, “no worries!” So back in Holland
I’m finally getting the treatment I need and the Italian doctor comes over. It was just silly. While the physio is treating me, this young doctor from the second team is sitting there with a
notebook, watching and hardly speaking. Why? For their files? I never found out.’

11

I
T IS LUNCHTIME
at a pub in Kensal Rise and Ian Wright has begun to sing in Dutch. Quite loudly.

‘IT WAS in a discotheeeeekk! Zat ik VAN DE WEEEEEEKKKK!!! . . . En ik VOELDE mij daar zooooooo AARRLLEEEEEEEEN!!!!’

No one even looks up. Impersonating André Hazes, the sentimental, diminutive, melancholy, alcoholic, late Dutch crooner probably happens all the time in Kensal Rise.

How do you know that song, Ian?

‘Cos of Dennis! Or rather, Glenn Helder
and
Dennis. Glenn taught it to me and when I sang it to Dennis he nearly died. . . .
AND IT WAS warm en dreeeeee-EUUKKK! Ik zat eeen
LEVEN CROOOOOK!!’

You’ve caught its emotional overkill perfectly . . .

‘Yeah, I’m not bad like that. So then Dennis is on at me: “You’ve got to sing that on Dutch TV!” “No, I’m not going to do that.” “You have
to do it! They’ll love it. They’ll love
you
!” He’s egging me on. So after that game at Leeds, that’s what I did. I sang André Hazes on Dutch
telly.’

Is there a video?

‘There most probably is a video.’

I
AN
W
RIGHT AND
Dennis Bergkamp were not only a football act but also a comedy duo. As on the pitch, Dennis was the instigator,
the ideas man lurking behind, setting up Wright for glory or, in this case, laughs.

Wright: ‘People don’t know that side of Dennis, but he was really a mischievous joker. I love that! I love that about him because it is a side I will be able to remember forever, but
other people won’t see it. All other people see when they look at Dennis Bergkamp is just pure genius. But I saw the man and I knew the man and feel very honoured. So you don’t see that
side of him, but he is really . . .
funny
!’

Martin Keown was often on the receiving end of your pranks . . .

‘We used to get a lot of fun at Martin’s expense. We all did!’

Why pick on Martin?

‘Cos he’s so fucking
intense
! G
rrrrrrr
rr!! Know what I mean? He was
sooooo
intense! I remember when Dennis said to me to dress up in Martin’s
clothes. He tries so hard, but his clothes are so . . .
rubbish
! Poor design and really very bland, rubbish clothes!’

Keown confirms: ‘Dennis was all for having plenty of fun. He may have been seen as serious, because he was very exact in his performance. But off the pitch we would be laughing and joking
all the way from game to game and then the same in the dressing room. Then it was like: “Let’s focus now and win this one.” It was a nice balance.’

I hear he didn’t approve of your fashion sense.

‘Ha ha! Yes, Dennis was, shall we say, the clothes manager. If you came in and what you were wearing wasn’t to his liking then he would be hanging it up twenty foot in the air
somewhere and you’d have to go and get step ladders and all sorts to go and reach it. I’d be furious: “Fucking Bergkamp, he’s done it again!” But it was just part of
the banter. Some players couldn’t take it, but Dennis knew he could do it with me. One day I turned up for training and Dennis and Ian Wright had got together. Wrighty came to give me a big
hug because he hadn’t seen me for a while and I’m looking at him and thinking: “That jumper looks familiar,” and I look at his feet and I’m thinking: “Those
shoes look familiar.” Then I realise. He’s wearing
all
my fucking clothes! Then he’s running off towards the swimming pool . . .

‘The little man Overmars was just as bad. People forget what a fearsome player he was. He struck fear into the whole Premiership because when Dennis gave him the ball he was unstoppable.
Just so bloody quick. But don’t let him in your room! If you had any chocolate or anything and Overmars has been in the room, it’s gone. And let him anywhere near your washbag and
you’ll have deodorant in your toothbrush or something. It’s a way of handling the pressure. A football club is almost like an extension of school, really. In school you’ve got
your pranksters, you’ve got the people who want to make noise . . . and they’re all talented. There was a lot of fun going on and Dennis was a big part of it.’

‘Dennis had a more intellectual humour as well,’ says Arsene Wenger, ‘. . . this dry sense of humour, and he could hit where he wanted, you know?’

Like when he said Ottavio Bianchi mentioned Maradona ‘a few times . . . every hour
’.

‘Yes! That’s a little bit Dennis! Very precise, like his technique.’

One day in 2003, provocative posters of Freddie Ljungberg, naked except for a pair of bulging Calvin Klein briefs, appeared on advertising hoardings all over London. In the dressing room Dennis
led the congratulations. ‘Freddie we’re all really proud of you. But I hope you didn’t forget about the lads. Could you get us all a pair of those Calvin Kleins?’ ‘Of
course, Dennis, I can do that.’ ‘We’d really appreciate it. But we want the special ones like yours. The ones with a sock down the front.’

* * *

‘W
ELL
,
IT REALLY
was a strange poster,’ says Dennis a decade later. ‘Freddie has tattoos of panthers on his
back. Somehow in the photo they were on his front. What’s going on here? And, Freddie, we see you every day in the shower, and you’re really not that big . . .’

But why did you dress Ian Wright up in Martin Keown’s clothes?

‘I don’t remember that.’

Martin and Ian both say you didn’t approve of Martin’s clothes so you persuaded Ian to make fun of Martin by putting on all his clothes. You don’t remember?

‘Not at all.’

You’ve probably committed murders you don’t remember.

‘I do remember putting Martin’s clothes in high places. Whoever wore the worst clothes had their clothes put up high. Martin wanted to look nice, and he really made an effort. But
sometimes he did things which were just not good enough in our opinion. Once he had a black leather jacket and we took some tape and I put T-Birds on the back, like John Travolta in
Grease
. It was fantastic. He’s like: “What’s going on here?!” But he took it well. Martin always took it well. And he’s a really funny guy back, really
sarcastic to everyone. He really doesn’t care if it’s to Thierry or Ian Wright or me or David Dein or whoever. He just doesn’t care, which is great. He’s got a fantastic
sense of humour.’

People think of you as The Iceman but you’re really not, are you?

‘When I feel good in a group, when I feel confident, you see a different me. I always came across as cool. You know: “No emotion” and “He doesn’t play with a smile
on his face.” It’s different when I’m in a normal space with everyone. I’ve got my humour. I’ve got my things to say. I don’t think I’m different from what
people see, but I have a different side as well. It’s not like I was joking around on the pitch or whatever. There I was concentrated and looking to do my thing and do it well. There is
emotion there, but it’s more inside. In a group I can be more extrovert.’

I have to ask you about this. I keep hearing stories about trousers. Ray Parlour says there was a craze for pulling people’s shorts and trousers down – and you were
implicated.

‘Ha! We were playing pre-season in Austria in a training ground with a little stand. There were always Arsenal fans travelling with us, so there were about twenty or thirty people
watching. I was doing Arsenal TV, I think, and while they’re filming, Ray comes up from behind me and pulls my shorts down. Luckily I always have my underwear on. All the people were laughing
in the stand. And Ray’s laughing and I was like: “OK, I’ll take that. No worries. Hold my hands up. Very funny.” But I remember it. Three or four days later we’re
playing again, somewhere nearby. It’s a friendly game with a lot of fans and the main stand is full. Ten minutes before the end we get up to go and walk past the stand and some fans stop us
for autographs. Ray is doing autographs and I’m behind him and I think: “This is my moment.”
Whooosh!
The shorts are gone, and there’s nothing underneath. I was so
happy.’

Yes, Ray tells that story, and laughs and freely admits he started it. But he also told me about Vic Akers.

‘Oh that was great! I’m glad you mention it because I still talk about it now.’

You and Vic are really close. He’s the kit guy and he goes with you by road to all the away games. The rest of the team fly, but you and Vic travel together by car or coach. And he
keeps you entertained and cooks your meals and you watch movies together, and chat for hours. And he’s your best friend at the club. And your families are close, and you’re close. And
you play golf and you socialise and he speaks about you so lovingly now, and you speak so lovingly about him.

‘Of course, of course. He’s such a special guy, a fantastic guy. I love Vic.’

He says of you that being your friend has been one of the great delights and privileges of his life.

‘He doesn’t need to say it. We don’t need words between us.’

And yet you do that thing to him at the training ground!?

‘Oh, it was fantastic! I’m still trying to do it with the physios here.’

Admittedly, Vic speaks warmly about it now. But, in your own words, what happened?

‘Vic’s got this big tummy and dodgy knees and he always wears shorts. At the training centre there’s a big room next to the canteen with sliding doors. It’s for media and
meetings and stuff, and one lunchtime there’s an event to sell grooming products to the players. There are sales girls in there and Vic is leaning on the door, chatting and flirting.
He’s leaning like this, arms crossed and one leg over the other, standing like this, very casual and looking very funny. And the players, we come in for lunch. So we’re eating and
watching Vic chatting up the girls. And I can’t resist. I sneak up to him, and . . .
whoosh!
. . . the shorts are straight down! [
laughs
] And the reaction! Vic lurches
forward to cover himself, and all the guys are still having lunch and they’re all in tears because it took Vic ages to lean down to pull up his shorts. The girls are all laughing, too. People
were laughing about it for weeks afterwards. You know, I’ve won some trophies. And I’ve scored some nice goals. But this may be the highlight of my career.’

12

‘D
ENNIS THOUGHT
about things other players couldn’t even imagine,’ says Patrick Vieira. ‘And when
you look at the way he dresses, and the way he played, you can understand that elegance and perfection are important for him. He dresses really simple but elegant. And when he played he was always
on his toes, really kind of “nice Dennis”. Alert. He is one of the very few players I would pay to watch. To make his kind of passes you have to like things to be perfect. I
wouldn’t be surprised if at home his clothes are really well organised. I would not be surprised at all.

‘Dennis is always taking the piss out of me, saying: “I’m the one who made you” because, of all the goals I scored, ninety-five per cent were from his passes.
That’s what he is saying! I think it is true. I didn’t score many goals but they were mostly from him. You know when you give the ball and you see the space and make the run? Sometimes
you say: “Well, I’m not making the run because the ball is not going to come.” But when it is Dennis, knowing Dennis, I know he will see the gap. I know I am not going to run for
nothing. So I make the run forward, because I know the ball will get there and I will score because of the timing of the pass, and the quality of the pass. Like the goal against Leicester. I get
the ball at my feet. I can’t remember who I give it to. Is it Thierry? Thierry to Dennis? I don’t remember. But I knew I was going to get the ball back. I give the ball to somebody who
will give it to Dennis and he will find me because of the run and because he will understand. I knew it would happen. I knew Dennis would find the gap and would give me the ball.
It will come.
I know it will
.’

Arsene Wenger observes: ‘Dennis is a perfectionist. Until the last session of his training [at Arsenal] he was absolutely never neglecting a control, or a pass. And when it was not
perfect, he was unhappy. But that is the characteristic of a top-level competitor: he is an unhappy person . . . or
unsatisfied
more than unhappy because sometimes you approach perfection.
Then you’re happy, but unsatisfied. He wanted to do everything perfect and that is common for all the top, top-level players. They need perfection. And that was Dennis.’