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Dear Robin,
I’ve never really written an open letter before. For that matter, I don’t think I’ve written an actual letter either. Unless hurried scribbles to “the Editor, TOI” to complain about “my dirty neighbourhood” for “English” class counts. Yeah, that’s what passes for English in my country, don’t laugh.
It’s been awhile since I last let myself think of you. Once upon a time, all I’d need was nanoseconds to abandon whatever thoughts were flying through my head and lose myself in the magic that you made a habit of creating. Don’t get arrogant now… I’m an engineering student, 70% of my life is boring garbage and you provided an easy escape.
How’ve you been? I hear it’s not easy across the border, behind enemy lines. I hear there’s a “little bit” of unrest about the manager and all’s not well in paradise. I won’t lie to you, a part of me is ecstatic that your team is stuck in seventh, but another part of me also knows it’s a crying shame; your quality deserves far, far better.
Robin, do you know what it’s like to get stuck inside a moment? Remember Everton? Alex Song plays a perfect pass over the defence. You’re running onto it at a ridiculous angle and there’s no time to take a touch… But because you’re Robin Van Persie, anything is possible. I can bet, thousands of people in red and white, all over the world, know that mantra. Your body shape is perfect, your technique immaculate and the moment your left boot makes contact with the ball, I know it’s going in.
For a fraction of a second, every Arsenal fan holds his breath. For a fraction of a second, the world stops moving. Then, everything explodes into motion again. The ball is at the back of the net, as it so often was with you. It is perfection, a ridiculous volley that gives Tim Howard no chance. An extraordinary goal from an extraordinary man in an ordinary game.
There were many moments like that one; the volley against Charlton that defied Physics, the hat trick against Chelsea that was the birth of so many Torres jokes, the beautiful goal against Spu*s, the goal that won it at the death against Liverpool, the list is endless. That season, you were pivotal in bringing the Fourth-Place-Trophy home again.
When the news of your departure reached me, the whole world was already in turmoil. United fans jumping around in ecstasy, Arsenal fans screaming songs of hate, the rest of the footballing world watching the drama unfold in glee. I felt a weird sort of separation from it all… For me, I was stuck in that Everton moment again, and all I could think was, “Don’t let go, Captain.”
You did let go, Captain. At the worst possible time, in the worst possible way. But I’m not writing this to complain, though a part of me does wonder how footballers can be such mercenaries and so selfish. It’s been a year and a half since you switched sides, and I’ve heard a multitude of opinions… “In the twilight of his career, he wanted trophies he would never get at Arsenal.” “He was injured for the majority of 8 years and Arsenal still supported him, he owed the club more than what he gave.” “Coward, ungrateful [Insert swear words].” In true female style, I’ve changed my mind and perspective many times.
Through the entire journey, I could never watch you play. Watching the goals you scored in the wrong shade of red sent an ache through me, it always felt wrong. There was no escape from it, the goals you scored were just ‘that’ good and they were begging to be admired. So I admired them, and felt streaks of pain shoot through me when you celebrated. Sometimes, I hid these behind a mountain of hate.
Aston Villa, Wayne Rooney with an inch perfect diagonal, your genius creating a chance out of nothing. Time stands still. Thousands of people in red hold their breath. Same old body shape, same old immaculate technique and the moment your left boot strikes the ball, I know it’s going in. A strange heaviness settles inside me as I think, “Wow! That’s even better than the one he scored for us. He’s Robin Van Persie, anything is possible.” A weird mix of admiration and pain and betrayal…
I’m writing this to let you know that it doesn’t hurt anymore, that you’re just another one of the many brilliant footballers out there, capable of creating moments of brilliance. I don’t have to delete my Fantasy Football team next season because having you in my team and wanting you to score feels dirty.
Never in a million years did I think I’d end up supporting someone named Robin again but now I can chant “We don’t need Batman, we have Robin” and focus on the player it’s meant for (see: Robin Singh, Bengaluru FC). I can finally listen to Sail Away by The Rasmus and manage a smile. Best of all, I can finally replay ‘Robin Van Persie: Ridiculous Volley against Aston Villa’ in my head and wholeheartedly enjoy it.
It’s almost midnight and I think of our story, how the hopes of Arsenal Football Club, its manager, its players and its fans once rested on your shoulders and how well you carried them for so long. Once upon a time, you swore to be a Gunner forever. Once upon a time, we swore to support you forever. To sum up our journey in one word, I’d say it’s a story of ‘almosts.’ You were almost an Arsenal-immortal and we almost won trophies together.
It’s a nice night, stars twinkling and fans singing in unison. Arsenal are playing Blackburn Rovers, a happy meeting for their star striker, Robin Van Persie. The Flying Dutchman twists and turns, shifting his weight and the defenders fall like dominos. They’re terrified of Arsenal’s main man. There’s a surreal quality to his play, he’s gliding through people, skill, technique and liquid power; simple motion has never looked so magical.
He beats one… He beats two… He beats three defenders with dummies and curls the ball into the roof of the net from a ridiculous (possibly 20 degree?) angle. He runs across the pitch, sliding on to his knees and pumping his fists in the air; arrogance and passion compressed into an explosive moment. A tide of red and white jumps into the air, singing “He scores when he wants, he scores when he wants, Robin Van Persie, he scores when he wants!”
This is the Robin that will forever stay in my mind. On the rare occasions when I think of you, I will think, “What a great player!” I will think of what could’ve been and I’ll feel a pang of regret for a heartbeat. Then I’ll close my eyes and dream of Aaron Ramsey.
Ayeshni
