Have a favourite Arsenal goal, player or match? Want to share the experience of your first ever game or the atmosphere at a Cup Final? Ever met someone who has played for the Gunners? 

We want to hear from Arsenal fans willing and eager to share something personal about their love for the club. All you have to do is email us via the CONTACT page mentioning 'MEMORY BANK' in the title. Your entry can be as long or as short as you like, just do your best to stick to the Queen's English. 



Bacary Sagna: A true Gent - and so much more


In late 2008, my daughters Sian and Evie had part time waitressing jobs at a bar and restaurant called the Maze Inn in North London, where some of the Arsenal players sometimes went to eat. As Arsenal fans (encouraged by my wife, Teresa and I – both of us lifelong Gooners) they were delighted to meet the likes of Cesc Fabregas, Abou Diaby and Philippe Senderos. They also met and spoke to regulars Bacary Sagna and his wife, Ludivine.

In January 2009, Sian held a birthday celebration at the Maze Inn and Teresa and I went along after dinner. Bacary and Ludivine were there for a meal that night and the girls introduced us. We had a lovely chat with this delightful couple, telling them that we were all going to the upcoming away leg of the Champions League tie with Roma in March and, to my delight, Bacary told me he would give me his shirt (unprompted!)

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The day I took on the Arsenal chairman...


In the early years of my life the German nation were causing me and the team certain inconveniences.

If memory serves me correctly it was about 1943 when my father decided to introduce me to the wonders of supporting Arsenal Football Club.

I lived a short walk from Highbury in Finsbury Park but the Germans had bombed our state-of-the-art stadium during one of the Luftwaffe's many air raids. This piece of aggression was bad enough but it meant I had to catch a bus to watch my first Arsenal game at the home of another enemy - Tottenham Hotspur.

Fortunately, I remember nothing about the match so have no memory of the boys in red and white playing home games at White Hart Lane but I do remember standing at the bus stop with my father as he explained the game to me.

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After 17 years of waiting, it only took 2 minutes..


You certainly won’t need me to tell you that if Arsenal finish this season empty-handed it will be nine years since we last won a trophy.

But believe me, things have been worse.

In 1970 I was 18 years old and yet to taste glory as a Gooner. Our last piece of silverware had come 17 long years before when we pipped Preston to the title on goal average in 1953. I was only a year old at the time so I think I can be forgiven for allowing it to pass me by somewhat.

The sixties had not been a great time to be an Arsenal fan, but things began to pick up as the decade came to a close and we made the League Cup Final in 1968 and 1969.

I managed to get tickets to both finals and was absolutely heartbroken when we lost both to Swindon and Leeds respectively. In my darkest moments, I began to wonder if I would ever experience the elation of watching the boys lift some silverware…

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The day Kieran Gibbs pulled us back from the brink 

BY SEAN MARLAND  / @SeanMarland

Watching Arsenal defend a lead can be stressful at the best of times, but when a Champions League spot and the club's future are hanging by a thread, the whole experience descends towards the sheer agony suffered by those unfortunate enough to be hungover on the morning of their root canal procedure.

We've all lived through a couple of these inglorious struggles in recent years, but if you cast your mind back to the one before last, you might remember a stomach-churning moment in injury time when some West Brom attacker breached our ramshackle defence (for at this time they still played in the figurative and literal shadow of Andre Santos) and looked like scuppering us as we shambled our way towards fourth place.*

A bleak future flashed before our eyes. Meaningless Thursday nights spent playing Romanian pub teams. The shame of being forced to shop in the Darren Bent aisle during transfer windows. The prospect of having yet more players prised away by the league's petro-fuelled bastard clubs.

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An Audience with God

BY MATT MASON / @MattMason_

I met God 14 years ago. We sat alone in a hotel conference room and he told me about his work. Being God, he was quite humble about his achievements. Gently clasping his long fingers together on the table between us, he spoke so impassively about The Miracle Of Marseille that his description dulled the otherworldly magic of his deeds.

Fifteen months earlier, on a warm Saturday evening in the south of France, God was sprinting along the grass inside Stade Vélodrome, watching a football drop from the sky towards him. What happened next was an incredible display of skill and nerve. Although the way God described it, it wasn’t anything special. “On the last moment before the ball reached my foot, I decided to take it inside,” he told me. “After that I just hit it.”

He hadn’t “just hit it”. After taming the dropping ball with one touch, he’d brushed it past panicked Argentinian defender Roberto Ayala with his next before calmly arcing a precise volley into the top corner with the outside of his right foot. Three beautiful, daring touches made all the more thrilling because they’d come in the final seconds of a deadlocked World Cup quarter-final.

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A brilliant beginning


My interest in football sparked quite late compared to some other fans. The rest of my family absolutely hates the game, but at the age of 15 I made a conscientious decision to plunge myself head first into the world of Arsenal. 

Every week I found myself counting down until the next game knowing I’d be in my own little world. That mix of fear, excitement, bewilderment and bliss luring me in despite the fact I had to watch every game through dodgy Eastern European streams.

Then I finally did it, I booked tickets to watch my first game at the Emirates. 3pm on Saturday, 18 June was to be my first true Arsenal experience, the opening day of the 2012/13 season against Sunderland. I was over the moon.

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For The Very First Time

BY ANNA LVOVA / @MadRuskiGunner

Living in Moscow my relationship with live Arsenal performances has been complicated (by which I mean non-existent) for years. Despite barely missing a game on television during the 14 years I’ve been a Gooner, I’d never actually watched a match in the flesh. That changed though on one overcast April afternoon in 2012.

I’d come extremely close to watching Arsene’s men once before, back in 2006 when we drew CSKA Moscow in the Champions League group stage. Watching the draw I let out a scream so loud that my family looked at me as if I’d gone nuts. I went through hell trying to find tickets for that game and after paying a small fortune I finally got my hands on them.

They sat on my work desk for days staring at me seductively. I could barely think of anything else, the excitement was overwhelming. Then, three days prior to the game my boss called me into his office and instructed me to fly to Budapest at the break of dawn. There was a work emergency and I had to sort it.

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A Late Night Discovery

BY JON SHAY / @woolwich_1886

I still remember finding out about Arsenal for the very first time. Growing up in the U.S. in the late 1970s and early ‘80s meant that I lived in a soc—er, football wasteland. Come to think of it, the only sports that really attracted anyone’s attention were baseball and American “football.”

I had been playing the real kind for a few years, but at that point, it felt like a hobby more than a sport. We had no professional league, just an abortive indoor one, and we had no knowledge of or access to international football. I only knew Pele, for example, as a guy who must have been pretty good at one point. I only heard about Maradona’s “hand of God” in a story buried in our newspaper’s sports section days later. Like I said, a wasteland.

At any rate, it was somewhere around 1982 and we had just gotten cable . To that point in my admittedly young life, I had subsisted on the thin gruel known as Duran Duran, not yet knowing that actual music existed. I would stay up into the wee hours to watch Friday Night Video Fights, The Young Ones, and Headbangers' Ball.

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How To Overturn A Thumping Home Defeat

BY PETE ELDON / @peteeldon

Losing to Bayern this week reminded me that better Arsenal teams than this one have had the capacity to be even more outclassed at home by European opposition.

Back in the long distant past when we were a genuine European force and regularly threatened to win any competition we entered (yeah, I am older then you think), we were paired with Internationale of Milan in the group stages of the Champions League.

The season was 2003/4, the season in which we became ‘Invincibles’, a season like no other in the glorious history of the club. But the Champions league campaign had got off to a far from invincible start with 1 point from the first 3 matches which included a 3-0 home drubbing to Inter.

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Surviving Paris

BY AHMED YUSSUF / @ahmedyussuf10

Mum was still fast asleep when I woke up, washed my face and put on my uniform. There were still several hours until I was due at school as I turned on my freakishly small television and tuned in to watch Arsenal take on Barcelona in the 2006 Champions League final. 

I was wary of the occasion having been reminded time and again in the build-up of our failures in Europe. This time though, surely things would change? This time, no matter what, we were going to become the first London club to win the continent’s top honour.

The line-up looked strong and our main man Thierry Henry was at the peak of his powers. He’d conquered the Bernabeu, helped himself to another domestic golden boot and was back on his old stomping ground. Having had a patchwork defence throughout the knockout stages even Ashley Cole and Sol Campbell were back in the starting eleven while semi-final hero Jens Lehmann retained his place between the sticks. Things were looking good.

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