I was there, 30 years ago now, when George Graham first got married. Not a member of the wedding, but a chance onlooker. There was this commotion down our street, so I rushed to our front gate and there was Marie Zia, daughter of our next-door-but-one neighbours, in her full bridal finery, going off to marry George Graham. He was Arsenal's handsome young midfielder, commonly known as Stroller, or sometimes Gorgeous George. Even then, he was always slinky-smart. I gave the bride a wave - plus, being a Spurs supporter, a pretend hiss.
I was there, 28 years ago now, when Arsenal won the Double, with George as one of their star players. More hisses. And I was also there, seven years ago now, when they won the Double again, this time with George as their manager. Double hisses all round.
But not seriously: despite being a Spurs fan, I've gone to Arsenal matches all these years, watched most of their home games. My first love is football, rather than any one club. Something most football fans don't understand. George does.
I was there, too, if only in spirit, on that dramatic day, almost five years ago now, in February 1995, when George Graham got the sack. It had taken him eight-and-a-half years as Arsenal's manager to win six trophies for them. It took Arsenal's board only two-and-a-half minutes to kick him out. It was all to do with George accepting a "bung". I remember thinking, "Oh, no, not George, of all people." I could have believed it of many other managers, but George seemed far too clever, too smart, too disciplined. As a manager, he had acquired this almost ascetic, holier-than-them presence.
He was banned from football by the FA for a year, but returned to manage Leeds. Then, in another twist, he returned to London 16 months ago, to manage, of all teams, Spurs, Arsenal's traditional and hated rival. Most Spurs fans found this hard to take. I welcomed it. I thought that the fury he must have felt at Arsenal's treatment of him would act as an extra spur.
He has refused to talk in recent years about Arsenal and the bung affair, though I hoped to drag it into the conversation, at some stage, if he appeared in a good mood. Then again, George Graham is not known for his good moods, either with his players or with the press.
It was a Saturday midday - an extra training day, in preparation for a Monday-evening match - cold and chilly. The players trooped off the training pitches, letting out white steam like sweating horses. Spurs' newly-built, plush training ground is at Chigwell in Essex: rural close up, but surrounded by noisy motorways.
I followed Graham into his office. Over his door, the sign said, "Head Coach". When I pointed this out, he didn't seem to be aware of the wording. But you're the manager, George, aren't you?
"I certainly am. I insisted on it in my contract. I wanted to be hired as manager. The previous manager [Christian Gross] had called himself Head Coach, in the continental fashion. I was having none of that. I'll change it sometime, but I've had other things to do first. Everyone knows I am the manager." How true.
His office is neat, spare, immaculate, just like George himself. At the age of 55, he is roughly of the same generation as Manchester United's manager, Alex Ferguson, but looks about two decades younger, and fitter. Fergie's managerial career has been without a major blip, yet he now looks puffy, unhealthy. George's managerial nightmare might have driven weaker men to suicide, yet he radiates health and energy, as lean, toned and smooth as he appeared in his playing days. His hair is still Celtic dark. There's a bit of a bald patch at the back, sure, but no need to mention that. Not if I'm hoping to get on to the bung.
Graham puts his passion for clothes, and his desire to be always well turned-out, down to the poverty and deprivations of his childhood. He was born in Bargeddie, outside Glasgow, on November 30, 1944, St Andrew's Day. (He shares a birthday with Winston Churchill and Gary Winston Lineker.) His father was a steelworker, who died when George was just three weeks old, leaving his mother to bring up seven children on her own. George has no memory of ever getting any new clothes until he was over 13. He wore hand-me-downs from his older brothers and sisters. George lived for football as a boy, as most footballers do. "And I never had any doubts I would make it."
Surely you merely hoped, rather than expected? "No, I was one of the most talented in my area - played for Lanarkshire, then Scotland Schoolboys - so I was encouraged from the beginning to believe that I would become a professional."
At 15, he had offers from Aston Villa, Chelsea and Newcastle, went to see them all, inspected their premises, listened to their promises. Plus their extra inducements? "There were none."
George stops smiling, suddenly doesn't appear quite so sleek, so charming. He narrows his eyes, knowing only too well what I might be leading up to. But it was normal then, I suggested, and still is, for schoolboy stars to be offered little treats: a free holiday, perhaps, or a new car for their mum and dad; sometimes even a house, as in the case of Paul Gascoigne, or so it was alleged at the time.
"Nothing - I got offered nothing, and I took nothing."
He joined Villa, mainly because of the fatherly figure of Joe Mercer, whom his mother and older brother, Andy, liked. Then, in 1964, he moved on to Chelsea and, two years later, to Arsenal. It was the Arsenal move that changed his attitudes, to life and football. "It had been all fun at Chelsea, the swinging 60s, lots of good times, living it up. It was a real jolt coming to Arsenal, because they were much more disciplined. It took me two years to get used to it. I had a lot of knocks at Arsenal."
Knocks? My memory of George, the Gorgeous Stroller, quick in the mind if not always in foot, is of him being a vital part of the team, one of the team's recognised stars. I tell him I find it strange that he didn't see it that way at the time. "Oh no. I was very often dropped, though that wasn't always said in public. Bertie Mee often left me out. He'd say I needed a challenge. It had a good effect on me, because that was when I first began to think to myself, 'I'll show them.' "
Which, of course, he did, when all those medals were won. Yet, when the time came for him to retire from football, he never thought of trying to stay in the game. "I had no confidence, you see."
Oh, come on, George. I can't think of anyone who exudes more confidence.
"As a player, yes, but at that stage I really had no confidence about being a coach. I had worked under Dave Sexton, Don Howe, Bertie Mee, and I could see that they were brilliant coaches. I could also see that my friend Terry Venables [best man at George's wedding] was going to be a brilliant manager. I knew that I couldn't compete with any of them. They were just so good. Honestly, coaching never entered my head. They were clearly gifted. I wasn't.
"I also had no desire to stay in football. As a player, I wasn't exactly a keen trainer. I was more interested in finishing and going off for a vodka and coke, or chasing the lassies. People I played with, knowing my lifestyle at the time, would never have predicted I'd become a manager. Frank McClintock [Arsenal's captain] still makes jokes about that whenever I meet him.
"George Graham, the footballer, is not the sort of person that George Graham, the manager, would want in his team . . . What I thought I'd do was run a pub. I started working in one owned by Frank. I pulled pints for several months, learned about the cellars, all the skulduggery to look out for. I was planning to buy my own pub when one day I got a call from Terry.
"He had become manager at Crystal Palace. He asked if I'd like to be his youth team coach. I had no coaching certificates, no training, no interest, really, but Terry said he thought I could do it. He said give it a year. If you don't like it, then fine, go off and buy your pub. I learned almost at once, in just a few weeks, that I loved teaching. I'd never been aware of that. So wasn't that lucky?
"So much of life, and football, is luck - if Terry had not rung me when he did, I would not be in football today. When I look at the success David O'Leary has made at Leeds since he took over [O'Leary was assistant manager when Graham left the club - somewhat acrimoniously, it must be said - for Spurs], I think back to the twist of fate that took him there. When I got the Leeds job, after my year out of football, I wanted to take Stewart Houston as my number two. He'd worked with me at Arsenal. But, by then, he'd got a manager's job at QPR, so I didn't offer it to him, though I would have done. Instead, I thought I'd try David, even though he was so young and inexperienced. I'd give him a chance. But even I didn't realise how brilliant he would turn out to be."
Today, at Spurs, however, George has got Stewart Houston as his number two. Together, they have done a fair job - so far. Spurs won the Worthington Cup last season, and this season they have stuffed Arsenal at White Hart Lane, which cheered up every Spurs fan, and have also beaten Manchester United.
On his arrival at Spurs in October 1998, on his first day at training, George got them outside on a grassy bank, all the players and coaching staff, and gave them the George Graham managerial pep talk, along the lines he's given a few times before.
Saying what? "Oh, just to tell them what I believe in."
Yes, but what exactly?
"I told them, first, how fortunate they were to be in a job that was their living, but also their hobby, their love. I said not many people today can say that. I also pointed out how well rewarded they were, for following their hobby. I said what I look for in all players is technical ability, application, desire, ambition. If they are to stay at this club, then ambition is absolutely vital. I didn't want anyone here for the fun of it, to see out their career, put in a few years. I am here to win things, not have fun. The fun will be in the winning, when it comes.
"Looking around, I said I can see some amazing talent here. But, looking around, I can also see a lot of under-achieving. My job is to put that right. And, together, we'll achieve things." Good stuff, George. Let's hope some cheered, or at least puffed out their manly chests.
Having delivered the message, he went on to make some immediate changes. "Mobile phones were banned on the team coach. I ordered blazers to be worn by all the first team on match days."
Blazers? You mean like back in the dark ages? I remember in the 70s, when I was following Spurs around, blazers were in, but I thought they'd gone, along with crinolines, except for cup finals. "Oh, but I believe in them. The top Italian and Spanish clubs all wear them and look immaculate. I want footballers to have that sort of image, to be seen as great professionals, just as much as lawyers or doctors."
On the team coach, on the way to the hotel, he does allow them to wear tracksuits, but once his players leave the hotel, heading for the ground, they must all be in club blazers. "They're quite subtle, actually, in navy. There's not a proper badge, just a small cockerel. Quite discreet."
He then imposed a new reign of terror - sorry, strict discipline - on the Tottenham training. Anyone who is even a minute late gets fined. Just a nominal amount, £50, which doubles each time the offence is repeated. As the training ground is surrounded by so many hellish roads where hold-ups are frequent, this makes it rather tough. "For a first offence, from, say, a new player, it's a warning only. After that, the fines start." (The fines, by the way, all go to charity, to Great Ormond Street Hospital. Last season, they received £4,500.)
George, you're not going soft in your middle years?
"It's not being petty insisting on punctuality, or wanting to be seen with a big whip - it's a matter of having a sense of professionalism. By turning up late, you are showing lack of respect for me, for the coaching staff, and also for your fellow players, whom you expect just to wait around for you to arrive. I want all players to have respect for other players."
The treatment room at Spurs had become something of a standing joke for a good few years. Fans, both at Tottenham and around the country, made fun of players who seemed to spend their life there - Darren Anderton, for instance, is still referred to as Sick Note, having played fewer than 100 games in five years (top-flight players might reasonably expect to play at least 50 games a season). "I have never accused any player of putting on an injury," says Graham, "but what can happen is that the treatment room becomes too comfortable, so they stay too long, having nice massages. When I arrived, I changed the treatment hours - the last session now finishes at 4pm. That's just about the moment when the M25 becomes absolutely hellish. It's surprising how many people now manage to get out of the treatment room well ahead of the rush hour."
As for changes to the team and tactics, they, too, have been noticeable to all. For the past 20 years, as a Spurs fan, I have had to close my eyes every time the other team got over the halfway line, for fear that our defence would either flap or freeze. We have had some good individuals -such as Hoddle, Waddle and Gazza - over the years, but rarely a solid defence. "I think that became a psychological crutch for Spurs. During the years when their fans shouted 'boring, boring Arsenal', they comforted themselves by saying, 'Well, we might not win things, but at least we have the better players.' That was just an excuse. The whole team has not been good enough for a long time."
George has clearly worked on the defence. It's not yet as solid as Arsenal's, but it is a lot better than it was. At Arsenal, he put into his defenders' minds the image of being tied together on the same piece of rope. A neat image. But was it original? "I got the idea from watching the great Liverpool team. They always moved up and down as one unit, never as individuals, as if tied together. I was trying to explain how they had done it." Under George, for example, Stephen Carr, the young Irish fullback, has blossomed, and our goalkeeper, Ian Walker, no longer makes me scream - he used to take forever with his kicks. "Yes, that was one change I made. It wasn't just a matter of wasting time, but losing the team's momentum."
David Ginola, our only recognisable heart-stopper in recent years, was expected not to survive under Graham's managership; everyone - press, fans, me - thought that he and his lovely locks [not for nothing is Ginola the face of L'Oréal] would be on their way, not only for his habit of sometimes fannying around, losing the ball, then putting his hands on his waist and sighing, but also because Graham has a reputation for being unwilling to accommodate flair players. Today, however, Ginola works hard all the time, and last season was voted Player of the Year, both by his fellow professionals and by the football press. This season, he's not been quite as consistent. "He hasn't been at his best recently, but that happens to all players. Look at Dennis Bergkamp [Arsenal's current star player]. He often has poor spells. It's just not true I don't like creative players. I do. But, in future, I think we'll stop talking about 'creative midfield players'. All players should be all-rounders."
So I asked about Allan Nielsen, the Danish midfielder, who has not figured in the team much since George arrived, and appears to have been replaced by Steffen Freund, the hard-tackling German. Was George not a fan? "It's not that. It's just that I didn't want a midfield man who goes forward as much as Allan does. I prefer the men in the middle to stay put, let the fullbacks do the forward attacks. So Allan didn't quite suit my formation. But that might change. And we do need him."
What Spurs mainly needs, or so all Spurs fans believe, is some decent strikers. "We probably need up to four new players to achieve success," says Graham. "But, for that, I'll need £20 million."
So why doesn't Alan Sugar, the club chairman, let you have it? "Alan Sugar is as keen as I am that I should find strikers, but we both feel that the club should not be held to ransom. Strikers these days cost fortunes. Leeds have been looking for a good one for a year. And they can afford more than I can." All the same, he feels that he is ahead of his game-plan. In his first season, his main aim was to avoid relegation; in the event, Tottenham finished safely in mid-table and won a cup. This season, Graham's aim is to finish in the top six, and thereby qualify for a European competition next year. With a third of the season to go, that is still within their reach. After that, it all depends on whether he gets those new players. "I'm told that, by finishing in the top three, a club can make as much as £40 million. But, of course, you need to invest £20 million to do that. It's like life. You have to speculate to accumulate."
Which brings us to his own little bit of accumulation. The "bung" details are complicated, but, in simple terms, George accepted two lumps of cash, totalling £425,000, from a Norwegian football agent with whom George, as manager of Arsenal, had been involved in various transfer deals. He had also helped this agent, giving him advice and contacts in British football in general. George, therefore, so he says, looked upon this money as an unsolicited gift. He didn't see it as having strings attached, either before or after. At the time, he didn't appear to see anything wrong at all. Arsenal, the club, didn't lose out. His "gifts" had come out of a middleman's pocket. No one, so he maintained, was cheated.
Anyway, he lost his job at Arsenal, was banned by the FA from football for a year, but he did hand over all the money, with interest. So he gained nothing in the end. In fact, he lost money - in legal fees, plus around £2 million in loss of earnings. Most of all, he lost a reputation.
My reaction at the time, and those of many other fans, was to shrug and put it down to the culture of football, in which footballers have been brought up. As schoolboy stars, they are tempted with brown envelopes (though remember that George never was). As young first-team stars, they get used to free gifts, TV sets, cars. If they get to Wembley, they can make a nice profit selling their ticket allowance - against football's laws, yes, but it's always been done. Then, when they attain real stardom, there can be back-handers on transfers and contracts. That's what I believe, anyway.
Then, in the world of management, should they get there, bung allegations have been heard for years at clubs throughout the divisions. In Alex Ferguson's recent book, for example, the Manchester United manager reveals that he once received £40,000 in cash from a Russian agent for no apparent reason, though, sensibly, he shoved it in a safe and later returned it. The point is, most of us assume football has always been awash with readies, since the very first transfers began.
"This is you saying all this," replied George, after I had described what I like to think I know about football. "It's not me saying it."
Okay, then, do you regret it?
"Of course I do. I was wrong to accept the money. I concede that greed got the better of me. I should not have done it. But, really, is it any different from big business? It's commonplace in the commercial world for such gifts to be given - and received."
He is clearly still incensed by the part Arsenal played, or didn't play, in the drama. It did look at the time as if the club must have known, or suspected, that such things were going on and, therefore, shared some of the responsibility. When the story first came out, in a newspaper exposé, George looked as though he would survive the storm. Behind the scenes, so he says, he had made an arrangement with Arsenal to leave quietly at the end of the season with an appropriate compensation. Then, suddenly, on February 21, 1995, he was told to clear his desk and received not a penny. He considers this a total stab in the back.
The reasons are still a mystery. What, or who, made Arsenal suddenly change their mind? Did they fear other things coming out, or about other people? We still don't know.
"I don't want to talk about it. I never do, if I can help it. It's in the past. I have to be positive. What I did has made me grow up as a person. I could very well have collapsed. It's how you conduct yourself after such things have happened, that's what matters. I did not run away from it. I faced it, have overcome it, and like to think I am stronger by it."
In some ways, it has made him a more understanding manager, more aware of the weaknesses of others than he was. Though not by a great deal. The George Graham school of management is still very much based on strong discipline, even a bit of fear. No player would dare give him cheek to his face, or even call him by his first name. Some managers believe that some players need a hug, need cheering up or an arm around their shoulder. Brian Little was good at this - but, in the end, it didn't get him far. There are those who believe star players need an extra bit of attention and leniency, just because, well, they are stars. Ron Atkinson was a bit prone to this.
George belongs to neither of these schools. "Perhaps I have got a bit softer than I was, compared with my Arsenal days. There, I was probably a bit hard on people such as Martin Keown, who can be a bit hyper-sensitive and nervous. I was probably a bit too tough on him at times, put too much pressure on him. I still wouldn't hug a player, but I think I'm more understanding of their feelings than I used to be. My basic belief, however, is still the same. I'm not interested in this idea of pressure. The man in the street has just as many pressures as footballers. I don't sympathise with those players who can't take the strain."
In a book he wrote in 1995, Glory And The Grief, George laid out 10 commandments for young players, listing the things they should do or follow in order to succeed. I asked if he had some similar rules for managers, now that he's had 20 years in management. He didn't know if he could manage 10, he said, but he'd have a go . . .
1) A manager must lay down at any club that he is the leader, more than the chairman, more than any star player. He must instil his character into the fabric of the whole club. That's what Alex Ferguson has done at Manchester United. I believe that 99% of people prefer to be led. Only 1% are leaders.
2) I'm not against some players earning more than others, but once they come through my door they are all equal, and get treated equally, no matter who they are or what they have done. I don't make allowances for anyone. I make my rules clear, and everyone has to obey them.
3) A manager has to be a bit of a psychologist. This takes time to acquire, comes with experience, knowing how to handle players, but I've also learned by reading about it, especially American books on sports psychology.
4) A manager also has to be a bit of an actor. It's not a matter of lying - just not giving the whole truth. You can't tell the press, TV and radio what's really going on. Nor, sometimes, the players. You need a bit of acting when handling them. With the media, in my Arsenal days, I was deliberately not very media-friendly. Now, I like to think I'm more approachable.
5) A manager must not want to be popular. A manager has to expect to be disliked. You must realise every decision will upset someone. I have never gone through my management life wanting to be liked. Being disliked doesn't bother me.
Not bad, George, for straight off, but then, he is a very clever manager, and very fluent. He also had quite a bit of time to think about the arts of management during his enforced year out of the game, during those moments when he wasn't cultivating his garden. In fact, once I'd got him started, he could hardly stop. The teacher in him was just clamouring to come out. "There are basically three types of managers," he continued. "There's the training-ground manager, who likes to take a group of players and work on them until they have improved. There's the cheque-book manager, who builds teams by going out and buying players - it does take skill to do this, as a cheque will never guarantee success. Then there's the media manager, who is on TV and radio all the time, who is publicity-friendly and good at PR."
So which are you George?
"The first type, of course. I leave you to put names to the other types."
Apart from football management, and the theory thereof, George is also interested in football history. At Christie's in Glasgow in 1989, during the first sale of football memorabilia by a leading auction house, he bid for Alex James's 1930 Arsenal FA Cup Final medal, which was estimated at £1,000. George bid £1,500. It went for £5,000. He has successfully bought other stuff, mainly of Arsenal interest: he has 18 out of a set of 30 Arsenal cartoon postcards from 1904. "I think the only complete set in existence is in Woolwich Library." He's also proud of his programme for the match between Arsenal and Leicester Fosse in 1913. "It's in mint condition and, of course, very significant." How come? "It was Arsenal's first game at Highbury. Didn't you know that? I thought you were a collector. Arsenal won 2-1."
I collect Spurs memorabilia, which he does not appear to be into so far, which surprised me. Bit of an insult to Spurs?
"No, it's not. I just haven't had time. Anyway, most of my Arsenal stuff is packed away."
He has also kept some Arsenal shares, which he bought when he was at the club, as an investment. "I'm keeping them because they should go up more, once the plans are announced for their new stadium. It will hold a lot more people, so that will make the club and the shares more valuable." He has some share options at Spurs, as part of his contract, but has so far not taken them. Not a bad judge, obviously: my own Spurs shares cost £1 each when I bought them, and they were about 60p last time I looked. "Davor Suker of Arsenal has bought shares in Man Utd, which is interesting. Perhaps, in future, clubs might offer shares to foreign players when they come here. It could be an extra inducement for them to play well, and, therefore, share in the success. It hasn't happened, as far as I know. Just an idea."
What about the Arsenal's coat of arms that was rumoured to have been set into the patio of his Hampstead apartment? It was a particularly heated talking point among Spurs fans when he first arrived. "That's just a myth. It never happened. Anyway, I don't live in that apartment any more." He recently moved into a new house, still in Hampstead, with his new American wife, Susan, whom he has known for six years. She was married before and has four children. George's first marriage, alas, collapsed some years ago, but he remains very close to his two children, Nicole, 31, an ardent football fan who went to all his Arsenal games, and those at Leeds, and who now passionately follows Spurs; and Daniel, 26, who is not interested in football - he prefers golf. Both went to school at Dame Alice Owen's in Potters Bar. Nicole went to Homerton College in Cambridge, and became a schoolteacher. She is currently a full-time wife and mother to 14-month old Mark, George's first grandchild.
George has said that Arsenal ruined his first marriage: as a player, he explains, you have half of every day free and can be home at one o'clock; as a manager, you can't. At Arsenal, he was hardly ever at home, working and travelling all hours. Eventually his wife, so it was reported, went off with a drycleaner, which gave the tabloids a good excuse for a headline: "George gets taken to the cleaners."
Yes, Arsenal has a lot to answer for . . .