The Lunch Date That Took 22 Years: Arsenal, Loyalty, and the Promise Finally Kept

Unless you have a clear understanding of why you are a fan in the first place, supporting a football club that appears to have specialised in promising hope without delivery can come with a particular kind of torture.

I am not even talking about supporting a perpetual loser – that at least comes with the dignity of low expectations. Instead, I refer to the real agony of backing teams that flirt with greatness every season, which send you into April believing, only to collapse in May like a house of cards in a gentle breeze.

For twenty-two years, this was my story and most other supporters of the Arsenal Football Club. And for the twenty-two  while we waited for the club to win the English Premier League (EPL), I owed a friend lunch. Let me explain.

Every season, usually around August when the fixture list is fresh and the transfer window has just closed with a signing that promises to be the difference, veteran Sports Editor, Kunle Salami, a friend and professional colleague of long-standing and I have one conversation – would it be the year when we would finally have the lunch date at “Folake,” that hidden gem of a restaurant in Agege, Lagos.

The story of Folake itself can wait; but for some of ex-Punch staff and the celebrity clientele who used to patronise the place, the lunch date and the delay will find better understanding.

Oh! Slamming – for that is the popular name we call my fine sportswriter-per-excellence–friend and I would laugh. And then Arsenal would go and lose to Crystal Palace in October, or draw with Wolves in March, or sometimes in the cruellest seasons – win their last fourteen matches only to discover that Manchester City had won their last fifteen.

The lunch date never happened. But the promise was renewed each year, sometimes over phone calls where we dissected yet another defensive lapse, or one missed signing that would have made all the difference. Other times, it was in WhatsApp messages that began with “This season looks different” and ended with “Same old Arsenal.”

What kept the promise alive, I think, was probably not faith in the team but in the process. For one who has supported Arsenal since 1996 when Arsene Wenger as manager, I liked  the idea of a club choosing to run sensibly. So, the relocation to Highbury, and selling players to balance the books as the club paid back loans were frustrating but fit into the values of a club that refused the allure of ‘financial doping’ that brought silverware elsewhere.

And there was trust in the knowledge that sometimes progress is sometimes not contingent on results. While Arsenal went through the painful process of remaking a team weakened by investment in a news stadium, Slamming and I waited for a lunch date that was contingent on Arsenal becoming English champions.

Slamming was not an Arsenal supporter – his heart belonged to Manchester United but he was patient, something genuine Gooners have in good measure.

The proposed lunch at Folake became a kind of ritual, a shared joke that outlasted managers, players, and probably even the restaurant itself – because as the years dragged on, Folake may have closed its doors. However, just as sure as Arsenal and its new leadership is delivering on its promise of silverware; my friend and I touched base weeks ago and agreed that when the day finally came, we would find somewhere else. We agreed it would be Afefeyeye, owned by Kunle Afolayan, one of Nigeria’s finest movie producers. Not Folake but maybe in a place with better quality, same discretion, same understanding that this meal would be less about the food and more about the vindication.

Yet, there was the usual talk around this team – whether they will ‘break the duck’ this time around. The 2025-2026 season began like so many others. A few early wins, a tactical tweak from the manager, a young winger who looked like he had been assembled in a laboratory specifically to torment full-backs. But then something shifted. The new owners actually followed through on their promises. They spoke of “sustainable excellence” and “alignment of values,” which is exactly the kind of language that makes lifelong fans roll their eyes. Except this time, they backed it up. They held their nerve.

And the team responded.

There were the usual jibes of Arsenal bottling it again, especially when a 10-point gap at the top halved to five with the chasing team still with a game in hand. By March, the usual time when Arsenal unravelled, this team managed to hold on and by April there were people who genuinely thought the time was nigh. I waited, with good reason. I had learned, over two decades, not to celebrate until mathematics made celebration mandatory.

Then came Tuesday night. The penultimate match of the season. If Manchester City Failed to win, the EPL goes to the Emirates. The draw against Bournemouth was enough to send win a first title in 22 years and to finally make the lunch date with Slamming a must-do.

Sunday is coming, and I am looking forward to fulfilling what looked like a foolish promise more times than either of us care to count. We will sit at Afefeyeye, order food and drinks, and then laugh about all the seasons that ended in disappointment. We will toast to the new owners who actually kept their word, to the manager who refused to panic, to the players who ran through walls when running through walls was the only thing left to try.

But mostly, we will toast to each other. Because supporting a football team is an exercise in delayed gratification, yes, but friendship is the thing that makes the delay bearable. The promise was never really about lunch.

It was about showing up, year after year, and saying the same thing: Next season. I believe.

Come Sunday, Slamming and I will finally find the time to celebrate Arsenal – 22 years after this lunch date was first agreed.