They come and they go; you count them in and you count them out. Overseas players in the English game have a weird and wonderful history, particularly during the immense changes of the past decade and all the one-game wonders.
Who, for instance, could forget whatsisname? You know, that alleged cousin of George Weah who once played 15 minutes for Southampton under Graeme Souness before revealing himself to be so bad that the manager just had to give him the hook.
There are several, though, who have forced their way even into the hearts of the xenophobes by sheer talent, longevity and force of personality: Peter Schmeichel, Eric Cantona, Gianfranco Zola. Now, chief among them, stands Bergkamp.
With the same lack of fuss and fanfare evident in his neat, tidy and unhurriedly sublime skills, on Saturday Bergkamp overtook Schmeichel’s record for a foreign player of 252 Premiership games for one club.
Surprisingly, Southampton’s Claus Lundekvam, on 245, will probably overhaul him; Bergkamp’s Arsenal team-mate Patrick Vieira, on 235, certainly will.
For the moment, Bergkamp deserves to hold the record, given his contribution to the game in England. It seems an apt moment, too, to acknowledge and appreciate that contribution from the Dutch master.
Bergkamp was always a kid to watch at Ajax. His impact on a wider English audience was probably first evident, though, with an outrageously clever, steered, hooked volley for Holland in a World Cup qualifier at Wembley in 1992.
Bergkamp’s controversial goal in the Rotterdam return helped send England out and Graham Taylor out of a job. After that, popularity in this country might have been hard to achieve, but from an inauspicious beginning he managed it.
It was always known that Bergkamp was a class act, but he had been made miserable by the defensive ethos of Internazionale. Often Bergkamp was played alone up front in a negation of his true role as exemplar of the ‘hole†player, that rare operator who links midfield and attack.
Many players fancy themselves there in the No 10 shirt but simply plonk themselves in position and wait for the ball. Bergkamp — and Wayne Rooney shows the instinct for it, too — knows when to move into and occupy the space to receive the ball and become a pivotal creator or scorer.
‘Most of the decisions I make on the pitch are intuition,†Bergkamp says. ‘Sometimes I wonder myself why I have made a decision at a certain moment.â€
Players are not always the most articulate about their own game. Bergkamp, though, understands, and enjoys, talking about it.
‘I like to drop a bit more than the other striker, which makes it easier for the midfield, takes the pressure off the other striker who isn’t really a midfield player, and makes it easier for me too, because when we win the ball back I am already there in midfield.â€
Bought for £7,5-million in 1995 by Bruce Rioch — and Arsenal therefore owe Rioch a lot — Bergkamp flowered in his proper position as complement for Ian Wright. The threaded passes and curled goals followed. No trophies for three years, though, until Arsène Wenger’s influence kicked in.
It may have been a turning point when, after an FA Cup tie at Middlesbrough, Tony Adams boarded the team coach, saw Bergkamp sitting alone and said something that had been on his mind: ‘You’ve been here two and a half years, Dennis. Isn’t it about time you won something? It would be a shame not to, with your ability.â€
Bergkamp had always respected Adams, dating back to a friendly at Highbury when the Inter Milan captain Nicola Berti was bullying the Dutchman (the Inter players called Bergkamp ‘Beavisâ€, after the cartoon character) and Adams told the Italian to pack it in. A ponderer, Bergkamp responded. Three months later Arsenal had done the Double and Bergkamp was footballer of the year. It was the season of the hat-trick at Leicester and the gorgeous goal against Argentina that took Holland to a World Cup semifinal.
Adams had hit on something. He did not want Bergkamp to be just another who makes a lot of money from the game with nothing save houses and cars to show for it. Top players, if they are to become great, know when to seize the moment, the game, the season; when to assume a responsibility for the team.
Amid it all, there has never been a whiff of scandal. There have been moments of naughtiness, tending towards spite, with a foot left in here and there. At times, it has been unpleasant but we do not always know the circumstances — whether the opponent had done something off the ball earlier. Players, strikers particularly, do not survive so long without asserting themselves against bullies.
Otherwise, Bergkamp has become model pro and suburban man, training diligently, happy to go home in Hertfordshire to wife and three kids. Some have seen him as dull. In fact, he is more shy and restrained.
Someone capable of such ingenuity on a football field cannot surely be that dull. Anyway, were I a manager, I would take that dullness every day of the week and twice on Sundays.
Whether Wenger will for another season is another matter. Bergkamp, 35 in May, is now a bit-part player whose contract expires this year. He wants one more year to make it a round 10 seasons at Highbury, but Wenger, civilised chap that he is, does not trade in sentiment.
The question more for the manager will be whether he agrees with Bergkamp’s own lyrical assessment of his talent: ‘My gift is not subject to decay.â€
It certainly is not in the mind’s eye of those privileged to have watched it in England. Indeed, that engraving would fit well on a bust of Bergkamp in the new halls of Ashburton Grove. —