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'The depression that I had been living with for the best part of the 1980s packed up and started to leave that night, and within a month I was better. Inevitably part of me wishes that it had been something else that effected the cure - the love of a good woman, or a minor literary triumph, or a trancendent realisation during something like Live Aid that my life was blessed and worth living - something worthy and real and meaningful. It embarrasses me to confess that a decade-long downer lifted because Arsenal won at Spurs in the Littlewoods Cup (I would be slightly less embarrassed if it had been an FA Cup win, but the Littlewooods!), and I have often tried to work out why it happened like this. The win meant a lot to all Arsenal fans, of course: for seven years our team hadn't even come close to winning a semi-final, and the decline had become to look terminal. And there might even be a medical explanation. It could be that the monstrous surge of adrenaline released by a last-minute winner at Tottenham in a semi-final when you were one down with seven minutes left, all hope abandoned, maybe this surge corrects some kind of chemical imbalance in the brain or something.
The only convincing explanation I can come up with, however is that I stopped feeling unlucky that night, and that the log-jam that had provoked such despair just over a year before had been sorted, not by me, predictably, but by Arsenal, and so I jumped on the shoulders of the team and they carried me into the light that had suddenly shone down on all of us.'