There’s a note in my phone. All it says is: “Ralph Hassenhuttl with the look of a man that has seen some things…” no other detail offered. Excellent work as always, Laura.
All I can imagine is that the cameras had picked him out on the touchline, mid game, in a moment of frustration. His steely blue eyes fixed on an area of the pitch he feels could do with some improvement.
He is an impressive man at six-foot, three-inches tall, chiselled and athletic. 14 months after becoming the first Austrian manager to join the Premier League his appearance has changed a little. The floppy locks are shorter on the sides, the once freshly shaved face now grown out into a tidy beard. He seems battled hardened. If he doubled up as a suited hitman in his spare time, it would not surprise me.
Forget about that, cast your mind back to December 2018, Saints were enduring their worst start to a top-flight campaign. They had zero home wins and were 18th in the league. One point from safety.
Ralph’s first taste of England’s top tier was a 1-0 loss at the Cardiff City Stadium where he went shoulder to shoulder with then boss Neil Warnock. I imagine he added a few new phrases to his vocabulary that day. After the game, he promptly cancelled the players' day off. The work was about to begin.
Ralph wrecks Arsenal run
We, 'The Media’ called him ‘The Klopp of the Alps.’ A name I’m pleased to say he outgrew almost instantly. Then it was ‘Wreck It Ralph’ when he ended Arsenal’s 22-game unbeaten run in his first home game in charge.
It’s hard to put a finger on exactly how he had endeared himself to the fans so immediately.
Was it the free beer voucher he had provided for every season ticket holder that earned him a standing ovation before the game had even kicked off?
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Was it the way he leaped around his technical area with glee, occasionally forgetting his boundaries and running into Unai Emery’s box, before apologising profusely and returning to his own?
Or was it the exciting, pressing style he’d implemented that got Saints their first home win since the previous April? I’d say all of the above.
I always laugh when I look back at the photo of our post-match interview, my left hand clutching the microphone and my right hand squeezed shut into a clenched fist. It’s as if every part of my body is conforming to professionalism except for that tightly rolled hand, livid this man was the architect of my beloved Arsenal’s downfall. Of course it wasn’t, it’s just a case of awkward hand syndrome I seem to get every now and again.