In 1996, Mr Arsène Wenger’s arrival in England and the Premier League (or Premiership, as it was then called for sponsorship reasons) was famously greeted with the headline “Arsene Who?” in London’s Evening Standard. But very quickly, “Le Professeur” – who releases his autobiography, My Life In Red And White, this week – revolutionised everything about the British game. From the use of data to what his players ate and drank, all variables were carefully monitored and fed through Mr Wenger’s office, giving the manager total control over every aspect of what went on at Arsenal Football Club. Well, almost every aspect.

During his 22-year tenure at the club, the Frenchman became the most decorated manager in the history of the FA Cup, claiming the trophy seven times. He also saw his 2003-2004 “Invincibles” squad go an entire season undefeated – something not achieved in top-tier English football in the previous 115 years, nor since. And, known for his rigidly focused approach to the game, Mr Wenger became embroiled in ongoing battles of wits and wills with a series of adversaries: most notably Sir Alex Ferguson, then Mr José Mourinho. But perhaps his most persistent tormentor was the f-ing zip on his f-ing parka coat.  

At 1.9m in stature (6ft 3in in old money), Mr Wenger is far from short. And yet, his managerial coat – which, like everything at the Emirates Stadium, Arsenal’s north London home since 2006, was designed expressly for him – always looked at least two sizes too big. To the point where it engulfed him, like a sleeping bag with a hole at the bottom, or a gaping basking shark filled with synthetic down.  

Throughout his career, Mr Wenger had actually cast rather a sharp shadow over the league. Where his peers wore tracksuits, Mr Wenger prowled the touchline in smartly fitted tailoring, usually in a sober navy, often with a waistcoat or V-neck sweater, and customarily with a tie in that season’s shade of red. The forward thrust of his tactics inspired Mr Pep Guardiola, but the way he dressed also set a template for the former Barcelona manager to follow. However, it was the jackets supplied by the team’s kit sponsors, first Nike, then Puma, that came to represent his later years at Arsenal.

From around the 2010-2011 season, when his angular frame was first seen in a full-length, five-partition Nike Storm Fit winter coat that came down to his knees, Mr Wenger’s image became locked to his choice of outerwear. Oversized down jackets are of course a more common sight today, and perhaps, as with his interest in marginal gains and nutrition the best part of two decades earlier, he was here again ahead of the curve. But that’s not how it felt at the time.

As with the coat, there were questions as to how low his team could sink and how much cheap padding there was in the squad. But mostly, why didn’t it work? Because, aside from its sheer volume, Mr Wenger’s inability to master the jacket’s zipping mechanism seemed to capture the mood at the ground, with a team that didn’t function as it should. It didn’t help that in it, Mr Wenger often appeared a lone, forlorn figure, like an overgrown Charlie Brown, beaten down by life.

“They are too long and sometimes the zip didn’t work,” the manager later told beIN Sports, in reference to the coats. “I struggled a lot with that. But, in the end, because people were showing it, I was conscious that I was under scrutiny when doing it.”

In the psychological warfare of football, commentators often talk about the ability to turn up to the big matches. But when you’re losing mind games to clothing, you have problems.