Champions of England. Champions League finalists, coming within a whisker of lifting the big ears. It hasn’t quite sunk in yet, has it? Make no mistake, it’s been a massive season for Arsenal. A Carabao Cup final as well for good measure, and the madness of it all is this: had we nabbed that cup, we’d be talking about the greatest season in the club’s history—the double plus a European final.

It’s a funny old feeling. On one hand, looking at the trajectory, the heavy investment, and the patience shown to the manager, these are exactly the heights we expected to hit. On the other, it’s still a bit surreal to think our trophy lift will be in all the matchday previews come August.

I know I’ve been on Arteta’s back for large chunks of the campaign—some of you reckoned I was being harsh—and time has certainly made a few of my takes look a bit dodgy. But look, I only ever wrote what I believed at the time. You lot are smart enough to judge the situation yourselves; there’s no point me telling you “we’re the best side on the planet” if your own eyes are telling you otherwise. And let’s be real: there are still kinks in the system, issues with the approach, and maybe even with the mentality. It’s just that, this time around, they didn’t stop us from getting over the line.

We spent far too many games clinging onto a slender lead, grinding out results that were proper nail-biters. That win against West Ham—a late winner, Fernandes’ sitter missed, and a last-gasp VAR call—was the definition of squeaky-bum time. Then you had the wobbles in February and that mental collapse through late March and early April. If we’re honest, the title was secured partly because City couldn’t buy a win; if Everton had decided to go on holiday in that second half at Goodison, the title race could’ve swung the other way entirely.

And we still couldn’t turn those two cup finals in our favour late in the game. I’m hoping this “win by hook or by crook” mentality was just a temporary fix for this season and not something the manager thinks is sustainable long-term. I’m also hoping that this silverware gives the boys the belief to really go out there and dominate teams properly next year.

It’s worth noting that criticism in post-match analysis always seems louder. When we’re brilliant—like our work out of possession—I can only really stand back and applaud. But when there’s a glaring deficiency, I can dissect it, pull up the screenshots, point out the damage it’s doing, and suggest potential ways to overcome it. That’s how you end up with several paragraphs of analysis rather than a quick “well played.”

I’ve had a few lingering thoughts about that Champions League final too this week. I’ve seen the stick we’ve taken for defending a lead for 85 minutes, with folk calling it a “weak” strategy. While I agree that sitting on a one-goal lead for that long has never worked before, I don’t think that was a deliberate choice by Arteta. Once we scored, PSG turned up the heat, became more aggressive, pressed us into the dirt, and we simply couldn’t find an out-ball.

It’s only natural that under that kind of cosh, a team instinctively reverts to what they know best, what they are most comfortable at. We aren’t a natural counter-attacking outfit, but we are eleven disciplined lads who defend as one of the most coordinated units in the game. That’s what we saw on the night. I’ve gone into more detail in the post-match breakdown on exactly how PSG managed to shut down our attempts to break out.

I’m convinced Arteta wanted us on the front foot; you could see him urging the players higher up the pitch after the 70th minute whenever the ball went dead. The subs, especially Madueke for Saka, showed he was going for the win. Counting on a penalty shootout is a weak strategy. People call it a lottery, and while you can do your homework, train the shots and prep the keeper, the coin toss alone gives a 60% edge to the team going first. Since it is a gamble, a manager’s job is to win it before the spot-kicks start, and I was pleased to see Mikel try. The real issue, as I’ve said, was that the subs simply were not showing sufficient impact.

That final also highlighted exactly what we’re missing: an explosive winger to cause problems in the box and a proper ball-carrier to spark counters. It seems the club has already spotted this, given our early transfer links. If you’re looking for a “counter-attacking specialist and skillful carrier” in the Prem, Morgan Rogers is the name that screams out. He’s right at the top of the charts for quality ball-carrying and shooting. We’re hearing the same things about Morgan Gibbs-White, too.

However, bringing in one of those two for their carrying ability likely means they’d occupy the front two of our 4-4-2 defensive shape. The stats suggest Rogers doesn’t have the touch to be a top-tier winger, which means a reshuffle is on the cards: either one of Eze or Odegaard makes way, Eze moves permanently to the left, or Odegaard drops into a deeper role—and I’m not sure he’s got the physicality for that.

Then you’ve got links to Bradley Barcola and the nearly-done deal for 16-year-old Monga to address that “explosive winger” problem. The tricky thing about being one of the best sides in the world is that any new arrival has to be a clear upgrade on what’s already in the building.

The irony is that we spent last summer chasing the exact same profiles. If you check the Gradient stats, Eze actually outranks both Rogers and Gibbs-White for shooting, carrying, and taking players on.

And Noni Madueke is as explosive as they come—there aren’t many who can beat him in a footrace. What we really need now is a winger who can turn that raw pace into cold, hard end product. Finding that is easier said than done. I’m not convinced Barcola—who fluffed two huge chances in the huge final, given his fresh legs—is a massive upgrade. Looking around the Premier League that I am more familiar with, Everton’s Ndiaye is the only one who really fits the bill, currently ranked 1st in the league by Gradient for that specific role.

It’s also worth noting that wingers would look differently in the different teams. Our wide men are expected to do a mountain of defensive grafting, often popping up deep in our own half. You see ex-PL players racking up silly numbers abroad and you have to wonder: how many would Saka bag if he was playing for Bayern next to Harry Kane? Luis Diaz (who never had a consistent season in England) is somehow in the European top 10 this year, which makes you think where Bukayo could reach in a more liberated side. You also wonder how many Martinelli would get running into space for Atleti. The defensive shifts Saka, Martinelli, and Trossard put in are massive, but it definitely takes a toll on their freshness when they get into the final third.

At the same time, I’m a firm believer that to stay at the top, to stay ahead of the pack, you need to bring in 2-3 genuine first-team contenders every single year. Guardiola mastered this to perfection, and it’s how City stayed in the hunt for everything year after year. I know what you’re thinking—City have the bottomless pockets to make that happen.

However, if you recollect, City was always keeping his best players in the squad, while most of the rotation applied for players who were non-critical for their performances. De Bruyne, Aguero, replaced with Haaland were the constants, but the wingers were on a revolving door—Mahrez, Sterling, Sane, Doku, Grealish, and so on. The reason? The league gets adjusted to the routines and patterns of players after playing many years against them. To keep asking new questions, you have to refresh your team and especially the attack. It doesn’t matter what Grealish cost and whether his price justified the output; he offered a new problem for defenders to solve. Even the “squad” players like Alvarez or Jesus would come in for a ten-game stretch and score enough to keep the title charge on track.

We are in this boat with someone, like Gabi Martinelli. I love the guy, I adore his character - he represents for me everything this beautiful club is about - passion, commitment, work rate on the pitch, support and pure happiness for the teammates. He’s also a very talented player and most of the European teams would be lucky to have him. At the same time, he becomes less and less efficient every year in the Premier League, because the defenders are getting more and more used to his style of play and his scoring numbers are heading the wrong way. Only one goal this campaign, but one of the most significant ones due to all the Gabi’s qualities mentioned above.

Swapping him for a winger of similar quality but a different style would give us a boost simply by the virtue of that “unpredictability” factor. Truth be told, that applies to all our attackers. If you look at who really laid the foundations this year, it’s Rice, Raya, Saliba, Gabriel, and Timber. Up top, none of them—including our “Star Man” Saka—had that same consistent, profound impact. I know Bukayo’s not going anywhere after the new deal, but I could honestly see us being successful next season without any of Eze, Odegaard, Havertz, Trossard, Gyokeres, or Martinelli (and definitely without Madueke and Jesus).

The tricky bit with a like-for-like swap is getting the right price. All six of those lads would walk into almost any team in Europe and be contenders to start, but the smaller clubs will try to lowball us while demanding a king’s ransom for their own players. There aren’t many clubs who can actually afford to pay us what these players are worth.

A final word on Andoni Iraola becoming the head coach of Liverpool this week. I’ve said it before: this is a huge statement of intent. I’m properly bullish on him. If I were a betting man, I’d put Liverpool and Arsenal as the top two for 26/27. Chelsea is not assembled in a way that a coach can hit the ground running, and Carrick only had a light schedule at United. Maresca’s always a tough nut to crack in a one-off game, but his Chelsea side always seems to hit a rough patch throughout the season.

Some might call Iraola a gamble, but he’s the safest gamble Liverpool could take. While Carragher’s crying about Xabi Alonso, the Liverpool hierarchy have been clever—backing Slot publicly, waiting for the Alonso-to-Chelsea noise to settle, and then moving for Iraola without the need to explain to the fans why they aren’t going for an ex-player. He’s got a clear identity, his Bournemouth side always gave the big boys a game, and that four-month unbeaten run proved he can build stability. He also showed he can rebuild on the fly after losing his best players (especially impressive was handling the loss of a center back duo last summer), which is a massive trait for a top manager.

The only thing he had trouble with is reliably winning against the bottom half teams that spend most of their time defending, but that usually takes care of itself when you’ve got world-class individual talent at your disposal. Interestingly, his principles—man-to-man defending, a high-intensity press and a low-margin football—are very similar to what Arteta has built here.

Whether the current Liverpool crop fits him is another question. Slot’s success was built on Salah’s ridiculous numbers, but there’s still plenty of quality there. If Iraola can get Alexander Isak back to his best—and we all know how lethal he can be—it’s a scary prospect. Liverpool have the depth, and with players like Kerkez and Szoboszlai fitting Iraola’s profile, a couple of smart signings could make them title contenders.

I’ve heard the “no big club experience” and “midweek schedule” arguments. And while I get that more often than not statistically a coach requires time to adjust to both of those factors, that’s not a hard-and-fast rule. Just remember Arne Slot: came from the Eredivisie and won the League in his first year. More than that, Liverpool had a really strong season - apart from winning the League, they lost in the Carabao Cup Final, topped the Champions League group and got eliminated in the knockouts by PSG via the penalty shootout. Sounds pretty familiar, doesn’t it? We’ve spent years building to that, only for a newcomer to come in and do it in one. The precedent is there.

Football is all about momentum and that early-season confidence. Liverpool’s flyer on 24/25 set the tone for everything that followed, so Iraola’s start will be massive. If he gets it right, we’re in for one hell of a ride. The Premier League is a shark tank, and we have to be ready from day one to stay ahead. Fortunately, our manager is as obsessed with winning as they come!

I wanted to thank you all for reading my posts, and especially for leaving your likes and comments! Your activity is the main motivation for me to keep writing posts! Blogging takes a whole lot of free time, so it’s hard to continue doing it without knowing that it matters to the readers. I am happy that we’ve gone through this season and truly excited of what’s going to unfold in the next one! I hope to continue seeing your activity and please feel free to express your wishes for topics or opinions during the summer! Cheers!

Empty. Just a total void. That’s the only way to describe the feeling after that Champions League final. Part of it is the gut-wrenching loss, but it’s also the realization that the season is done. There’s no “next Saturday” to use as a coping mechanism. But let’s take it from the top.

Despite all the pre-match chatter about the XI, Arteta went with what I expected. The only tweak was Hincapie getting the nod over Calafiori. The boss clearly prioritized a specialist 1-v-1 defender over a ball-playing build-up type, and you can’t say he got it wrong. As the game unfolded, Hincapie’s defensive grit was exactly what the doctor ordered.

Rice’s opening hoof was a bit of a weird one. Just launched it high into the PSG half. Even if the plan was for Havertz to win the second ball and spark something, it felt a bit desperate and random. To see us doing the same thing 90 minutes later was properly bizarre.

The cagey start was classic Champions League final stuff. Both sides playing low-risk, low-margin football—standard procedure when the stakes are this massive (and not only when Arsenal is playing). PSG showed some serious fluidity in their build-up, though.

One minute they’re in their nominal spots, the next Mendes is marauding from left-back into central midfield, Dembele is out wide, and Kvara is floating in the 10. Seconds later, they’ve rotated again - Mendes now at left winger, Kvara at nine and Dembele roaming somewhere around. It was a constant merry-go-round designed to drag our boys out of position and open up channels for their pace merchants, but the Arsenal shape remained rock solid.

Then, out of nowhere, lightning struck. 35 meters out, Hakimi tries to clear but wallops it straight into Trossard. The deflection looped perfectly behind the PSG line for Havertz to chase. He was the only one switched on, giving him a massive head start that he used to his advantage. He drove into the box, and while it looked like he was waiting too long looking for support, Kai did the exact thing the player should do, when they come at the goalkeeper from a narrow angle. He lashed a thunderbolt above the keeper’s head that is really diifcult to react to—an absolute screamer.

That’s a tough finish to pull off because you have to be so precise. Most players would try to go across the keeper, but from that angle, the goalie has the bottom corners covered. £60 million down the drain, Kai Havertz scores again in a Champions League final! I couldn’t believe what I was seeing!

But it was a blessing and a curse at the same time. Scoring that early meant PSG had ages to turn up the heat, and Enrique had plenty of time to tweak his tactics and let the “grey cardinals” pull the strings from the sidelines.

Inevitably, the nerves kicked in. We couldn’t string two passes together and started hoofing it clear at every opportunity. PSG were still a bit wary of our threat on the break. There was that nervy moment when the ball clipped Saka’s arm in the box after a corner. Usually, that’s not a pen since it came off his own body, but you have to be careful with a handball. Handball is a type of rule that is not clearly defined and is left open for interpretation. “Clear and obvious error”, “denying a clear scoring opportunity”, “arm in a natural position” - all these terms are left for the referee to decide on the spot.

As expected, we dropped into a compact block with possession hovering around the 20% mark. In the big moments, you lean on what you’re good at, and this Arsenal side is world-class at being compact out of possession. Let’s be honest, anyone expecting us to dominate the ball in that situation was being naive.

However, the ability to self-organize into a compact defense and close all channels for the opponent is only one part of the successful game plan. The second part is to have ways to create counter threat, a way to keep the opponent honest so they don’t just camp on the edge of your box and throw the kitchen sink at you.

And that’s where we failed. We’ve struggled with this against top-tier technical sides all season, including the Carabao final. We had zero runners in the front four. Arteta picked players for their pressing and ball control, but none of them are natural counter-attackers. In our defensive 4-4-2, guys, the wingers are deep. Since neither Trossard nor Saka are true burners, they aren’t efficient on the break. The only two players that have the flexibility to move around and organize a counter are the front two: Havertz and Odegaard.

Havertz did alright as a target for Raya’s long balls, but he’s not a ball carrier. Kai is a link-up man; he needs others to run off him, but he won’t lead the counter. Odegaard, for all his brilliance, is a passer and a presser, not a runner or carrier. You rarely see him carrying the ball 40 yards. That run against West Ham that secured our only goal was a rare exception for the skipper lately.

Enrique clearly did his homework too. He knew we play through the wings, so every time Trossard or Saka got the ball, they were swarmed by two men - one of the midfielders would join the wing back in the attempts to circle down our winger. He knew we weren’t a threat through the middle, so he left that area light and focused on nullifying our wide men.

You can see the red circles in the image where they’ve doubled up on our wingers. That picture also shows the start of that massive run by Myles Lewis-Skelly. PSG weren’t ready for anyone driving through the middle, which is why Myles got so far. But if he did that more often, it would leave Rice totally isolated against a lethal PSG transition. We desperately needed a number 10 or a pair of 8s to be able to drive through the heart of them.

We had a golden chance to go two up when a slick move between Saka, Odegaard, and Havertz found the German in space again. He had to bury it, but a heavy touch allowed the defender to eat up the ground and block the shot. What might have been... but I can’t slag off the man who’d already put us ahead.

Even while trailing, PSG spent half the match rolling around. Their keeper took five minutes of “treatment” for a nothing collision. Mendes was “injured” in our box for two minutes but made a miraculous recovery the second the ball went out. It clearly rattled the ref, who started ignoring blatant fouls just to keep the game moving. Ending the first half right as we were about to take a corner was a clear sign he wasn’t tolerating any more time-wasting.

At the break, many fans knew a yellow for time wasting was coming at the first opportunity. Sure enough, in the 46th minute, Mosquera got booked for a delayed throw-in. I understand that players can miss such signs caught up in the heat of the game, but I hoped somebody in the coaching staff would warn the lads about the ref’s temperament during the halftime talk. If Mosquera had the message loud and clear, he doesn’t get booked that early. At the same time, keeping focus in a final with all that noise is easier said than done.

Arteta was facing a tough decision at half time. We needed pace—namely Martinelli or Gyokeres. But bringing both on risked losing all our technical controlling ability. Havertz was the only one winning Raya’s long balls. I reckoned if it stayed 1-0, we’d see Martinelli early with Kai staying until late on to provide the muscle.

Our defenders, specifically Gabriel and Hincapie, were putting in some heroic shifts with goal-saving tackles, but, in general, PSG looked ideas-free. Unfortunately, Luis Enrique had the interval to reset. As it happened, it wasn’t a tactical masterclass that changed the game, it was the man with the whistle.

After booking Mosquera, the ref let PSG get away with murder on our counters, yet absurdly booked Saka for simply winning the ball first. Both our players on the right were now on yellows—it was starting to look very dodgy indeed.

I am not sure whether the referee was set on specifically making PSG win, but what I believe is that most he was given an instruction to try and not let the game finish 1-0 and not have the second half full of small breaks. There is too much money in this sport and UEFA needs the drama for the viewers. Handing PSG free-kicks on the edge of the box was one thing, but it felt inevitable that any contact in our area was going to be a penalty.

And there it came. Kvaratskhelia skipped past Mosquera, Christian jumped with a tackle, and the ref couldn’t wait to point to the spot. There was contact, so VAR was never going to overturn it. The PSG lot were screaming for a second yellow, but their request was denied. If you think about it, the best outcome for keeping the intrigue alive would be to make a 1-1 draw, but keep all the players on the pitch.

This was a last warning to Arteta to sub out Mosquera, because we were on the brink of a red card. Arteta hooked him for Timber and brought on Gyokeres for the skipper. While first it took me by surprise, the decision made sense. Our midfield was not able to dominate and keep the ball against a more technically skilled and fluid PSG midfield, Havertz was really needed as a target, because Raya was sending long balls again and again. Arteta ditched the build-up play for a long-ball outlet, the runner and attack through the wings. In the way the game developed, it was a sensible gamble.

By the 80th minute, everyone (including us and PSG) was running on empty. The collective movement was gone. Saliba made a proper howler in the middle of the pitch, letting Kvara through one-on-one. I thought that was curtains, but the Georgian had no legs left, and Myles managed to get back to produce a vital block.

That’s all an achievement of a wonderful UEFA decision to start the game at 18:00 in 30-degree heat. The “younger fans engagement” excuse is rubbish—a 20:00 or even 19:00 kick-off would have been much better for the players’ welfare. The quality of the game suffered because of it.

Arteta recognized this tendency and threw on Martinelli and Madueke. Usually, I’d be fuming at that kind of change, but this was a bet that a player with explosive speed who can just carry the ball by himself is the best way to create a chance in such circumstances. And, again, I can see the logic behind this - fresh Barcola was causing havoc for them. In addition, our original wingers just hadn’t done enough.

Saka had a few openings after it went to 1-1, but he couldn’t create any measurable threat. Look, I love the lad, but if he wants to be called best in business and gets offended when he’s not mentioned in such context, he needs to go one level higher. And that level is unpredictability - going right, going left, shooting, crossing, a cutting pass - the defenders shouldn’t really know what to expect. He was too predictable yesterday —always cutting inside on the left. The PSG defenders were definitely prepared for that. He tried to win it on his own, but you need more variety in movement at this level.

I hoped that Martinelli and Madueke would hit the ground running, giving the open field, but they got only one chance before the main time ran out - a defender slipped, Martinelli picked the ball up, but then fluffed the pass completely. It’s always baffling when fresh subs can’t play a simple ball in the final third.

Barcola couldn’t convert his 2 dangerous runs into the shots on target and we rode our luck when Vitinha dragged a shot 20 centimeters high in the 93rd minute—that would have been game over. Arteta’s final two subs again made a lot of sense - Zubimendi and Eze to freshen up the center, to try and carry the ball through the middle before finding one of our legendary front three - Martinelli, Gyokeres and Madueke.

By the end, Arteta had refreshed all the “running” positions. Only Rice, the everlasting Warrior, and Hincapie played the full 120, and poor Hincapie finished with a knacked hamstring. I expected Eze and the rest to really test a leg-heavy PSG defense, but it just didn’t happen.

Madueke was the only one showing any spark, supported by Timber (who, to be fair, was immense for someone coming straight after being two months out). In one of his carry attempts, Madueke got into the box, ahead of Mendes and was brought to the ground. Stone-wall penalty. The ref ignored it, and the lads lost their heads. Even Rice was fuming and picked up a booking—not what you expect from your most experienced head.

Of course, VAR didn’t overturn it, because it should have been a “clear error” and they would always fall back on Madueke and Mendes holding each other earlier in the episode. There is nothing else Madueke could do if he was running past a defender in the box - he should have put his body between the ball and the defender. And after Mendes had practically fallen on him he couldn’t stay on his feet. If you think again, what outcome would be the best for the massive viewership - final decided on a single penalty call or 1-1 followed by a nerve-wrecking penalty shootout, the answer is obvious.

We should have scored the goal without referee involvement, but the rest of our subs were practically silent and that was a big frustration. I expected much more from Eze, the man of the moments, Martinelli and Zubimendi could also have been more active. Arteta often called the player coming from the bench this season “impactors”, but in this final, they didn’t impact the game, they were simply subs.

The hope and Arteta’s decision was to turn this into our favour by fresh legs and using our deeper squad, but nobody did step up properly. I was happy that he didn’t leave players on the pitch based on the penalty shooters, because I hate when our games are decided on penalties. This is a lottery for the calmest, most confident players and we aren’t exactly known for our cool heads under the lights.

All that “us wanting it more” talk by Arteta and the lads is great for tracking back, but it’s a killer for penalties. It just adds more pressure and tension. The more you want it, the more likely you are to tighten up when it matters most.

On pure composure, my list would have been Gyokeres, Rice, Eze, pastor Timber, and Zubimendi/Martinelli/Saliba contending for that fifth spot. Madueke, Gabriel and Hincapie would be nowhere near that list, I would trust Raya before them, simply because of the ice veins. If you think about it, he probably launched around 50 long crosses and he couldn’t have failed a single one. I am always impressed by the keeper’s ability to do it over and over again.

Arteta’s choice was slightly different. Gyokeres buried the first shot. Eze did that stupid stutter without a decision where to shoot and missed the target. Raya kept us alive with a brilliant save (which I couldn’t believe at first). Rice, despite running 120 minutes, was clinical. Martinelli, who I had my doubts about, actually took the best pen of the lot.

Apart from the save, Raya was telegraphing his moves. In a couple of shots he jumped so early that the opponent could notice it and send the ball in the opposite direction. But you can’t knock him if he keeps one out, I suppose.

Then Gabriel stepped up for the fifth. I told my wife right then—he’s missing this. I like Gabriel, he is a committed player, but the penalty in the Champions League final is about one thing - staying completely calm under pressure. Every Arsenal fan knows that Gabriel wears his heart on his sleeve,but he is definitely not the calmest. The last shot from five requires special selection. The player can’t hope that his keeper would save or that the opponent would miss, all the way from the central circle to the spot that player would be thinking that it is over if he doesn’t score his shot, so this is all about conditioning yourself mentally.

This was the only obvious mistake Arteta made at this final. I understand that some players might have refused to go first. I get that Gabriel wanted the responsibility, but the manager has all the authority to be the one to say “no.” I’d have picked Saliba, Timber, or Raya for that shot over Gabriel. I watched our shootout against Palace and both defenders delivered a perfect pen. Even if Gabriel was training for that - he should have gone second or third.

I heard a lot about admiring him for taking this responsibility and that he shouldn’t be criticized for his miss. Sorry, but that’s not how responsibility works. You don’t just say “I will do it”, otherwise it would be really easy. You take the responsibility, you have to deliver. If you don’t deliver, you sign yourself up for all the criticism that comes with it.

I would sign up Rice and Gyokeres as the first and last takers and let everybody else take the middle spots. Arteta probably admired Gabriel’s courage, but there was too much on the line yesterday. I don’t think PSG had too many composed players so the longer we stayed in the shootout, the more nervous they would get as well. The worst part? Their keeper didn’t even have to make a spectacular save - neither in normal time, nor in the shootout. We beat ourselves.

The players were gutted - the ones who missed, but also our keeper, who’s usually more resilient. The devastating moment brought the moment of human kindness - from Marquinhos - when his whole team was running around celebrating, he stopped to hug Big Gabi, before any of Arsenal teammates reached him. It was only later when Gabi Martinelli, and then Merino, Odegaard and Saka came up to console him. I know they are mates from Brazilian national team, but doing in first moments of trophy celebration earns a special respect for me.

Raya had an outstanding game, making a couple of crucial clearances and a penalty save. The defensive block—Timber, Gabriel, Hincapie, Rice, and Myles—was superb. Mosquera, despite earning a penalty, was really good given the opponents and the occasion. Having a flawless game was always going to be a huge ask for a young defender playing out of position. Saliba, in contrast, made at least three serious errors - one of which could have easily cost us a goal. He was the only player from our backline who played below his abilities in my opinion.

However, our attacking threat was quite bland - neither starters nor subs couldn’t really impact this final. The biggest disappointment was Eze, especially considering this stupid penalty technique that already cost him two more missed penalties before that. Stuttering works only against keepers who didn’t practice it before - otherwise it puts pressure back on the striker to not miss from a standing position. With all his shooting technique Eze should be simply sending a ball in the corner with a force that makes it almost unreachable for the keeper.

Knowing how uninspiring Eze’s performance would turn out, subbing on Merino would be a much better choice. Pretty sure Mikel would have buried his penalty. To be fair, the game required a ball carrier and it could have been a perfect opportunity for Dowman, but I don’t suggest putting a 16-year old in the final of the biggest competition in Europe. Bringing up explosive wingers and players that can carry the ball through the center should be the main area we should work on in the transfer window.

I don’t really like all this coping “we’ll win it next year” narrative. My belief is that if the opportunity arises, you should try and grab it with both your hands, because you don’t know what the future holds - for your team and for your opponents. There are at least 5 teams each year that can win this competition and whoever gets into the final might be decided by narrow margins, just like this final was. We had a great chance yesterday and we didn’t take it.

On the bright side, we stood toe-to-toe with the most explosive team in Europe. And after seeing how close we were, the owners will probably keep investing into the team! We’re still Premier League champions, and that’s a massive achievement. Best season in England, second best in Europe. Even if it hurts a bit right now, we can only be proud of the boys! Last, but not least, we have another Rice classics to hold on to.

Arteta decided to shuffle the pack for the final day, handing starts to the lads who’ve been kicking their heels on the sidelines lately. On one hand, that guard of honour felt a bit hollow with our big hitters parked on the bench. Then again, Glasner played it predictably, fielding a rotated Palace side that looked like they already had their flip-flops on.

There’s not much point over-analysing the 90 minutes. Jesus fluffed a couple of absolute sitters—the kind that would be unforgivable if the title race was still on—before finally finding the back of the net. Just after the interval, a textbook corner saw Madueke smash one home from the edge of the area to double our lead.

Funny enough, the only two players in the squad I’m not fond of were the ones who grabbed the goals. Call it a bit of humble pie if you like, but it’s rather symbolic they only turned up when the pressure was off. It’s been the story of Jesus’ last two seasons, really—showing his quality only after the hard graft of breaking teams down is already done.

To be fair, even with nothing at stake, I didn’t want us to lose. A draw would’ve been fine, but starting a proper celebration after a defeat is never a preferred way. I got really tense when Palace bagged two in three minutes, but VAR goal cancellation spared our blushes. Ending on 85 points is a decent return (the second-best tally of the Arteta era), considering where we were after that Etihad result.

The lads celebrated at the whistle, one of the few sane scenes on a mental final day. Over at City, they lost at home to Villa in Pep’s curtain call but threw a party for him anyway. Liverpool barely scrambled for the point they needed for Champions League football before giving Salah a proper send-off.

Bournemouth were buzzing after securing their first-ever Europa League spot, while the Sunderland faithful went absolutely berserk after thumping Chelsea. They sent those “November title contenders” down to 10th and nicked the second Europa spot for themselves. Absolute scenes.

Spurs clung onto a 1-0 win and celebrated 17th place like they are going to also join us in the Champions League final on Saturday! Honestly, 17th! I know their baseline is really low, but have some dignity. They did the bare minimum to avoid total humiliation. Just clap the fans, bow to them for support and get down the tunnel. De Zerbi charging across the pitch after the whistle? Pure shamelessness.

But it was Brighton who took the biscuit. They started the day in Europa League spot, with a chance of even sniffing a Champions League spot, should the results go right and ended it in the Conference League after a 3-0 drubbing. They literally bottled their final game, dropped down a tier, and still did a lap of honour. It was embarrassing, frankly. Thank the fans, sure, but acknowledge you’ve let it slip. Truly bizarre stuff.

An hour after that circus died down, the real trophy celebrations kicked off. It was a class touch seeing the backroom staff out on the grass wearing different player shirts. The order for the medals was an interesting one. It went keepers, then defenders, then the engine room. I figured our captains would be the final three, but after Bukayo and Declan, it was surprisingly Timber and Merino getting their gongs before Martin Odegaard finally hoisted the trophy into the London sky.

That gave the way for all kind of sweet and memorable moments - the lads tossing the gaffer into the air, Saka silencing the crowd to lead a chant, everyone belting out “North London Forever.”, Ben White was back to his usual tricks trying to pull down Hincapie’s shorts, Martinelli was in bits hugging his old man, and there were more interviews than you could shake a stick at.

The players and the boss finally were finally rewarded for their efforts, and the fans got a bit of payback for all the nerves and the loyalty.

For 22 years, the old Arsenal artillery has laid silent and dormant, gathering dust, gathering doubt, but this season has lit the fuse. After 22 years of gloom, it’s about to go boom!

The Red Arsenal cannon fires again. Arsenal roar like it’s 2004.

This title is surprisingly the first in my long supporting time that I celebrated so consciously. The first football tournament I watched as a boy was Euro-2000, where I was mesmerised by a young Thierry Henry. I saw things in his game I wanted to mimic in the local stadium with my mates. We all tried to copy our idols’ finishes, and mine was always Titi.

I found out the club he was playing for and started to follow it. The style of play won me over instantly—it was pure entertainment. The fact that Arsenal was one of the best in England at that time also played a big role. I know it’s the glory hunting that is frowned upon in the fan world, but let’s be honest, for a boy who’s choosing a club to support without knowing history, details, without receiving any nudge from the family - a successful club where the favorite player is a star, is all he needs. It was only later, after years of watching football I grew to appreciate the steel of Patrik and the magic of Dennis touch.

Back then, we were in the title hunt every single year and bagged two in my first four seasons following. I didn’t appreciate it enough; I thought winning the League was going to happen every 2-3 years. How little did I know... Even the “Invincibles” didn’t fully sink in—I hadn’t seen enough English football to realise just how legendary that achievement actually was.

I took the league titles a bit for granted and obsessed over the Champions League. This is the most prestigious tournament in the world and I dreamt of seeing us succeeding in it. For a boy, whose parents don’t even follow football, especially in a country far-far away, the weekend league schedule didn’t always fit. Combined with missing broadcast licence in some years (imagine following the 03/04 season from highlights), following the weekly drama was tough. But Tuesday and Wednesday nights in Europe? Those were circled in red.

This time around I’ve lived every single minute. Every twist, every turn, and every heartbreak from the last few years has led to this. Knowing it might take over two decades to feel this again makes me cherish it even more. And on Saturday, we’ve got a chance at real club history. Something no Gooner has ever seen.

I remember playing over and over in my head wasted Henry and Ljungberg chances in the ‘06 final. Even back then, I understood that hoping Almunia would keep a clean sheet would be naive. Barcelona applied a lot of pressure and they had enough time to score. The only way to win was to score the second goal while they had gaps at the back. I remember nearly crying after that 4-2 at Anfield in ‘08, when I truly believed this team could reach the final once again. I remember getting excited after scoring three in the first half against Milan, who came with a four goal advantage on our ground only to be disappointed by the goalless second half. I remember the feeling of inevitability of Ronaldo at United and Messi at Barcelona.

This season we are back in the final, however, the feeling about our team is completely different. We aren’t as explosive, and if we go two down, I’d probably lose the majority of hope. But we’re a proper collective now. We defend together, press together, and adapt to whatever is thrown at us. The chances of this side folding and going two down are much lower.

That set of qualities makes it a harder watch to be fair. Before, you’d hope a star striker would bail you out of any mess. Now, you just hope we don’t get into one. Low-margin football means every error is massive, so you’ve got to be switched on for the full 90, even as a fan.

Having the league wrapped up has given us a massive boost. If you’d asked me after the semis, I’d have said PSG were 70% favourites. Now? Maybe 55%. They still have superior attacking quality to turn any game into their favour, but we’ve got something special brewing.

The biggest thing I sense from the player and the fans is relief. Relief that they have finally secured the reward for all the hard work and effort put into it, relief that they are not getting forever ridiculed as “nearly men” or “bottlers”, relief that they don’t have to explain anymore themselves, relief that the highest point of pressure is already past them.

But it was not only the relief, I also heard the belief in their voices. Belief that they can grab the highest, most desired title in Europe, belief that they were doing things right in the end, belief that they can go on and win more trophies. Belief with a shade of arrogance. The kind of arrogance City players radiated with when they beat us in previous campaigns. That Henry-at-the-Bernabeu arrogance that makes a player unstoppable against anyone on the pitch.

Belief changes everything. A month ago, PSG probably thought they’d walk this final, but doubts will be creeping in now. I am sure that a month ago our players might have played it safe, but with a title in the bag, they’ll have the minerals to take risks and ask PSG more questions than they are ready to answer.

The beauty of this final is that we are coming there as the underdogs. Most neutrals, even the ones that don’t hate us, think it’ll be a stroll for the Parisians. For us, this season is already a blinding success. Bar the spanking Inter received last season, I don’t think many Gooners will be losing sleep if we fall short.

For Enrique’s boys, winning the league is the bare minimum given how overpowered they are compared to the rest of the teams. The Champions League defines their whole season. The pressure is all on them. . In addition to that, we are applying our best when the pressure is off — Bayern and Inter in the group stage or Man City at home last season. The struggle of title pressure that delivered all these nervous performances is over and we can finally get back to our best football now the title nerves are gone.

The starting XI for the biggest game in a decade is an interesting question. We’re stacked everywhere... except right-back. There are five names on the sheet that I am not even going to discuss. I reckon Calafiori gets the nod at left-back, because we look at our calmest when Gabriel has Ricky next to him as a passing target. In the middle, I think Arteta goes with Myles. Arteta is known to be resistant to shuffling the successful combinations and I think the fact that he chose Myles against Atleti and that worked out well is going to play a big role in his selection against PSG. Trossard will probably start on the left, given that he matches most of Arteta’s requirements in that position. Havertz will lead the line for his link-up play and I am happy with that. I think Gyokeres powers work much better against a tired defence and if we go into extra time, his running and penalty taking abilities is something we can’t discount.

The only two true dilemmas are at number 10 and right back, where there’s no clear preference of a best option. Despite the big goals Eze scored in spring, despite the stories of Ebz helping our run-in, I still feel there is not full understanding between him and Arteta and the coach is going to go with our captain. It might make sense for a more controlled first half, but we would need Eze to arrive in the second half and potentially be the one to maintain composure in front of the box.

And then we come to a right back position. Timber hasn’t actually recovered from his injury in March and is rushing in the race against time to get fit. And Mosquera who played recently there, is a source of concern for many Gooners, because he’d have to face Kvaratskhelia, arguably the best left winger in the world. My opinion on that is quite clear. Even if Timber passes the fitness test, he shouldn’t be available for more than one half. Throwing him in for a full game can not only break him for an extended period of time, but also put him into a situation where he’s simply not fit enough to catch up with the electric pace of the Georgian. Starting him doesn’t seem like an option, because I can’t see the logic of subbing him with Mosquera, especially when we are ahead. The best option we have is to start Mosquera, provide a sufficient cover-up for him with the help of Rice and sub him out around the 70th minute when he starts losing pace and concentration.

In any scenario, getting a result against arguably the best set of attackers is going to require a full concentration from everyone on the pitch and a special approach. We know from last year and some games this year what PSG brings to the pitch:

• A midfield of three technicians that can quickly pass the ball among each other and are not crumbling under pressure.

• An attack with three world-class dribblers who’ll skin you if you give them a yard.

• A team that creates a chance by fluidity of attacking players who constantly move across the pitch, pull defenders out of their zones, creating the spaces for teammates to run into.

We are the best prepared team to counter that third point. We have been practicing man-to-man defence for a long time and successfully applied it against Bayern, when Gabriel stalked Kane deep into their own half. All the defenders and central midfielders I was proposing to start are comfortable in various positions around the pitch with the tiny question mark above Mosquera’s name. That type of an approach screams Jurrien Timber’s name, but we are where we are and Christian is still a relatively versatile player.

The second point should be addressed by not letting their wingers receive the ball with their face to our goal. Constant presence around them and the tactic of small “clever” fouls preventing them from turning that are not significant enough to be booked.

And for the midfield, we need to make it a physical battle. Press them high, force the keeper to hoof it long, and win the second balls—exactly like we did at the Etihad with Donnarumma. This also means the focus on set pieces, however, lame and stereotypical that sounds. We are a much more physically present team and this is the best opportunity to use this advantage to our favour.

One last aspect to mention are the referees —I won’t be surprised if they look for any excuse to give a soft penalty. We need to be squeaky clean in the box so VAR doesn’t get a chance to pause the replay in a moment that gives formal grounds for a tough call.

It’s going to be a proper grind, a fight for every blade of grass. We need to be clinical at front and flawless at the back. But somehow I’m hopeful. We can play with one of the highest intensity levels in Europe. Even if it was not visible in some patches of the season, after a long break from the Burnley game the freshness is going to be back on the table. And despite all the PSG quality, we have a really strong bench: Eze, Merino, Gyokeres, Hincapie, Martinelli … we’ve got the depth to keep the tempo up for the full 120 if we have to.

I hope that the football Gods that are watching from the sky won’t let the team that cheats by shifting their schedule around to win the competition and make the group of honest hard working boys that are not afraid to mix up with the local crowd at 05:00 AM in the morning the happiest one on the planet!

P.S. I would love to read your personal stories of following Arsenal.

As with many (if not all) of you, I have been happily watching content all over social media. Due to limited Internet and time availability, I wasn’t able to watch the interviews fully, and I think there are some important emotional details that might have slipped out after the relief of winning the title.

Pep Guardiola has confirmed that he is leaving Manchester City. I think everyone following the club felt this was coming, partly due to the leaks, but also because of his attitude on the pitch and in interviews. He hasn’t been as aggressive or stressed, which is probably due to the fact that he had already taken the decision. I don’t know whether it’s a sign of an impending punishment for the charges, but he has been there for 10 years, so it’s only natural to step away after winning so much. Despite all the banter, winning two domestic cups is still a serious achievement for a club and a manager who don’t have to prove their abilities anymore. All the other “Big” clubs—except us and them—are going completely trophyless this year.

In my opinion, his departure is a serious hit for Manchester City. There are many managers with tactical awareness and the ability to build great teams, but there are very few individuals who can motivate their team year after year the way Pep did. In my era of watching English football, only him and Sir Alex Ferguson have achieved that exceptional level.

Manchester City will most likely become weaker, especially if they go for Maresca. Unless they sign Luis Enrique, God forbid. Luckily for us, Carrick is staying to run the United ship for next season. Alonso at Chelsea is a bigger concern, but I feel that Chelsea has not been built in a way that allows a manager to hit the ground running. He would need to shake up the squad and bring in the types of players he needs.

The one I am more concerned about is Andoni Iraola. Given how he has been able to build a decent team year after year out of a rotating pool of players (who, to be fair, belong in the bottom half of the table because the likes of Villa, Newcastle, and even Forest are better equipped), there is no doubt he could build an even more powerful team with access to better players. The fact that they haven’t lost a single game since the one against us in January —and even managed to beat us at the Emirates—is highly impressive. They drew many games, but that looks exactly like the low-margin, high-intensity football that Arteta has employed at our club.

Iraola has already announced that he’s leaving Bournemouth, despite potentially guaranteeing them a historic Champions League spot for next season (because, let’s be honest, Villa might not even turn up at the Etihad—or if they do, they’ll fall out of the bus door). I think that’s because he knows multiple higher-profile teams are interested in his services.

If he comes to Liverpool (or God forbid, City), I would be genuinely concerned. The only two aspects I’m still not sure about are whether he can work with high-ego players and whether he can sustain the pressure of winning every single week in every competition. Alonso has definitely proven he’s capable of that by delivering an unbeaten run for Leverkusen, but his ability to handle egos is also not yet clear. In his recent interviews, Iraola talks and behaves much more confidently than he did early in his Bournemouth career. He went from a tactical geek who knows what’s needed to build a great football team to a manager who knows he’s simply very good at his job. That development is the main thing to keep an eye on.

Speaking of Bournemouth, I really like the prospect of Eli Junior Kroupi. The striker, whose brilliant goal practically delivered us the league title, is only 19 years old and has progressed immensely this season. There is no question about his mentality, because he scored against both us and City recently.

I know we are interested in Julián Álvarez, and he is definitely a highly skilled striker, but his performances this year haven’t convinced me that the immense amount of money required to sign him is a good investment for Arsenal Football Club. He will probably cost at least £100m in fees and £250k in salary, and I am not sure he can be the stable number 9 we dream of. In comparison, Kroupi might be available for around £70 million and will definitely require at least half the salary.

The brilliance of coming in as a “nine” to Arsenal is that we don’t have a nailed-on starter in that position. Havertz has lacked clinical finishing and fitness recently, and Gyökeres is not great at link-up play, so there is definitely space for a youngster to get game time and show his skills. He could be our future “all-in-one” package, and he can definitely be resold in a few years if it doesn’t work out.

After Tuesday night, as Champions, we have the power to persuade promising players to come to us, even if we don’t offer them the best financial conditions. The only question about Kroupi is whether he can deliver as a sole striker. At Bournemouth, he played most of his games alongside Evanilson, who occupies defenders and frees up space for the youngster to operate. At Arsenal, the number 9 is more isolated and usually doesn’t have a teammate nearby.

Our last game of the season is Palace away, after which we will be presented with the title. The big question is: what squad will Arteta select for this game? With a week-long break ahead of the Champions League final, match fitness won’t be the primary concern. On one hand, it is an opportunity to give minutes to everyone who hasn’t featured often recently, or generally this season. On the other hand, it is the first occasion for most of our players where an opponent will form a guard of honor and applaud the newly crowned champions.

I think Arteta will want to give the players who have served this club and contributed the most to its success the opportunity to feel that kind of respect. I would classify Raya, Saliba, Gabriel, Rice, Ødegaard, and Saka in this category. Potentially also Havertz, Trossard (for whom it might be the last season at this level), and Martinelli (who has been at the club longer than Arteta). There is also an argument for Norgaard, Dowman, and Myles, who didn’t feature much this season.

The final question one can’t avoid is Eberechi Eze’s return to his former home, and the opportunity to receive an ovation from his teammates and former supporters for this achievement. Somehow, I feel that the starting lineup will mostly consist of the first-team players mentioned above, and at halftime, Arteta might make a triple substitution to let the likes of Dowman and Norgaard feature as well.

There has been a rumour circling the internet that it was Eze who asked Arteta to dial down the intensity of training and give the players some rest and time away so they wouldn’t burn out. It was a big risk for our number 10, but now that it has all worked out, Eze has definitely gained more influence over his teammates and the manager.

If it’s true, I truly respect Eze for having the courage to say it, and Arteta for accepting the feedback. After seeing him for one season in our squad, I can definitely say that he’s not a typical footballer. He has a different mindset, different behaviour and a different approach to talking to people. He looks like a man with strong opinions who doesn’t believe he should blindly listen to others, even if they have power over him.

If you remember, there was an interview where Arteta shared that he knows how to use him better, and it might have been Eze who expressed his preferences to the coach. Those six weeks of sitting on the bench in December and January were probably caused by the fact that Eze didn’t silently accept being scolded for a defensive error against Villa and talked back.

However, that’s the exact kind of character you get if you want to sign exceptional players who can shine in the moments most other players struggle to handle. If we look ahead to the Champions League final, Eze would be my biggest hope if we are down on the scoreboard.

But that’s a topic for next week. On Sunday, it’s time to celebrate our well-deserved accolades without any second thoughts!

We did it after 22 years of wait, after the legendary Invincible season!

The players and the manager deserve it for their efforts, and we fans deserve it for not stopping supporting this club, for backing it up despite some difficult times, for waiting until the glory comes back!

I am so happy that we won a League competing against Guardiola. I am so happy that we won the league by points and not by the Premier League verdict of point deduction for 115 charges!

I am so happy that Arsenal finally brushed off the mockery that I thought will never end!

This are the moments we are living for!

And these are the people that got us here:

Riccardo Calafiori

Gabriel Martinelli

Martin Zubimendi

William Saliba

Gabriel Magalhaes

Eberechi Eze

Thomas Frank

Mikel Merino

David Raya

Leandro Trossard

Declan Rice

Viktor Gyokeres

Jurrien Timber

Max Dowman

Bukayo Saka

David Moyes

Mikel Arteta

Martin Odegaard

Chris Kavanagh

Kai Havertz

As well as Benjamin White, Christian Mosquera, Piero Hincapie and Myles Lewis-Skelly who gave everything on the pitch to make sure we consume as few goals as possible.

You made us all and yourselves proud and we are nothing but grateful! Let’s hope it marks the start of the era that will be full of trophies!

The starting line-up was exactly what every Arsenal fan had been waiting for all season: our five best creators combined, ready to destroy whatever stood in their way. However, after some intense huffing and puffing, a single set-piece goal was all we had to show for it when the half-time whistle blew.

Breaking down a compact, bottom-half opponent is always the hardest part; once you do, it usually becomes much easier to slice them open. Because of this, I expected us to add another couple of goals after the break. Unfortunately, that remained nothing but a dream.

I don’t think a 1-0 scoreline at home against a bottom-half team should be considered satisfactory. I understand that the primary objective is getting the three points, and ultimately that is what matters most. However, I would like to see the players look dissatisfied with such a narrow win, showing that they didn’t fully achieve what they set out to do.

Holding a single-goal lead is a slippery slope. A stray deflection, an accidental penalty, or a nasty tackle resulting in a red card—just like we saw yesterday—can instantly turn the result against you. A two-goal lead, on the other hand, gives us a comfortable cushion.

To be honest, I don’t know what Havertz was thinking with that tackle. Sliding in like that at the far end of the pitch was completely unnecessary, and we were incredibly lucky to escape with only a yellow card. I understand we had a reasonable shout for penatly before that, and I also doubt we would have crumbled even if we were reduced to ten men, but that still doesn’t give any reasons to risk it in the first place.

Now, any backup plan relying on goal difference is out the window; we can only win the title on pure points. City will finish with the better goal difference, meaning only a win against Palace on Sunday will be enough for us. To be fair, our recent fountain of 1-0 wins isn’t exactly injecting me with confidence ahead of the weekend. Furthermore, the narrative that Palace will play their reserves because of their upcoming Conference League final isn’t as positive a picture as some are painting.

In fact, I think Palace’s regular starters wouldn’t have given 100% on the pitch anyway, as they would be protecting themselves for the final. The reserves are a completely different story. This is a rare chance for them to prove themselves to the manager and, God forbid, carve out their own small piece of history. They will undoubtedly be hungrier, even if they are less experienced. It is, however, the one final hurdle separating our players from definitively making history.

As expected, City beat Chelsea in the FA Cup final. And just as we saw throughout the entire month of April, the result was helped along by the officials. Khusanov bundled into Chelsea players twice inside his own box—both times without getting anywhere near the ball—but the referee simply shrugged his shoulders. Meanwhile, VAR conveniently hid behind the “not a clear and obvious error” mantra.

That consistent assistance from the refereeing establishment is one of the main reasons I absolutely cannot stand that club. That, and their sheer arrogance. While Guardiola has earned the right to be arrogant over the course of his career, his players certainly haven’t. That lot are flattering themselves if they think they could achieve any of this without Pep.

It’s the exact same reason I have always hated Manchester United. During the Ferguson era, they worked hand-in-hand with the referees, who always seemed to side with them—including that absolute crime refereed by their associate Mike Riley, which assassinated our unbeaten run. I especially detest it when a team that is already the strongest, or one of the strongest, in the country receives additional help from the officials.

I used to ask myself whether my hatred was just driven by the fact that they were simply the better team—whether I was just jealous of their ability to destroy opponents on the pitch. But I think I know the answer now. I never hated Liverpool like that, not when they thrashed us 5-1, and not when they won the Champions League and the Premier League. I didn’t even hate them when they won the league in 25/26, because they were objectively the strongest team in the division. They were also one of the best teams in Europe, and I can accept that.

But cheating your way to a title? I’m not having it. Manchester City, Manchester United, Barcelona, Real Madrid—those clubs will never get anything from me but a wish to see them fail.

Why am I renting about this now? Because on Tuesday evening, the referees’ helping hand will undoubtedly be there again. Bournemouth will need to put in a truly dominant performance to take points off City. I’m not saying they can’t do it—in their current form, they can absolutely cause trouble for anyone, and who knows that better than us! However, if it’s a tight, equal game, the advantage will inevitably be handed to the poor little club from the North.

Luckily, we remain in a position where we can decide our own destiny. There is only one final step remaining, one last 90-minute stretch. Arteta’s motivational speech should be incredibly easy this time: Leave every single thing you have on that pitch. Every ounce of focus, every duel, every recovery sprint to stop an opponent, every lung-bursting run forward to get on the end of a cross. Make absolutely sure there isn’t a single moment of lost concentration, doubt, or laziness—because if there is, you will regret it for the rest of your lives.

The final fixture of the season against a side already relegated, currently gafferless, and lacking individual quality by Premier League standards… On paper, you couldn’t ask for a better day out in football… though, let’s be honest, you could!

I wasn’t exactly holding my breath for City to drop points at home to Palace, but there was a tiny glimmer of hope. Just imagine the absolute magic of that Monday night if they had slipped up. Our supporters, especially those who visited the Emirates week in and week out for the long 18 years, have suffered enough. They deserve to see that long-awaited trophy lifted right in front of them.

Imagine the scenes at the final whistle at the Emirates if we’d managed to secure the title mathematically. It would have been a brilliant, all-night session in North London and for Gooners across the globe. Sadly, City have gone and spoiled the party, meaning the title race definitely won’t be settled this Monday.

What really grinds my gears is the thought of the league being decided without us even playing. Unfortunately, it’s looking like a distinct possibility. If we do the business on Monday and City stumble against Bournemouth, we’d be stepping onto the Selhurst Park pitch as champions. And there’s a decent shout for that happening because:

• Bournemouth are on a brilliant 16-game unbeaten run. In fact, the last time they tasted defeat (shootouts aside) was … against Arsenal back in January, when Rice bagged a brace.

• The Cherries have an absolutely realistic chance of nicking a Champions League spot for next season.

The media has been buzzing with scenarios where six English teams could make the Champions League, but Villa’s home draw against Burnley has thrown a massive spanner in the works. Emery’s lot have Liverpool and City left. If they fail to pick up more than a point—hardly likely given Liverpool still didn’t secure top five and City are chasing us—two wins for Bournemouth secures them direct qualification into the biggest European tournament. No ifs, ands, or buts.

That situation smells like a potential banana skin for a City side that hasn’t looked quite as lethal lately, and will be coming into the game after an emotionally exhausting Cup final. If I were a betting man, I’d say City dropping points when they’re desperate is more likely than them taking all three.

I’d much prefer we won the league by our own merit. I want to see City’s hopes crushed on the final day. I want them to feel exactly what everyone else feels when they’re under the Guardiola’s cosh during a run-in. I want to be in absolute ecstasy with every other Arsenal fan the moment that whistle goes, watching the total headloss from rival fans on a beautiful Sunday evening.

It is what it is though. The main thing is we need to smash Burnley convincingly. No shaky one (or even zero!) goal leads late in the game, please. I’m confident it won’t happen because the home crowd will feel the weight of the moment. They won’t let a single player slack off on that pitch; they’ll be cheering every tackle. And they would make every player who is not at their best to pull their shit together. With our bench strength, we should be able to dismantle Burnley over the ninety minutes.

On a final note, the news about Ben White is a massive blow. We all felt that it was something serious when he limped out of West Ham stadium and it’s now confirmed he’s done for the season. To make matters worse, there are whispers the club is likely looking to move him on this summer.

Benjamin White is a bloody warrior who gave away his body to Arsenal football club, perhaps even sacrificing his long-term career at the highest level to meet Arteta’s demanding standards. Arteta openly praised players who play through the pain, but I’m sure it’s almost never justified. History suggests I am right - when White played multple games in the end of 21/22, we ended up failing to secure top-4.

Risking an injured player for a one-off final, play-off game or a massive “six-pointer” can make sense. But running them into the ground over weeks is a classic rookie manager error. One game of football can cost you a great player for months ahead.

Sometimes, they might never come back on the level and that is exactly what happened to Benjamin. After that long overdue surgery, his pace and stamina just aren’t the same. He can still put in a brilliant shift once in a while—look at the Atleti game—but he can’t do it week-in, week-out anymore.

So, while one Wounded Warrior heads for the treatment room, another Warrior is urgently being emerged out for our biggest game in the last two decades. It might be premature, but I get the gamble here. Even 60 minutes of defensive solidity against someone like Kvaratskhelia could be the difference-maker.

Benjamin White always left everything on the pitch. He was the first to stick up for his teammates and was a massive part of our 22/23 renaissance, where I (as many other Arsenal fans) started believing we can win the largest titles again. The only bit of comfort I have is the thought of him—like some other warriors who put their bodies on the line to get this club where we are now—having a picture with a Premier League trophy in his hands to crown his tenure at Arsenal. And I sure as hell hope that the boys leave it all on the pitch in the last two games to make sure the Warrior gets that damn picture!

Arteta stuck with the same XI, and I’ll admit, I wasn’t entirely convinced. Sure, the “don’t fix what isn’t broken” mantra holds weight, but after the emotional toll of the Atleti clash, a bit of fresh, hungry energy—someone like Hincapié or Zubimendi—could have been the shot in the arm we needed. That midfield trio of Saka, Eze, and MLS, anchored by Calafiori and Rice, is an intriguing new setup, but the big hope was that Nuno hasn’t cracked the code on how to stifle our new attacking movements.

And a quick word on our kit. It looks the real business, but it was an absolute nightmare for this fixture. It’s practically the inverse of West Ham’s, which made distinguishing the two teams a proper headache.

To recap, we went into this one with one goal: “win it—claim the first title in 22 years”. Arsenal lacked that razor-sharp urgency I saw against Newcastle and Fulham, though I’ll concede, playing away at a relegation fighting side is never a walk in the park. West Ham’s defence was as deep and compact as any block we’ve faced at the Emirates. They were set up in a 5-3-2 defensively, and poor Saka was swarmed by opponents like a bee hive the moment the ball touched his feet.

In this disposition and compactness, there are two ways to crack the nut: either overload the centre with two 10s and two 8s and try to progress to the edge of the box with short passes, or overload the flanks, with the full-back pushing right up alongside the winger to stretch the pitch.

It was logical to expect the trusty White-Saka partnership to do the business, but surprisingly, the threat came from the other side. Trossard whipped in a gorgeous trivella for Calafiori, who just wasn’t aggressive enough. A split-second of hesitation and the defender got the block in.

Then the corner. Trossard was in the thick of it again—two headers in two seconds, a spectacular save, and the woodwork rattled.

Three minutes later Calafiori finished abeautiful move with a rasping 20-yard effort, before nodding a Rice free-kick goalwards. Another dramatic save, and the ball fell to Saliba for a tap-in. But William couldn’t get a touch on the line, and the chance evaporated. Two moments of hesitation that could’ve cost us dear. To top it off, 15 minutes later, Trossard was back in our own box making a vital clearance. That’s the kind of hunger you want to see and that was unmatched in our squad.

Corner, where Trossard was a center of action again - two headers in two seconds, leading to a spectacular save and hitting the post. And then it was again Calafiori finishing the beautiful combination with a decent 20-meter attempt. And then again Calafiori redirected Rice’s delivery from free kick. Dramatic save once again and it was Saliba’s chance to hit it in the empty net. And again William didn’t put his leg on the line and the moment was gone. Two split second moments that might have cost us two goals. To top it all, 15 minutes later, Trossard was the one clearing the ball in a critical situation in our own box. Desire from the Belgian was unmatched in the squad.

That clearance followed a moment that could define our season, our club’s trajectory, and Arteta’s managerial legacy. Ben White went down injured and had to come off. We were cruising, finding gaps, and looking the better side. The logical shout was to bring on Mosquera, who’s looked comfortable there recently.

Instead, Arteta crumbled under the title-race pressure and completely bottled the sub. Zubimendi on for White, pushing Rice to right-back. No Gooner likes seeing Rice at right-back. It’s a reincarnation of the “Partey at right-back” experiment, which never ever worked, yet Arteta seems drawn to it like a moth to a flame.

I think the reason he took that decision is because he felt guilty about leaving Zubimendi out and wanted to shoehorn him back in at the first opportunity. Remember his comments about “apologising” to players after the Atleti game? I was left wondering: who does he think he needs to apologise to? The bench was either not fully fit or in-and-out players like Hincapié. Zubimendi was the only one with a real claim to start juding by our season. This sub was his way of making amends. It’s mind-boggling that a manager with Arteta’s standards can’t just tell a player, “you haven’t been up good enough lately, so I will leave you on the bench”

That decision to prioritise sentiment over team structure screwed up our set-up in so many departments at once:

• Rice covers ground, but he lacks the raw pace to track a flying winger like Summerville. He’s a midfield dominator where the opponents are usually a balance of power and pace, not a wide defender.

• Saka was left isolated, with no support on the flank, and quickly swamped by West Ham’s defenders.

• We lost our physical edge in the engine room, and West Ham started bullying Myles and Zubimendi off the ball.

One sub, and the whole dynamic collapsed. Even the stats back it up—our chance creation dried up the moment Zubimendi stepped onto the pitch and stayed until he left.

After that change, West Ham grabbed the initiative and killed our momentum with a succession of niggly fouls. The half ended with a massive scare for West Ham, forcing Raya into a world-class save.

Then the half-time whistle blew. I, like every other Arsenal fan, was praying for Mosquera. It was clear Zubimendi wasn’t coming off after just 15 minutes, so I expected Myles to be subbed. The change did happen, but Arteta sacrificed Calafiori instead. The lad had been one of our most dangerous outlets but it was a price to pay for an earlier blunder. Arteta claimed it was an injury in his post-match presser, but let’s be real: he just couldn’t admit he’d made a massive tactical blunder.

Myles moved to left-back, and we looked a bit more solid, even if Rice was still stuck at right-back during the build-up—hardly his best position. Yet, considering we need three points in these last three games to lift the title, the performance was painfully underwhelming.

There was no urgency, no drive, no one grabbing the game by the scruff of the neck. The Arsenal of the Bournemouth fiasco returned and apparently all we needed was for City to drop points to start shitting our pants again. As soon as the pressure mounts, this team starts playing with fear—fear of losing the ball, fear of the counter, fear of dropping points. A lot of fear instead of concentrating on beating the opponents in front of us.

That general fear in the team stems from the manager. Arteta sets the tone, and he looked rattled. If he can’t condition himself, he can’t condition the players. That sub was the mark of a manager feeling the heat. He’s got coaches for every minor detail on the pitch, but where’s the top-tier psychologist to help them keep their cool? Even if the psychologist would work with the team not before the starting whistle, but just earlier in the day today, it would help the teams a lot.

Saka kept trying his luck from range but couldn’t find his shooting boots. Eze was trying to weave through defenders, but the final action was lacking. Zubimendi was simply a passenger. I am not even talking about the incisive passing, he bottled a simple pass to Eze during a rare counter.

67 minutes in, Arteta finally played his last pair of reliable cards in the deck —Odegaard and Havertz. And to my shock, Zubimendi—a total liability—was hooked after just 40 minutes. It took three subs to fix one glaring error, but maybe, just maybe, the football gods were smiling on us, rewarding Arteta for finally showing some cojones.

Between Eze and Trossard, Arteta had a tough call, and keeping Leo proved to be a right choice. Mind you, in a Champions League final, I’d still want Eze on the pitch—he’s the one who can conjure magic out of nothing.

That change finally unlocked the midfield, because the skipper was the only one who started running his socks off and trying to play forward. But before Odegaard hit his stride, we nearly threw it away. Fernandes broke clear for a 1-on-1, and when it looked like a certain goal, Raya made a sprawling save.

A poor finish, perhaps, but Raya held his ground to the last millisecond. Another title-winning stop from our number one; the best keeper we’ve had since Seaman. I’ve seen Lehmann, and even he didn’t impress me as much as Raya.

Then Arteta threw on Madueke for a poor Saka. Madueke?!? Give me a break. Does he think this guy is some sort of game-changer? Was he not watching Madueke’s performances together with us recently? 16-year-old Max Dowman has shown more grit in this title race with a fraction of the minutes, with only 90 minutes against 1100.

Arteta keeps picking him to save us at 0-0 despite him dropping stinker after stinker. You have to think it’s a vanity project—he brought him in, so he needs to prove he’s right. Madueke and Zubimendi are clearly his signings, while Norgaard was forced on him. If I have to leave one of them in the club, I’d take the Dane in a heartbeat. Norgaard is a proper number 6 stand-in; Madueke is just there to fill the squad.

Odegaard played a peach of a ball for Madueke, but he did nothing with it. Then another great pass for Havertz, which led to a throw-in. And then came the moment that summed it up.

In orange is Odegaard and in red is Madueke. Throughout the whole attack, Odegaard is moving, showing for the ball, while Madueke—the freshest man on the pitch—is standing still like a statue. No movement, no desire, just a total brain-fade.

I’m convinced Dowman or Nwaneri would’ve shown more hunger. I want Madueke out. It’s not just emotion; he and Jesus are the only two I don’t want to see in an Arsenal shirt anymore. Neither shows the fight needed to win. That Chelsea signing has been a disaster from day one. Get him out of my club!

Odegaard, seeing that everyone around him was not taking initiative, just ran with the ball into the box. He was one of the few moving around and actually asking the questions of positional defence. He was the only one with the ball to take on the defenders in their box. He maintained his composure and rolled out the ball to Trossard into a great position.

And once again this week, that Belgian cannon gave us results. Silver Fox Trossard has his last chance of winning the biggest of titles in the world and showing it to his grandchildren. And this goal would definitely be among his slide deck.

Odegaard was the main reason we scored that goal. He was the one who did not give up and who actually took the matter in his own hands. It was display by a true captain. Throughout the season I thought selling him in the summer is a right call if the proper offer comes in, but now I need to have a word with myself. This was a brave display and we lack those qualities in the team. Now I think that we can’t just give such qualities away easily.

One-nil to the Arsenal. Those final 10 minutes felt like an eternity. We held firm for six, then West Ham threatened, but Havertz put his body on the line to block a Callum Wilson shot. Again, even if Havertz is missing crucial chances, you could see today how he was ready to put his body on the line, defending our lead. And that is the quality I can get behind, but there’s no quality I can admire about Madueke.

That bloody corner... The ball came in, Raya fumbled it, the whistle didn’t blow, and West Ham equalised. I knew it would be the curtains and the only hope was that this goal would be overturned. The first replay from a side camera demonstrated a clear picture. Even if one might have questions about pulling and pushing, there was no getting around that West Ham player was holding Raya’s far arm. And that “arm holding” clearly prevented Raya from kicking the ball away, hence making the goal possible.

If that hadn’t been chalked off, the PGMOL’s agenda would’ve been crystal clear. VAR looked at it 15 times before calling the ref over—a glimmer of hope. Cavanagh checked it another 10 times before finally spotting the foul. There was too much spotlight on the referees, and they knew that image of Raya’s arm being grabbed would’ve been all over the back pages for the next couple of days. It was a clear foul, and thank god it was overturned. If it happened in any other game on any other minute, it would have been overturned in the matter of seconds.

Four more minutes of pure torture, another penalty shout from West Ham, and we scraped through.. Somehow. We’re still in control of this title race. Somehow.

I’m not losing sleep over the refereeing decisions affecting our result—City should’ve conceded a penalty against Brentford on Saturday, while being at 0-0 still.

This display has me sweating about the Palace game. Knowing Arsenal, it’ll be 90 minutes of pure cardiac arrest—unless City slip up first. And that is not so far-fetched, because Bournemouth has all chances to claim the Champions League spot, if Villa doesn’t win against Villa in the next matchday.

In the next matchday, when they are playing Burnley at home .We’re heading into this one off the back of a staggering eight-day break. Aside from international windows, I don’t recall us having this much time between fixtures, which has to be a massive positive. The Premier League is a ruthless beast, largely because those sides from 8th to 17th are packed with quality and, crucially, don’t have the distraction of midweek European football.

Burnley might have a bit of bite and have been finding the net recently, but on a level playing field, our squad depth is embarrassing. We could field a second-string attack to finish the game that’s stronger on paper than their first team. At home, under the lights, there’s no excuse not to turn up the intensity and blow them away.

I believe this game should be used for boosting a goal difference in any scenario. While I’ve got full faith in this team to get the job done against Palace, you’ve got to look at the bigger picture. This is our patch, our title charge, and our moment to step up. Every player on that pitch and every fan in the stands needs to feed into that atmosphere and elevate the energetic wave until the Burnley defence starts drowning. Frankly, anything less than a five-goal masterclass wouldn’t be a fair reflection of the balance strength.

—-

P.S. Off on holiday for two weeks soon, so if any posts do pop up, they’ll be quite brief. Come on you Gunners!

I want to warn you right away: this post is not going to be structured. It’s going to be raw and emotional—much like the final 20 minutes of yesterday’s game.

The week started with an absolute belter of news. I was wrong—Man City did drop points against Everton. I never watch City games in a title race unless I know there’s something tasty happening; years of experience have taught me that only frustration and the inevitability of their wins awaits me there, so I didn’t even bother turning it on. At half-time, I checked my phone—0-1, as expected—so I just got on with my evening.

Who knew that after the break, Everton would turn the Premier League title race on its head? It wasn’t just Everton’s aggression, either. City’s defence was rattled, conceding chance after chance. Guehi might be getting the stick for his error, but City were living on the edge long before that. They eventually crumbled, and even Doku’s late strike couldn’t hide the fact that they’ve dropped vital points. It’s back in our hands now, no doubt about it.

That news should’ve given our lads a proper lift for the upcoming visit to West Ham. The TIFO wasn’t quite as titillating as some previous ones, in my opinion, but the graphics and the pyrotechnics definitely got the Emirates rocking.

I still yearn for those spine-tingling displays, and I hope we see plenty more. Surprisingly, Arteta stuck with the same XI from the weekend. I expected Hincapie or Zubimendi to get the nod, but he kept the faith. I think it’s tough for Mikel to step out of his comfort zone, but when it pays off, he tends to rinse and repeat. There’s no other explanation for why Myles was back at the base of the midfield. Don’t get me wrong, his form deserves credit, but starting him against West Ham would’ve been also a fair reward.

Watching the players’ faces during the Champions League anthem always tells a story. Saka and Trossard looked ice-cold, Gabriel seemed a bit nervy, but Calafiori radiated total calm. In that moment, I realised that starting XI might have been the right call after all—Gabriel needs that composure next to him to avoid leaving a vulnerable zone. That’s exactly how Bayern got at us in 23/24 quarters, when we were at the best form in Arteta’s tenure, overloading the Kiwior/Gabriel side.

Usually, the home side uses the opening minutes to feed off the crowd’s energy and pin the opponent back. Weirdly, while we were the home team, it was Atleti causing us headaches for the first 15-20 minutes. It took us until later in the first half to really seize the initiative. This team hasn’t been here before, so a few nerves are only natural.

Atleti came prepared: a well-known 5-4-1 defensive block to cut Saka all oygen and a 4-2-4 high press—straight out of the Guardiola playbook. Fortunately, Arteta had a plan this time, with Saka dropping deep to bypass the press with his footwork.

Myles was incredibly disciplined again—even more so than against Fulham. No rash decisions, no sloppy turnovers, plus a couple of defence-splitting passes that we just don’t see from Zubimendi. Our first real chance came from him, too. He shielded the ball perfectly, drove towards the six-yard box, but his cut-back didn’t find anyone. Looking at the replay, he could’ve maybe done better in the moment, but importantly he demonstrated to everyone that the Atleti defence had a soft underbelly.

Ten minutes later, Griezmann took down Trossard in the box. Even if Leo was drifting away from goal, it was a clear foul—I’ve seen plenty of those given in the Premier League. Griezmann didn’t get anywhere near the ball, but I suspect the ref, having seen the first leg, was determined not to decide the tie on a non-stone hard penalty.

Viktor Gyokeres looks a completely different animal lately, especially against Atleti. I refuse to believe it’s just because the Spanish giants have weaker defenders than 60% of the PL. I reckon being benched for a couple of weeks gave him that extra 10% in pace and physicality. The team adjusting to his game has helped, too.

Saliba pulled a leaf out of Eze’s book with this defence-splitting beauty.

Oblak strayed too far off his line, and Gyokeres crossed for Trossard, who took a touch too long to set himself. He hesitated so much that Eze looked fuming—and didn’t join in the celebrations. I agree that Trossard’s indecision was suboptimal, but not celebrating a goal properly? That’s not on.

Trossard then did what he does best and what we all know him for—a powerful strike through the crowd that no keeper can react to. Oblak parried it, but Saka was there to mop up! The commentator nailed it:

“Saka gambled with his run, but that’s what any world-class winger should do”

I couldn’t put it better myself. The homegrown star man stepped up again in what’s shaping up to be one of our biggest weeks. The Emirates erupted—and so did I, along with millions watching at home.

Before the break, Calafiori inexplicably shoved Simeone in the back after the whistle. The early composure had evaporated. Then, right at the start of the second half, Saliba’s sloppy pass back—the only blip in an otherwise superb performance—almost gifted them an equaliser.

I gotta say, Gabriel did brilliantly there, nudging Simeone off balance without committing a ‘clear and obvious’ foul, referee started consistent with his approach before. Ten minutes later, Calafiori was reckless again on Griezmann, but the ref somehow blew for a foul on Gabriel first. Being honest, I don’t think there was much contact— although Gabriel’s theatrics were convincing—and that should’ve been a penalty.

We got away with one, but Calafiori had lost the plot. Arteta acted fast, bringing on Hincapien for him, Odegaard for an underwhelming by his standards Eze, and Madueke for Saka. Saka looked gutted, and honestly, so was I. He put himself together in one of the toughest weeks and delivered two times in a row. He felt he deserved to stay more on the pitch and many felt it too.

The bigger worry: we were only one goal up. Any deflection could’ve forced us back on the attack, which would’ve been a nightmare without Saka and Eze. I’ve criticised Arteta for being too risk-averse in the past, but I have to tip my hat to him today. Protecting Bukayo’s legs for the run-in was a gamble that paid off.

The final 20 minutes were pure, unadulterated emotion—exactly why I’m always sceptical about this concept of controlling the game on fine margins. In the biggest moments, football is about passion; you can’t manage that with safe passes, probabilities and spreadsheets.

You just hold your breath until the final whistle, with moments etched in your memory:

David Raya claiming every cross with infuriating coolness.

Piero Hincapie, who’s gone from a shaky sub to a most reliable player who will hound his opponent to the corner flag, while offering a threat going forward. He delivered an absolute peach of a cross for Gyokeres, who should’ve buried the game then and there.

William Saliba, mopping up every runner, however, barely breaking sweat once Alvarez came on.

Benjamin White, finally finding his groove with an ‘old-school’ stable performance—attacking intent matched by defensive discipline.

Declan Rice, popping up with sliding tackles when no one else was around.

Martin Odegaard, directing the press, pulling the strings, pushing for that elusive second goal.

Leandro Trossard, imperious on the wing before being replaced by the relentless Martinelli, who put in a proper shift.

Viktor Gyokeres, running like a madman, relentlessly for the full 90. He must’ve won a hundred fouls for us on the Atleti half.

All our subs, in training equipment, roaring on their teammates right from the sideline and keeping the energy high.

I nearly welled up watching that support.

Mikel Arteta and Simeone prowling their zones, practically on the pitch, trying to help the press. This was the battle of two teams that have played most CL matches without winning the desired Cup.

And then, that final whistle signalled the times for the celebrations, dances, interviews, hugs, songs and connection with the fans. There were some sour-grapes articles in the media about our ‘extensive’ celebrations. What these numpties don’t get is that it was our final home game of the campaign. It was our chance to soak it all in with the Emirates crowd, it was a chance to pay back for their support. They played their part all season, and this was the send-off for the journey to the final battle over the land and the sea.

The Champions League final is the pinnacle—the most-watched annual sporting event on the planet (sorry, NFL fans yapping about the Super Bowl). Hundreds of millions will be tuning in, and our badge, our manager, and our players will be centre stage. No one can deny Arsenal’s power anymore.

Twenty years later, we’re finally back at the top table, and I couldn’t be happier. There were seasons when I dared not dream of this, when I knew we’d be fodder for the big boys. The last time I truly believed was that night against Barcelona when Van Persie got sent off. And now we’re back!!!

I’ll be rooting for Bayern tonight for three reasons:

1. It’s a great narrative when the two best teams from the group stages face off in the final.

2. I think Bayern is a better matchup for us. We know Kane, we know Diaz—we’d be better prepared to handle them than PSG’s chaotic individual brilliance. You can be as structurally tight, as tactically drilled as you like, but sometimes individual magic is impossible to legislate for.

3. Most importantly: I don’t think a team that openly cheats in France by having their league schedule moved to suit them deserves a place in the final.

As I type this, Bayern are already a goal down. But I still believe—that crappy PSG keeper is a car crash waiting to happen.

Next up, West Ham. It’s the mentally toughest test left. We need to win it just somehow. No complaints about style, selection or bravery—just get the three points on the board.

If we win on Saturday, I think the PL title is in the bag. Burnley at home shouldn’t stop us, and I can’t see us throwing it away on the final day with the smell of silverware in the air. As for Crystal Palace? They’ll have the Conference League final on their minds.

One last test, one last scrap against a wounded animal, one last big push. I know how hard it is to go 100% after such an emotional night, but maybe the title of Champions League finalist provides that extra boost of adrenaline?

The opening 45 minutes were arguably our most exciting half of 2026—the best since the home clash against Villa over the festive period. At that excitement was started from a bold decision to start Myles Lewis-Skelly in the middle. I expected to see Calafiori, Saka and Eze, but with Odegaard sidelined by that recurring knee issue—a genuine worry for the run-in—I’d feared we were going to ride on Zubimendi’s back once again.

But Mikel finally threw off the shackles, trusting Myles. He’s the better option for breaking the press, spinning and driving past markers, though admittedly, it’s a gamble. I get why Arteta’s been cautious. Yet, Myles, who was known this season to drop the ball in risky areas and cause counterattacks, worked like a clock today. No reckless risks, played the full 90, and had more touches than anyone bar the centre-backs. Proper engine room stuff.

It didn’t surprise me, because Myles’s strongest quality is top-tier mentality. Remember Bournemouth? He was one of our few bright sparks when the most were embarassing. After the game Arteta dropped a quote in press-conferences where he alluded to a potential mistake from his side:

“Maybe I should have done it earlier. But I have to do things when I think a player is ready. I knew it was a big risk, a player at his age who has never played this position”

If we can mould him into a regular option for next season, we’ve struck gold. With Arteta’s strong reluctance to trust Nørgaard, we’re really light in that area, and there’s no cheaper or better prospect than the kid who knows our club, teammates and bleeds for the badge.

The attacking trio—Eze, Trossard, and Saka—was firing on all cylinders. Dribbling past players, turning them around, drawing fouls, clinical passing. The foundation was set when Saka twisted Jimenez like a pretzel, and freely entered the Fulham box (where was the beefcake Robinson strolling?)—and FINALLY whipped a delicious cross that begged to be tucked home. By a true number nine.

1-0, early in the game again, we couldn’t have wished for a better start. Fulham had absolutely nothing in the first half going for them while we were purring. The flowing attacking football charged the fans, who produced the waves of energy that in its turn inspired the players for even more domination. This is a spiral that should be activated constantly at our ground (including the upcoming match on Tuesday), because it’s the advantage only the home team can leverage

We carved them open at will. There was one moment where White broke into the box, and instead of crossing to the far post, cut it back to a surrounded Trossard. I was ready to scream “Why?!”, but Leo just swivelled beautifully to get himself into the position below and chipped a ball for Calafiori to head—unfortunately, just offside.

It was not only that cross, unlike Myles, Ricky was all over the place once again. One time he was a right winger, crossing a ball into the box.

Another time, he was even higher up than Gyokeres (which I thought is not possible), trying to get into a rendez-vous with Bernd Leno.

Ricky, Ricky—we’ve missed the chaos you bring. The opposition had it far too easy when you weren’t there. And it wasn’t just Calafiori lighting it up. Rice was pulling off cutting passes like the one below.

But the real masterclass in passing again came from Mr. Eze. That 50-metre ball to find Gyökeres? World-class vision where an Arsenal fan doesn’t generally expect a vertical ball. A delicious piece of play.

A mouthwatering pass that Gyokeres was the first to catch. He held it up, waited for Saka’s run, and slid it through the two defenders. And B smashed it home, first-time, into the near corner. No messing about, a perfect assist and a perfect goal. That’s the pre-injury Saka we’ve been waiting for—back in business! And after Odegaard’s injury his form is the best piece of news we have for the run-in!

And even that was not enough! Six minutes later when the referee was about to blow the half-time whistle, we intercepted the ball in midfield, Trossard broke, and sent in a peach of a cross for Viktor. A brace for Viktor, which happened, because he was finally surrounded with enough technicians, so that we didn’t have to rely on him to connect our play (like we do with Havertz). With all the trio behind him with abilities to connect the play, we can leverage a number nine, whose main job is to pass the final verdict, and, boy, he did pass those verdicts today! It was a completely different look compared to the situation when he’s surrounded with other strollers, like Martinelli or Madueke. With enough creativity behind the team, he becomes a more useful tool in our locker, and one of the more efficient ones too!

I don’t know if I am trying to read too much into this, but it looked to me like Leno didn’t really try hard to save that header.

As you can see, he isn’t even stretching to catch it. Even if it caught him moving the wrong way, a keeper usually throws everything at it. Add that to the non-intensive pressing from some of our former players and early subs of their stars, like Wilson, and it paints a certain picture—one I’m more than happy to get on board with!

Regardless, it was a spectacular, dominating performance. Just look at the Opta graph below.

At halftime, Arteta made the smart call to take Saka off, protecting his fitness for the final push. He did the same later with Eze, Rice, and Gyokeres. Tuesday is just around the corner, and we need everyone firing to reach the Champions League final.

The second half was a bit of a non-event. Fulham had one decent chance in the 71st minute, but Raya stood firm. Arteta even went bald enough to give Dowman a run out in the middle of the park. Max was eager, and yeah, he was selfish—didn’t always pick the right pass—but this side lacks players with the arrogance, courage and confidence to take responsibility, so I’m not losing sleep over a bit of selfishness.

The biggest frustration was Gabriel Jesus. I can’t understand why he gets time to wear our shirt over and over again, when most of the time he is just embarrassing it. Honestly, if Arteta had put Martinelli at nine, I reckon we’d have bagged another goal.

Unfortunately, we didn’t manage to increase our half time lead even more, but the 3-0 is still quite a solid result. That what happens when you make brave decisions (instead of always sticking with a good old) and show trust in players that demonstrated they are capable to deliver. It was a statement that we are back in the business of a vigorous fight for the Premier League title, and a reminder that minimal wins are no longer sufficient for Manchester City, starting on Monday night.

But, honestly, all my focus is on the Atleti return leg on Tuesday. I expect Zubimendi back, alongside Hincapie and likely Martinelli, plus the usual suspects: Saka, Eze, Gyokeres, Rice, Saliba, Gabriel, and Raya. The only real question is right-back. Ben White was unconvincing again—he invited a couple of Fulham attacks for no reason, and I’d feel much safer with Mosquera there. That said, a back four of Hincapie, Gabriel, Saliba, and Mosquera isn’t the most creative. I’d start with Christian and bring on White if we’re chasing the game.

I’m feeling confident about the return leg, even considering the fact that Simeone rotated his whole side while we’ve been putting in full-blooded performances to stay in the title race. We’re riding high after Wednesday and today was another confidence-building outing. We’re playing Champions League football with real freedom and enjoyment.

And most importantly, the home crowd on Tuesday—who have only seen Arsenal reach the final of the biggest European tournament once before—should definitely understand the greatness of the occasion and bring the corresponding noise levels with them!

There was a funny joke going around the internet about the different styles of the two semifinal pairs:

UEFA officially allowed Arsenal and Atleti to skip 180 minutes of suffering and start directly with the penalty shootout.

Turns out, it wasn’t that much of a joke.

The starting line-up was a let-down, given it was another front three of Gyokeres, Martinelli, and Madueke. I’ve said it a dozen times: none of these three have the chemistry to connect our play, and the team just looks incoherent. I was wondering how many goals this trio has actually produced this season, because the only decent outings I can remember were against Brugge and Kairat—teams nowhere near Champions League semi-final level.

I found the numbers: whenever they started together, we won 4, drew 3, and lost 2—a pretty grim return by itself. And one of those four wins was the Carabao semi-final against Chelsea, which we only nicked in the 95th minute thanks to Havertz after the subs were made. I wanted to check their output when they’re actually on the pitch, and then I saw this stat from CBS:

Arteta’s side have an average xG of 1.04 from open play across the whole of this season. But that number drops all the way down to 0.14 when Gyokeres, Madueke and Martinelli are on the pitch together.

So, our creativity is officially nine times worse than the average with these three on the pitch. How is Arteta, a man obsessed with the numbers, ignoring this massive red flag? We had Trossard on the bench, who actually links up the play, even if he isn’t putting up the same goal numbers.

The only real connector we had was Odegaard, so if Simeone had put someone on him to constantly breathe down his neck, he could’ve killed our creativity stone dead. What I didn’t account for, though, is that we’re a completely different beast in Europe, without the suffocating pressure of the title race—when the competition feels like a free hit.

Case in point: around the 10th minute, Madueke waltzed past two defenders and unleashed a strike that whistled just wide. That was completely out of character compared to his April form. And don’t give me the “difficulty of Premier League defenders” excuse. That kind of rapid move and strike won’t be stopped by the likes of Fulham or West Ham; it’s all in Madueke’s head. The misplaced passes, the clumsy touches, the inability to find a teammate’s feet—it’s all down to the pressure our lads just can’t seem to shake.

Viktor Gyokeres is another one who looks like a different player in Europe. First, he muscled into the box, shrugging off defenders to set up Odegaard. Odegaard took a touch too many instead of immediately pulling the trigger, and his shot was blocked. But the persistence paid off; Gyokeres kept going, and we got the penalty just before half-time. A stonewall shout, and Gyokeres converted with the cool, calm confidence he’s shown all season.

The keeper guessed the right way—it’s where Gyokeres usually puts them—but it didn’t matter. The raw power Viktor generates doesn’t give keepers much of a chance. In that sense, he’s starting to remind me of Harry Kane. I’d love to see a shootout between them to see who blinks first. Whatever Gyokeres lacks, you can’t knock his penalty-taking ability, regardless of the occasion.

We were generally the better side in the first half, largely thanks to a fresh tactical tweak. Rice played as a deep-lying midfielder, sitting almost in line with the centre-backs in the build-up, while Zubimendi pushed higher up, surprisingly on the left. I reckon that was Arteta’s way of giving Ben White some extra defensive cover.

We haven’t seen those average positions all season, and it’s brilliant to see the manager trying something new for the big occasion. The double pivot everyone’s been studying has gone stale, so it’s good to see him looking for answers rather than just hoping more of the same will work. Rice suits that deeper role; he’s got a great passing range, while if he’s not the smoothest on the turn under press.

After the break, Atleti came out with more bite—expected, really, with their home crowd behind them. Alvarez had two dangerous strikes (one actually before half-time). Then came that clever corner, where a shot from 18 yards out that was heading wide, somehow pinged off White’s hand.

The ref let it go at first before VAR stepped in. From where I’m sitting, that’s not a penalty. The player’s off balance, arms out for support, and the ball was going nowhere near the goal.

Then again, Arteta said they were warned in the Champions League that any handball would be punished. There’s one caveat, though—if it deflects off another part of the body, and the slow-mo clearly showed it did, UEFA rules say it shouldn’t be a penalty.

But independent of all that, White was a bit sloppy. His positioning didn’t scream “maximum concentration,” and you can’t afford that in a Champions League semi. Worse, it got the crowd absolutely rocking. The noise levels went up, belief surged through the stadium, and the fans practically pushed the ball into our goal.

The 15 minutes after that penalty were the only time Atleti looked the better side—that’s the crowd factor for you. Griezmann missed a couple, and White let Lookman get the better of him again before forcing a save from Raya.

Raya was brilliant, though—one of his calmest, most assured displays. And it was yet another demonstration of a completely different mental attitude - no risky passes out, no rash decisions, just total composure from our number one.

Unfortunately, fatigue started to show. By the 60th minute, Atleti looked the fresher side (which Simeone said he’s bet on), and our lads were starting to tire. Arteta tightened things up with the subs. He brought on Eze for Odegaard to inject some life into the midfield. I don’t think that was a slight on Odegaard; Martin’s had a heavy workload since coming back from injury, so it made sense he couldn’t keep up with Atleti’s sprint levels.

Eze showed, once again, that he’s our only world-class attacking talent. The way he glides past defenders, drives forward under pressure, and keeps his composure on the ball—if he were playing for PSG or Bayern on Tuesday, he’d be definitely on the scoresheet, probably twice. There’s no other way to put it: he is the key to unlocking Fulham and West Ham and our best hope for weathering through a potential Champions League final.

The final push to regain the initiative came with a triple sub: Saka, Jesus, and Trossard. Simeone complained after the game that every sub Arteta made gave him a “ministroke.” Well, Diego, you should’ve known we started with our weaker wingers—you should’ve used your chance in the first half!

It didn’t really threaten Oblak, but the fresh legs helped us keep the ball and kept Atleti at bay. Trossard was still off the pace, Jesus did his usual dribble-past-a-few-but-no-end-product routine. Saka showed glimpses of his old self when it comes to dribbling, but his final ball was miles off—one cross sailed right over the box and nearly out for a throw-in. He’s got time to find his rhythm before the season ends, but he needs to start contributing to this title charge soon.

But it was Eze keeping the creative flow going and it was Eze winning a third penalty in the 83rd minute. And again, the crowd pressure did its job. Scared of being pelted by toilet paper rolls thrown from the stands, the ref quickly ran to the screen and overturned the decision after a VAR check.

It was a soft one, sure, and you could argue the ref could’ve waved it away, but the defender was definitely clumsy enough to warrant a spot-kick. That’s never overturned in the Premier League, as it wasn’t a “clear and obvious error.” It wouldn’t have been overturned if it had been given for the home side, either. The only reason it happened was the sheer noise and pressure from the home support.

1-1 at the final whistle. Arteta didn’t celebrate like he did after the Newcastle win, even though for the overall trophy chances, this was a bigger step forward, in my opinion.

It was not the boring slog the pundits predicted; there were chances at both ends. But in the final twenty minutes, Atleti were pinned back. They couldn’t get a grip on the game, even with final chances of capitalizing on the home advantage (which they used effectively to block our penalty). All things considered, it’s a decent result given the hostile atmosphere.

It was a much better performance, too. It felt like the Arsenal from the start of the season. The way we played, we should be turning them over at our place. Their two big swings only came when the stadium exploded, and Atleti won’t have that luxury next week. The only scenario of potential success for them is if they score first relatively late in the game and manage to hold on the lead in the remaining time, because, sadly, we’re still struggling to convert those chances into goals.

But that’s a problem for next Tuesday. Before that, we’ve got a tricky game against Fulham. The title race is clearly taking a mental toll, and some of the lads look knackered. I wouldn’t demand increasing a goal difference this time around—we’re coming off a heavy game and we need to find something in the tank for the return leg. With a fit Eze, Saka, and Dowman (who’s criminally ignored in favour of a Chelsea reject), we should have enough to get the win.

Arteta needs to rotate at full-back positions. White looks like a liability right now—it’s time to bring back Mosquera. And with a more defensive-minded right-back, we need a left-back who can tuck in and help control the midfield in the face of Ricky. Rice should be at the base again; we’re so much more efficient with him holding. Put Eze and Odegaard ahead of him — the midfield of Rice, Eze and Odegaard has all the needed balance in it. Rice, who’s not tasked with running forward, can cover all the DM zone, specifically when helped by the inverting left-back; Odegaard progresses the ball; and Eze is our most lethal weapon in the number 10 spot. Arteta’s scared of sacrificing defensive solidity, but I reckon we’d be at our sharpest with this setup. At home against a mid-table side, we should be taking the game to them.

Martinelli will hold the width on the left, and Saka should split the minutes with Dowman (though I know Arteta will stick with Madueke). Gyokeres up top—and I don’t want to see Jesus anywhere near the pitch, even for 20 minutes. I’d rather see Martinelli as the alternative number 9.

The last two games showed us enough to suggest we can turn over Fulham, if—and it’s a big if—the players can just get the fear of defensive mistakes out of their heads. If they go out there and just play their natural game, Fulham won’t stand a chance. That’s the big job for Mikel Arteta on Saturday: sorting their heads out. He hasn’t quite managed it in April, but maybe the smell of a historic Champions League final will positively affect his ability to mentally condition the players as well.

The starting XI didn’t half surprise me. Arteta went with Zubimendi and Madueke again, even though they both put in proper questionable shifts at the Etihad. Madueke especially has been serving up stinker after stinker lately, yet he still gets the nod while the likes of Max Dowman and Bukayo Saka are left chilling on the bench.

Noni started this one exactly how he finished the City game. In the 5th minute, after a lovely ball behind the defense, he produced a touch like a carpenter that somehow earned us a corner. We played it short in that new routine where Eze gets the ball on the edge of the box after two short passes. His first go whistled past the post, but surprisingly Newcastle didn’t learn their lesson. Three minutes later, the same play ended with Eze finding the top bins with a majestic strike.

Watching the replays, I still couldn’t fathom what was going through Arteta’s head to sub this man off at the Etihad when we were desperate for a goal. You can moan about his “duel winning” or his link-up play, but he’s proven time and again that if you need a bit of magic in a big game, he’s your man. Easily the best we’ve got. That Etihad decision is still doing my head in.

Back to yesterday, we grabbed that early lead in the 9th minute thanks to a worldie. You couldn’t ask for more when facing a compact Newcastle side at home—the hard work of breaking the deadlock was done. From the 10th minute, I was thinking the lads should be focused on one thing: how can we put past them a couple more to boost the goal difference?

The first half was a bit of a toss-up otherwise. Tonali nearly caught Raya out of nowhere. We were knocking it about their box well enough (even if Madueke was on a different planet to the rest of the team) ... until Havertz broke down again. He’s been made of glass this season. Gyökeres came on, and suddenly we’ve got two odd ducks up top who don’t really know how to link the play together.

At the break, I felt we’d done the job of holding the lead, but the target had to be going 2 or 3 up to put the squeeze on City. We showed not a lot of urgency, though. To make matters worse, Eze flagged for another injury. Thankfully it was just a precaution; I’m glad he didn’t go for the “self sacrifice” Arteta loves to brag about. The sacrifice that some of our players have done that in the past and now they aren’t anywhere near the level required, because their body is not in the same state anymore.

Arteta threw on Martinelli and I was in a state of mild shock. That front three of Madueke, Gyökeres, and Martinelli—the same lot responsible for our most toothless attacking performances this term—were back out there. It’s simple: none of them actually connect the team to play well. Martinelli and Gyökeres are finishers who need service, while Madueke is just playing his own game.

I don’t know how Arteta and his staff don’t see it. How can you keep rolling these three out and expect goals? Trossard was on the bench, and he’s the closest thing we have to Eze’s skill set. He had Dowman there too, and could have rolled out both Martinelli and Dowman to keep two “number tens” on the pitch. But Arteta didn’t.

And expectedly our attacking power started to fade. It’s getting clear that Madueke was an Arteta-driven signing. He gets chance after chance, despite serving several stinking performances in a row, while someone like Norgaard doesn’t get even a single chance to start. And the defensive prowess that Arteta so much admires, is also missing from Noni’s play. Several times across the game, he was losing his marker a few seconds before noticing and sprinting back in agony trying to recuperate for his mistake.

Mind you, even with that front three we had chances to kill the game. Rice gets to the edge of the box, but instead of having a crack, he faffs about and fluffs a pass to Gyökeres. Why would a player with one of the best strikes in the squad have so little confidence in front of goal?

Then Gyökeres tracks a Newcastle man back into his own half and nicks the ball. The Emirates was about to erupt, the crowd was proper up for it. He gives it to Martinelli, who instead of picking out the two runners to ride the ecstatic wave, decides to keep the ball and passes it all the way back to the keeper.

Safe football. I’m disappointed with that mindset. How can you ask the fans for noise when you’re passing it back to your own keeper instead of going for the throat?

To top it off, Zubimendi couldn’t find a simple pass to Gyökeres in the box when the Swede finally had the space he craves.

Another golden opportunity to pad the lead wasted. Newcastle had a few decent looks themselves, but they were kind enough to absolute butcher them, like Wissa did later on.

There was that moment where Gyökeres was chasing a ball in behind on a rare counter and got hauled down by Nick Pope. The ref could’ve easily given a red, but it was just a booking. People are fuming that VAR didn’t step in, but in my book, they were never going to. It wasn’t 100% clear Gyökeres would’ve got there before the defender, so it was not an “obvious error”. It was a cynical foul, but the ref on the pitch bottled it. That’s the problem with VAR—the on-field ref won’t make a big call because they have a “safety net,” but the VAR won’t overturn unless it’s a disaster”, so they stick with the original call, even if they would have taken another decision independently.

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The last injection of hope into the team and the crowd happened when Saka was reintroduced on the pitch and Myles Lewis-Skelly finaly appeared in midfield. Bukayo completely changed the vibe on the right, but his shooting boots are still missing. The ref added 7 minutes, and we had the biggest chance of the lot—a 4-v-2 counter. Gyökeres managed to screw up the pass and find an opponent’s leg instead of his two wide-open teammates.

He had half the pitch to find a teammate, yet he hit a Newcastle defender. That’s criminal execution. Any player in this Arsenal squad should be making that pass in their sleep, even if it’s not ideal. In a title race, that’s just not acceptable, just like Havertz’s misses at the Etihad.

I was fuming—we’re level on points with City and it’s likely going down to goal difference. To not take the chance to improve it when you’ve led for 81 minutes is a failure in my book. But the manager? He had a completely different reaction.

That celebration at the final whistle was a utter disgrace and an embarrassment! It shows you exactly the level of ambition this manager has. A 1-0 win was the bare minimum to stay in contention for the title. Not to stake a claim, not to get an edge in the race, just to stay in it, because one City win puts them back on top. Why is he celebrating achieving the bare minimum like he’s won the league? Why are we celebrating just “staying in contention”?

Winning 1-0 today is like scraping an away draw in a Champions League first leg. You’re still in it, but there’s a mountain to climb. Why didn’t Arteta celebrate like this after a 1-1 in Leverkusen? I don’t believe for a second this is the celebration of a man who set up in half time a goal for a team to be 3-0 up at the final whistle.

Newcastle were poor in execution and gave us plenty of chances on the break. They’re 14th in the table, for crying out loud, and they are playing like a mid-table team! Everyone’s forgotten that this was the only game where we actually had a week’s rest. The next two league games have Atleti Madrid sandwiched in the middle. Fulham won’t be easy after a mid-week game, and West Ham are in a proper dogfight with Spurs to avoid the drop—they’ll fight until the last minute. This was our best chance to fix the goal difference and we bottled it.

When Arteta talked about the race “not being over” and it coming down to a “shoot-out,” I thought he understood we needed goals. These celebrations tell me he’s not ready to take a risk. He’s planning to crawl over the line in every game and pray City drop points. And the fans saying they’re “happy with the win” are really in the same boat!

For how long will this manager, the fans and this club put the title hopes into Man City do us a favor? How about we take matters into our own hands? Imagine if they went into their next game knowing they had to win by three to keep up—that puts them under proper pressure and might force them to open up and be punished by the opponents.

I hear people saying “we aren’t a high-scoring side” or “we’re in bad form and you can’t expect the team to suddenly start scoring”. Sorry, but when you lose to Bournemouth and then at the Etihad, you lose the right to just “grind it out.” Not using home games to build goal difference is basically handing the title to City. And let’s not pretend that “they might struggle as well”. We all know Pep can easily rattle off 5 wins in a row during the run-in.

Arteta’s celebration shows he wants to play it safe with this low-risk rubbish and hope City slip up. This safe, low-margin football got us to lose all the points lead in 2026, so it clearly doesn’t work. We need to be more risky, more aggressive, more creative. Less sideways passing and more taking the game through the middle.

But Arteta isn’t doing that. He’s stuck in this “safety-first” mindset, serving up uninspiring, low-chance football until the end of the season. He keeps playing Gyökeres, Martinelli, and Madueke together and can’t see the glaring problem. He’s used the same double pivot all season waiting until one of the midfielders drops dead. He’s turned sideways build-up to get a ball to the winger on the rouchline into a religion because it’s the least dangerous area to lose the ball.

It’s frustrating because I don’t see a manager who understands he has to grab this last vanishing chance for a first league title. The players, at least, didn’t seem to share his level of joy.

They put everything in on the pitch and mostly just looked gackered. They weren’t ecstatic because they know the state of the leage table. I reckon the gaffer has drilled these safety-first rules so deep into their heads that they’re scared to take a risk. That’s why I’d really like to see this group under a different manager— I believe there’s a level of creativity in them just waiting to be unlocked.

To be clear, it wasn’t a bad result. It was the bare minimum that keeps us still on the back foot in the title race. And the bare minimum shouldn’t be celebrated like that. Shaking hands, feeling a bit of relief? Fair enough. That’s what I mostly saw on the players’ faces.

On Wednesday, however, it’s going to be a completely different story. It helps a lot that we play the first leg away from home. We don’t need to think about scoring and creativity, we can just deploy this exhausting style of football that keeps opponents at bay and takes the life out of them. We can sit deep, we can pass sideways and wait for them to come at us and open up the gaps in the back. Two holding midfielders? Why not.

And we can exploit these gaps with Gyokeres, who is definitely set for a start at Wanda Metropolitano. My hopes for goal scoring until the rest of the season lie on the shoulders of Eze and Saka if he finally manages to take back former control of his legs and the body. But not necessarily on Wednesday, on Wednesday it would be a one last time where “Artetaball” might actually be the right shout.

It came as no surprise that City went top of the table on Wednesday. It was always going to be a tall order for them to slip up after that massive win at the Etihad against Arsenal. But, there was a glimmer of hope in their narrow 1-0 win. Honestly, it gave us plenty of encouragement for a few reasons.

1. City aren’t the force of nature they were two or three years back, when games were usually over by half-time and 4-0 or 3-0 thrashings were the norm. This makes them far more likely to drop points between now and the end of the season.

2. Goal difference is back in play. If they couldn’t run up the score against Burnley, their upcoming fixtures won’t be any easier. I’ve got zero faith in Crystal Palace or Aston Villa to do us a favour in the final two gameweeks. By then, they’ll likely have sorted their own business or be focusing on European finals. But before that, City have to face Everton, Bournemouth, and Brentford. None of those will be a walk in the park—not for the result, and definitely not for goal difference.

This is our chance. The door is ajar, but we need to kick it down. Our next two games are at home against Newcastle and Fulham, and we need to hit the ground running. No time for messing about. We need to be on their throats from the first whistle. If we’re serious about this title charge, we need to be six points and at least five goals better off by the time the Fulham game ends. That’s what will make the squad truly believe this title isn’t wrapped up yet.

And the first step is tomorrow against Newcastle. We have to approach this game with the same level of aggression we brought against City. Newcastle have historically been a nightmare for us, but the time for whining and excuses died at the Etihad. We need to treat them like just another opponent to slay in front of our home crowd.

We know exactly how Newcastle will set up against us: two compact lines of defence, tight spaces, a scrap in midfield, and relying on quick counters, likely through young Osula. To break them down, we need to field players who thrive in tight spaces and can turn physical battles into technical ones, drawing fouls and creating chances. We’ve tried the ‘outmuscle them’ the ‘outduel them’ approach before; it simply doesn’t work. We need to outdribble them.

For me, the attacking setup is clear. Declan Rice should be the sole anchor in the number 6 role (with Norgaard as a backup if needed). Ahead of Declan, we need the creative four: Trossard, Eze, Odegaard, and Saka, with Havertz leading the line. If Saka isn’t fit, get Max Dowman in there.

This front five can be lethal when they link up. All four (minus Havertz) are silky operators who can hold the ball under pressure, and they can become experts at winning penalties or drawing fouls in dangerous areas for Uncle Declan to step up. I don’t want to hear any of this Zubimendi nonsense. He’s not elite at line-breaking passes, physical dominance, or aerial duels. At the moment, he just offers Rice a bit of help with the dirty work and is more secure on the ball than some of our defensive minded players, but that’s it.

We don’t have time for half-ass measures. The cautious, low-risk football we’ve endured just to grind out results has brought us to the level with City, who now have all the momentum. The results haven’t justified the means, and it’s time to bin that approach.

Our only real title push, where we took it to the final day and were ready to pip City on goal difference (should they have dropped points), was the 23/24 season. That was the year we battered Chelsea 5-0, were 3-0 up at half-time at the ‘Toilet Bowl’, put six past West Ham, and destroyed Brighton 3-0 away. That approach yielded 89 points and 91 goals. That’s the only way we look like champions, so it’s high time we revert to it before it’s too late.

Nothing screams ‘title challenge’ like a Rice, Eze, and Odegaard midfield. Plus, if the ‘magic five’ upfront gets us a comfortable lead, we can bring on the pace of Martinelli and Gyokeres to pile on the misery in the final minutes when Newcastle tire and open up.

If you look at Newcastle’s last 10 away games, they’ve shipped plenty—they let in 3+ against both City and Liverpool.

There is absolutely nothing in those stats to suggest we can’t put a few past them, provided we stop playing like we’re afraid of the ‘mighty Newcastle’ myth. Treat them like the 14th-placed side they are—a team with the 14th-worst conceded goals by the way—coming to a title challenger’s backyard. They deserve a proper spanking.

Tomorrow evening, we’ll see if all that talk about ‘the race not being over’ from Rice, Odegaard, and Arteta was just hot air or the real deal!

Arteta’s starting line-up was, on the whole, pretty solid (Eze at left wing, Odegaard at 10, Havertz at 9). The only genuine question mark was Madueke on the right. He has been rather ineffective recently in attack. Even his adventurous, albeit purposeless, runs which previously took a toll on defenders seem to have stayed in the first half of the season. Critically, he is not a defensive engine, and the goal conceded against Bournemouth last weekend confirmed this statement. I would have much preferred Martinelli if the goal was to track O’Reilly, or Max Dowman, if we wished to take the bull by the horns and try to accommodate his defensive flaws.

The first half proved my point. Madueke was simply not mentally up for a match of this caliber and responsibility. He tracked back a couple of times, yes, but in the final third, he completely failed to get his act together. To be fair, the opening minutes were nervy from both sides. Raya miscontrolled a simple back pass, Haaland pounced like a hawk, and we were mere centimeters away from falling apart like a house of cards. This mistake really riled up the City crowd, pushing their team right into our box, where a deflection off Gabriel saw the ball hit the post and luckily bounce back out.

Slowly, we did manage to claw back some control. In fact, we pressed them well and won the ball back high up the pitch three or four times. City were also highly nervous, but we failed to capitalize because every time a player found themselves near their box, they entirely lacked composure. Eze’s pass put Havertz clean through (into a potentially offside position), but Kai’s control was as poor as Raya’s—just kicking the ball a meter ahead for no good reason.

The only player who showed any measure of composure on the ball was Eberechi Eze. Our number 10 was typically calm, perhaps too calm, but capable of turning with the ball, dribbling past City players, and generally being in full control of his feet. The problem was that Eze was deployed on the left wing, limiting his ability to influence our whole build-up. Odegaard, despite a decent showing for someone returning from injury, was simply not at the required fitness level to properly run the show.

Guardiola had prepared several solutions to unlock our defense. One involved Cherki, who was practically moving freely across the pitch, creating overloads in different areas for which we had no proper answer. Apparently, Gabriel was tasked with tracking him, and at times he ended up far too high up the pitch when attempting to stop Cherki from turning with the ball, as seen in the image below. (I apologise for the quality of the screenshots in this post, but quality images are hard to come by on short notice).

At other times, no one was tracking his runs at all. I thought this would fall to someone in the number 6 zone like Rice, since anyone who follows City a bit and watched the Carabao Cup final knows that Cherki is their most dangerous player. Semenyo has been out of form lately, and Doku is not exactly a model of consistency. But Cherki has the ability, and more importantly, the arrogance, to simply run at any defense. The first warning shot came on the 15th minute, when Cherki received the ball unchallenged outside the box and dribbled his way into it before hitting the ball straight into Saliba’s leg.

And, as is the way of football, in the second identical attempt, he dribbled his way from the exact same starting position right into our bottom right corner. 0-1, again inside the first 20 minutes at the Etihad. How on earth did we allow him several times to receive the ball facing the goal and have a run at us? Shouldn’t there have been an instruction to track him at all times and deny him the chance to start his run? How could the manager, who is supposedly super attentive to every little detail, let this happen? We have a physically dominant midfield that should enforce that physicality before allowing technically gifted players to have their way. The most frustrating part of all was that this wasn’t even his first try.

Cherki’s goal again clearly demonstrated our real lack of players who can take matters into their own hands in the final third. We had thought Saka would be that player for us, but he stopped being that after the hamstring surgery. The only one who has demonstrated this ability in recent weeks was Eze. I know many were angry at him for avoiding the challenge for the ball that led to Cherki’s goal. I don’t think he was in a position to win that challenge though This was probably a reflex from his Palace days and he can definitely improve there, but I don’t believe his action was decisive in the goal.

It was a proper kick in the nuts, but only a minute later Donnarumma returned the favour to City’s fans by failing to handle the ball under pressure from Havertz. The German blocked his kick-away, and the ball headed straight into the net. We were somewhat lucky, because even a blocked ball could easily have gone wide of the goal.

The biggest benefit of this goal was exposing City’s nerves and their vulnerabilities. Instead of letting ourselves dwell on the inevitability of the Etihad defeat, this moment gave a real boost of belief to everyone. The game did calm down afterwards, but City kept asking us questions.

Guardiola’s second piece of preparation was designed to pull our defense out of shape: Haaland would vacate his centre-forward position to drop deep and receive the ball, while another player (Bernardo Silva in the image below) would make a run to attack our defenders at full speed.

This is not an easy situation for a centre-back to handle, because if you leave your position and fail to block Haaland’s pass, you give the opponent a high way to goal. If you don’t, you risk being overloaded by both players. Rice managed to drop back and block the shot, but it was clear that Guardiola had done his homework. He prepared multiple ways to pull us out of shape.

What frustrates me as an Arsenal fan is that we never arrive to play against big teams with this type of movement, with any real attempt to trouble their defenders by dragging them out of their comfort zone. Every Arsenal player is so tied to their positions and functions. Wingers receive the ball close to the touchline, and Odegaard never makes those ‘second tempo’ runs into the box. Whenever Havertz drags a player with him, a teammate is rarely prepared to fill the newly created void.

We were supposed to see how Arsenal would respond to the successful 4-2-4 press that has been so effective for our opponents recently, starting with City. Predictably, Rice and Zubimendi offered little help in this regard, but dropping Odegaard deep and moving Eze offered two new options to beat the press. The problem is that even with these two options, we still didn’t play through the centre.

In the first situation, Eze is clearly open and Odegaard is positioned well to support the attack, yet Gabriel sends the ball sideways to Zubimendi.

In the second situation, Odegaard drops really deep to receive the ball, and instead of finding Eze with a vertical pass—giving him multiple options to continue the attack—he plays it sideways to Hincapie, a player not exactly known for his security under pressure. Hincapie put in an amazing defensive shift and joined our attacks throughout the whole match, and I have absolutely no complaints about him, but he’s not a technically secure player. He doesn’t have the feet to bypass the man-to-man press; he needs to be released into space to run.

The third thing that worked for Guardiola was Nico O’Reilly. First, he managed to get out with the ball in a situation like this.

Second, his constant runs from left-back into the left-eight zone were not even the slightest bit of surprise. Let’s be honest, after he practically decided the Carabao final in City’s favour, even Dowman’s nun knew he was going to bring a threat from that left-back position. And somehow, SOMEHOW, Arsenal was not fully prepared for it. In the first half, O’Reilly created a chance from this position.

And in the second, his run was decisive for the winning goal. He was completely alone in the middle of the pitch, and after passing the ball to Doku, he was again dropped in the box by Zubimendi (another decisive mistake in a overall subpar performance from the number 36) , from where he created the winning assist.

How could we be so unprepared to deal with the runs of the player who scored twice in the Carabao final? How could Arteta not have stressed this to every player on the right-hand side? How could he fail to give exact instructions on how to behave in each situation?

Martinelli replaced the non-productive Madueke at half-time, which was the right call, but somehow the team wasn’t properly instructed. I don’t know whether it was Zubimendi’s responsibility to close down O’Reilly (I suspect it was in this situation) or if Mosquera should have passed Doku over to Saliba and moved up, but the move was not executed. I wouldn’t believe for a single minute that Martinelli, if strictly instructed to track O’Reilly, would make a ‘head-off’ run forward. This was so damn frustrating, because it was so damn predictable. A clip on social media showed Odegaard pointing out O’Reilly moments before he received the ball, which was fantastic situational awareness from the captain, but it resulted in precisely zero action.

O’Reilly was again City’s Player of the Match and he practically dominated us completely. He didn’t give a sniff to any of our right wingers, and he was crucial to City’s attack and the winning goal. How could their young talent have such a strong outing, while half of our attacking players can’t properly compose themselves?

I saw the opinion that Gabriel should have blocked Haaland, but as you’ve witnessed in this match, in a high-calibre game, strikers will get their couple of chances. The question is whether they’ll take them. Haaland took his chance, while Havertz did not. In the middle of the second half, well before City’s second goal, after an interception in the middle of the pitch, we had a 4-v-3 counter-attack that was executed almost perfectly. Havertz received a superb chance to virtually bury City’s hopes of a win, and he failed to convert it.

This was a big moment in a big game—the kind that separates winners from runners-up, the best players from the very good ones, the ones that come down in history and are rewatched for years to come—and Havertz didn’t take it. This chance reminded every Arsenal fan exactly why we were begging for a striker for the last two seasons and searching for one last summer. Now we have Gyokeres, and we are in a situation where one of our strikers is a great finisher but lacks all the skills needed to get into a shooting position, while the other is great at link-up play and getting into dangerous positions, but he can’t keep his composure under pressure.

Also, how come Havertz always end up falling when he needs to shoot and the result is on the line?

The situation did not require falling on the ground at all, and I wouldn’t imagine the best strikers ending up there, but somehow Havertz is always on his way to the grass. He fell when attempting to score a rebound after Gabriel’s header hit the post. He fell to the ground after a push from Khusanov before he could run 1-on-1.

I think this could easily be blown as a foul in some circumstances, because Khusanov is not playing the ball, merely the man, and he’s clearly behind Kai. That said, somehow Havertz, despite his ability to win headers and shield the ball, always looks so unstable on his feet when running with it. And this impression of players being so unstable on their feet gives referees grounds to ignore these situations and not call for a foul.

Around the 78th minute, we had a massive opportunity for a 2-on-1 attack, but somehow Havertz failed to keep Bernardo Silva away from the ball. Despite being in front of him, despite practically holding Bernardo under the armpit like a hobbit, Havertz couldn’t shield him away. Just put your body between himself and the ball and be done! Either continue running or earn a red card for the opponent! It is immensely frustrating to see a number nine with such clear limitations.

We had another chance, however, to take an early lead when Eze, surrounded by two City defenders, turned around and sent a ball into the top-left corner with his left foot. This time City were truly lucky the ball didn’t find the net. This was our only chance of the game created entirely out of nothing.

What were Arteta’s actions following that? He took off Eze for Trossard after the City goal. How could you take off your most composed player in front of goal? How could you take off the only player who could turn around and dribble past two City players in the middle of the pitch? How could you take him off and leave Odegaard, who had clear fitness concerns, on the pitch? I had no problems with Odegaard’s performance by the way, but it was crystal clear that he couldn’t run up-and-down for 90 minutes.

And even if you wanted to keep Odegaard for his leadership, ball control, and positional awareness, there was a simple solution: take Zubimendi off, move Odegaard deeper (where he was most of the time anyway), and push Eze into the middle, closer to the box, from where he could threaten more often. It was so logical, and the most frustrating part was that Arteta later took Zubimendi off for Gyokeres, who was practically useless.

The only reason I can think of for Eze’s removal is his defensive flaws, but that was another confirmation of Arteta’s priorities when it comes to player purchasing and selection. No matter your creative output, the key is maintaining out-of-possession shape. How can a coach be thinking about defensive issues when we are losing 2-1? Why would he not leave his most dangerous players on the pitch? What else did we have to lose at that point?

Do you honestly think Salah was tracking back much and winning duels in 24/25? Hell no, but Slot kept him on the pitch because he was constantly scoring goals, and goals win you games and points. Moreover, Slot adjusted the defensive formation to ensure Mo stayed as far up the pitch as possible. How did Arteta accommodate Eze’s explosiveness? I didn’t notice any accommodation, but what I did notice was clear anger at his defensive mistakes.

And then we wonder why Arteta buys players who can’t consistently deliver goals or attacking threats in teh business end of the season? It’s because he doesn’t value this quality as much as he values the out-of-possession shape, winning duels, and tracking back. He would never sign someone like Cherki for that exact reason.

That substitution was the moment I lost belief we could equalise. You know why? Because none of our players have the mentality, calmness, and composure to decide a BIG game in a BIG moment. And to prove that statement, in injury time Havertz managed to send an open header wide after a beautifully carved out cross by Trossard. Head it down into any part of the goal and Donnarumma would have been helpless!

Another great chance missed, as well as the opportunity to make a statement in the title race. The most disappointing aspect of this game was that City were far from invincible. They didn’t have many successful ideas; they certainly didn’t have the Rodri and De Bruyne of old capable of totally running the midfield and the game.

We were nervous, but we didn’t crumble into pieces. There were periods in each half where they were the more aggressive team, creating more chances. Crucially, we created enough to come away with one or all three points. Our defenders put in a good shift, including Mosquera and White, who I think really stood up to the occasion.

But we lost because Arteta didn’t do his homework fully when it came to preparing for City.

1. The team gave Cherki, their most creative player, too much space and time, and we paid for it with the first conceded goal.

2. There was no constant solution to block O’Reilly’s runs, which were well known before the game, and we paid for it with the second conceded goal.

3. Arteta failed to recognise who was the most dangerous player in front of goal in a big moment, took Eze off the pitch, and we paid for it by failing to find a late equaliser.

These were three simple mistakes that could have easily been avoided. And the main person responsible for that is the manager, Mikel Arteta.

This was one of our stronger performances at the Etihad, but it still ended in defeat at a crucial moment, and now we are basically on the same number of points as City.

The title race is not over yet, because both teams can still lose points in the remaining games, as neither side is perfect. Even if they don’t lose, it will come down to goal difference, which is something we still control.

However, the problem is:

1. Momentum is now clearly with City—they will reduce the nine-point gap to zero in midweek when they play Burnley.

2. We are not currently a high-scoring team, so counting on a better goal difference is truly naive. Especially when we play teams like Newcastle, Fulham, or West Ham, who won’t just throw games away to us.

3. Despite the common belief that City’s calendar is harder, they don’t actually play any team with something major on the line. They don’t play any teams fighting for relegation; most of their opponents are confident mid-table sides, and Aston Villa have probably already guaranteed their Champions League spot with Chelsea being nine points behind. Whereas we actually play West Ham away, who are in a true dogfight with Spurs.

Therefore, the reality is that City, at this point, simply have higher chances. And it doesn’t matter that we played decently today, because we entered a “no-excuse zone” after we properly botched our position last Saturday at home against Bournemouth. Even a single point against the Cherries would have left us in the driver’s seat. That loss made today’s game a heroic “Do or Die” situation, and we failed to “Do it”. Arteta’s team failed to “Do it” once again, and at this moment it doesn’t matter why. At some point, a pattern must be recognised as a pattern and not just a series of explanations. And when a pattern is detected, it should be addressed with the necessary measures.

I am not throwing a towel on the season, but every such result shatters the belief Arteta’s Arsenal can deliver in critical moments. We wasted another chance to take the matter in our own hands, to slay the demons to elevate the mentality of this club into another level. And there won’t be many more chances left in this Arsenal iteration.

The starting XI raised a few eyebrows early doors, mostly regarding Zubimendi. Martin looked absolutely knackered over the weekend and was surely destined for a rest (since Arteta won’t dare start anyone else at the Etihad). Handing him another 90-minute shift in midweek felt like a proper wrong call, especially since both Rice and Zubimendi were on thin ice with yellow cards, risking a miss for the first leg of the semi-final.

It made perfect sense to throw Norgaard into the mix, but Arteta stuck with the lad who’s clocked the most minutes for the Gunners this term. His gamble paid off, though—fair play to him. The gamble came good because the boys came out with the exact energy we wanted to see on Saturday against Bournemouth. They were right on the front foot, pressing the life out of them, and Sporting couldn’t practically get out of their own half for the first 10 minutes. That’s exactly how a team in charge of their own destiny behaves on the pitch. I’ve seen this Arsenal side do this in big individual games over the last couple of seasons, and usually, when we start like that, we get the result we need.

And Zubimendi was right there, the heartbeat of the display. He was playing further up the pitch, which I reckon was a dress rehearsal for the Etihad, and a proper response after that frustrating Carabao Cup final loss. Instead of two midfielders on the same line who can’t turn with the ball, we had Rice sitting deep and Zubimendi higher up, stretching the opposition and allowing someone like Eze to drop in and help bust the press.

Gyok and Martinelli started, as I expected—becasue if they don’t start a Champions League game against Sporting, what’s the point of having them in the team for the run-in? Gyokeres, though, looked quite off it. It was against his old club and they probably know his drills well. But that’s no excuse for a poor performance; he couldn’t leave a mark, and the ball was just bouncing off him. He even wasted a couple of decent shooting sights. A truly drab showing.

Gabi Martinelli didn’t offer much in the final third, to be fair. But on three occasions, he practically bailed us out from a dangerous counter-attack. You can see him in the image below acting as our last man—and you know he came out on top in that duel.

While I don’t expect him to terrorize Man City’s defense, his knack for sniffing out counters and doing the hard yards in midfield could be also leveraged to our benefit at the Etihad.

The one who actually did the business at the far end of the pitch was Eberechi Eze. Our number 10 returned to the side and proved once again he’s the only one with truly world-class quality in our attack. When you look at the other Champions League quarter-finalists—when you look at Michael Olise, Kvaratskhelia, Lamine Yamal, or Dembele—you see that only Eze has that same level of composure and skill in the final third. I’d describe that level as the ability to create a threat out of thin air.

Right now, Eze is the only player who can really drive our attack. He showed some proper “Street Flair,” with some silky footwork. From the stands, it might look like Noni Madueke was doing the same, but the difference was huge: Eze did it to carve Sporting defnce up, while Noni just did it to show off. Unfortunately, it was another “look at me” performance from Madueke. I feel for him, as he was likely playing through an injury concern and badly twisted his leg in the second half. We need every body available for the run-in, but that performance isn’t simply good enough for a team chasing silverware this spring.

Despite our dominance, the two scariest moments actually came from Sporting. After all his great tracking back, Martinelli failed to spot the Sporting right-back raiding forward, who got into the box and sent the ball directly into the far post. Raya wasn’t in control of that one bit. But nearly-goals don’t count, so we kept trying to pick the lock.

The second chance came right at the start of the second half when Mosquera gave a silly nudge to a Sporting player in our box. It was a daft push because it could’ve easily been a penalty. It was soft and wouldn’t be normally given in the Premier League, but with VAR in slow motion, we all know how it looks. Mosquera can be brilliant for most of the game, but he always has a couple of shaky moments in him. Still, at full-back, those errors aren’t as fatal as when he’s at center-half.

Arteta then made some sensible second-half subs. He even brought Jesus back on, and while I don’t want to see him playing in our shirt anymore, it made sense to give Eze a breather. Let’s be real: if we’re going to any attacking threat at the Etihad, it’s going to happen through our number 10. No one else can knit the attack together or turn a half-chance into a goal. Saka and Odegaard have been out for weeks; they aren’t going to come in and save the day. At best, they’ve got 30 or 45 minutes in them, so we need Eberechi as fresh as possible for Sunday.

Besides Jesus, Havertz, Trossard, and Dowman got some minutes. It would’ve been practically a crime not to play Trossard at all, after he was a centerpiece of our exciting TIFO before the starting whistle.

The big worry with Max Dowman was whether he’d handle the physical battle against aggressive Portuguese players, especially since refs usually let fouls slide when a 16-year-old is getting knocked about by seniors (because they are supposed to, right?).

Max stood up to the challenge, but in such moments I do regret that we sent Ethan on loan to Marseille. While Max is the best at gliding past players, I think he can still be bullied off the ball when receiving it. Ethan really knows how to shield the ball using his body and quick feet, despite his smaller size, using the low center of gravity. I miss him, especially when I see these frustrating Madueke performances. Ethan gave us 10 goals from that position last year, and I reckon he’d have done it again in 25/26 if he had Noni’s minutes.

The closest we came to scoring was in the dying minutes when their keeper tried to be too clever and was almost caught out by Trossard and then Jesus.

Both times he was off his line predicting the future, and Leo was just centimeters away from punishing him. I wasn’t a fan of the heated row Arteta had with Trossard around the 86th minute. It looked, felt and smelled like micromanagement, and I’m sure a 30-year-old man doesn’t appreciate being spoken to like that. I’ll let it slide for now, provided this type of “spark” works on Sunday.

Right at the death, Sporting nearly snatched an equalizer. Total chaos in the box, and their man appeared with the goal at his mercy. My heart stopped, but luckily it flashed wide and the ref blew up having our ticket to the semi-final booked.

I don’t think it was a boring game—certainly not the “cotton candy” we saw against Bournemouth. It was a proper match, full of energy from both sides. We’re great at getting the ball to the edge of the area, but we struggle to turn that into real danger compared to other CL sides and I believe it’s down to our inferior individual attacking quality. Having only Eze is not enough; he needs a world-class partner. Kane is doing it with Olise, Musiala and Diaz. Dembele has Khvaratskhelia, Doue and Vitinha around him. Pre-injury Saka was that man, but it’s been a year since the surgery and I am starting to doubt he’ll ever be the same. Maybe Arteta’s intensity broke him and the subsequent surgery cost him that yard of pace, just like it clearly did with Ben White.

A detour in Spain

Watching Atleti vs Barca the night before left me in a weird spot as a fan. On one hand, Atleti gives us the best shot at the final because they aren’t exactly intricate in attack. But part of me felt that beating Barca in a semi-final would leave us better prepared—mentally and tactically—for a final against Bayern or PSG.

Barca are the weakest of the three because of that suicide high line. To be honest, as a Barca fan, I’d be fuming if my center-backs got sent off in both legs for the same tactical error. I’d be mad at a coach who can’t fix the problem. But playing against Barcelona would make us exposed to the highest level of individual attacking talent and the ability to deal with this talent could prepare us the most for the potential final.

In the end, Barca’s high line did them in, and we’ve got Atleti. The scoreline against Sporting didn’t scream confidence, but the performance and the aggregate result certainly did.

The Game On Sunday

I’ve said before: it’s mentally much easier heading to the Etihad as semi-finalists and league leaders against a team that’s already crashed out and sits 6 points behind. Even the disposition of both teams can be spun properly to give our players shots of confidence.

This is a defining game for the Arteta era. But before the line-up talk, here are my assumptions about the squad.

1. The long-term absentees—Saka, Odegaard, Timber—won’t play a big part. Hoping on them popping up and saving the day it’s just outirght naive. They’ve been out too long and their match fitness isn’t there. If they weren’t even on the bench Wednesday, they aren’t ready to start. In fact, Arteta already confirmed that Saka is going to fully miss the game.

2. Risking Timber on injections from the start is madness. We’ve got 7 massive games left. Why throw a player in and risk losing him for the season? Even if we lose to City, the title race isn’t dead, and the CL is still wide open. There is no logical need to go “all in” on Sunday.

3. Starting Gyokeres is basically shooting ourselves in the foot. He was mostly useless against the top half of the table and can’t hold up a long ball. We need every player to participate properly in the build-up. It has to be Havertz from the off, with Gyokeres coming on late to finish.

4. I struggle to see what Madueke gives us over Dowman, even if he’s a fit. He’s not great defensively, which was just proved last week-end against Bournemouth. Dowman is better connected with the rest of the team. And even Madueke’s individual raiding skills have evaporated recently. I can’t find a single reason to start him over Max.

Given all that, the team mostly picks itself. Keeper, center-back, and the midfield trio are locked in (anyone calling for unfit Odegaard over Eze right now is having a laugh), and Havertz at 9. That leaves 4 spots on the wings/full-backs.

1. I’d start Mosquera over White. Mosquera is “cruise control” defender; he asdjusts to the level of whoever he’s up against—whether it’s Doku or Jimmy Red-Socks from Sunday Pub League that works down the street. He might let Duoke past twice in game, but I’d take that over White, who looks like a ticking time bomb. If Timber can give us a half, bring him on later to steady the ship.

2. From a defensive and energy-charging point of view, Hincapie at left-back makes sense. That said, Gabriel looks better with a technical partner like Calafiori (opponents know Gabriel and Hincapie will just hoof it away under pressure), but I wouldn’t start Calafiori right from the nurse’s table. He can always be that secret weapon we unleash if we are chasing a goal.

3. On the right wing, start Dowman. I don’t think he either can or should be tracking O’Reilly all game; we can shift our pressing shape to have Dowman be in the front line of 4-4-2 and have Havertz or Zubimendi or Rice fill in his place in the right midfield. Having Max, Eze, and Havertz gives us a real chance to hurt them.

4. If we’re concerned about Dowman’s defensive output, we start Martinelli on the left and have him drop deep as a wing-back, allowing the back four to shift and cover the potential threat coming from the right side.

If I’m guessing, Arteta will push Timber from the start even if he’s 60% fit. He’ll probably start Trossard left and Martinelli right because he doesn’t trust Noni or Max defensively. We also need to see his answer for the City 4-2-4 press, but as I’ve alluded before, I reckon we’ll go 4-1-2-3. Rice deep, Eze as a roaming 8 to break the press, and Havertz as the target man for the long ball.

But having said all that, the principal question before Sunday is how Arteta is planning to address this game from a strategic point of view. He has two ways to set up the team. He can either set up to block City’s lanes and grind out a boring 0-0 like in 23/24, or play aggressively, press high and create chances like we did in the first 45 of 24/25 before Trossard was sent off.

If we go defensive and lose, the belief in the league title will be shattered into pieces. Even with a draw we won’t be out of the woods; with a 3-point lead, we need to keep winning. For a team that mostly knows how to defend it will be hard to believe they can go on a needed winning streak.

But if we go for it—even if we lose because, let’s say, we created several great chances but Donnarumma had a worldie— neither fans nor players can’t get really frustrated. Moreover, players can take this performance, sugar coat it with exceptional keeper performances and build on top of it the upcoming games against Newcastle, Fulham and West Ham.

From the mentality perspective, the defense-first approach is always much harder. If you bet on your defense, the players understand that every mistake can be fatal, so their mind is exclusively focused on avoiding them. They make their decisions based on such mentality, they stop being creative, they avoid taking initiative, and the nerves start to creep in with every additional ounce of opponent pressure. You might recognize some of the Arsenal games you watched, maybe even a certain Cup final at the end of March.

But if you take risks and create chances, you always believe the next one will go in. Bravery puts doubt in the opponent’s mind, the doubts about their own abilities start to creep in.

City aren’t perfect; they’ve buckled under pressure a couple of times this season, with the last example being against Real.

For me, the choice between styles is clear: have a go at them, there are simply more benefit doing that. Bravery is rewarded and it will also be observed by every one of our future opponents. And to close the argument —do you really think we can keep a clean sheet at the Etihad after conceding two against Bournemouth and Southampton lately?

This is the moment to slay the demons and all you fears. Make your mark. Take control. Materialize your desire for trophies into actual results. We’re top of the league for a reason—we’ve been the most consistent (or least flawed) side over the course of the season. Now it’s time to act like it.

Arteta has talked a lot about fire before Sporting and I saw that fire on the pitch from the first minute. Will he manage to keep that fire burning for the trip up North and light up the boys again?

As expected, City have absolutely leathered Chelsea, leaving not a shadow of a doubt they are truly up for this title tilt. It’s happened a fair few times now, and it’s crystal clear they get a massive confidence boost the second they see us shit our pants. It wasn’t just the scoreline; the analytics tell the story of a City absolutely dominating the match and having a proper go at Chelsea. A fighting spirit that was not just lacking, but completely absent from our recent miserable outing against Bournemouth.

I deliberately avoided watching the game. I’ve seen this movie too many times before and simply didn’t need to subject myself to the same level of crushing frustration. The only route I see to City dropping points is if we are still mathematically level and they play first. Whenever they get a whiff of our recent struggles and failures, they won’t let up—Guardiola has the knack of spinning our misfortune into a brilliant performance from his lads.

That’s something our gaffer can’t seem to manage with the same effectiveness. He can’t keep broadcasting the same worn-out messages about “journey” and “history” again and again; it only works so many times. Sometimes, you just need to focus on simply besting the opposition you are facing and getting back to the fundamentals of the beautiful game.

The biggest question bubbling up online regarding the Sporting tie is simple: what’s should be the approach to player selection? Do we prioritise the big clash at the Etihad at all costs and rest a few key lads? Or do we flog the same horses two times a week to grind out a result?

My strong conviction is that we simply must prioritise winning the Sporting fixture and sending out a starting XI that screams it. There are two possible mindsets with which we can roll up to the Etihad. The first scenario sees us as Champions League semi-finalists (a feat City haven’t managed for two years), meaning that even if we take a beating there, we still have the biggest prize in European football to go for. The second leaves us with only the Premier League, with the possibility of having tossed away all our chances in four competitions in the space of four miserable weeks. Guess which state of mind will be easier for the players, and which won’t see them completely lose the plot? The answer is obvious: we need to focus solely on the Sporting game, because, let’s be honest, only a home win gives us a prayer of getting anything at the Etihad.

Naturally, this doesn’t mean we should be throwing in players who are only just back from the treatment table. Saka, Timber, Calafiori, and Odegaard should all start among the substitutes, if they are deemed fit. Potentially Hincapie and Eze, too, because, and let’s be frank, Eberechi didn’t look particularly ready on Saturday.

The starting eleven should be similar to the last couple of games, save for a few significant tweaks. Mosquera should certainly come in for White, who hasn’t exactly covered himself in glory recently, either defensively or in the build-up play. Zubimendi simply has to sit this one out; throwing him straight in from the off would be outright idiotic. It’s clear as day that Arteta wouldn’t risk Norgaard at the Etihad, so making Zubimendi clock more minutes and expecting a different outcome would be… well, I think I’ve made my point. Therefore, Norgaard must be paired alongside Rice in the heart of the engine room.

I fully expect Gyokeres and Martinelli to get the nod, as they’ve been decent in Europe and, let’s be frank, they will be useless against City. Unless we need to bag a penalty, Gyokeres is not going to help us. His displays against the top half have been barren all season, and it would be pure naivety to think the Etihad clash will be any different.

Which leaves us with the right winger and the number 10 position. I wouldn’t feature Eze from the start (saving him for a second-half introduction), but I would absolutely throw Max Dowman in for one of those two attacking berths. Havertz playing as the attacking midfielder has resulted in three defeats on the row, so I absolutely do not want to see that experiment repeated. Furthermore, we will need him as a proper number 9 against City, given his ability to hold up the play well up top.

With such a dearth of fit attacking options, we are left with two options: Dowman in the number 10 role with Madueke out on the right (and the faintest hope that he might actually turn up this time). Or, Dowman on the right flank, and in the attacking midfield role, none other than… Leo Trossard. Now, just hear me out: Sporting are almost certain to replicate the tactical masterplan Guardiola used to choke us at Wembley, which Iraola copied just two days ago. They will press our second line of build-up with four men, leaving the key trio of Gabriel, Saliba, and Raya to essentially play with themselves.

To properly break that pattern, we need a number 10 capable of turning sharply with the ball under pressure deep in midfield, potentially swapping with Rice, who can take a longer pass from Raya and hold the ball. In terms of sheer skill (and specifically, the ability to turn quickly and dictate play), Trossard is the closest match we have to Eze and I don’t believe it’s right to pile the pressure on the 16-year-old with the task of beating the opposition press. Last season, when Odegaard was sidelined, Trossard was used in that position with some degree of success. I know Trossard has been utterly rubbish for weeks, if not months, but maybe the Champions League anthem will inspire him for one last passionate dance.

Sporting will definitely turn up for a fight—a semi-final could define their entire season, and we haven’t forgotten them knocking us out of the Europa League four years back. It won’t be a walk in the park. It’s still going to be the same fine-margin, turgid football, full of physical battles and cagey duels. We are still going to measure in the lab and microdose any risky play and chance creation following strict prescriptions from Doctor Mikel.

But at least I hope that the mentality factor is not going to affect us much and the nerves are going to be under control. To be honest, the pressure in the Champions League doesn’t feel quite as suffocating. We’ve never won the bloody thing, even in our strongest years, so there’s no real shame or room for mockery if we fall short. We’ve only reached the semis three times in our history, so the lads have no reason to play with the handbrake on.

I don’t reckon this side, in its current state, has what it takes to win the final. Any team emerging from the tougher side of the bracket won’t be losing sleep over Arsenal after what they’ve been through. That said, if Atleti can do Barcelona, we’ve got a fighting chance of wrestling our way through to the final. Simeone’s lot aren’t exactly known for scrupulous attack build-up against a well-drilled unit, either. It could become our only second final in history, but to get there we need to outwrestle the Portuguese first.

Old man yells at an article

Before diving into a depressive aftertaste, I must first take aim at a BBC article published this week. I was disappointed with most of the statements there, and particularly with the decision-making process at our club. If Sami Mokbel has put this out on the BBC, he’s likely well-informed on the club’s inner workings, with information sourced from the top brass, and thus it must be taken seriously. I’ll extract the key quotes and give my two cents.

“From the ownership and club’s perspective, extending Arteta’s deal is what they want - and the manager is also keen to commit.”

Simply put, the club ownership wants to extend his deal regardless of how the season pans out. They haven’t considered what happens if we land ZERO silverware. They’re keen to commit anyway, probably banking on us mounting a title challenge every year and the sweet sound of Champions League revenue flowing endlessly.

I’m here to burst their bubble: if we bottle the Premier League this year, there will be no title charge in 26/27. The players will lose all genuine belief in Arteta. Where is that belief supposed to come from? Another tactical whiteboard session or ‘important learning’ isn’t going to cut it. If we managed to blow a pure six-point lead with just seven games left, where exactly do we need to be to actually clinch it? And all this is happening in a season without a proper giant steamrolling the competition. What happens if Liverpool or Man United finally get their act together next term?

The worst part is that they jumped the gun and prolonged Arteta’s contract prematurely five years ago, only to watch us bottle the top-four spot soon after. The call to keep Arteta was probably justified, but the contract renewal clearly did little to help achieve the season’s objectives.

“Arteta is understood to want assurances that the club remain committed to providing the level of backing that has kept the team competitive.”

So, Arteta is demanding massive investment in the squad, despite failing to win any major silverware to date? The spending is fantastic for the faithful, but it begs the question: why are the board so determined to keep him? The financial argument just doesn’t stack up here. I get it; during Wenger’s ‘youth era,’ the board was ecstatic because, for minimal outlay, Arsène delivered Champions League football year after year. That balance shifted in his last ~5 years, with costly signings failing to deliver UCL football, and he was eventually shown the door. With Arteta, however, they are ploughing in constant, massive investment (~250 mln spent only on expanding the squad last year) and are getting no easy returns.

“There will also be the issue of what will be an upgraded remuneration package for Arteta.

Only the salaries of Pep Guardiola (£20m) and Diego Simeone (£25m) are understood to eclipse Arteta’s existing contract in European football.If Arteta does put pen to paper, how much closer he gets to Guardiola and Simeone in terms of pay will be a key question.”

I’m sorry, but paying Arteta the same coin as Guardiola is frankly embarrassing when their pedigrees aren’t even in the same conversation. You’ve got Flick winning La Liga, Luis Enrique clinching the Champions League (though I reckon his wage should be top-three too), Kompany building arguably one of the world’s best sides. How, pray tell, should Arteta be on this level of remuneration with just a solitary FA Cup in his locker so far?

“At present, it appears the club will listen to offers for top England prospects Myles Lewis-Skelly and Ethan Nwaneri. Arsenal sources indicate they would look to recoup a minimum combined £100m”

And then we come to the issue of two exceptional young prospects. I appreciate they aren’t first-team fixtures right now, but both of these boys possess special qualities.

Myles boasts an unbelievable level of confidence and the mental fortitude to play at the Santiago Bernabeu at 18 years old and look completely unfazed, even netting against Man City and mimicking Haaland’s celebrations. Granted, his game needs improvement—he’s been figured out to an extent—but you simply cannot buy that top-level mentality off the street, as today’s match painfully demonstrated. To take his game up a notch, he needs a loan spell at a club where he can be a virtual first-team regular. A place where he can learn from his inevitable mistakes by playing, not by being benched. I’m confident he’s close to cracking it.

Ethan, on the other hand, is blessed with an unbelievable skill set—his knack for dribbling, his ability to hold the ball under Premier League-level pressure, his potent shot, and his capacity to fashion chances for himself. This is a rare commodity in the current Arsenal senior squad, so we can’t just keep handing out talent like this. Ethan’s current flaw is actually his concentration and consistency. He can go completely missing for spells, which is entirely normal for an 18-year-old. He just needs to mature and, once again, a loan move could be hugely beneficial.

But shifting him on for 50-60 million? To spend on who? We splashed 50 million on Madueke and I believe Ethan’s ceiling is considerably higher. Every player purchase is a gamble, and I don’t think it’s worth swapping a player who has already bagged 9 goals a season for another who might score diddly-squat.

All the decision-making exposed by this article has left me genuinely anxious, and the hope was that a win against Bournemouth would calm the nerves. Yeah, sure.

The Bournemouth game

Timber and Saka were still missing, plus Calafiori and Odegaard added to the list of injured after Sporting, so Arteta had limited options when it came to team selection. But “not much choice” is not equal to “no choice”. Arteta went with a front three of Madueke, Gyokeres, and Martinelli, with Havertz operating as a “floating number 10”, leaving Dowman and the returning Eze on the bench.

From the first whistle, it was abundantly clear that this setup wasn’t going to click. We’ve seen the Madueke, Gyokeres, and Martinelli front three deployed numerous times this season, and every single time it has been an attacking catastrophe for fairly obvious reasons.

Madueke is a great dribbler, but he’s disconnected from the team’s structure—he’ll take on his man, but there’s no systematic flow when attacks are built through him. Gyokeres needs a very specific kind of delivery in the Premier League. He can’t conjure up chances for himself and rarely comes out on top in a physical battle with top-flight centre-halves, so he requires precisely timed passing to find his runs. Martinelli, too, is better when he’s the one taking the final (or penultimate) action, but he isn’t great at knitting together complex moves to unlock a defence. He’s been thoroughly underwhelming in the Premier League, likely because the division has sussed out his game. (Though, if he puts in a run like the one against Sporting, most defenders won’t lay a glove on him, so it still remains a confidence issue).

To make these three tick, you need a mercurial creator, a genuine dirigent who can link the whole lot together and put chances on a plate for them. Rice and Zubimendi were never going to be that, and Havertz is hardly a creator, as his heat map proves (almost no activity in the middle of the park).

Havertz is an enabler; he reads the space well and knows exactly when to overload a zone to receive the pass and create threat from there. But he needs to receive that pass from someone, and that person was absent today. You can see for yourself just how utterly disconnected our front four was.

The sensible choice, given the available personnel, would have been to start Max Dowman (either on the right flank or as a number 10 alongside Havertz) and introduce Eze off the bench for his fit minutes. Yet, that choice was only obvious to someone who isn’t faint-hearted about throwing a teenager into the Premier League fray, to someone whose primary focus is how to break down the opposition, not how to defend against them. What is the earthly point of constantly backing the same senior players who supposedly don’t “take unnecessary risks” but are utterly toothless when it comes to carving out a chance?

The game unfolded at a pedestrian, snail’s pace and was riddled with schoolboy errors from our side—misplaced 10-metre passes, players giving up possession cheaply, and an inability to beat a man one-to-one. This was never going to be enough to worry a seasoned outfit like Bournemouth.

And, naturally, the seasoned side were the ones to break the deadlock. Madueke switched off and didn’t track his runner (that ‘trusted senior’ decision-making again), White wasn’t alive to the danger and didn’t adjust his position, our back line was sliced open with a single pass and the rest is history.

When opposition players enter the 18-yard box with such a clear run, sometimes nothing can be done to stop the ball from hitting the 7 meter wide goal.

Given the disconnect up front, it was obvious the only way to genuinely trouble Bournemouth was to ramp up the pace, the intensity, and the sheer aggression of our play. However, that proved to be a pipe dream. Martinelli was utterly dreadful; he couldn’t beat his man for love nor money (after that spectacular assist in midweek, no less). Madueke was shocking, not linking up with anyone and failing to even create chances via his own skills (which is usually his bread and butter).

Zubimendi was abysmal. At this stage of the season, I struggle to fathom what he actually brings to the table. Rice covers acres of grass and offers a massive physical presence in the engine room; his key job is stopping dangerous counters, and he’s pretty good at it. So what is Zubimendi contributing? No exquisite defensive shift, no line-breaking passes, no control of the tempo, no consistently beating the press, no 40-metre vertical passes (like the ones Norgaard delivers sometimes). The only moments I recall Zubimendi for are when he pops up in or around the box to score or chip in with a cheeky assist. That is simply not enough for a starting central midfielder, especially in a game where goal contributions don’t happen.

City targeted on Zubimendi with their high press and he had zero answers; Bournemouth wisely chose to replicate this tactic and it worked a treat. I’d rather see Norgaard instead of him or Rice paired with two attacking midfielders right now, as I’m genuinely struggling to see the Spaniard’s input.

With the attack failing to click, our threat—predictably—came from set pieces. In these situations, the team’s imposing average height is a clear advantage, so it’s no wonder and shame that we look to use it to our benefit. Havertz came agonisingly close to levelling the score, and there were a couple more dangerous moments, until in one of the box scrambles Gabriel hit Christie’s hand to earn us a penalty.

These moments are always tricky—on the one hand, we weren’t gaining any real disadvantage from the handball, but on the other, by the letter of the law, the defender is blocking the ball’s path. Oliver, the usual whipping boy for the Gunners faithful, pointed straight to the spot, and VAR had no grounds of overturning it.

This felt like a gift, as the penalty wasn’t awarded for stopping a clear-cut chance; it was just plain carelessness from a Bournemouth player. Havertz took the ball and my heart sank for a moment. I wanted to shout “why not Rice?” only to remember that we have Gyokeres on the pitch, exactly for this type of job.

Viktor did not disappoint. His ferocious strike was executed in the finest traditions of a penalty from Alan Shearer or Harry Kane, when the shot-stopper simply had no chance, even if they guessed the direction. Whatever flak I’ve given the Swede, his mental strength in such a critical moment is truly commendable. And it was truly critical - we were not getting a goal from open play and converting this chance was a matter of giving us chances of winning the game.

The score stood at 1-1, offering Arsenal and Arteta the chance to genuinely turn this into a victory in the second half. Our standout performer on the pitch was, surprisingly, Myles Lewis-Skelly (the source of most pre-game concerns). But hark back to what I told you about his mentality - the title is on the line and he was the one of the few to keep his calm under pressure and not fail at simple passes.

The logical call at the interval would have been to chuck on Dowman and Trossard right after the break, as our flanks were just dead. Arteta didn’t bite, however; he watched another 8 minutes of this cotton candy and made a triple substitution, bringing on Eze as well. I genuinely believed that this injection of creativity would allow them to take control of the ball and the game…

How wrong I was! We were treated to another half of the same. Trossard was a bit better at keeping the ball, Eze was a touch better at escaping their press, but it was still miles off the required standards. Dowman felt disconnected. To make matters worse, David Raya (one of the more stable elements of the first half) started to pull off heart-in-mouth moments. Twice he was mere centimetres away from handing the opposition a clear-cut chance in a situation that absolutely didn’t require it.

Bournemouth were simply the better side; they were consistently snuffing out our attacks in the middle third, and all our threat still came from set pieces. They, however, executed a perfectly traditional combination which involved “hold-up play” and a runner (who, Zubimendi, of course failed to track and stop) to enter into the box.

2-1 in the 70th minute and it was completely unclear where we were supposed to take resources from to turn this around. All our best players were on the pitch but they looked like they played only a few times together. Arteta threw in Jesus instead of Zubimendi (a laughable candidate, to be honest) and Gyokeres even had a chance to equalise at the death. He fluffed his shot, but I would still back him over others, given that he calmly converted a 1-on-1 earlier in the game that was ruled out due to an offside.

By the final whistle, it became clear that the foundational problem is not the personnel, the tactics, or the preparation for the opponent. The problem was squarely a mental one - it was a proper bottle job from the first to the last whistle. Most of the players simply couldn’t handle the pressure of such a crucial result in the title race. There was zero belief, no confidence, and certainly no intention to seize the game by the scruff of the neck.

And it all stems from the manager. You’ve got 15 players out there, all with different character, mental toughness, and ability to cope with pressure. But the manager sets the mental baseline for the team from which the variation starts. Our baseline given by Arteta is pretty low.

I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve heard Gunners fans moan about how tough it is to compete with Man City in a title race because they can effortlessly string together the required win run. That doesn’t happen by chance - it happens because Guardiola has instilled a pretty high mental baseline. Whenever the title was on the line, they were coming out with the aggression, with the entitlement, with the belief they are better than the opponent.

City’s strategy carried the risk that if they didn’t score in the first half, they usually conceded from a counter, but it rarely ended up in a point loss. Whenever City lost points, it was because the opponent managed to miraculously defend the box and convert the rare counter attacks into goals. Not when they are simply an equal or worse team on the pitch in the low-chance game.

The biggest marker of our complete mental disarray was that Gabriel came to play the last 10 minutes as a second striker and was one of the likeliest to score a goal. Gabriel is not the calmest player, but he demonstrated the intention to take the responsibility and the matter in his own hands. There were a couple more - MLS, Gyokeres with his penalty. I don’t have many complaints about Declan Rice - Bournemouth was not cutting through midfield, his corners were precise, his shots from outside of the box were the most dangerous. His main responsibility is not to string the attack together and there was no one to take this responsibility. But 4 players out of a dozen is simply not enough.

I detest reading or hearing opinions “we are close to going 12 points away in the league”. Every time we were close to going X points away - before Liverpool, Wolves or today - we fail to capitalise on it, because the manager doesn’t broadcast the confidence to do it, he can’t mentally condition his team to perform well.

The only times we’ve gained ground in this title race is when we played first. Now, if City wins tomorrow (which I don’t doubt after they have seen our failure), they win on Etihad and two of their postponed games (which is not going to be easy), the distance will shorten to 0 points and you don’t need to know who will have the huge moral advantage in that case. The chances that we don’t lose to them away after the defeat today at home and the defeat to City at a neutral ground are really low. Today was a half full bottle, on Etihad it has all chances to become completely full.

But even forget about Etihad, how with this type of football we take three points against Newcastle, Fulham and West Ham (who are in a relegation fight?). If we win the league this season, it will not be from a position of strength, it will be because the other teams also have significant flaws. But knowing how Guardiola can patch the flaws with the motivation scotch tape, I seriously doubt they will lose many points.

After we lost in the Carabao Cup final by offering almost nothing in the second half and our manager froze, I decided for myself that I would want Arteta to leave even if he delivers the Premier League for the first time in over 20 years in a struggling fashion. Today only strengthens my belief.

And not because I don’t like Arteta or the football we play. I don’t think a world class coach can freeze in the Cup final for twenty minutes. I simply don’t believe that when his team comes on the pitch with such mentality, he can deliver us a bag of trophies. Even if they manage to get to the Champions League final, due to a lucky sequence of opponents (that don’t have a world class attack on their hands), I simply can’t see us beating PSG or Bayern in the final. I can’t see this team turning the game around, unless we score a couple of set pieces.

I can’t see this low margin football, where the attack for months struggles to dominate opponents and the 16-year old becomes the biggest hope for solving creativity issues, can be a trait of a constantly successful team.

I can’t see a manager that can’t inspire his team, that can’t galvanise the players, that can’t make them believe they have everything needed to take down Bournemouth in front of their home ground, a part of a title-winning machine.

But, maybe I am wrong and my long years of watching football are not helping me make the right conclusion, maybe the club ownership that has already printed out a new contract with a payrise understands football better..

The two main questions before kick-off were “Can Arsenal bounce back from that Cup fiasco?” and “Who starts at right back after White’s absolute disasterclass in Southampton?”, as the rest of the XI basically picked itself. (I don’t think anyone sane expected Dowman to start after he played the full ninety at the weekend).

The answer was Benjamin White again, which, to be fair, didn’t give me much confidence. Sporting are known in this Champions League for their nippy wingers and White definitely didn’t look in the form to handle them. Lo and behold, after a small spike of initial activity, it was White’s vis-a-vis running on an early date with David Raya.

The Spanish keeper (who sparked a right old debate among the Gunners faithful with his proper chill response about handling the defeats) showed us straight away why he’s a class above our second-choice keeper. Honestly, his claims for being the world’s best number one looked spot on here. Elsewhere on this same night, in another city, a more serious claim was being made, but we can have a look at that a bit later on.

Raya’s save was absolute quality, but it was a bit of a worry how easily our backline was sliced open by Sporting early doors. While it’s easy to point the finger at Whitel, it was Saliba leaving a massive gap that let the pass cut right through us.

Any right-back is going to lose a foot race to that Sporting winger who has got serious pace, so that situation should never have happened in the first place. Luckily, we had our keeper there as the last line of defence to bail us out.

For the rest of the first half, we looked much more up for it than in the cup, and for me, most of the credit goes to Martin Odegaard. I’ve seen a fair bit of the usual criticism after the whistle, but I’m not having any of it. In Lisbon, Odegaard played like a proper captain again: he was popping up all over the middle, dictated the tempo, and kept the ball moving nicely. His delivery from set pieces was dangerous and caused a bit of chaos in their box. The biggest plus he brought was the pure energy across the pitch. Too often our attack looks a bit sluggish because we don’t play at a tempo that bothers the other lot.

On Tuesday night, Martin was the one really making us tick. And his passing wasn’t just the “safe” stuff we’ve seen a lot of this season. The pass map shows plenty of progressive balls—even the ones that didn’t come off, but at least he was trying them, which has often been missing from his game in winter.

I was very impressed with his shift. One player I did have questions about, though, was Zubimendi. The stick Norgaard was getting after the Southampton match was way over the top and unfair in my book. All the talk about “that’s why Zubimendi plays every minute” didn’t sit right with me at all.

Once again, I was left wondering what exactly Zubimendi brings to the engine room. His best bits in an Arsenal shirt have always been when he pops up near the box—clever passes, late headers, or goals from range. And once again he went and scored from a difficult, static position. It was a cracking strike, only for it to be chalked off a few minutes later.

It’s always a gut punch when goals like that are disallowed, especially when the offside player didn’t actually give us an advantage in the buildup. It wouldn’t have changed a thing if Gyokeres was level with the defenders. But back to Zubimendi—I still don’t quite see what he offers in that number 6 role, which is supposed to be his natural home.

He reads the game well enough, but he isn’t great at snapping into tackles to stop counters, and he doesn’t really convince me when he’s trying to build a dangerous attack. I suppose playing a long time for Real Sociedad means he isn’t quite used to the timing needed to break defensive lines on this level.

Sporting were very well drilled, to be fair. They pressed us man-to-man in the middle very aggressively. Basically, only Madueke and Odegaard could find a way through that press; the rest were forced to play it backwards to keep hold of the ball, and Zubimendi was no different.

Arteta swapped out the attacking mids for Havertz, Martinelli, and Dowman (all for different reasons), but it didn’t give us more chances straight away. In fact, Sporting had two massive chances in the 82nd and 86th minute, where Raya had to show off his top-tier skills again. The game was on a knife-edge where the whole tie could have swung their way, so those saves were massive for us.

One man who did change the game from the bench was Gabi Martinelli—he came on looking electric, playing like a proper confident Brazilian winger. Gabi is a player who thrives on confidence; his performance depends so much on his head being in the right place. Yesterday, even with the Sporting defenders all over him, he looked like the player we all hope he’ll develop into at Arsenal.

Two of his runs ended with poor finishes, but the third time he skipped past three defenders and put in a lovely chip for Havertz to run onto, giving us that vital winner.

Havertz’s touch was world-class and the finish was tucked right into the corner. If I’m being picky, it was the exact same predictable finish he tried against Trafford in the Carabao final. The difference in quality between the City and Sporting keepers was the main reason he’s on the scoresheet this time.

But that’s ancient history now. What matters is we turned a tough away day into a 1-0 win—the kind of result the pundits call “winning on pedigree.” This game always looked like it wouldn’t have more than a couple of goals in it, a total contrast to the other quarter-final between Real and Bayern. Over there, both sides were trading big chances that didn’t go in because of poor finishing or a brilliant Manuel Neuer.

Just like David, the 40-year-old German carried his team to an away win and was arguably even better, saving two one-on-ones. He got right into the head of Vinicius Jr, who panicked and shot too early. Imagine the stick our strikers would get if they bottled a chance like that! Raya still holds an overall mouthwatering Champions League record in the last two seasons.

I’m not sure which type of football is better for us fans. The end-to-end stuff is great to watch, but it isn’t sustainable and it’s bad for the nerves. It’s tough on the players too, because you can go from drawing to being two goals down in a matter of a few minutes. The performance we put in, while a bit more boring, might be easier for the fans and players to handle because of the superior individual quality we have over teams like Sporting to navigate those tight margins.

While an away win is brilliant for morale, this low-margin football will be hard to turn into a result against Bournemouth. It often ends in a draw, just like it could have on Tuesday night, and a draw is no good for us in this title race.

Bournemouth will be playing their first game back after the internationals, so their players will be fresher than farm-bought eggs. For us, it’ll be the third game in a week. The good news is some players might be back (though we need to be careful with their fitness) and we’ve got a super talented kid who hasn’t been scarred by the intensity of Bournemouth over the years.

This match is probably the second most important in the title charge after the trip to the Etihad. Dropping points now would be a massive blow to our confidence. If we lose two or three points to the Cherries, we risk the gap shortening by five or six, which is a serious morale damage.

Bournemouth is a proper cup final and I hope Arteta can get that message across so the lads leave it all on the pitch. They’re a relentless side and won’t forgive five minutes of being off the pace. The players and coaches have worked all season to get us here; five minutes of “taking it easy” isn’t worth it. We’ve also got a score to settle after that defeat last May that I was lucky (or unlucky!) enough to see in person!

Arteta went with a XI appropriate for the occasion. It’s pure naivety to think a squad can scrap with their best line-up on three fronts and come out on top in every single one. You’ve got to have priorities, and for us, the focus has to be the silverware we actually have the best shout at winning.

I was delighted to see Arteta take this approach. Of those recent injury scares who pulled out of the internationals, only Gabriel made the pitch. The bench was packed with youngsters too, a proper shift from the previous rounds. Kepa got the nod in goal again, confirming that cup runs were the carrot dangled by Arteta when he signed. That’s likely his last run-out of the season, and I can’t say I’m gutted. Max started on the right, immediately becoming the focal point for Arsenal fans and opposition defenders alike.

On paper, the starting side looked a decent blend—strong enough to handle Championship opposition without overplaying the regulars. From the off, the pattern was clear: we dominated the ball, constantly probing their box. They looked to hit us on the break, mostly through their number 13, Leo Scienza, who was a right thorn in the arse of our backline all evening.

The attack—featuring a returning Ødegaard, Havertz, Dowman, Martinelli, Myles, and White—looked sharp. Most of the joy came down the right, with Dowman carrying the ball and Ødegaard pulling the strings. It felt like a goal was only a matter of time in that first half.

But it turned into a half of “nearly” moments. Dowman nearly threaded it through a forest of legs, Martinelli nearly burst the net only to see a defender’s head in the way, and Havertz nearly buried a header. Ødegaard nearly marked his return with a massive confidence booster.

This was a type of situation our team found itself multiple times in the first half. It’s not about picking on Ødegaard—no one took their chances—but it highlights the quality of openings we wasted. Martinelli, Dowman, and Ødegaard were all inches away. You know who wasn’t even close? Gabriel Jesus. Honestly, it was embarrassing. The lad is putting in testimonial-level performances on 250k a week; I don’t want to see him near the grass for the rest of the season. Gyökeres and Havertz are our strikers now. Martinelli, Madueke, and Dowman are our attacking options to change the game from the bench.

Southampton weren’t just making up the numbers, though. Scienza was constantly asking questions of our defenders. He even rounded Kepa once, but Mosquera was there to put out the fire. This time.

Predictably, after we botched our chances, they took theirs. A cross from the left, a rare poor bit of defending from White, and a simple finish for the Saints winger. That sort of half-hearted jump—a schoolboy error, really—from White, from a usually disciplined Arteta defence showed the mentality and concentration were miles off the pace on the day.

White was poor, Lewis-Skelly got caught in possession a few times, and Mosquera had a couple of wobbles. Christian is a strange one; he seems to have a mistake in him regardless of the opponent. We were buzzing when he only made a couple of errors at Anfield, but who expected that same number of mistakes against Mansfield and Southampton? Perhaps that’s just the tax you pay for playing youth. Mosquera is nearly 22—hardly a kid by Arsenal standards, but still green for a centre-half in the grand scheme of things.

That said, concentration is non-negotiable for a defender. A winger can go goofing around for half an hour, then pop up with a couple of runs and a goal to be the hero. But for a defender or a keeper, if you switch off for a couple of moments, the game can be gone. Being “on it” for 90 minutes is the most vital skill they need to hammer home.

The game was not over for us, we were only a goal down, but the way the match was going didn’t fill me with hope. The second half was a carbon copy: plenty of huff and puff, especially from Dowman, but zero end product. No converting the individual supremacy, no cold blood in front of goal, no pulling the trigger —no Eberechi Eze. It made me realise what Eze brings to the table. “A man of few chances”, despite having fluctuations in his form, was always making his mark against lower league sides. That’s what sets him apart.

Arteta had to roll the dice, bringing on Madueke, Gyökeres, and Calafiori, especially after Myles coughed up the ball again in midfield. With fitness in mind, Ødegaard was hooked, effectively leaving the keys to our attack in the hands of a 16-year-old for the business end of the game.

Individually, Dowman was superb all game. He was our best outlet for carrying the ball forward, fearless and really calm under pressure. But he wasn’t on the same wavelength as the rest of the attack. It makes sense—he hasn’t had enough minutes with the seniors to understand their patterns. He lacks the experience to read the game in real-time and make the right call, which was glaringly obvious when he botched a simple pass to Gyökeres in a 3-on-3. The ball was both mistimed and misplaced.

The real worry isn’t how to get more out of a schoolboy, though. It’s why our senior attackers lack the bottle to take players on and create their own chances. We did scramble an equaliser though. Havertz made a clever run, Gabriel (of all teammates!) found him with a through ball, that caused chaos in the box, and Gyökeres pounced.

Whatever criticism I gave Viktor, his engine and determination are top-drawer, and that usually pays dividends against weaker backlines. We had the momentum with one more goal to go, Arteta then swapped Havertz for Zubimendi, clearly with an eye on other competitions (a move I still stand by).

Unfortunately, it was more of the same. When Southampton bagged the winner in the 84th minute, I wasn’t even surprised. They were well up for it, their fans were roaring them on through every tackle, long ball and keeper’s save. They threw bodies on the line. Their left-back was clearly out of his depth against Dowman but did everything humanly possible to stop him, even risking a red.

The ref could easily have sent one of them off for some industrial challenges, but we can’t hide behind officiating for this defeat.

Processing the defeat

The City game was a test of our ceiling—a ceiling we feared wasn’t high enough given our record against the big six this year (Liverpool, Man United, Man City). This match, however, was a test of our floor. That floor has been high all season; The floor that got us to the top of the Champions League group stage, to first place in the League and into the Carabao Cup final.

That high floor comes down to two things. First, we spent a wedge in the summer. We brought in Madueke, Hincapié, Nørgaard, Kepa—the players with proper first-team minutes from serious clubs like Chelsea, Leverkusen, and Brentford. We paid top whack for those minutes. Second, Arteta has set incredibly high standards and managed to keep the players focused for most of the season. Credit where it’s due. But yesterday? The mentality, the attitude, the concentration were in the bin.

The selection wasn’t the issue though; this side should have walked past Southampton. White has been much better than yesterday. Nørgaard, despite the critics, is actually a very delicate player. His teammate position awareness and intricate one-touch passing are real quality. He couldn’t stop every attack, but he was essentially left to man the defensive midfield alone. He was in there with Havertz (who was all over the shop) and Ødegaard, who isn’t exactly a defensive destroyer.

Zubimendi, however, usually has Rice alongside him—a man who covers every blade of grass for breakfast and costs £105m for that very reason. I’ve never seen Zubimendi hold a midfield on his own. And to be fair, it was Zubimendi who, despite only being introduced on the pitch, failed to track the runner for the winner. Yesterday didn’t convince me that Nørgaard can’t do a job in the league alongside Rice.

The problem yesterday was that for some reason the standards were not followed. Usually, teams click as the season progresses, because the players get a better understanding of each other’s habits. Somehow, Arsenal’s cup performances have gone backwards.

I’ve got two theories. One: the players are absolutely knackered (potentially from the training sessions). When the tank is empty, the brain switches to autopilot and there is no better occasion to do that, than against “easier” opposition. The flaw there is that many who struggled yesterday haven’t actually played that much football this season.

Two: Arteta is struggling to keep the lid on things. The dressing room feels nervous; players look terrified of making mistakes and getting punished for them (with respect to their chances of winning the titles) rather than just playing the game in front of them. That feels more likely, sadly. I’m not letting the players off the hook for dropping a stinker (they should be able to motivate themselves in a Cup quarterfinal), but it’s the man at the helm who has the ability to steady the ship.

This theory looks more convincing with our history of getting eliminating in Cups for many seasons in the rows. And if in Champions League, the opponents are top notch and it’s hard to bring them up as an argument, in the local Cups we have only reached the final this season following a 5-year break after the 2020 FA Cup. With such quality of a squad, it’s not probability or coincidence, it’s an unpleasant pattern.

I thought an easier opponent after the international break would clear the heads after the City loss. It backfired. Instead of a routine win to steady the nerves before the league resumes, we’ve heaped the pressure on the trip to Lisbon.

A loss against Sporting puts the Bournemouth result in jeopardy. Drop points there, and suddenly the CL quarters and the trip to the Etihad look daunting. If we lose at City and the gap shrinks to a point, they become the favourites for the league—the one trophy we actually have a proper shot at. It’s a domino effect waiting to happen, and we have to stop it in Lisbon.

The “pre-Carabao final” Arsenal would have gone to Lisbon, played it safe, kept it tight, and ground out a 1-1 draw to finish the job at home. But this rattled version? I’ve no idea which side will show up. The variance is massive right now.

Predicting the XI is guesswork with the current injuries. But whoever starts on Tuesday has the quality, the needs skills and the coaching to get a result. If Arteta can galvanise them, make them believe in themselves, make them believe they’re writing history this season, they’ll be fine. But is Arteta in a proper mental state to galvanise himself?

It’s been a week since we lost to Man City in one of our most rubbish performances of the season. The podcasters and bloggers are already telling everyone to move on because there are bigger fish to fry, but I’m not over it. From a psychological point of view, the players need to forget, but all these excuses about why the loss “doesn’t matter” or “shouldn’t be taken seriously” are just pure cope.

“Carabao Cup isn’t prestigious anyway”

Nonsense. Arteta went with the strongest XI he could (bar Kepa, where I think Arteta was bound by his own sign-on promise). He didn’t give a run to Norgaard or Myles, who actually got us to Wembley, and even Max Dowman stayed on the bench. Arteta and the lads desperately wanted that trophy, regardless of what people say about the League Cup.

“City is a really good team”

This City side couldn’t beat Forest or West Ham recently and deserved to be eliminated by Real Madrid after being taken apart. They aren’t some invincible force in attack, and their defence can be got at. The most gutting part of the final was losing belief the second that second goal went in (as most of Arsenal fans did).

“It’s just one defeat”

Hate to break it to you, but in cup football, one defeat is all it takes to get binned off. Even in two-legged ties, it’s usually one bad 90 minutes that ruins the whole thing (unless you get battered 2-8 over the course of two games in a rare event). You don’t get second chances in a Cup.

Every competition we’re taking part in, besides the Prem, is a knockout. If you want to be the best coach or player in the land or in Europe, you have to be able to turn a game around when the pressure is on.

Arteta absolutely froze in that single game. He didn’t react fast enough and the Cup slipped away. For a coach who talks about winning everything and is hyped as a “generational” talent—and paid like one too—being a deer in the headlights for 15 minutes isn’t good enough. If you come out for the second half at 0-0, wasting a third of the remaining time in indecision is criminal.

When you’re facing the likes of Thomas Tuchel, Luis Enrique, or Pep Guardiola (the opposing coaches in the time of our worst cup performances, where we actually looked clueless), you can’t just wait for things to fix themselves. These world-class managers have the tactical nous to change a game in minutes. You have to be reactive and show the team you’ve got a plan B when things go south.

Guardiola shared this in one of the early Amazon documentaries: “I have to look confident in front of my team. Even if I don’t know what to do, I have to sound like I know”. He was criticized heavily for “tinkering” in the Champions League, when he prepared unexpected plans for the opponent. I understood why - he wanted to overcome the psychological fear of Champions League by showing the players he has something special prepared for the opponent, to inspire confidence in them, to take away the thoughts of the mental pressure. And I sympathize with this approach. It didn’t work out with his team though, he overestimated his players, they were searching for a reason to justify their insufficient performance levels.

Arteta’s profile

The gaffer’s calling card is quite clearly this obsession with total control. It’s why he’s got specialist coaches for every minor detail, from set pieces to throw-ins. It’s why you see him on the touchline, micromanaging every blade of grass with those constant shouts. It’s also why Eze has been in the doghouse for a month; Arteta prefers “compliance players” who mostly follow the script to the letter, rather than the mavericks who have the ability to raise the roof.

Now, you might point at Guardiola and say he’s a control freak too, but the results speak for themselves. The big difference is that while Pep often plays like a gambler (which might be driven by his confidence), Arteta is fundamentally risk-averse. Pep gets a buzz from the tactical gamble, trying a new system, solution or player and waiting for it to pay off. Arteta, conversely, only feels truly settled when he’s sticking to the original plan, praying for what he expected to happen actually materialising.

Arteta simply isn’t comfortable rolling the dice unless his back is firmly against the wall. That’s why he’ll run Zubimendi and Timber into the ground—playing them over Norgaard or White until they’re blowing out of their backsides—because in his head, the “reliable” choice is always the one that supposedly reduces risk.

It’s the same reason an out-of-form Saka keeps starting over Madueke. Madueke is the riskier shout against City, but he’s got that higher ceiling to actually make something happen, as we saw with his direct running. Instead, Arteta plays it safe to protect the defensive shape. It’s also why Max Dowman—arguably our most exciting spark right now—didn’t even get a sniff in a Game! Not even ten minutes at the end to turn the Cup Final around? Not for Arteta. Dowman’s a kid, and “kid” equals “risk” in the manager’s book.

That caution is why Nwaneri and Myles have been starved of minutes in the League this term and never let on the pitch in a critical moment. Myles has the technical engine to bypass a four-man press—we saw him do it against PSG last year—and he’s much better equipped for that than Hincapie. But because his current form is a bit patchy, Arteta won’t touch him for fear of him being caught in possession in our own half.

I reckon Dowman only got a run against Everton because we were heading for a point loss and every other attacker was firing blanks. To not use that momentum and throw him on for ten minutes against Bayer or City seems like a massive oversight. That Everton cameo clearly took Arteta out of his comfort zone, and he wasn’t keen on repeating the experience.

This mindset led to several blunders on the day. Starting a clearly out-of-form Saka and a stale Trossard (who needs a rest to be effective) felt like a safety-first move based on past credit rather than current form. He’s also ran Zubimendi into the dirt, because he feels more control with him in the side. As well as Merino for that matter. Most likely because they remind him of a younger version of himself.

Zubimendi was a proper disappointment, to be fair. We know Rice covers the mileage, so you don’t expect him to be the tactical architect, but Zubimendi, who presented to us a Spanish conductor, was simply static. He didn’t adjust our build-up at all, even when it was clear Kepa was struggling to find a pass.

Look at the second half: we were clearly under the cosh from the whistle, yet Arteta didn’t blink for five minutes. Calafiori was right there on the bench—exactly the type of player to break the City press. Why wait until the hour mark? Get him on by the 50th minute with a set of instructions (even if they turn out to be wrong, they can still inspire the team), especially with Hincapie walking a tightrope on a yellow card.

But no, he stalled. He’d probably pencilled in his subs for the 60th minute in his pre-match or halftime notes and didn’t feel comfortable deviating from the script. By the time he acted, as we all know, the horse had already bolted.

We lost that final because of psychological issues - collective fear of a high-stakes game. The lads couldn’t string two passes together, couldn’t live with City’s intensity, and looked clueless against their press. Aside from a few bursts from Madueke, our wingers didn’t lay a finger on their full-backs, who are definitely not best-in-class.

The “Arteta is a fast learner” narrative doesn’t wash with me if he can’t react in real-time during a match. You don’t win silverware if you have to wait for a post-mortem to figure out a counter-strategy. You need to fix it while the game is still live.

Arteta’s Arsenal side is a low-margin, effective out-of-possession, safety-first machine that doesn’t tend to take risks. On paper, that defensive solidity should be perfect for cups—you only need one chance if you can keep a clean sheet. But our mentality is the bottleneck. In a one-off final with low margins, the players with the gut to take a risk and convert an unlikely chance usually come out on top.

In the League, this “percentage football” usually pays off because things average out over 38 games. However, low-margin football can often end up in a draw and draws are the enemy of a title charge. Two safe draws earn you fewer points than a loss and a win. In the League you can be better than each single team - with a home win and an away draw. But taking only 4 points against each of the 19 teams means 76 points in total that rarely brings you to a League title. We’re sitting on 71 points with seven to go, but you can’t draw your way to the trophy—you have to go out and win games by scoring goals.

Arteta’s style of football is built to get high average performance and results, but it’s not making us favorites for the winner, the best team of the tournament. That’s why it’s been over five years since we lifted a proper trophy. On current form, we’d be massive underdogs for the Champions League trophy. Also not the favorites for the FA Cup (unless someone does us a favour and knocks City out 😀).

It’s unlikely that Arteta will change his routine now, so we’re left hoping he’s perfectly prepared for every scenario. I also have some rays of hope that a bit of individual magic from Eze, Rice, or Max Dowman saves our skin. It’s a really long shot, though.

Our best bet is the League, where we made ourselves favorites over the course of the season. We’re top of the pile and we need to act like it. Four or five wins and that trophy is ours! One thing I would hate to see is a points deduction for City before the season ends. I want us to win this fair and square for the sake of the team’s confidence and mentality growth. Let the authorities hit them in the summer and give their Champions League spot to Villa. They’ve waited years to settle the charges; they can wait another couple of weeks!