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!

I’ll take you through this one chronologically, though to be honest, it’s the last thing on my mind after such a disappointing display.

The news that Eze was sidelined was a proper gut-punch for the Arsenal faithful. Eberechi has been finding his shooting boots lately and he was exactly the man for the occasion—remember his winner against this City in the FA Cup last year? He’s got that knack for a top shot or just an ability to glide through the City press. With him off the menu, Arteta went for Havertz at 10 and Gyökeres leading the line. It was a predictable setup given how Kai’s been faring in that floating role of late.

On the flanks, we had Saka and Trossard—and that’s where Arteta made his first two glaring errors of the day. I mentioned in the preview that Leo only really turns up when he’s fresh. He needs to be managed, 90 minutes a week tops, otherwise the tank runs dry and he becomes a passenger. Despite that, Arteta gave him the nod, and he was every bit as passive as I feared.

I honestly don’t get how I can spot it from my sofa while Arteta, with all his analysts and coaching staff, seemingly can’t make this connection. They track every blade of grass, so surely the data shows his numbers drop when he starts two on the bounce? If not—give me a bell, Mikel!

One potential explanation is that without Eze, Arteta wanted more control in the engine room, and Trossard is the closest thing we’ve got to a proper number 10. If that’s the case, he should’ve started Leo in the hole with Havertz up top, leaving the left wing for someone with a bit more gas in the tank.

The other mistake was starting Saka on the right. Bukayo’s been off the pace for weeks now, and giving him the armband hasn’t helped. In a cup final, you don’t just keep doing the same thing and hoping for the best. We had Madueke ready to give City something different to think about, yet Arteta stuck with Saka. And making him captain, when our leader on that pitch is Declan Rice? Against City, you need attackers at the top of their game (whether by skill, mentality or confidence) and Saka looks miles off it. I’m struggling to wrap my head around why, with Martinelli and Madueke fresh and raring to go, we saw the same wingers that started against Leverkusen.

The fullbacks were White and Hincapie and the place in the goal was given to Kepa. Look, I’m all for giving the number two a run in the local cups. It’s good for squad morale and long-term health. But in a one-off final with silverware on the line, you play your best eleven. People are saying Pep won the mind games by announcing Trafford early, goading Arteta into playing his backup. There might be some truth in that, but I suspect Arteta had promised Kepa the cup games and didn’t want to go back on his word. It is important to keep the given promises, but this decision certainly backfired.

The game itself

I expected City to come out swinging in the first fifteen, but it turned into a right cagey affair. That said, we should’ve been ahead by the 7th minute. White’s heavy touch actually did Rodri, forcing him into a rash challenge. Benjamin got there first, found Zubimendi, and he played Havertz clean through with a lovely one-touch pass.

Havertz, being in that position was really lackadaisical. He didn’t take his first chance seriously, when we all know that it might be the only one you get in the game of such caliber. The ball fell to Saka and his first attempt was in a very tight space. The rebound, however, fell to him again and that was the one the top player could bury. But Saka, expectedly in the form he is in, didn’t manage to send it past the English keeper.

The first chance was wasted, but the general feeling was positive. Saliba, Rice, and Gabriel were sniffing out danger, strangling City attacks at birth. They played a really strong first half that resulted in zero shots for our opponents. We did have some attempts to enter their box, but we were never as close as in the 7th minute.

I was on board with the “safety first” approach for the opening 20 minutes, provided we finished the half strongly. The game didn’t move out of first gear, however. I understand Arteta might have felt pleasant feeling over his body seeing how much City struggled to create anything. I also trust that after working with Pep, Arteta knows exactly what makes his old side struggle.

At the same time, if our strong suit is defending, then we should elevate the pace and intensity to a level where it becomes deeply uncomfortable for their back four, while still manageable for ours. With such a slow-paced game, even a weaker defence gets a chance to regroup, so the tempo played right into City’s hands.

Right after the break, however, the game changed completely. City came out of the tunnel energized and full of confidence. That was something I worried about in the preview. We needed to survive that first 15 minutes without conceding, and we failed that task miserably.

But even before the goal, things started to unravel. Guardiola tweaked City’s pressing approach. They left Kepa, Saliba, and Gabriel alone and deployed four players to block all direction of our second level of build-up: White, Zubimendi, Rice, and Hincapie. They basically said, “you can pass it between you three all day,” but they wouldn’t let the ball move forward.

And our team suddenly looked .. clueless. They didn’t know how to bypass this new approach, and Kepa spent thirty seconds on the ball standing in our box doing absolutely nothing.

This happened multiple times in the opening five minutes of the half. Neither the “positionally aware” Kai Havertz, nor our captain Saka, nor the experienced Trossard took the initiative to break the deadlock by dropping deep. They failed to provide a fifth option or drag a marker away to give Gyokeres a clear space to run into.

Our long balls were also pretty useless, despite having two physical forwards. Neither Havertz nor Gyokeres could win the ball high up and hold it to continue the attack. The defence our attacking duo was operating against consisted of Nunes, Khusanov, Ake, and O’Reilly, and we couldn’t really trouble this far-from-impressive back four.

City intercepted the ball as our players failed to offer any solutions. I don’t know how much blame lies with the players versus Arteta, but our team seems highly dependent on him giving clear instructions. We really lack leadership in the final third (our captains are really bland this season) and it’s deeply frustrating. It’s also a clear symptom of micromanagement; if a coach scolds you for deviating from instructions, the logical reaction is to stop taking initiative and wait for the next set of orders.

It was painful to see the team become toothless after one tactical tweak. We couldn’t string three passes together and barely crossed the halfway line. It looked like an old-school Arsenal performance against City, where we were happy to just defend heroically. That is not the attitude of a team firmly sitting at the top of the league.

Arteta’s choices against City seem driven by a fear of getting battered, which he can’t imagine in his most horrible dreams. It makes him prioritize the defensive side of the game so much that our attacking attempts look amateurish. He shows far too much respect to Guardiola’s team this season and it hurt our chances both times.

City were dominating and a goal seemed inevitable. Despite this, Arteta froze on the touchline. He didn’t change the build-up or throw on subs to change the dynamic. The players didn’t help themselves either; for all the talk of “dark arts,” none of them thought to go down after a collision to kill the momentum, give the team a chance to regroup and Arteta to pass down some instructions.

City’s efforts were accelerated by Kepa, though. A cross from the left—Kepa failed to deal with it, and the ball fell to O’Reilly on a silver platter. 1-0. Kepa definitely screwed up, but he wasn’t the main reason we conceded. We offered nothing in the second half, and City added a second five minutes later in similar fashion to confirm that allegation.

Look how many players City had in the box! It caused our defenders to rotate all over the shop—Saliba at RB, Gabriel at LB, Hincapie in the middle, and Ben White wandering around Doku in the middle of the box. That’s the desire to score, to take the game by the scruff of the neck. I never saw Arsenal commit more than four players in the box, even when we were the better side in the first half.

The camera panned to Arteta’s face and it was clear he didn’t have a plan. He threw on Calafiori, which was long overdue. After Hincapie picked up a yellow for a silly foul, he looked shaky. Semenyo had the better of him a few times and I expected Ricky to be brought on right after the break.

The other sub was Madueke, who I reckon was a much better fit for this game than Saka. Yet Arteta left Saka on for the full 90 despite another anonymous display. Apparently it doesn’t stop Mikel, despite Bukayo demonstrating no leadership or in-game tactical awareness to modify our build-up in-game. Not that Havertz or Gyokeres was better, but I fail to understand why Saka keeps getting a free pass when he’s clearly struggling.

The two subs added a dimension we lacked (to be fair, we had zero dimensions in that second half). Madueke lost the ball a few times, but at least he looked like he could trouble the City defence. Calafiori was probably one of our best performers in the second half, hitting the post with Trossard’s help for our only real chance for a goal.

But even with them on, we were nowhere near equalizing. Arsenal were truly clueless. To make matters worse, Arteta threw on Martinelli (way too late) and Jesus. Gabriel Jesus, who has been missing in action lately, was supposed to be the savior while Max Dowman, the only bright attacking spot of March, remained on the bench.

After the Everton game, many people praised Arteta for playing Dowman. I believe that if your attack is consistently struggling, playing a creative spark regardless of age is just common sense. There’s nothing brave about it. Bravery would be taking off a “star” player who is having a bad day in the office for a youngster. Yesterday, Arteta wouldn’t even risk it to win a trophy. He stuck with the players who have shown for months or years they don’t have what it takes in these types of games.

The first chance for silverware is gone. I always thought the quadruple talk from some sections of the fans was immature and even embarrassing for us as the fan base. For one not too familiar with the topic - the probability of winning all four tournaments was about 2.5% according to the bookies even before the Carabao Cup final. Even when you’re 55% favorites for one final (which betting companies gave us on Sunday), you can see how unlikely it is to win all four.

After Sunday’s defeat, we’ll have to work incredibly hard for even a single trophy. City have a boost of confidence while we were hit by a reality check. Some say it’s disappointing to have to sit on this defeat for a couple of weeks, but I think it plays in our favour. City’s enthusiasm will fade, and our players will have time to process the frustration and realize they need to fight tooth and nail for every trophy.

I don’t have a problem with losing the game—cup finals can go either way. I have a problem with the manner of the defeat. For all I saw, it could have been Wolverhampton out there; an organized defence in the first half that fell apart in the second and had nothing left for the final whistle.

And it’s not the first time we’ve seen this from Arteta’s side. The CL quarter-final in Munich, or the second half of the semifinal against PSG. In decisive matches against the big boys, Arteta often freezes and the players don’t know how to turn it around—again, likely a consequence of being micromanaged. They expect to be told exactly how to overcome the trouble.

In recent years, our only big decisive win came through two Rice free kicks, which isn’t a sustainable strategy.

After yesterday, I don’t think any top club in Europe will be losing sleep over us in the Champions League. If this freezing pattern doesn’t break, the League is all we can realistically hope for.

This team needs big attacking characters. Saliba, Rice, and Gabriel did their jobs, but we again lacked someone to take the game by the scruff of the neck upfront. Arteta also reverted to his conservative pattern and trust to “experienced” non-performers. He loves talking about every defeat being a “learning opportunity”. I think April and May will show us if he’s actually capable of it himself.

Compared to that memorable Everton clash, Arteta opted for a few tweaks—Calafiori and Havertz were benched for Hincapie and Gyokeres, which is pure load management. Ben White stepped in for the crocked Timber, which was a forced move. I reckon Madueke deserved a start after his massive contribution against Bayer, but it was lukewarm captain Saka out there again.

The biggest plus for me was Benjamin White. I worried that after missing out against Everton and seeing limited minutes in general, there’d be some tension between him and the gaffer over his game time. However, it looks like Arteta is finally taking fitness management of some of our players seriously. White, Calafiori, and Havertz aren’t being thrown for two games in a row; they’re being wrapped in cotton wool. It’s a vital detail, as we’ll need every functioning pair of legs between now and May.

Right from the off, without any foreplay we showed them exactly what it means to face an English side. For all the mockery of the “physical set-piece” league, Bayer found out the hard way what it’s like to go toe-to-toe with a Premier League heavyweight.

We pressed them relentlessly, bossing the midfield and giving them no room to breathe. Leverkusen’s only outlet was the long ball to their striker Kofane, who was actually quite decent. Every time he managed to get close to the ball, his only problem was facing the two best centre-backs for physical duels. Saliba and Gabriel didn’t give him a mere couple of seconds to think.

This dominance led to a hatful of chances in the first half: Trossard curled one toward the top bins, Saka fired right at the keeper, another Trossard shot, now in the bottom corner, and an effort from Gyokeres blocked. The Bayer keeper was equal to it all—until our Crystal Palace flower, who always blooms in the spring, decided to take the matter in his own hands and smashed a mouthwatering rocket into the top bin. It’s the kind of goal you can’t even be mad about conceding; you just shrug the shoulders and tip your cap.

The celebration was almost as cool as the goal itself:

I only just realized from the commentary that this absolute screamer—surely a Goal of the Season contender—was Eze’s first in the Champions League. We bagged plenty in the group stage, but none actually came from him. By March, we’ve learned Eze isn’t about quantity; he’s about pure, exclusive quality.

He won’t give you 20 passes to Saka in different positions on the wing, but he’ll slice a defence open twice a game. He won’t take his man on every single time, but he’ll suddenly glide past two and find a shooting lane. He won’t score a bucketload, but he’ll score the one you’ll be talking about until the end of the campaign.

He’s the most likely man to produce something from nothing in this Arsenal side. The second? Declan Rice, who bagged the second of the evening. But before Rice’s strike, it was a narrow lead, meaning Leverkusen had to start taking risks and opening up.

We had a ton of interceptions high up the pitch, but we couldn’t quite kill them off on the counter. That’s a real concern for the Champions League journey. We aren’t being ruthless enough; we aren’t being lethal; we’re playing with our food instead of burying the game when we have the chance.

Our defence is rock solid—arguably the best collective unit in the world—but a man-to-man, physical scrap that works against the likes of Bayer or even Inter won’t fully stop Yamal and Raphinha, Olise and Musiala, Kvaratskhelia and Barcola. Those players have such a high level of individual quality and the silkiness of their feet that they can score from a low probability chance against the best backlines.

Barcelona has bagged 6 against Inter in the last season semifinals, they have put 8 past Newcastle (although Newcastle totally lost their plot after 4-2). PSG have shipped 8 past Chelsea and Madrid have done serious damage to City. Our defence is better than all the above, but it’s not out of the question that these teams could easily nick three or four goals over two legs.

Which means to progress, we need to be scoring five or six. It’s realistic IF we stop wasting chances and polish our counters to automatic execution. Chelsea had plenty of chances in Paris but only managed to score two. Inter knocked out Barca last year because they were much more clinical and bagged seven. Eze screamers and set pieces won’t get us to six goals, but ruthless punishing of opponents’ mistakes will.

We didn’t do that against Leverkusen, keeping it at 1-0 until “Uncle” Rice intercepted the ball (for the 10th time in the game) and lashed it into the bottom corner—another unnecessarily spectacular finish. That felt like “game over” for Leverkusen. Arteta hooked White, Zubimendi, and Trossard for fitness management. Seeing the triple sub, Eze decided to quickly go down as well, saving himself for a massive Sunday.

I don’t know if Arteta planned that sub, but I agree we need to take care of Eberechi. We can’t afford going into the Champions League semifinal and final without him, because nobody else can pull off the magical moment in the highest points of pressure. Saka isn’t at that level right now, Odegaard is a bit mechanical, and Gyokeres needs to be put in a specially crafted situation where all he has to do is to take a powerful shot. His passing can be stray and his control isn’t elite yet, though he has a world-class finish and proper fight in him.

Apart from Eze, Trossard can also deliver on his day. Yesterday was one of his better outings, and now it’s increasingly clear he’s best when well-rested. That’s why he’s a “super sub” rather than a week-in, week-out starter. Given his age, he simply can’t be playing two games per week in such a physically demanding league. We need to use him sparingly to keep him fresh for the big ones, because his mentality, ball control and finishing are still top-tier.

Havertz came in for Eze and it was our sub number 4 which meant we had only one left. In 2026, it’s mad to remember there were times when the team was only limited to three. It not only benefits a deep squad like Arsenal’s, it keeps the players happier, since now they can get gaming time even if they are not the first choice in their position. Our final sub was Myles Lewis-Skelly, who’s been in the wilderness for a while. Madueke and Calafiori also deserved minutes, not to mention Sunday’s hero Max Dowman, who surely earned a Champions League cameo.

We cruised through the final whistle, with Raya making his traditional important saves. Now it’s Sporting Lisbon with the second leg at the Emirates. I expect a similar story to Bayer: a solid away result - a draw or a one-goal win, then unleashing the handbrake at home. We’re more organized and have better quality, so it shouldn’t be an issue.

But before all that, we play for our first trophy of the season - the Carabao Cup final at Wembley. It’s a weird one, to be honest. If we win, it’s not remotely as prestigious as the big two, so it wouldn’t even deliver a fraction of recognition these players and manager have deserved on their journey this season. Therefore as fans, we shouldn’t be stressed, in theory. However, if we lose, the “bottlers” and “bridesmaids” narrative will be back in full force. Even if in one game of football anything can happen and the better team can lose, even if it comes to a penalty shootout which is a true lottery, the narrative will stick.

We aren’t just fighting for a trophy on Sunday; we’re fighting for the narrative, for our perception, for claiming our seat at the table of greatness. And I am not talking about the importance of perception for the portion of Arsenal fans who a desperate for approval and get triggered by any mean comment Gary Neville (or another ex-United player, who was our biggest rival at their time) throws in the media pit hole. I am talking about the effect of perception on players who will have space for doubt in their heads until they start raising trophies over their heads.

Carabao final comes first this season and we can’t underestimate its importance. This team deserves at least two trophies this year, including a major one. The most likely bets at this moment are the League and the League Cup.

We head into this final in better spirits than City, with higher confidence levels, with a better recent track record. We have better defence, we are more coherent as a team, we demonstrate higher desire to win at all costs. Our opponents have only one strong argument - Pep Guardiola. While I am not a fan of him as a person, I can’t deny his managerial abilities. In addition to great understanding of football tactics (including how to neutralize the opponent), he has a PhD in motivating players. He will be absolutely riled up and he will turn all his energy into avoiding the loss of silverware to his former assistant.

For us it means that Man City will be most dangerous in the first 15 minutes of each half. If you check the games against Madrid, those were approximately the times when City was at its most dangerous.

If we weather that storm, their energy will fade and it’ll come down to the players on the pitch. Given they’ve only won once in their last five, I don’t think they have a strong finish in them.

I wouldn’t even mind Arteta going ultra-conservative early on, provided we open up in the final 25 minutes. We know we can be vertical and sting them on the break. We also know that Rodri will be hunting Eze; if we can get him on an early yellow, it’ll change the game.

Havertz will likely lead the line. I’d start Madueke on the right; he’s fresh and he has the audacity and skill to threaten the hell out of their left back, that is supposed to be Ait-Nouri. Meanwhile, Saka has been bang average and really struggling against decent defenders. I worry Arteta might not trust a White/Madueke pairing defensively without Timber, fearing that wing might be exposed.

There are ways to mitigate that —for example, start Hincapie and leave him in a deeper position or tell Rice and Zubimendi to not wander away. There’s also a world where Madueke starts on the left and tears up Nunes. It’s Arteta’s call in the end - I just don’t think Saka can deliver a powerful performance after two ninety-minute shifts.

Coming on from the bench on the other hand with two fullbacks, Trossard, and Gyokeres (or even Max!) off the bench could give us a massive finish—the kind that changes the perception of Arsenal for years to come.

Arteta went with the expected XI, naming Eze, Havertz, and Madueke up top, with Saka completing the attack. While it wasn’t exactly a shock, I wasn’t a fan of Saka being deployed on his preferred right side while Madueke was forced to try and make things happen from an uncomfortable left flank.

After that absolute stinker of a performance in Leverkusen, I expected some consequences. In my book, Madueke—who was vital in the Champions League result—should have started in his best position, leaving Saka to earn his way back into the side from the left. I hate it when players become “untouchable” regardless of form. It kills squad morale and completely contradicts the “fogging standards” the team is supposed to live by.

To be fair, Saka didn’t look half bad in the first half. Like the rest of the lads, we were sharp, aggressive, and popping up all over the shop. My main gripe over the winter was how slow and predictable we’d become; yesterday was anything but. A team chasing the top prizes has to be willing to take a gamble, and boy, did we take some risks.

Everton had a golden chance to take the lead as early as the 16th minute. The ball fell to McNeil—who was completely unmarked in the box after a poor interception from David Raya—but his shot was thwarted by another great keeper’s reaction save. It was only on the replay that I realized Riccardo Calafiori had pulled off a bit of acrobatics to keep us level. Talk about commitment.

When you see the level of desire our defenders take, the lengths they go to to block the ball, you can understand that Arsenal is the only club in the country right now that really deserves to win the league. Only here you can find players ready to use every little single margin that helps them get to their final goal.

After a block like that, any pundit calling us “undeserving champions” is just a petty prick who can’t handle his bias. The football gods aren’t petty, though; they recognized that desire when McNeil (him again!) curled a worldie toward the top corner only for it to rattle the woodwork and bounce off a teammate who couldn’t react in time. I’d like to think Ricky’s heel played a part in that deflection too.

David Raya pulled off another cracking stop during one of the Toffees’ raids, but it wasn’t just one-way traffic. We were carving out plenty of chances ourselves, though most of our efforts were either charged down by their backline or whistled just past the woodwork. It was a proper good watch, though. The midfield trio were absolutely everywhere. They were rotating, covering for one another, and giving their markers a right headache trying to track them. Just have a look at their pass maps to see what I mean:

And it wasn’t just them. Calafiori, who came in for Hincapie to offer a bit more presence in the final third, didn’t disappoint either. He was basically acting as a fourth midfielder, popping up all over the shop in the middle of the park.

On the other side, Timber limped off in the first half, and it was Christian Mosquera who got the nod to replace him, even with Ben White out there warming up. Given we needed some creativity and knowing how well White links up with Saka on the right, it seemed a bit of a no-brainer to bring him on. Arteta opting for the young lad instead doesn’t bode well for White’s future. You have to wonder if there’s a bit of needle between him and the gaffer, because when the main right-back from 23/24 title charge (best to date) can’t even get a look-in when Timber goes down, something’s not right.

True to form, Havertz was drifting across the front line. He made a darting run into the box, found by Eze, only for Keane to bundle him over. At first glance, it looked like a bit of a shoulder barge, and even though it clearly knocked Kai off balance, I knew an English ref was never going to give that. They’re always looking for a blatant shove in the back or a leg trip. Little did I know, the replays would show there was actual contact on the leg.

I can almost forgive the ref on the pitch, but VAR once again proved to be either useless or biased against the Arsenal. If that penalty gets given, it’s a completely different ball game, and we might have missed out on those unforgettable moments in the end of the game—the Butterfly Effect in full swing, isn’t it?

The second half was more of the same—Raya made a brilliant save with his feet from point-blank range, mostly thanks to his top-tier positioning—but Arsenal were well on top. I’d even go as far as to say it was one of our best displays against a side sitting deep with a low block. Only the games against Leeds and Sunderland (home) were better. Still, the deadlock remained unbroken at 0-0.

Arteta finally blinked and went to the bench—Havertz made way for Gyokeres (likely just managing his minutes) and Martinelli replaced Madueke. That one was a bit of a head-scratcher for me, because Saka had reverted to his “frustrating” self in the second half. Every time he got it on the right, he just kept cutting back inside trying to buy a yard for a shot, and the defenders were wise to it every single time.

The moment Saka starts obsessing over getting on the scoresheet, his overall game goes right out the window. Meanwhile, Madueke had popped up on the right wing a few times and was asking real questions of the full-back, even winning a corner. Yet, he was the one hooked for Gabi, not the skipper. It reeks of certain players being “untouchable” rather than playing on merit.

Saka’s worst games always seem to happen when he’s wearing the armband. If the captaincy is weighing him down and clouding his judgment, then Arteta needs to hand it to someone else while Odegaard is out. We’ve got a leadership group for a reason—Gabriel or Rice would be a simple fix.

Without Havertz and Madueke, we lost our grip on the final third and looked toothless. We went from a fluid 4-3-3 to more of a 4-3-2-1. Gyokeres was playing on his own island, not really involved in the buildup but just trying to pin the centre-halves. And Martinelli isn’t usually as linked in with the play as Madueke was on the day. Instead of two players contributing to the buildup, we essentially had half a player in Gabi.

After the subs, the keys to the engine room were handed over to Eberechi Eze. He was dropping deep to bypass the first line of the Everton press, looking for runners with through balls, and lurking on the edge of the box for a pop at goal. And, boy, did he come agonizingly close when Rice found him with a cheeky flick.

But as lively as Eze looked, it felt a bit optimistic to think just him and Rice would find a way through (especially with our captain in “Do Not Disturb Everton” mode). I had a quick squint at the bench and the only name that gave me any hope was Max Dowman. Arteta was clearly on the same page, throwing him and Hincapie on for Zubimendi and Calafiori. It was a massive gamble by Arteta’s usual standards—leaving the midfield scrap to Rice, Eze, and now Saka. It was also his final throw of the dice, meaning he had no more subs left to change things in the dying embers of the game.

I advocated for Max as a strong creativity option for several posts already, since he got back to fitness, just as I did for Ethan last year. There were many voices saying he’s only sixteen and it’s naive to rely on him. There’s no such thing as too young - if the skill is there, if the ability to get away from physical roughness is there, if they don’t crumble under the sound of a full stadium, then there’s no need to look in the passport.

Moreover, youngsters like Dowman or Nwaneri get a bit of a free hit when the team is chasing a goal. If it doesn’t come off, nobody’s going to get on their back. But if they do produce a bit of magic, it’s a life-changing moment that can put their career into orbit.

From the off, Dowman was a breath of fresh air—gliding past players and picking the right pass every time. To be honest, Saka looked like a schoolboy compared to him on that flank. There’s a new Star Boy in town, and it isn’t Bukayo. Saka can become our Star Man, but he needs to find his form again before he can claim that. The “Boy” tag, however, now belongs to the sixteen-year-old.

His first real opening was a snap-shot from the edge of the box that he skied well over the bar. You could see the frustration on his face; he knew he should have done better. The clock was ticking, and we were still desperate for a breakthrough. I was just thinking how gutting it would be to see such an entertaining performance end in a stalemate. It would only convince Arteta to be even more cautious and safety-first in the future.

But fortune favours the bold, doesn’t it? With five minutes left, Dowman whipped in a peach of a cross from the right. Pickford came for it, got it wrong, and missed it completely. Piero Hincapie wasn’t giving it up as a lost cause, though—he kept it alive with all the tools at his disposal. And there, right in the mixer, was Gyokeres. That’s the beauty of the 4-3-2-1—you’ve got a man in the box always ready for the tap-in, and the Swede didn’t disappoint.

I wasn’t a fan of his “all about me” celebration. It wasn’t just down to him; it was about the shift everyone put in, and I’ve always respected scorers who acknowledge their teammates when the credit is due. Hincapie was a prime example. He absolutely transformed that left flank when they came on with Dowman. He was whipping crosses in first-time, bombing up and down, and was hell-bent on making something happen from Max’s cross.

Hincapie and Calafiori are different types of players, but they’re both quality and clearly play for the badge. Having a defender you can unleash for the final push who won’t give an inch is a proper luxury. No wonder he was the one eating the gap to clear the danger in stoppage time, hoofing the ball out for a throw-in.

That throw-in led to one last corner after a bit of a shaky clearance from Gabriel, and even Pickford was up for it, trying to pull a Trubin there. I was bricking it, given our recent record of conceding from set-pieces. But Gyokeres rose highest to thump it clear, and Martinelli poked it further away. Then it was over to Max. He showed more composure than most of his senior teammates—despite not being the quickest, he used his touch to send two defenders sliding into next week. There was nothing between him and the empty Everton net.

Max went for it, with his teammates trying to keep up. Martinelli did a proper job watching over Dowman and blocking off Mykolenko to block his last attempt to save Everton.

No matter what you think of Martinelli’s form, you can’t fault his character—he’s never selfish and you can see he lives and breathes this club and cares a lot about his teammates. From a purely tactical standpoint, it might be time to move him on, and it might even be better for his own career, but he’s exactly the kind of person you want representing Arsenal.

Tonight belonged to Max, though. He was the catalyst for most of the things in the final twenty minutes, but he just needed that goal to really put his stamp on the game. While it was a simple enough finish, it was the perfect end to a dream cameo. He’s now officially the youngest scorer in Premier League history.

He’s made his mark on the league, and he’s still humble enough that he hasn’t got some flashy celebration or that cold-blooded look in his eyes just yet. I reckon his ceiling is scary high, but I’m more than happy with what we’re seeing right now.

The evening couldn’t have gotten any better, but then it did. City clearly couldn’t handle our late winner and ended up dropping points at West Ham (just as we fluffed our lines after their turnaround at Anfield). We’re now 9 points clear, and even with City having a game in hand, I think the race is over. If we didn’t buckle after those draws against Brentford and Wolves, we’re not going to crumble now, especially with most of our remaining games at the Emirates where the fans can pull the team through if we’re flagging.

We’ve got Leverkusen at home on Tuesday, and if we play like we did today, there’s nothing to worry about. We’ll be two up by the break playing like that. I want to see Madueke back in the starting XI—he’s earned it. Havertz and Dowman can come on if needed, as we’ll want them fresh for Sunday when we have the unique chance to put a final nail into the City coffin!

Arteta rolled out the same XI that faced Brighton, and we certainly looked calm and composed from the off. However, it was all a bit too calm for my liking. There was a distinct lack of pace across the pitch, a lack of desire from half the side, and, frankly, a lack of quality at times.

Leverkusen didn’t exactly set the world on fire either, so at least our defensive shape held firm. As we’ve seen since the Spurs game, we’ve been building through Eze in a hybrid role. In the build-up, Eze drops deep into the center circle—not necessarily as an orchestrator, but as a release valve to bypass the opponent’s mid-block. His ability to glide past players makes him unpredictable; he can shift the attack in any direction or simply carry the ball himself.

Eze’s second job is to ghost into the box as a second striker once the move progresses. This forces opponents to track him all the way to the edge of the area, usually by passing the marking down to the defensive line, which can cause chaos in the backline. It’s a high-coordination approach that can really catch an unprepared defense cold.

When Arteta hinted in his presser that he’s figured out how to get the best out of him, I reckon this is what he meant. It’s exactly how we carved out our best opening in the first half. Eze burst into the box, dragged his man away, and slipped a lovely ball between his legs to Gyökeres. Viktor found himself 2-on-1 with Martinelli for company. The pass was guessed by a Leverkusen defender, but Martinelli still managed to rattle the bar with a rocket. Gabi was agonizingly close there.

The first half was a bit of a snoozefest, truth be told. One thing did strike me, though—the Leverkusen manager’s face. I knew they’d had a bit of a “Ten Hag phase” early this season, but I hadn’t realized who’d taken the reins afterwards. A quick check at the break confirmed it’s the former Denmark boss, the man who nearly led the Danes to the Euro 2020 final in London. I knew then and there the second half wouldn’t be a walk in the park. Even if their attack isn’t quite firing yet, he knows exactly how to analyzie and subsequently nullify an opponent.

Post-match, Mr Hjulmand mentioned that when the Danish squad trained at Brentford (no doubt thanks to the Danish link with true Arsenal fan former Bees coach Frank), he’d asked to borrow Nicolas Jover for a session. Whether that’s 100% true or not, the proof was in the pudding on the pitch.

Right after the restart, Raya was forced into a big save from a goal-bound header. The resulting corner led to the opener. Bayer executed a set-piece straight out of our own playbook: a deep delivery to the back post, player who was originally there dragged his marker— Zubimendi—out of position, the second player ran into the opened spaces, the third player made a block on Eze (who went down looking for a foul that never came). It left a free header for the opener. Fair play to them, but you have to wonder why Eze (and not Gyokeres, for example) was tasked with marking Andrich—the man looks like a German lumberjack!

That left us chasing the game, needing a spark in an attack that had been incohesive and frankly anonymous until then. Arteta’s first move was to haul off an invisible Saka for Madueke. Saka was arguably the worst player on the park yesterday—one of the poorest shifts I’ve seen from him in 5 years. The usual brilliance—the dribbling, the finishing, the decision-making—was nowhere to be seen. The CannonStats graphics tell the story: he offered virtually nothing going forward.

He didn’t look leggy or rusty; he just didn’t turn up. It felt like our top earner simply didn’t want to be on the pitch yesterday. I don’t know what the issue is, but it’s gutting for the fans. It must be equally frustrating for the gaffer, who is entitled to expect more from his star man. At this rate, I’d rather see Madueke start with a late cameo for Dowman on the right.

Arteta brought on Kai Havertz for Gyökeres, which was expected and also helped knit the attack together slightly better. The final sub—Jesus for Eze—was a real disappointment. Max Dowman, who looked lively against Mansfield, was left on the bench while Jesus got a run-out despite absolutely stinking the place on Sunday. It feels a bit unfair when poor performances don’t seem to have consequences.

I’m not buying the “managing minutes” argument ahead of the Everton game. Arteta didn’t bring on more attacking full-backs like White or Calafiori; Jesus was his big roll of the dice to change the game. Predictably, he didn’t lay a glove on them.

Madueke, on the other hand, actually made an impact. The Leverkusen boss had clearly done his homework, parking nine men in the box at times.

That didn’t stop Noni, though. He was determined to make his mark, just as he did against Mansfield. In the dying embers of the game, he danced into the box and was clipped. It was a “soft” penalty by PL standards, and we’ve seen them waved away plenty of times. The defender didn’t get the ball and definitely caught Noni’s leg. The usual ref excuse would be that there “wasn’t enough in it” and he could have stayed on his feet, though he’d have been swarmed immediately if he had.

To be fair, the ref completely lost the plot. His officiating was all over the shop. He let Andrich escape a second yellow after two cynical challenges, yet booked Saliba for next to nothing and cautioned Havertz for simply existing in the box during a corner. It was a classic “not in control” performance.

Fortunately, he gave the most important one our way. Havertz stepped up, and while it wasn’t exactly a HarryKane of a finish, he found the corner to level things up. His muted celebration showed he’s got class— he has proper values, appreciate the ones who gave him the road into big football and his only real beef is with Chelsea. Honestly, looking at this squad, I’m not sure who I’d trust on a high-pressure penalty besides Gyökeres. Maybe Timber (or Rice as a second option) —lads who can just put their laces through it. Which also speaks volume about a lack of “big” attacking personalities, something we really need to look at in the summer.

A 1-1 draw isn’t exactly what we dreamed of, but it’s a decent result. In fact, it’s the best showing from an English side this round. Half the Premier League contingent got hammered by three goals and practically buried their chances of getting into the quarterfinal. Newcastle snatched a draw but faces a daunting trip to the Camp Nou, and Liverpool lost. We’re the only ones coming home with an away draw, making us the clear favorites to progress.

I won’t lean into the “Farmers League” memes. English teams are best prepared for the highly intense and physical matches, which is why they cruised the group stage. But at this time of the season, after a grueling winter schedule, the league intensity has clearly taken a toll on them. We forget that the likes of PSG, Bayern and Spanish duo can coast in their domestic leagues. Their Champions League games, however, are marked with a red circle in their calendar and they plan to peak for them. The Champions League final is the biggest football event of the year and every player, coach and club owner wants to have a seat at that fancy table.

Last night was a reminder that playtime is over—it’s serious business from here on out. All the passengers have come off the train already, and the rest are not going to leave it by free will and need to be taken out by force. The Champions League is ruthless. Chelsea thought they were sitting pretty for a favorable 2-2 or 3-3 draw, only to concede three goals after a couple of schoolboy errors. Now they need a miracle. Every mistake can be punished to the maximum when the individual quality is this high. That’s why from now on we need to be at it every single game (I’m looking at you, Bukayo), starting next Tuesday at the Emirates.

But first, we’ve got a massive game against Everton in the league. When people moan about Arsenal “not playing football” and “set-piecing” their way through the games, they forget that in the Premier League there are teams like Everton who have the Masters degree in that discipline.

We need to be on it from the first whistle. The earlier we get the breakthrough, the better our chances of taking all three points. Everton are like a hungry vampire who thrive on frustrating opponents; they grow in confidence with every blocked shot and heavy tackle. If it stays goalless, they’ll grow stronger by the minute.

That’s why we can’t afford any passengers starting on Saturday. I’d start with Eze on the left, Noni on the right, and Kai through the middle. To complement them I would go with Gyökeres as a second striker. He works well with Kai because Havertz occupies the defenders, leaving Gyokeres a bit of free space. Besides, Gyökeres is almost ineffective in the final 20 minutes if we’re chasing a goal—at that point, you need players who can navigate a “forest of legs” rather than just bumping into the first tree like a pick-up truck that went off the road.

Max Dowman would be my go-to off the bench if we need a late winner. The others—Trossard, Saka, etc.—haven’t really shown enough lately. I am just hoping it will not come to that on Saturday. And let’s be honest, Owen Goal has been quiet lately—he’s due a comeback!

The win against Mansfield (which I missed for the number of reasons including the usual broadcast nightmare) was a proper chance to see if Max Dowman can do a job for us in the run-in. We are crying out for players who can provide that bit of attacking flair and play without the weight of the world on their shoulders. If Dowman can show the same bottle he had at the start of the season—remember him causing all sorts of problems for Liverpool at Anfield? He could be a real weapon off the bench, especially if we’e chasing a goal late on.

One of Max’s biggest strengths is that the rest of the league hasn’t got a clue how to handle him yet—there’s zero data on how to shut him down. That’s the big difference between him and the likes of Saka, Trossard, Martinelli, or Eze. He can just go out there and have a free hit. As long as the ref isn’t one of those sadists who lets defenders kick bits out of youngsters just because they’re new to the scene, Dowman is well-placed to cause absolute havoc.

The latest graphics from CannonStats show that Max was actually our most industrious creator against Mansfield. He even nearly bagged a great goal after dancing through the defence, so I’m full of hope for the lad.

On the flip side, the same stats highlight Gabriel Jesus as the biggest disappointment of the day. I get that it’s a tough pill to swallow going from winning titles at City to only getting a look-in against lower-league opposition in the cups (even if he did start at the San Siro against Inter not long ago). But look, as one of the senior pros and highest earners, he’s got a responsibility to deliver whenever he’s called upon. Period.

He should know better than anyone how much a squad effort matters for overall success—success he’ll get a medal for at the end of the season, even if it’s not the starring role he fancied. It might be that he’s already got a summer move lined up and is terrified of picking up a knock. Even if that’s the case, there are levels to this game, and the gap in quality between him and Mansfield Town is massive. He should be running the show without even breaking a sweat, just like Madueke and Eze did with their goals.

We’ve absolutely lucked out with the FA Cup quarter-final draw. After getting the second-easiest draw in the fifth round (while Chelsea got the easiest, naturally), Southampton at home is a result. They can be a nuisance, sure, but it’s miles better than a trip to City or Liverpool. The nightmare with the FA Cup when you’re chasing big trophies is that these rounds fall right in the middle of the title run-in and the Champions League business end. They can be a massive distraction, but so far, the balls have been kind to us.

I don’t know how many bellies Arteta has been rubbing lately, but between the FA Cup and the Champions League, the draws have been incredibly generous. Meanwhile, City—the only side really breathing down our necks—have a proper month from hell coming up:

It can only be described as a brutal run. If I were a City fan, I’d be fuming at the disparity in the fixtures. And I know how that feels because we were in their shoes two seasons ago when they seemed to dodge Big Six clubs in the FA cup entirely.

Coaches and pundits love the cliché that winning big games builds momentum, but the truth is those matches take a massive emotional toll. It’s exhausting to go again and again in high-stakes fixtures, especially when you see teams like Bayern Munich strolling through their league and resting half the XI whenever they feel like it.

Anyway, back to tonight’s Champions League clash (in that annoying early kick-off slot). I’ve heard people claiming our draw is easier because we topped the group. Honestly, those people don’t have a clue. We were in the same boat as Bayern, with a 50/50 chance of ending up in the ‘bracket of death’—the one that forces you through the winner of City/Real Madrid in the quarters and then potentially Liverpool, PSG, or Chelsea in the semis. For my money, the teams to avoid were City, Liverpool, and PSG. The draw means we only have to face one of them at most. But first, we’ve got to deal with Leverkusen.

The real perk of topping the group is having the second leg at home. It takes the sting out of the away leg because the lads know they can finish the job at our place. For Arsenal, that psychological edge is massive.

My theory is that our patchy league form—where we’re struggling to create clear-cut chances and missing the ones we do get—is all down to the pressure of the title race. In the cups, that dark cloud seems to lift, and the players remember how to actually play football again.

I reckon we’ll see a much more composed performance tonight. I expect us to control the ball, boss the physical battles, and get ourselves into the right areas to test the keeper. It’s time for the boys to just go out there and enjoy it.

Arteta will likely stick with the XI that started against Brighton. Leverkusen aren’t exactly famous for parking the bus and suffocating creative players, so Martinelli and Gyokeres should find plenty of grass to run into. Saka and Eze won’t be facing the same level of physical bullying they get in the Prem, either.

I wouldn’t be surprised if Bayer nick a goal in front of their own fans, but if our group stage form is anything to go by, we can see this out for a comfortable 2-1 or 3-1 win. That would put us in pole position to wrap things up in the return leg and claim that quarter-final spot.

I’ll be honest—I watched this one in the background due to some personal troubles (and to be fair, it might have been for the best), so my remarks might not be spot on.

Arteta stuck with the same XI, swapping Trossard for Martinelli (predictable enough) and Saliba for Mosquera, which definitely wasn’t. As the gaffer shared in the presser, Bill, who was our most composed defender against Chelsea, finished that match with a minor knee injury and had to be left out. Luckily, the next match where he’s a must-have is in two weeks (the return leg against Leverkusen) followed by the Carabao Cup final.

The game kicked off with another unnecessary clanger from Raya. David is a brilliant keeper, but he becomes a nervous wreck under the high press. He’s been making rash decisions in practically every game for the last month. Podcasters and bloggers keep raving about his shot-stopping, but we can’t just ignore this side of his game. He doesn’t radiate calmness, and it’s clearly affecting the back four. Petr Cech might not have had Raya’s agility, but he was a massive calming presence. That, I believe, was a major reason why Chelsea still hold that impressive record for fewest goals conceded in a Prem season—a record nobody has really come close to.

Luckily, we’ve got several players in the squad who thrive on being the hero when the team is up against it.

And Gabriel is one of them. He sprinted back and cleared it behind the goal line—the only safe place to stop Brighton’s pressure. Less than ten minutes after, Saka scored the first only goal of the game. Bukayo wasn’t quite the saviour or the star man today, but he took a decent shot which, after a deflection, found its way into the Brighton net.

To be fair, the trajectory wasn’t too tricky and Verbruggen should have saved it. And here, despite my earlier criticism, I can confidently say David Raya has the quality and would actually have kept that out. For the rest of the first half, it was mostly Gabriel’s sliding blocks, Rice’s vital touches in the box, and a whole lot of scrapping. The first-half stats made for grim reading for Arsenal:

0.03 xG in the first hour. Hurzeler was fuming on the touchline and in his post-match presser. To be honest, the German coach made a bit of a fool of himself. There was no need to have a pop at Arsenal’s style of play. Any neutral could see Brighton deserved at least a point, and nobody would blame them for the performance. Moreover, looking at the results this weekend—Liverpool and United losing, City drawing—to slate Arsenal for grinding out three points seems way off the mark.

Usually, such outbursts stem from one of two things. Either the manager is helpless and the anger comes from a lack of ideas—which I don’t think is the case here, given Brighton took two draws off us last season—or the coach is just jealous. Hurzeler is also a young manager and seems to somehowtake Arteta’s success a personally.

There is, however, only one proper way to react to it.

Piero Hincapie was a fairly pricey signing who didn’t initially justify the fee. He’s not great at keeping the ball under pressure, he’s not the most elegant passer, and I’m not yet sure he’s clicked with his teammates. But he’s a bloody fighter! He’ll run up and down that wing as many times as it takes, he’ll get stuck into duels, and he’ll put his body on the line just to rattle the opposition.

In a game where we couldn’t string three passes together and had to cling to that deflected goal for ninety-odd minutes, that’s exactly the type of player we needed. Mosquera is getting rinsed by Minteh in second half, creating Brighton’s best chance of the evening, Arteta hooks him for Calafiori, shifts Hincapie to right centre-back (where he’s never played before), and Hincapie sorts it out simply by being a constant nuisance to the opponent.

Someone mentioned we’ve got a second Gabriel in the squad, and I have to agree. Slightly smaller and considerably quicker, but he’ll fight for every ball and won’t give the opposition a second to breathe.

The attack, however, was completely disappointing again. There wasn’t a single player who could hold onto the ball and act as the engine for a counter-attack—someone to skip past defenders and win a foul to give the teammates a breather. Every time I saw our forwards lose it in their own half, I could almost see this moment in my head.

In the final minutes of a CL quarter-final against a peak Real Madrid side full of true world class players, Thierry Henry owned the ball and the match. We have nobody even close to that sort of swagger right now, and that’s something we need to address sooner rather than later if we want to be a real powerhouse in Europe.

Those players cost a fortune, but their impact is immeasurable. We all hoped Saka would be that man, but that remains a bit of a pipe dream for now. Havertz, given 30 minutes by Arteta, gave us a bit of an anchor upfront and we managed a couple of half-chances, but he couldn’t link the play. I won’t even go into the disappointing shift from our number 10, who definitely has the habit turn up when we are at our toughest.

One final positive was that Arteta finally realised he needs to rotate his midfield. At the weekend it was Rice; yesterday it was Zubimendi dropped to the bench to give Norgaard some minutes. I thought Norgaard did well. It’s hardly surprising, given he spent half his Brentford career defending under the cosh against the big teams. His ability to find a vertical pass is definitely useful. If only we had someone on the end of it to connect the attack further.

Our result was good, City’s was bad, and our performance was the ugliest we’ve seen all season. But the bottom line is this: if we win our two home games against Everton and Bournemouth (which will be bloody tough, but at least we’ll have the home crowd behind us), we’ll head to the Etihad in a position where we can afford to lose. In that scenario, I’d actually back us to get something. It’s still early days, but our position has definitely steadied.

Our next one is against a League One side, so everyone with high minutes should be getting a rest. The exciting one to watch is Max Dowman. The fact that he’s only 16 or 17 and hasn’t properly featured in the league campaign should take the pressure off the lad. He’s got really nothing to lose, he can afford to be anonymous, which is why I’m hoping he can come on and cause a bit of havoc!

Arteta stuck with the same starting XI from the Spurs game, which was hardly a shock. However, leaving Ben White and, more notably, Martin Odegaard out of the matchday squad entirely was a proper curveball. Given that no one really knows the score with Odegaard’s fitness and Arteta has spent two weeks hinting he’s nearing a return, I can only assume there’s been a bit of a falling out between the skipper and the gaffer. Odegaard hasn’t exactly been putting in brave shifts lately, missing chunks of the season with niggles, and you can’t help but feel he’s wrapping himself in cotton wool ahead of Norway’s historic World Cup appearance.

In Arteta’s book, anything less than total commitment is viewed as a betrayal. It feels like on the same aspects they’ve ended up on different sides of the fence, leaving Arteta with Eberechi Eze—the man who tore Spurs apart—as his sole creative spark in the middle. Little did we know that Arsenal’s chief playmaker on the night would actually be Robert Sanchez. The Chelsea keeper put in a real shift to gift Arsenal a goal, ranging from some proper dodgy footwork under pressure from Gyokeres to misplaced passes and flapping at crosses.

In the opening fifteen minutes, he was the main reason we looked like breaking the deadlock. After that explosive North London Derby win, the Emirates faithful expected more of the same, but on Sunday the lads didn’t exactly show much urgency to get an early goal. The hunger to bury every half-chance just wasn’t there, and the concentration levels were all over the shop.

The poster boy for this lack of focus was Zubimendi. For Arsenal’s first real opening, he sent the ball into Row Z from the edge of the area. Minutes later, after the team intercepted another Sanchez “pirouette”, he somehow managed to play the ball into Saka’s heels—a rare technical error for a Spanish technician. By the 19th minute, he nearly cost us dearly; he failed to track his man during the set piece, forcing Timber to shift across and leave his own marker free for a cross that, luckily, the Chelsea man couldn’t finish. Then, ten minutes later, he played an absolute hospital pass back to Raya. We nearly conceded a proper self-inflicted goal, but our keeper just about managed to hoof it clear.

Zubimendi impressed me earlier in the season with how he drove the team forward, but lately, he looks like he’s crumbling under the weight of a title race. On this evidence, you have to wonder what he offers that Christian Norgaard doesn’t. It’s not a stretch to think the Dane might have cooler nerves in the engine room, even if I don’t have any proof of that.

One positive was that we kept up those lightning-quick vertical transitions rather than just keeping the ball for the sake of it. That said, every attack felt like it was missing that final inch—Saliba’s 60-yard ball to Gyokeres was almost received by the Swede, Gyokeres’ ball to find Timber almost created a world-class open play to goal, and Eze’s audacious effort from the halfway line almost caught Sanchez out. (It was still not hitting the target though)\

The breakthrough eventually came from the same source that’s bailed us out all season when we need to unlock a stubborn defence. A cracking corner from Saka found Gabriel, who nodded it back to Saliba to fire past Sanchez. There was a bit of a deflection, but it was goal-bound anyway. Did Chelsea honestly think they’d get away with leaving those two not properly marked?

There’s no shame in being set-piece specialists; the team should be proud to have that tool in their locker. But when the big lads at the back are doing the business, the attackers need to step up and kill the game off by using the pockets of space that open up. While the forward line looked more coherent, we were still living in the “almost” zone. Trossard almost put Rice clean through on goal with Saka and Gyokeres in support, but he couldn’t quite dink it over Caicedo.

To be honest, I much prefer watching this direct, vertical football, even if the end product isn’t quite there yet. The clinical edge will come with time—we’ve been playing “horseshoe” football for so long that the players aren’t yet tuned for that killer instinct on the break. Liverpool have had years of Klopp’s heavy metal football to get it into their DNA. Our game stats demonstrates the mindset shift with completely unnatural possession numbers.

One standout from the first half was Piero Hincapie. The “Ecuadorian Jaguar” was everywhere—scrapping, lunging into tackles, and making life miserable for the Chelsea front line. Unfortunately, that was ruined right at the end of the half when Chelsea managed to win a corner in of the rare appearances near our box.

The first corner was a total shambles. Rice caught the ball with his shoulder in a duel, giving the ref a reason to point to the spot, but Raya pulled off a worldie of a save a second later. We can rave about the save all day— how he was flying back in the horizontal position without any support to get inertia from and still managed to direct the ball over the bar. But what on earth was he doing coming for it in the first place? He was never getting there through ten bodies in the mixer.

The follow-up corner proved Raya hadn’t learned his lesson. He went for another wander into the crowd. This time Hincapie was the first on the ball, but his header was looping into the far corner. And while you can’t really blame the Ecuadorian in such a crowded area, you have to ask why our goal was left completely unguarded.

What exactly is Raya supposed to save from the position he found himself in? If he’s tasked with claiming the cross, why isn’t there a man on the far post to clear our lines? The explanation is pretty simple: Raya lost his cool and went hunting for the headlines instead of being the calm head the back four needed.

Looking at our set-piece defending, it wasn’t long ago Brentford rattled us with a carbon-copy goal at the back post. Palace did it in the Carabao Cup, and Chelsea did it in the semis. The ball goes to the near corner in the goal box, a big lad wins the flick-on, and it drops into an unprotected area at the back stick. I’ve been banging on about this for three months, yet we keep getting caught out. If we’ve got a world-class set-piece coach in Mr Jover, sorting this should be priority number one. It doesn’t matter how well we defend in other situations if every opponent knows exactly how to exploit this glaring weakness.

That equalizer put us right back at square one. All the hard work from the first half was gone in a flash. And after the break, it was Chelsea who looked like the title contenders. They were well on the front foot, and clearly, Liam Rosenior had given them a proper hairdryer treatment in the dressing room. Once again, it was Raya saving our skins after yet another Chelsea corner with the same routine - Chalobah won a first header, delivered the ball closer to the far post where Joao Pedro tried to sneak it in.

Arteta’s first move to steady the ship was bringing on Martinelli for Trossard. I wouldn’t say the Belgian was efficient, but he was instrumental for that vertical game plan. Trossard offers that bit of composure and acts as the link—alongside Eze—to get the ball into the runners like Gyokeres or Saka in just a couple of passes.

Our second goal—to the absolute surprise meltdown of everyone watching—came from yet another set piece. Rice whipped it in from the left, Sanchez had an absolute nightmare, and Timber was there to tap it home. The Chelsea keeper tried to claim he was fouled, but the replays showed he just embarrassed himself. He got the flight of the ball all wrong, stumbled backwards, and ended up tangled with Saliba and his duel partner.

We were back in the driving seat, and with a fresh Martinelli joining Gyokeres, the counter-attack looked a real threat. Still, the game remained cagey. Rice, despite a heroic shift, nearly gifted Chelsea a way back by playing a loose ball into the stands instead of back to Raya and forcing a corner. Again, you have to ask: what was he doing in that moment that Norgaard couldn’t have done?

On the resulting counter, Martinelli did what he does best—turning his man and burning him for pace in open space. Pedro Neto couldn’t handle Gabi’s quick feet and hacked him down. I was fuming when the ref blew the whistle and stopped our break, but I’d missed that Neto had already been booked for arguing after the Timber goal, which meant that Chelsea were down to ten men. Martinelli, unleashed in the 55th minute, had completed his mission.

Pigs began to fly, cows came home and hell started to freeze over as Arteta actually subbed Rice for Norgaard in a league game. Our defensive shape immediately fell apart… just kidding, it was more of the same. Norgaard, by the way, still needs two more games for a winner’s medal if we pull this off. Arteta blamed Rice’s injury in the presser, but I’m not buying it. I reckon he just didn’t want to admit he’d run Declan into the ground after claiming he manages everyone’s minutes perfectly.

Alongside Norgaard, Havertz came on for Gyokeres, because “that’s how you close”. Eleven against ten, at home, “Quick Feet” Martinelli, Havertz “the Chelsea destroyer”, Eze on the back of an NLD double, a 300k/week winger on the right — it should have been curtains for Chelsea, right? A total stroll to the finish, right?? Not a chance.

In the final ten minutes, Chelsea were actually the better side and had chances to snatch a point. Their whole attack was up for the fight, except for Cole Palmer. For the umpteenth time against us, he went missing after getting a bit of rough treatment. Palmer is their version of Odegaard—he hates the physical stuff and isn’t ready for a proper battle with our back four. It wasn’t Palmer who caused the drama, though.

Garnacho whipped one in from the left, it bypassed everyone, and Raya had to demonstrate an unbelievable level of reaction to keep it out.

Minutes later, with Joao Pedro clearly offside (get some quality glasses, Neville!), Raya made another brilliant stop only for Delap to fire home the rebound. Even though it was offside, I couldn’t believe no one but Gabriel bothered to track back. Only the left defender can know with guarantee that it was an offside because they have seen everybody’s position. And we all know how in the age of VAR, you have to play to the whistle and fight until the bitter end.

We eventually scrambled over the line for the win. We gave ten-man Chelsea far too much freedom and respect, much more than they deserved, and honestly, the nervy performance wasn’t a surprise—it was the same jitters we saw against Wolves. We thought we were in the clear after the 4-1 drubbing of Spurs, but it turns out we were just playing a pub team that day.

This “hanging on” approach won’t last for the next nine games. It’s not about skill or tactics; it’s about handling the nerves. I get that title pressure gets into players’ heads, but relying on defensive grit for the last twenty minutes requires a top level of mental strength that not everyone in this squad might have. The easier fix is to switch the focus on killing games off. We need clinical finishing and to treat every missed chance with the same pain as a conceded goal. We had the chances to bury Chelsea, but the focus just wasn’t there. A two-goal cushion would have calmed the nerves and saved us from another heart-attack finish.

This game showed us exactly who Arteta is going to trust for the run-in. The squad is splitting into few clear camps under this pressure. The first group are the cool customers who keep delivering without major bumps—Saliba, Timber, and probably Trossard. Even if Leo’s output has dipped, he doesn’t look like he’s playing with lead in his boots.

The second group has all the talent in the world but can’t handle the heat, leading to rash decisions. They’d rather be pulling out heroic moves than just stay composed. Zubimendi’s recent form suggests he’s in this bracket. David Raya has unbelievable skills as a goalkeeper, he was praised by many people for the second half saves. But we simply can’t close our eyes on his howlers in the first half or the mistake against Wolves. Gabriel is cut from the same cloth unfortunately.

Then there’s the third group: those whose levels have simply faded. No composure, no heroics. These are the players Arteta won’t trust in the final stretch. Madueke, Myles, and Norgaard are in this boat, and sadly, it looks like Gabriel Jesus and our captain have joined them.

To win this league, we need a leader (or better two) from that first group - someone who stays composed but drags everyone else up with them.

The one that can calm everyone around, but also inspire and motivate teammates with the right words. Odegaard isn’t clearly up to that task. Kevin De Bruyne was that type of player, Mo Salah, pre-injury Rodri and younger Van Dijk, as well as Cesc Fabregas was for Chelsea. Unfortunately, Declan Rice (who we all had high hopes for) looks closer to that “nervy” second group lately. I haven’t seen him radiating much calmness of late.

While the back line has some steel, the attack lacks that big-game character. Eze isn’t a leader, Gyokeres and Martinelli are too dependent on service, and Saka looks like a shadow of himself. Havertz is struggling for fitness, while Jesus and Odegaard are currently out of the picture. I had high hopes for Trossard after 23/24, but he hasn’t been the same since Christmas. It’s a crying shame Merino is sidelined, because despite many deficiencies he has the exactly the sort of composure we’re crying out for.

Looking at the squad, Arteta is basically going to lean on the yesterday starting XI plus Martinelli, Havertz, Calafiori, and maybe White (if we ever find out what’s going on there). That’s a core of fifteen players who are going to have to handle all the physical load. I get that you want to trust your best players near the finish line, but this is why I’ve been scolding Arteta for his refusal to rotate all season. You have to look at the long term strategy and not each individual game if you want to lift the trophy in May. You have to keep some of your key players fresh for the final stretch. Pep used to unleash a fresh De Bruyne in March to tear the league apart and get City over the line.

Next up is Brighton, which on paper should be straightforward. Brighton is not known for rolling out the disgusting deep block, the one Everton is about to do next week; they’ll try to play themselves, which leaves space for us to exploit. On paper, we’re better in every department, but as we know, football isn’t played on paper. In reality, I’m expecting another wobbly performance filled with errors where the result is anyone’s guess.

Our problem is purely mental right now. We’ll find out for sure when we start our Champions League path up top in Leverkusen. If we handle Bayer like we did the rest in the group stage, we’ll know it’s just the run-in pressure getting to our players.

But for the Brighton game, the only way to avoid a heart-attack finish is to be three up by the hour mark. To do that, we need total concentration from the first whistle. Every player needs to treat every chance like it’s their last. Only that attitude will help us bring back home the first title in over 20 years!

Initially I wanted to focus this post mainly on our clash with Chelsea, just touching on the Champions League, but the draw has properly thrown my plans out. I came into Friday thinking that Atalanta and Bayer aren’t really the massive forces we should be scared of. That Atalanta isn’t the same animal it was under Gasperini and they’ve lost that defensive solidity. That Bayer, after losing Wirtz, Frimpong, and Boniface, lack that attacking magic—and keeping Grimaldo quiet means shutting down half their creative engine.

But the whole knockout bracket has absolutely blown my mind.

I believe there are only four teams in the Champions League that can give us a proper tough challenge—only four ties where we wouldn’t be the clear favourites:

• PSG, who knocked us out last season, so Luis Enrique clearly has a blueprint to tame Arsenal.

• Bayern Munich, who did the business against us two seasons ago; they’re the highest scoring team in Europe, full of confidence and attacking power.

• Liverpool, who managed to keep us goalless in both Premier League fixtures.

• And Man City, who don’t need any further introduction.

Now all four are in the other half of the bracket, meaning we could theoretically only face one of them if they come out on top there. If there’s a tiny downside, it’s that the other finalist would have come through such a brutal path they wouldn’t be even a bit afraid of us in the final. But that’s a way off yet, and a good type of headache to have.

Out of the all top-seeded pairs, we’ve got the easier shout in my opinion. Obviously Sporting is better to face than City, and Spurs... well, defenitely better than Liverpool. But also Barcelona is a better pairing for Arsenal than Chelsea. We’ve played Chelsea so many times and they have plenty of experience to learn how to stop us.

But Barcelona, despite all their attacking flair and individual quality, have a massive defensive weakness. They play a high line and I bet they won’t bother with an organised deep block. That is exactly the setup this Arsenal team is comfy with. We’re at our best when we’re actually left to defend and can hurt teams on the transition.

And even if we look at the other potential opponents in our half of the draw, there isn’t much to be seriously worried about:

• Newcastle are nowhere near last year’s level defensively and haven’t found a proper replacement for Isak.

• Atleti aren’t the same side they were a few years back either. They shipped three away at Brugge and we put four past them in October. Griezmann is getting older by day and Alvarez has been quite weak in this second half of the season.

• Bodo and Sporting can win by simply being a more organised outfit, but we’re an organised unit too, just with far superior individual quality.

• Spurs :)

Aside from Newcastle, the rest of this half doesn’t have the experience of stopping Arsenal and we all know how players like Gyokeres or Martinelli shine when they aren’t being suffocated for space.

I don’t know how it’s happened, but we’ve been unbelievably lucky. We just need to make it count now. People say an easy draw brings more pressure, but after five dry seasons and a lost semi-final last year, the pressure to reach the final was always there. After a bit of a wobbly winter in the league, this set of opponents will boost the belief that we can actually make it to Budapest.

Back to Chelsea

For the first time in weeks, maybe even months, we’re heading into a Premier League game with a full week of rest. The last time that happened was …. back on the 31st of August, when we lost to Liverpool at Anfield. Since then, excluding international breaks, our biggest gap between games was five days. Until the end of March, we’re fully booked again.

Which means we have a rare chance to be fresh, which can only be good news. Chelsea have lost some steam under Rosenior after a couple of draws. He’s an interesting coach, but I’ve always thought that to handle that collection of high egos and spoiled individuals at the Bridge, you need a manager with indisputable authority. A 40-year-old hipster, however well he talks, isn’t going to have that. Now he’s being mocked for having a lone pint in the pub after the Burnley draw. It’s not embarrassing in itself, but the media (social and other hype eaters) will jump on anything to troll him because he just doesn’t have the weight to handle Chelsea.

The tough bit about this Chelsea fixture is that despite losing to us twice in the Carabao Cup, they’ll have a different mindset this time. In the semi-final, Rosenior couldn’t really play for a draw. At home he couldn’t park the bus in front of his own crowd. And away after a home draw, they desperately needed a goal. Now, in the league, they’re facing the league leaders away, so a draw is a decent result for them. They can easily set up a low block and dare Arsenal to break them down.

Generally, I thought his Carabao Cup performance was quite convincing. Rosenior managed to stay in the tie until the death. Until the 90th minute, only a single goal kept them from the penalty lottery. And let’s be honest, the game at the Emirates was tight and a draw would’ve been a fair outcome.

It’s also worth noting Chelsea are in a proper dogfight for a Champions League spot with Liverpool, United, and Villa.

One of those four is going to miss out, and right now Villa look the most likely to drop.

That said, if Chelsea don’t win on Sunday, they’ll likely drop to that outsider sixth spot. Given that in the last 11 gameweeks they still have to play Villa, City, Liverpool, United, and Newcastle—plus now two times PSG in Europe—they really can’t afford to mess about, especially after drawing at home to the team in 19th.

That’s why I don’t think this will be an easy game. At the same time, Arsenal play better when the opponent is a “big name”—it energizes the crowd and the players more noticeably than a regular fixture. And if that “big name” is also combined with a questionable form - it’s the best opportunity for Arsenal to leave a big mark (How are you doing there, Spurs?). Honestly, I’m more worried about Everton coming here in two weeks, as they won’t be shy about putting up one of those annoying, deep blocks.

If I had three wishes from a genie, then aside from that absolute gift of a Champions League draw and properly smashing City at the Etihad, I’d be desperate for Arteta to keep doing the business against the rest of the league exactly how we did against Spurs. Less of that “horseshoe” sideways football and more vertical, penetrative play, with Eze linking everyone and Gyokeres being released early. Based on recent form, we shouldn’t be seeing Odegaard start; strictly speaking he should not be sent into a position of proving his worth coming off the bench.

Having Havertz on the bench should be a boost too. Even if he doesn’t play or only gets a 10-minute cameo, just having him around as an option is a confidence lift. Knowing you have a Plan B in mind takes the pressure off Plan A and makes it easier to deliver.

Kai has become so vital in our games against Chelsea. In just 203 minutes against them in our shirt, he’s bagged three goals and didn’t shy away from a proper celebration, despite winning the biggest trophy of his career in a Chelsea shirt. It suggests he was in a proper toxic atmosphere and was already excited to just be out of it.

Last week we showed who runs North London, now it’s time to confirm our dominance across the whole capital!

These three days following the Wolves draw were quite depressing for the Arsenal faithful. We were heading into a North London Derby only to host Chelsea at home afterwards—a direct replica of our title run-in during the 2023/24 season. Those fixtures were won 3-2 and 5-0 respectively, showcasing a truly dominant performance. This time around, I had doubts whether we could replicate such a high performance level, as our recent form has been anything but calm.

Arteta opted for the same back four and double pivot, selecting Eze, Trossard, Gyökeres, and Saka as his front four. Likely the strongest quartet we currently possess for such a massive, emotional fixture requiring the mix of control and physicality. The man with the most hunger was, surprisingly, Viktor Gyökeres. Only a few minutes into the match, he turned his marker in the penalty area—perhaps only the second or third time I have witnessed this in the Premier League overall—and nearly found the far corner. Shortly thereafter, he was on the end of a corner delivery, finding Saliba in the box, who unfortunately missed the target from a decent position.

It was not all one-way traffic, however. Gabriel fluffed a pass to Zubimendi during the build-up, gifting Spurs their first attack. These nervous moments from the Brazilian are beginning to creep back in, and I am becoming worried. He was notorious for such howlers early in his Arsenal career, but I believed that confident end to the 23/24 season had turned a page for Big Gabz. Yet, in the 23/24 quarter-final against Bayern he looked rather shaky, and in 24/25 we failed to challenge for the league while he missed key CL duels against PSG and Real Madrid.

I am not entirely confident in his psychological stability; Saliba appears a far more reliable candidate. Another unpleasant moment occurred when Timber misplaced a simple ball under pressure and received a booking right away while attempting an awkward recovery. He looks completely gassed, and this was the second consecutive match where he committed such silly errors. If only we had a solution for this issue... Just imagine for a moment if, except Timber, we had a right-back who was a starter for the side that achieved 89 points and second place in 23/24. Dreams, dreams... Benjamin White was missing for this clash, but nothing—save for Arteta’s own stubbornness—prevented him from being utilised in midweek.

Twenty minutes in, it was evident the game would be relatively open. Spurs did not deploy a deep block; instead, they often pressed us in a 3-5-2 shape, leaving spaces for our wingers to exploit. The 23/24 vintage with Havertz, peak Saka, and a functioning Ødegaard would have torn this defence to shreds. Currently, Ødegaard is shying away from physical contact, Saka is operating at 40% of his pre-injury efficiency, and Havertz is struggling with fitness for over a year. Trossard, the only relative constant in our equation, wasted his best first-half chance by sending the ball into the highest seated fans from just outside the box.

The Spurs high line was so aggressive that even Raya nearly found Saka 1-on-1 with the keeper via a 60-meter pass. The pre-injury Saka would have had this defence for breakfast, likely bagging a brace in the first half, but not this version of him. That said, he found some luck in one attack, skipping past a Spurs defender who got caught in his own feet. Saka entered the box unmarked, where several teammates made their runs. The latest arrival was Eberechi Eze, the target of Saka’s delivery. Eze cushioned the ball to control it and then smashed it home with a brilliant acrobatic strike.

Immediately, I felt that only Eze in our current squad possesses enough composure in front of goal to convert from that height. The rest of our attackers would likely have rushed the shot and tried to hit it “somehow.” Eze adjusted his body and feet perfectly to produce an unstoppable finish.

In general, despite being quiet at times, Eze was often the key to bypassing the Tottenham press. Tudor decided to man-mark Zubimendi, forcing him to receive the ball only with his back to play, stifling our build-up. Fortunately, we had Eze who, with his trademark silkiness on the ball, dropped deep and progressed the attack with one-touch football, often leaving the Spurs markers bamboozled. We were finally playing to Eze’s strong suits.

Eze appeared delighted after scoring, which suggests he isn’t in some sort of protest against the manager. It implies he simply doesn’t understand what is required of him when he is forced to replicate Odegaard functions. Either that, or he lacks faith in the slow build-up—the “horseshoe” passing and the constant search for risk-free options. To be fair, given our displays since the start of December, it is difficult to disagree with him.

As soon as Eze needed to execute a 20-meter pass to slice through the Spurs defence, our number 10 had no trouble whatsoever. He created numerous big chances for Saka—three or four by my count—and was generally the glue in our counter-attacks. One break found Saka in front of the box with two teammates in support and a couple of defenders blocking him specifically. Instead of playing the pass, Saka tried to go it alone, despite the Spurs defence clearly doubling up on him. (The picture is bad quality but you can get the gist).

Saka is entering that phase again where he wants to be the “main man,” the star the media and pundits obsess over. But he is simply not at that level currently—neither in his finishing nor his decision-making. It is baffling, as we are not in a desperate scrap for our first title in years, yet Saka is preoccupied with personal perception rather than team success.

But before that chance, just minutes after our opener, something calamitous occurred. Declan Rice surrendered possession in a dangerous area in front of the box, attempting to dribble past two Spurs players. Kolo Muani pounced, scoring his first goal for Spurs with their only touch inside our box in the first half.

Even you, Declan? You? The man who is a symbol of stability and grit? The player many view as the true captain of this Arsenal side? What hope do we have as fans if even you, our rock, crumble under the pressure? The only saving grace was that Declan immediately messaged his teammates to say all is well and the team would bounce back.

We had plenty of opportunities to retake the lead immediately—several counter-attacks that were poorly executed. Gyökeres, who started brightly, failed to control the ball twice when it was fizzed into his feet. The sort of control that players like Jiménez, Mateta, or Evanilson would pull off with ease. I found myself thinking again that the 23/24 Arsenal side would have made light work of these chances. Given such poor ball retention, it is understandable why Arteta is desperate to rush Havertz back into the starting XI.

Mighty second half

The second forty-five minutes continued the same pattern we witnessed in the first. Spurs pushed high up the pitch, attempting to disrupt our build-up, and we all know that this is a relatively comfortable environment for Arsenal to operate in.

While the attack was being built up from the right side, Spurs failed to track Eze’s run; Eberechi overloaded the defender marking Gyökeres, sacrificing himself in a challenge for the ball. This left Gyökeres unmarked, and the Swede did not disappoint. A rocket of a strike flew into the net, with Gyökeres once again playing to his strongest suit.

For all of Havertz’s link-up play and overall completeness as a footballer, I cannot imagine him producing such a strike. This was a proper number 9 doing clinical number 9 things. Having both a fully fit Havertz and Gyökeres in the squad really gives us the capacity to threaten opponents unleashing different profiles.

After taking the lead, the primary objective was not to mess it up within the next 10 minutes. Kolo Muani had, however, developed a taste for goals in the meantime. During a cross from the left, he shoved Gabriel in the back and slotted home his second. While it was a clear push and the goal was rightly chalked off, it was unconvincing defending from Gabriel. After watching the replay I think that he failed to position himself correctly to win the header, and although the shove was soft, he went down far too easily. It felt like he realised he might lose the duel and looked for a way out—returning to the point about him not handling the nerves too well.

Arteta finally realised that leaving Timber on might jeopardise the result and introduced Mosquera instead, who was convincing once again. We reverted to a counter-attacking game and Eze was easily the best player on the park. He unlocked the Spurs defence repeatedly, putting Saka 1-on-1. When Saka failed once again to beat Vicario, Eze was there in the box to finish the job himself.

An away brace following a home hat-trick—Eze’s punishment of Spurs is quite staggering. Even more encouraging than his performance were Arteta’s comments after the final whistle.

You could see that Eze wanted to prove something. He was upset even with me, because I didn’t play him the other day from the beginning and some of the decisions that I made. I have started to understand how we’re going to get the best out of him now.

Basically, Arteta admitted that he was using Eze wrong, he admitted to his own mistakes, which was very refreshing to see. If that is really true, I have a ray of belief that Eze can actually carry this team for 5 league games in the rest of the season and together with recovered Havertz that can pull our attack until the end of May. Because, let’s be honest, Saka is nowhere near that level right now, Odegaard is practically a sub player, Trossard was quiet again, Martinelli and Gyokeres are very dependent players and Madueke is always hot-an-cold.

Eze and Havertz are our two rays of hope; if Arteta plays to their strengths, we might have a chance of a strong finish. The best way to utilise Eze is to abandon the dogma of controlling every inch of the pitch and start playing vertical football—something Nørgaard is also quite adept at. When we play vertically, we produce our best football and can outscore most of the league, especially those yet to play us (excluding City). Another interesting tactical wrinkle was Trossard and Eze swapping positions. Eze popped up on the left in the second half to glide past the Spurs right-sided centre-back, while Trossard joined the attack through the middle.

Arteta threw in Odegaard and Martinelli instead of Eze and Trossard, while leaving Saka on the pitch, who had probably one of the worst second halves when it comes to chance conversion. And as against Wolves, Saka forced himself to come off after a painful collision with the opponent.

The new Spurs boss threw on his big attacking names to save the match, and it wasn’t entirely in vain. In the 83rd minute, after some chaos in the box, Raya had to produce a world-class save. And once again “we heard them crying at the Lane..” That sums up half our team perfectly. When heroism is required—a wonder save, a goal-saving tackle—Raya, Gabriel, and Rice are there to put their bodies on the line. But when we need composure and simple game management, like clearing a cross in injury time, mistakes start creeping in. Three seasons on from that emotional 22/23 campaign, we are still at our best in these high-stakes, emotional games.

In the injury time Odegaard, who was pretty silent in the allocated 20 minutes, found a Gyokeres run, who managed to keep the defender away and scored another true number 9 goal. It’s really refreshing to see such types of goals happening for Arsenal and it’s definitely going to be beneficial for the Swede’s confidence.

A brace in the North London Derby and Gyokeres once again proved that he is deadly efficient against the relegation teams 😀. We won both of our NLDs with the same 4:1 score and it can only be described as poetic. At least Thomas Frank did it away from home!

We had absolutely no room for error (especially after City’s narrow win against Newcastle) and we grabbed our chance to get back on track. We are not out of the woods, because most teams will deploy a much tighter defence and our worst games were when are met with a low block. However, we added another three points in the Premier League table and more importantly now we have a new hope.

The starting XI brought a proper boost to my mood—Saka playing as a genuine number 10. The big reason I was buzzing is that our main weakness is how predictable we’ve become. We are tactically massive, covering the grass and defending as one unit; we know how to play out from the back under the press and how to get stuck in ourselves. But we keep deploying the same players in the same roles, giving opponents months (or even years) of tape and practice to use against us.

Despite Arteta mentioning “unpredictability” and “multiple options” every other presser in the summer, he often sticks for too long with the same selection. Giving up the known patterns in favour of the unknown means also losing control. And we know how much he loves to control every single detail on the pitch.

The opponents know that to stop “typical” Arsenal, you just deploy an extra man to double up on Saka. Then you send another man to engage in a physical battle with Odegaard that pushes him far away from the box. That makes our open play much weaker and the team starts to rely mostly on set piece play.

Any deviation from that script causes the opposition real trouble. Eze and Merino formed an attacking pair that carried us through the autumn. Both fluid in their movement, both dangerous around the box—Merino with the strength to hold the ball up top and Eze with that ability to glide past defenders, a great combination. In winter, however, Eze completely faded and Merino was dropped back into the engine room as the only midfield sub Arteta actually trusts.

Then Havertz returned to the side in mid-January and brought exactly that missing trait. A physical presence around the box that is tough to contain—a second fluid striker who can drop deep when needed. Now Havertz is sidelined and Saka is bringing yet another flavour to this role. He has the quality to keep the ball high up the pitch and is very goal-oriented.

Another surprise in the line-up was Martinelli. I assumed he’d be benched after putting in a full shift on Sunday. But there he was—his second start after that painful and costly miss against Brentford. He brought the dynamism and energy from the first whistle that troubled Wolverhampton. The front four of Gyok, Saka, Noni, and Gabi was probably the fastest we have on the books. All we needed to utilize their pace was an early goal to force them out, which only took Arsenal five minutes.

Bukayo Saka made a brilliant run following a great Declan cross to score with a header between the keeper’s legs. That’s the type of run Odegaard has never even tried to make in the last two and a half years and don’t get me started on the chances the captain has to score the header. Saka was more than present in the box, while the captain is usually lurking away from the heat, looking for a chance to play a cross himself.

The celebration Saka dropped was supposed to be iconic and lead every match review. Little did we know that a completely different picture was going to dominate the media on Thursday.

It’s not that Saka is a better number 10 than Odegaard. The problem is simply that Odegaard has been figured out by PL teams. When players get found out, they either need to add another tool to their locker or the club needs to move on. It doesn’t mean the player isn’t top quality, but for the current club in the current setup, his output is only going to reduce over time.

Odegaard has been figured out in the Premier League as an attacking midfielder, Martinelli as our left winger, and Jesus as a number nine (though in Europe, they all remain solid contributors). If we need to raise funds in the summer to refresh the attack, I can see us letting go of all three. And if the interest in Odegaard is real, he is our most expensive asset that could be sold without too much pain. While Odegaard was out, Wolves decided to target Zubimendi and not let him receive the ball comfortably (a smart move, to be fair). With Saka losing his initial drive, we went quiet after the 25th minute. Our level dropped and sadly never recovered.

Madueke was close to bagging another header—crazy to think our two most dangerous headers came from lads known for quick feet and slim body rather than height. Hincapie was also looking dangerous on his side. He’s generally becoming more confident and influential; he’s daring to go direct into the box, beating defenders and delivering decent crosses. In one attack after a brilliant backheel from Rice, he was wiped out in the Wolves box. It was a close one to claim a penalty, but the replay showed a touch on the ball, so VAR wasn’t going to overturn it.

Right from the restart, Wolves looked the better side, which was expected as they were a goal down. Ten minutes into the half, their momentum was supposed to be killed when Gabriel found Hincapie for a perfect finish—just as sensei Calafiori taught him. The ref blew for offside, but the replay showed Piero was level with the right back. It was sweet to see him so worried during the VAR check; he clearly wanted that goal really badly and almost prayed for it to stand.

Justice came from the skies where he was looking! 0-2 against the team at the bottom of the league seemed like the perfect evening. I honestly thought Wolves were done for. But as often happens in football, a team gets pulled back into the contest by a moment of magic from one individual.

Bueno curled one from 22 meters right into the top bin. A perfect strike, but where on earth was Martinelli—our best back-tracking winger? As I recall, Eze was sent to the doghouse for similar laziness, but it’s another topic to dig into. Gabi had a chance to make amends with a decent look inside the box, but he couldn’t beat the keeper.

Before that chance, Eze and Jesus came on for Vik and Madueke. Madueke was passive, so the sub made sense. At the same time, I was worried about Saka playing 90 minutes so soon after his return, and those worries weren’t unfounded. In the 71st minute, Saka went down after a clash and stayed on the pitch—a real concern before the big game on Sunday.

Trossard was thrown on—the last attacking sub the gaffer had—but his cameo was short. Twenty minutes after being hit in the face (with no red card for the Wolves player), he went down the tunnel and Ricky took his place. Those last twenty minutes that Arteta and the team completely failed. None of the subs showed any aggression or urgency to kill the game off. None of them looked concentrated or like they had a point to prove. Jesus was nowhere to be seen, Eze didn’t create anything, Martinelli was losing the ball, Trossard was only remembered by that face hit. The mood was that the points were already in the bag and we just had to see the game out.

And even though Wolves weren’t creating clear-cut chances, I had pretty clear flashbacks of our home game against them where we luckily escaped with a late own goal that followed Wolves equalizer. How come the players forgot that? How come the manager didn’t stress it every second of the halftime? He’s constantly shouting every bit of instruction from the touchline; why wasn’t he whispering that warning into the ear of every sub?

“It’s not over until it’s over.” A bit of a dumb cliché, but I can’t find any better way to describe our situation. With one last chance of the match, a Wolves player crossed it in, David Raya decided to come for a ball he absolutely wasn’t required to, collided with Gabriel, and served it up for Bueno on a silver platter. The strike came in, Calafiori almost pulled off a miracle save, but we’d used our miracle quota in the home fixture. The ball bounced off the post, back into Calafiori, and then into the net. There were three minutes left, but a team that looked more passive by every passing minute of the second half never looked close to finding another goal.

Eze had one chance to become THE hero but completely fluffed his lines—not the shot a professional number ten should be taking. I don’t know what’s going on there. How can he be the heart of creativity against Wigan and then go completely anonymous three days later? Especially in a game where the opponent wasn’t even parking the bus. He’s been in that situation dozens of times in a Palace shirt. Are the gaffer’s instructions that different in the league? He looks like he doesn’t know what’s needed from him on the pitch. Right now, Eze is a total disappointment; I saw no quality and no edge. A £65m midfielder can’t be shooting like that when the title is on the line.

Arteta didn’t fail in tactics, strategy, team selection or subs (I don’t think that Norgaard or whoever else would have changed the actual issue), but he failed to manage the mental side. The players failed to manage it themselves too, there’s no hiding from that, but the buck stops with the manager. He failed to get the message across that every league game requires 100% concentration until the final whistle.

The team was passive and nervous. Raya failed in crunch time; his intervention was totally unnecessary. Not only Gabriel was completely alone and had it covered, but Raya put himself into a passenger position when it came to Bueno’s shot—not close enough to block and not far enough to react. He simply choked in the 93rd minute.

Many years ago when Brentford failed their first attempt to qualify into the Premier League from the Championship, they were in play-offs and the duel was decided by a stupid Raya mistake. We were looking at him as a backup keeper for merely £12m back then, and it was a red flag for me. He’s improved since and has generally been reliable under pressure, but that’s two games in a row now where he’s done something daft (against Brentford he also made mistakes that Thiago didn’t capitalize on). It feels like the whole squad is mentally shaky, and these immature errors are creeping in. Maybe Eze can’t handle the weekly pressure of a title race, and the manager can’t calm him because he’s stressed himself.

I’ll say it for the 20th time: relying on defensive solidity to protect a one-goal lead isn’t sustainable. One mistake or one wonder strike and those three points become one. The most reliable strategy is scoring goals consistently. It’s no coincidence that most recent PL winners have been the top scorers in the league.

We can talk about this being a “learning experience”, and I’m sure Arteta said as much in his presser. But those words don’t mean much today. We already came here off the back of a draw with Brentford; we already luckily escaped a draw against Wolves in December. How much “experience” do we need before we actually take away the learnings? The lesson was clear, but the correction wasn’t made. Our recent form suggests this result isn’t just a fluke anymore.

At this point, we might as well accept that no matter how great the system is, you need attacking individuals with the skills and mentality to carry the team, and we don’t have them. Or you need a manager who can ignite that belief and convert players into those “team carrying individuals” , and time is showing Arteta ain’t that man. TIt is also a strong suspicion that Arteta concentrates on everyone contributing to the system, rather than the system contribution to the strongest individuals. I believe that nothing is technically stopping Saka from having a 25-goal season like Salah, except that Arteta won’t bend the system to accommodate him.

Our lead is down to two points and City will win their game in hand, don’t ruin your life with another set of delusions. We have one last chance to save the title—win at the Toilet Bowl ground. Any dropped points in the North London Derby and it’s over. City won’t let the opportunity slip once they’re in control, especially that they have an advantage in the form of a home game against us.

If we don’t win against Tottenham, everyone in the team would feel that they are bottling it. We actually bottled the league only once, in 22/23, which was totally expected, since we were a young team having a first title charge in over 10 years. In 23/24 we didn’t win only one game after taking the lead in later March and took the rice until the last day of the season (winning over Spurs, Chelsea and United in last 5 gameweeks), so it’s far away from bottling. In 24/25 we were never in it, Liverpool was gradually getting away from us all season. This time around, however, it would be a proper bottle job, and it’s something the fans and the team won’t recover from easily.

If we don’t beat Tottenham, the title run is dead. And do you think in the Carabao final City, after overturning the league run, would not smash us with the mix of confidence and arrogance? Or that teams in the Champions League will fear a side that blew a lead against a relegation candidate? Do you think they would be scared of a team who can’t score goals in the crunch moments? The Champions League is won by goals pulled out of nowhere under pressure, and very rarely just by defensive solidity. That’s why we were knocked out in the last two seasons. We offered nothing at the Allianz against an average Bayern side and were clearly outscored by PSG. Another season on, and we still don’t have anyone who we can trust to show up when it’s toughest.

We are now closer to another barren season than a quadruple some fans really like to bring up (and embarrass themselves in my opinion). City turned their season around by winning at Anfield in the moment when defeat seemed inevitable. We have one last chance to turn our season again on Sunday and I really hope we take it.

The starting XI was much as expected, save for a few tactical tweaks only the coaching staff could and should know the thinking behind. It was the bench, however, that let me down once more. In the previous round, Arteta loaded the bench with strong first-team players. As I already argued after the Portsmouth game, this kind of bench only caters for one outcome: needing to throw on the big guns to secure the win. Yet, it entirely overlooks the alternative scenario where we are three goals up or more and can afford to blood a few of the academy boys.

Against Portsmouth, we were three goals to the good by 51 minutes. This time around, we netted four before the half-time whistle had even blown. Arteta constantly stresses the need to learn from past experiences. Yet, the manager himself seems unwilling to change his own approach in this case.

Before Calafiori got injured this was our bench:

In my humble opinion, we need only three or four senior pros, one in each line, to ensure we can finish the job strongly; the rest should be dedicated to the youngsters. There is absolutely no call for bringing both Gabriel and Hincapie, or Rice and Zubimendi, or Trossard and Saka—one player for each role is more than ample.

Why did Arteta insist on having Rice, Zubimendi, and Gabriel parked on the bench? The only logical explanation is a lack of confidence in beating Wigan without his undisputed stars. He selected them because he envisaged a scenario where only those individuals on the pitch could rescue the match. I take issue with this on two fronts.

First off, this isn’t tournament prioritisation. It sends a message that we are going ‘all in’ across every competition. That approach would make sense if we had a 23-man squad fit and firing, but we are already without Havertz, Merino, Odegaard. Saka and Calafiori are touch-and-go. If we persist in stretching the squad across all fronts, we could well end up looking threadbare everywhere.

Secondly, our starting XI was a team 60% of the Premier League couldn’t even dream of fielding. I find it deeply unsettling that our manager is afraid of playing a bottom-of-the-Championship club at home with a line-up featuring Ben White, Norgaard, Eze, Madueke, Martinelli, and Jesus. That he felt the urgent need to summon his most trusted players. Selecting your undisputed stars for every single fixture across every competition isn’t exactly a stroke of genius, nor is it particularly commendable. It is, quite frankly, the easiest short-term path a manager can tread. Yet, it represents a risky game; any one of those team sheets could easily backfire and derail our entire season.

One exciting prospect in the team was finally getting to see Lewis-Skelly deployed in his natural midfield role. Alas, Calafiori’s warm-up injury cruelly robbed him of that chance right before kick-off. The late replacement? Piero Hinc… no, wait, it was Bukayo Saka. This proved to be a refreshing change, especially with Madueke already out wide.

I have long yearned for Saka in the number 10 role. With our usual creative forces struggling for form, he might be the perfect spark to invigorate that position for us. He combines the close control in tight spaces you see from Odegaard with the audacity for a final shot outside the box that Ethan possesses (or perhaps the Eze we saw in the autumn). He might lack the complete spatial awareness of our captain, but perhaps that isn’t the most vital quality. What we desperately need is a new dynamic in midfield, one the opposition isn’t prepared to deal with—the very dynamics Havertz brought back in January. Saka or Dowman operating there gives me far more conviction than anything we’ve witnessed recently in that position.

Goal Goal Goal Goal

The first goal arrived courtesy of Eze’s 30-yard vertical pass, which sliced right through the backline. Madueke duly sprinted clear of his man and slotted the ball into the far corner. It was beautifully simple, yet devastatingly effective. Why, then, are we not seeing more of these passes from Eze? I know the response: ‘The Premier League is a different kettle of fish regarding defending.’ Even so, this type of goal is still on the cards against most opponents. You require a sufficient channel between the centre-back and full-back for the ball to travel (which I am certain opens up a few times in most league fixtures) and a full-back unable to keep pace with Madueke, which, given Noni’s blistering speed, is hardly a rarity.

These goals are possible—just cast your mind back to our goal against Liverpool last season: a 50-yard through ball from White behind their defence, finished by Saka. They only cease to be possible when you stop actively looking for them. So, why is Eze not seeking out these opportunities in the league? Why does he resemble only a shadow of the player? My suspicion is that Arteta is trying to mould him into another Odegaard—a patient, sideways passer who keeps possession until a narrow opening emerges. But I genuinely believe this is a flawed strategy. Firstly, Eze is 27; changing the core instincts that have defined his career will be a very difficult task. Secondly, the whole rationale for signing him, I thought, was to introduce a wholly different type of number 10: one who provides infrequent but explosive moments on the pitch, creating completely new dilemmas for the opposition. Attempting to turn him into an Odegaard does not, to my mind, represent the best deployment of Eze’s unique skillset.

The second goal saw a vertical ball from Norgaard followed by another vertical pass from Eze, which perfectly picked out Martinelli’s darting run. With the pressure off, Gabi finished a tricky chance with zero hesitation. And, importantly, this wasn’t just down to the opposition; it was a far more complex finish than the sitters he butchered against Brentford and Forest.

In the cup competitions and certain Champions League ties, we play an entirely different brand of football with Norgaard and Eze in the side. We go vertical, we are fast, we are exhilarating, we are daring, we trade blows, and we emerge victorious due to our superior individual quality. I can certainly see why Arteta opts for safe ‘horseshoe’ football against the likes of United, Liverpool, City, or Villa—sides who can truly punish us in transition. However, the second half of the league table is not quite so deadly nor very efficient.

Why do you think a visibly flawed City side continues to grind out results? It’s because they can allow a team like Fulham to have five runs at them, safe in the knowledge that Fulham will lack the required ruthlessness to convert those chances. This is precisely the strategy Slot used to conquer the league last season. He engaged in a genuine ‘punch exchange’, fully aware that Liverpool’s individual quality would, more often than not, ensure they came out on top.

Against a side like Wolves, vertical football would be a superb strategy to deploy. We must deny them the chance to drop into their established shape, and purposefully invite them forward, only to then devastate them on the vertical counter-attack. There are enough teams in this division against whom this strategy should be effective most weeks. This is a risky game, sure, but it can also bring an invaluable set of benefits for the team and players. A feeling of confidently destroying the opponent can make wonders for the confidence and belief so much needed in the league title charge. However, if we permit every single opponent to retreat and cover the vital areas, we are destined for another string of tough fixtures, like the dreadful affair at Brentford.

Our third came down the right flank, with Saka and Madueke essentially operating as a pair of right wingers. They completely overloaded that side, and against their sheer quality, Wigan simply had zero answers. Following a flurry of touches and ricochets in the box, the Owen Goal was back in action. Now, this is a goal I wouldn’t champion for the league. Premier League players possess far superior tactical awareness and would quickly counter this tactic by swarming that flank with extra bodies. It’s a ploy we can utilise when needing to swing a game, but it won’t be a reliable strategy every week.

The fourth was netted when Norgaard delivered a brilliant, floated pass to Jesus, who then chipped the ball over the stranded goalkeeper. Gabriel Jesus loves to beat up a knocked down opponent, and Wigan was no different. A brilliant delivery from Norgaard, though not quite as magnificent as another ball that found Martinelli in the box during the first half—a 60-meter screamer fired from our own half right into the channel of Martinelli’s run in the penatly .

I ranted a lot about Arteta’s unfair treatment of Norgaard and Christian demonstrated again how efficient and impressive he can be, although it was Wigan.

I don’t have even a shadow of a doubt that Rice and Zubimendi will play on Wednesday. Arteta is not the one who lets go of his beliefs unless he was punched in the face following them.

It’s plausible that Arteta harbours reservations about Norgaard’s capacity to play out from the back under pressure, as well as his suitability for patiently building attacks. That said, as I’ve already pointed out, there are enough Premier League sides who do not press high, against whom he could completely dominate the midfield, Wolverhampton being a prime example.

The rest of the game didn’t have much analysis material. Ben White got injured unfortunately. We didn’t get to see Lewis-Skelly in midfield despite having Hincapie on the bench. We did get to see Marli Salmon for 30 minutes and he expectedly didn’t disappoint. The Irish youngster O’Neill didn’t even get 15 minutes with a four-goal advantage and instead Trossard was sent on to give Madueke a breather.

Our last sub of the day was goalkeeper Tommy Setford. While I am happy for Tommy getting a nod, it only underscored the ridiculousness of our bench selection - Arteta sent the keeper to play for 10 minutes, because he didn’t prepare before the game the other players he would like to try out on the pitch. Anyone who tries to justify this decision saying “it is a training session” or “it is needed for fitness” are just finding excuses for every one of Arteta’s decisions.

The logic is simple: for an academy prospect, a twenty-minute run-out with the first team is a golden learning opportunity and a massive shot in the arm. For senior pros like Trossard or Zubimendi, however, it represents nothing but a needless risk of injury from a stray, nasty tackle. There was absolutely no call for either of them to feature yesterday.

Don’t misunderstand me; I’m buzzing with a convincing win against Wigan, and even more so to witness such exhilarating, chance-heavy football. I simply don’t believe brushing aside Championship opposition at home provides any real barometer for our ability to secure silverware—and that remains the standard I apply to these posts. Moreover, it hardly serves as a dress rehearsal for the league, primarily because the brand of football we play in these ties is a different kettle of fish entirely.

The football Gods have evidently looked down on us with mercy, handing us League One opposition in the fifth round. For that, I am truly grateful; I honestly couldn’t stomach the sight of Arteta fielding a full-strength eleven in yet another cup game.

League Bounce

All that matters is bouncing back in the league after a Brentford defeat. We travel to the last team in the league but they are not a gift by any stretch of the imagination.

Take a look at the league form since Rob Edwards took the helm. As you can see for yourself, their heaviest defeats have been by a mere two goals, and they have managed to have a very tight games against the likes of Liverpool, United, Newcastle, and indeed ourselves. Wolves are certain to deploy a disciplined low block that will be a nightmare to dismantle. If we fail to evolve from the turgid football seen against Brentford or Forest, we are destined to struggle once more. Cruising past Wigan changes nothing if we persist with the same pedestrian tempo and a passive number 10, whether it is Eze or Odegaard pulling the strings.

A glance at the stats confirms Wolves remain a goal-shy side. If we can entice them into an exchange of vertical blows rather than letting them retreat comfortably into their shell and play for a bore draw, they stand very little chance of outscoring us.

One silver lining is that Wolves were pushed all the way by Grimsby in the FA Cup and do not have the luxury of naming nine fresh players for our visit. We should be the fresher outfit, capable of sustaining an intensity they simply cannot match.

We cannot afford to go completely “all in”, however, with our annoying neighbour lurking in the shadows. Even a wounded Spurs side under a questionable manager will be more than motivated to derail our title bid, especially with their crowd at their most raucous. We cannot risk a nervy finish at Molineux, because every spared scrap of energy will be required for Super Sunday.