Right then, we haven’t exactly set the world alight on the transfer front this week. Tzolis has been officially unveiled, but he was always North London bound according to the terms and conditions of the Ornstein bomb. Meanwhile, Morgan Rogers has indeed rocked up at Chelsea for a truly eye-watering fee. The only fresh twist is the realization that Alejandro Garnacho is heading in the opposite direction—the sort of accounting gymnastics that makes such an exorbitant price tag possible.

These club-to-club swap deals, involving inflated valuations for players, aren’t exactly a new phenomenon. We witnessed a similar carousel of exchanges a couple of years back between the likes of Chelsea, Villa, Newcastle, and Forest, right when Covid relief was wound down and the full weight of PSR returned to the fore.

The logic behind these “swaps” is pure spreadsheet wizardry: any sale is booked as immediate profit, whereas a purchase is amortized over the length of the contract (a loophole Chelsea exploited to the nth degree before it was capped at five years). So, if two players worth £20m are traded at £50m apiece, the club registers £40m in revenue for the current year, kicking the financial can down the road.

I’m not sure the Premier League can actually do much to pull the plug on this. You can’t stop teams trading players, nor can you forbid them from overpaying. There’s no forensic way to distinguish a dodgy deal from an honest one. The only real deterrent would be for the Premier League to force the entire purchase price to be counted upfront for PSR purposes. It wouldn’t change the statutory accounts, but PSR could simply overlay its own rules. After all, it’s only about twenty rows of data that need adjusting before the report goes in. It would fly in the face of standard accounting, but it would kill the incentive to inflate prices overnight.

I wouldn’t even argue that this strategy is inherently bad for squad building. If you’re looking for depth, other PL clubs often have surplus talent, even if they aren’t using it. Currently, Arsenal don’t seem to have a “partner in crime” for these shady exchanges. On one hand, it means we’re missing out on some creative recruitment; on the other, it’s a refreshing sign that our owners aren’t interested in mortgaging the future. It suggests they actually give a toss about the club’s long-term health, which can only be a good thing.

As an aside, I still haven’t a clue what Chelsea’s ownership is playing at. Hoarding youngsters, giving them minutes, and flipping them for a profit—as they did by offloading Andrey Santos to United—is a coherent, if cynical, model. But that logic evaporates when you splash a British record fee on a single player. Furthermore, they’ve just dropped another €100m on two more players, and the usual transfer gurus suggest they’re closing in on Lacroix and Alex Scott. Even with the exchange tricks, where is the cash coming from? Tainted FIFA money from the Club World Cup plays a part, but their sales are the real story. They somehow clawed back €339 million! last season from fifteen players, with the top of their donor list being none other than our club.

We, meanwhile, managed a measly €13.8m in that same window. Berta has done nothing so far to stop us from being the laughing stock of the market when it comes to outgoings. Given we even pushed the Hincapie fee into this calendar year, it’s glaringly obvious we won’t be signing any “marquee” names until we shift some deadwood. To be fair, looking at the squad, we have six players vying for the No. 10 and right-wing roles: Saka, Madueke, Odegaard, Eze, Nwaneri, and Dowman. We also have three options at No. 9: Gyokeres, Havertz, and Merino (and that’s ignoring Jesus or Vieira, who are still hanging around). KSE and their consultants will surely ask if we need them all before we even think about buying. Arteta would probably sacrifice Nwaneri first, but for me, Madueke is the one who should be moved on.

One major asset who could actually command a significant fee is Gabriel Martinelli, who has been effectively put in the shop window. Initially, the discussed price of £45-50m seemed absurdly low for a winger of his quality (everybody who can score goals in Champions league now command up to 100m), but then I found out that he’s only got a year left on his deal. That knocks about 40% off his value instantly. We likely have an option to extend, but the club are probably holding fire until the end of the window to see if a tempting bid arrives first.

We’re in a bit of a bind with Martinelli. Keep him, and we probably don’t sign a new left-sided attacker, meaning another summer where the forward line remains stagnant. Sell him for a laughable fee, and it’s a poor look for the champions. We can only justify his exit if he commands a club-record fee.

It is baffling that there isn’t more concrete interest. Gabi would be a dream for any counter-attacking side; his defensive work rate is every manager’s delight. The only problem is that those teams aren’t usually the ones winning silverware, and Martinelli likely isn’t keen on leaving the favorites for the next Premier League title.

The only “nearly elite” side that truly fits Gabi’s profile is Atleti, but they only seem to have eyes for Gyokeres. Personally, I think he’d be a revelation at Aston Villa (who have Champions League football, remember)—he’d wipe the floor with Garnacho there. He’d also be perfect for none other than Newcastle, who have a gaping hole on the left since Anthony Gordon jumped ship.

Sending him North in a part-exchange for Bruno Guimarães could really grease the wheels. Progress on Bruno has been glacial, much like the rest of our business this summer. The one thing in our favor is that, unlike Tonali or Gordon, Bruno is 29. He’s not the kind of player these “exchange platform” clubs are looking for. He won’t want another “project” either; the big trophies are now or never for him. For Newcastle, this is the last chance to get a massive fee for him—I’d expect close to £80m. The only teams that suit him are those that set for contending for titles right now with a vacancy in midfield. That’s us... or perhaps Real Madrid, where patience is always in short supply.

Ornstein dropped another “bomb” yesterday, though it felt more like a damp squib: Arsenal are apparently exploring a move for Real Madrid’s Vinícius Jr. If you read between the lines, there’s nothing to suggest this is remotely realistic. No contact with the club, no word from the player, no amounts, and no reason for Madrid to sell. My hunch? It’s a bit of PR fed to David to keep the fans from moaning about a quiet week in the market.

For South Americans, Real and Barça are the pinnacle; players don’t leave unless there’s a massive falling out. Madrid have reportedly offered him €20m a year, which would blow our wage structure to smithereens. Mourinho would also be a madman to let that kind of talent walk. Even if he were forced out, I’d put my money on him joining City—they already pay Haaland half a million a week and he wouldn’t be expected to track back Matty Cash and can even dictate some conditions.

Anyway, who needs Vinícius when you’ve got the Greek magician Christos Tzolis? The more I dig into the analytics, the more I’m convinced this is a smart, practical signing designed to replicate Leandro Trossard’s impact. Tzolis is pure output: he’s got a decent shot, finds his teammates in the box with ease, and is tidy in tight spaces. Plus, his set-piece delivery is top-notch, which is vital if Rice or Saka are unavailable. He lacks lightning pace, but in our slow, methodical build-up which allows opponents to set back into their shape, agility and composure under pressure matter more than raw speed.

Beyond his technical traits, his record is superb—over 20 goals in the last three seasons. Whether he can translate those numbers to the Premier League is the big question, but you could say that about anyone coming from outside the big leagues. For a “low-hype” signing, he’s one of the smartest options we could get. He won’t be a one-man highlights reel, but I’d wager our new number 17 bags 20 G+A next season—more than Madueke and twice more than Madueke managed last term. It is interesting to see which number 17 of this four would end up with the largest numbers near his name next May.

What I also like about signing a 24-year old from a “smaller” league is that he knows how important of an opportunity it is, how hard he should work and that he should expect to sit on the bench and wait for his chance patiently. He knows that if it doesn’t work at Arsenal, he won’t get another chance to play in the top club. Probably similar to the “make it or die injure yourself trying” attitude Trossard had.

The strongest rumour doing the rounds post-Tzolis involves another defensive recruit to provide cover for Saliba, with Aston Villa’s Ezri Konsa touted as the preferred candidate. Now, this is where I start to get a bit twitchy. Konsa would likely set us back at least £40 million—if not more—given Villa are under no pressure to sell. Splashing that kind of cash on him suggests we’d only have room for one “big” signing in the final third, whether that’s a left winger, a second striker, or Bruno. And, let’s be honest, we’re crying out for both a progressive midfielder (doesn’t have to be Bruno; Scott or several others would do) and another goal-threat up top.

There are two ways this Saliba injury saga plays out. The first, rather grim scenario is that he’s sidelined until December or beyond, necessitating a long-term replacement. In that specific case, a move for Konsa makes a lick of sense. We haven’t heard anything quite so alarming from the club just yet, but they could well be playing their cards close to their chest to keep the asking price from skyrocketing.

The second scenario is that Saliba is back by mid-November. During that window, we’re only looking at ten Premier League outings and four Champions League nights, punctuated by two international breaks. If Arteta sanctions a massive fee just to plug a 14-game gap instead of properly reinforcing the attack, I’ll be losing my mind. We need to be smart and practical and splashing cash for Konsa ain’t that.

For starters, we’ve already brought in Christian Mosquera as Saliba’s understudy. If he isn’t getting a run while the main man is in the treatment room, what was the point? And if the argument is a lack of experience of playing there on the highest level, how on earth is he supposed to get it if not now?

I’ll admit, a Mosquera/Gabriel partnership might leave me feeling a tad uneasy under high pressure, but there are ways to manage it. Firstly, Mosquera could be paired with Calafiori, who’d act as a safe, stabilizing influence. Secondly, we have Timber and White, both of whom have experience at right centre-back under Arteta. They’re calm on the ball, and a stint in the middle might actually be kinder on their bodies as they manage their returns from major injuries. Mosquera even filled in at right-back late last season—including shifts at the Etihad and against PSG—so I’m not overly worried about his ability to perform. To top it all off, we’ve got Marli Salmon, who looked capable as a rotation option.

If Arteta is purely searching for composure and seniority, we’ve already got a candidate in the squad who fits the bill: Christian Nørgaard. We aren’t going to fetch a decent fee for him, and Arteta clearly doesn’t fancy him in the engine room. But he’s there, he’s a leader in the dressing room, he’s filled in at the back before, and he doesn’t cost an extra penny. In my eyes, the only defensive signing that makes sense would be a right-back, and only then if there are plans to move Benjamin White on sooner rather than later.

The narrative we’ve been fed is that Arteta turned conservative, prioritizing the defense to finally drag us over the line. The promise was that once we became Champions, he’d release the handbrake and make our attack more expansive and daring. Many have drawn parallels with World Cup winners Spain—smothering control at the back and low number of conceded goals. However, they have the ability to slice teams open when it matters, which was well demonstrated in the final. That clinical edge is still missing from this Arsenal side, and I’m desperately hoping for some signs of that tactical evolution in 2026/27. But maybe, just maybe, a “defense-first” philosophy is simply what helps Arteta sleep at night, and we’re destined for another season of non-exciting safety-first football?

So, let’s quickly digest the World Cup news. Most of the games, despite being entertaining enough, didn’t produce too many real shocks. Germany and Brazil looked well off the pace in the group stage, so it was only a matter of time before they went crashing out. Therefore, I want to focus on the semi-finals, which really could have gone either way.

England against Argentina was by far the more intriguing of the two ties. Most people I spoke to (spanning over ten different European and Asian countries) wanted Argentina to lose, and only one—a proper Messi fanboy—was rooting for them. I reckon there are two main reasons for that split.

First up, it became glaringly obvious that FIFA were desperate to get Argentina into the final. It wasn’t down to outright scandalous refereeing, but rather every single borderline call going their way. VAR, which was supposed to eliminate human bias through technology, has been completely undermined. The humans at the wheel simply refused to yield to the system, taking back control by choosing exactly when to call for a review. Look, football is a contact sport; if you look at any phase of play in slow motion for long enough, you’ll find a foul. Just the referee being told to review or ignore an incident can completely steer the outcome of a match. Granted, if a team is completely outclassed, it won’t save them. But for a side that actually creates chances, it’s a massive helping hand. The motive for wanting Argentina in the final is crystal clear—Messi is a colossal superstar in the States, and casual fans will only tune in if there’s a household name to pull for. Argentina in the final guaranteed astronomical ratings and, by extension, heaps of cash for a greedy FIFA machine. (And seriously, can anyone explain why Infantino has to be plastered across our screens at every single bloody game?)

Secondly, Argentina’s racist reputation precedes them, and frankly, their squad behaves more like a criminal syndicate than a football team—well-known goalkeeper included. They don’t just stick to ‘smart fouls’; they are openly brutal and completely disrespectful, and the most infuriating part is that officials let them get away with it time and again. The double standards were on full display in the Argentina-Switzerland game. After their extra-time goal, the entire squad and the ref spent a good five seconds waiting around while Messi casually strolled through the centre circle. In the Premier League or the Champions League, that kind of blatant disrespect gets you an instant booking, but Messi and co seem to operate under a different set of rules.

In my book, England were easily one of the two big favourites to lift the trophy, mostly because I rated Thomas Tuchel incredibly highly when it comes to one-off knockout football. He might be a nightmare to manage over a long season, but he’s usually brilliant at adapting to specific opponents. This match, however, saw his stock plummet in my eyes. England had a decent first half, got the goal early in the second, and Argentina weren’t creating much—everything was going strictly to plan. A lot will be written about the substitutions, so let me add my two cents as well :) The first tactical tweak, switching to a 5-4-1, actually made sense on paper. Argentina love to funnel attacks through the middle, so packing the central areas while sacrificing the flanks looked like a sensible way to extinguish any impending fires.

But on the other side of the pitch was one of the greatest players to lace a pair of boots, a man who has achieved a lot, due to also his supreme reading of the game. Naturally, Messi started drifting out wide, dragging English shirts with him and opening up gaping pockets of space through the middle. This was already evident before that hydration break Pickford was begging for, yet somehow Tuchel completely missed the fact that the English backline was buckling under the pressure. Instead of addressing it, he doubled down on defensive subs. England were already struggling to retain possession, but hooking Rice to bring on two more defenders made it a proper ‘mission impossible’. The gamble was that simply parking the bus would see them over the line.

I’ve often slaughtered Mikel Arteta for employing similar negative tactics with Arsenal, but Tuchel’s England took it to a whole new level of frustration. At least Arsenal boast a cohesive defensive unit who have played together for years and know exactly how to maintain a compact shape. Tuchel threw together Stones, Konsa, Guehi, and Spence—names that hardly inspire confidence when it comes to an organized rearguard.

Inviting an opponent onto you by parking the bus right on the edge of your own 18-yard box only fuels their confidence, especially if they’re carving out half-chances. At this elite level, just about any attacking player has the technical quality to skip past a couple of defenders and smash one into the top bins if they’re riding a wave of adrenaline. I’ve heard the excuse that the players were naturally dropping deeper because they couldn’t keep the ball, so the subs were just reacting to the game. But what about the psychological blow to your own attackers when they see a double defensive change being prepared on the touchline? How are they supposed to believe they can go and grab a vital second goal, which felt absolutely essential given how heavily Argentina were knocking on the door?

The tactics were completely baffling, particularly as England aren’t exactly blessed with world-class defenders but possess a wide selection of different attacking talent. First and foremost, Tuchel should have had the balls to drop Harry Kane, who was a complete passenger. Kane simply lacked the legs to run up-and-down the pitch — which is fair enough given his age and the stage of the tournament. Tuchel made that brave call against Mexico, but when the pressure was on this Wednesday, he bottled it.

In his arsenal (pun fully intended), Tuchel had Ollie Watkins, who alongside Morgan Rogers has forged a reputation as a lethal counter-attacking duo. He had Eberechi Eze, renowned for his directness and vertical threat with Palace. Even with Bukayo Saka clearly unfit—hence his total absence from the pitch (was he unfit though?)—Tuchel still had individual ball-carriers like Noni Madueke and Marcus Rashford at his disposal. Even if Madueke doesn’t always link up seamlessly with the rest, he can still beat his man and win crucial fouls high up the pitch to relieve the pressure. Instead, Tuchel sat on his hands until it was far too late, handing Argentina the keys to the match.

I don’t have the clue what convinced Tuchel that this current crop of England players could successfully park a bus. If he was relying on how it worked against Mexico, the gulf in class between the opponents was immense. Mexico simply ran out of ideas when confronted with a packed box because they rely so heavily on exploiting open space to transition.

Perhaps Tuchel was falsely inspired by the other semi-final, where Spain completely neutralised France. But as well as being far more tactically astute than England defensively, Spain possessed one critical weapon that won them the match. Every time France surrendered possession, Spain starved them of the ball, forcing Les Bleus into an organized press that they rarely managed to pull off. That is the ultimate way to deny space because it stops the opponent building any sort of rhythm, completely draining their momentum and belief. Some have compared that suffocating Spanish display to what we saw from Arsenal last season, but I’d argue the Spanish were far superior at keeping the ball under intense heat. Arsenal have never quite managed to strangle a top-tier opponent like Man City or Liverpool while dominating possession; that tactic was usually reserved for lesser sides. The biggest team we truly managed to suffocate was probably Inter Milan at San Siro.

To wrap up, I’ll be firmly in the Spain camp come Sunday evening, and I’m desperately hoping our boy Mikel Merino can bag a third last-minute winner in these World Cup knockouts. The lad keeps showing us that he’s far more effective deployed as a second striker rather than the deeper midfielder Arteta originally envisioned. I can easily see him thriving in a front two alongside someone like Eze, Alvarez, or Rogers (who is that?), providing the physical presence and link-up play to unleash a more dynamic partner.

The massive dampener on that France-Spain semi-final was the news of a long-term injury to William Saliba. Frankly, injuries to these chronically overplayed Arsenal players were a car crash waiting to happen. Saliba, Rice, and Saka (why on earth are they starting a bloody third-place game?!), Gabriel, Zubimendi—they were all on the verge of breaking after a grueling club campaign. Aside from Gabriel (and Zubimendi, who barely featured, so doesn’t really count), all of them have reported issues and SHOULD miss the opening weeks of the season. Saliba will likely face a much longer spell on the sidelines, and he is without question our most indispensable defender. He’s the quickest, coolest under pressure alongside Timber, and superb on the ball. Losing him for an extended period severely damages our silverware hopes.

To be perfectly fair, this is entirely on Arteta and his stubborn habit of playing his key men until they literally cannot walk. We’ve hit the business end of the season with an exhausted, injury-ravaged squad two Aprils on the spin now, and it’s no fluke. Arteta openly declared that ‘top players should be able to manage 70 games a season, fatigue is just a state of mind,’ essentially writing off rotation as a weakness. When you hammer that macho mentality into your players, expecting them to play through the pain barrier for the badge, of course they’re going to carry that same attitude into international duty. If you tell them they should be playing 70 games a year, why shouldn’t 10 of those be for England? You can’t just flip a switch and turn that mentality off, and it’s taking a massive toll on their bodies.

We got further proof of Arteta’s uncompromising stance via a leaked story claiming Eze actually begged Arteta to ease off the training intensity in April to let the players manage the title run-in themselves. I doubt Arteta was best pleased to see that hit the back pages, but my theory is that a concerned club employee leaked it intentionally to sound the alarm bells for the owners.

Arteta then demanded an internal review into the ‘injury crisis’, which was rather conveniently carried out by his own mate and resulted in the sacking of medical staff Arteta hadn’t personally appointed. Alarming stuff, isn’t it? You’d think a proper, effective review would involve an independent party, given the manager plays the biggest role in deciding exactly how many minutes everyone clocks. Instead, the doctors were shown the way out, while someone like Gabriel Heinze—infamous for his brutal mental approach to training, including denying players water—remained untouched.

The sheer hypocrisy of Arteta and Heinze on this matter is laughable when you realise neither of them ever played anywhere near that amount of football themselves—yet they claim to know what the modern player can handle. Both clocked under 3,600 minutes in their most intensive seasons, whereas last term alone, five Arsenal players racked up over 4,000 minutes only for the club.

The only saving grace that allowed us to navigate last season despite the injuries was our summer transfer business, giving us a genuinely deep squad to rotate. That, quite frankly, is about the only thing I’ve liked about Berta so far. His ‘plate-spinning strategy’ has hardly borne fruit otherwise. He hasn’t unearthed any proper bargains in the market, failed to convince any world-class talent to choose us over our actual rivals (and no, Spurs don’t count), and we still can’t sell players for a decent fee.

We’re well into the second half of July now, and while we’ve been linked with a whole host of names and told we need to raise funds, the window has been incredibly underwhelming so far. Our first piece of business is Illan Meslier on a free from Leeds. Like most keepers we track (Raya aside), he’s brilliant with his feet and possesses cracking reflexes, but he’s always got a massive clanger in him every other game. That’s simply not the profile of a keeper for a club aiming for the biggest honours; he’s basically a deflated Kepa. I don’t know if Kepa is off (rumour has it he is), but I can’t see a scenario where a 26-year-old with Premier League experience signs on just to sit on the bench unless an injury hits, especially since domestic cups are usually the backup’s domain. It feels thoroughly uninspiring, unless it’s just a stop-gap while Tommy Setford goes out on loan to develop.

Alongside Meslier, we’ve basically had confirmation of the Christos Tzolis for Leandro Trossard swap. Trossard has been an absolute revelation for the Arsenal faithful. Arriving as a mere squad option on the left flank, he went on to register a brilliant return of goals and assists in each of his three seasons in North London. Recording 19, 20, and 19 G/A—he was our model of consistency. Leo’s greatest trait was his sheer grit; he never shied away from an opponent and regularly dragged us out of a hole when the chips were down. Off the top of my head, I can instantly picture his Champions League equalizer against Porto, nutmegging Alisson for the third against Liverpool, the late equalizer at Stamford Bridge, his strike against City in the Community Shield, the beautiful goal against Sunderland last term, that absolute rocket past a helpless Emi Martínez at Villa Park, and, of course... that title-clinching goal at West Ham.

You truly deserved that Premier League medal, Leo! You have been a true revelation for the Arsenal fans. Your contribution will not be forgotten! We’ll be forever grateful for the memories, Mr. Clutch.

In case you missed it and haven’t already shed a tear.

On one hand, Trossard’s physical levels were dropping, often fading past the hour mark, so recouping some cash at his age makes business sense. On the other hand, you simply cannot replace that level of output for a measly £20 million.

Trossard proved an incredibly astute bit of business, but he was never a flashy, ‘sexy’ signing. Just like Christos Tzolis. A 24-year-old arriving from Club Brugge who doesn’t possess the immediate allure of a Riccardo Calafiori is hardly going to have fans sprinting to the online club shop to get his name printed on the back of the new shirt. But in my eyes, this is exactly the profile of player we should be targeting. Yes, he’s a gamble, but any hyped youngster coming off a single good season now commands a £90m+ price tag with absolutely zero guarantees. How many starlets with a high ceiling have moved for over ninety million quid and actually justified the fee? Off the top of my head, only Jude Bellingham to Real Madrid springs to mind. The rest are either wildly inconsistent or take years to come good, much like Martin Ødegaard did.

If we want to progress this squad—which means injection of fresh attacking options and plugging the gaps exposed last term—we need to be making these unglamorous £40m signings. That applies to finding backup options at right-back or centre-half as well.

Tzolis is very much in the Trossard mould—a pure output player who has racked up over 30 goal contributions across the last three campaigns. That’s a serious return. Yes, the Belgian league carries a risk, but it’s a proven breeding ground; plenty of top players have made the jump successfully, including Igor Thiago to Brentford last season, not to mention Mr. Clutch himself. His underlying numbers look fantastic, as highlighted in scouting pieces by CannonStats and LeGrove.

Essentially, he thrives at shooting under pressure, is a progressive ball-carrier, and doesn’t shirk his defensive shifts. All in all, a very smart, calculated gamble for a squad option upfront.

Let’s face it, we aren’t in a position to go out and buy more than one marquee £100m or £70m player, so these sensible, affordable acquisitions allow us to preserve the war chest for the positions where we desperately need an upgrade—namely a starting left winger or a central midfielder. We’ve seen a ridiculous number of names linked in the press: Fernández and Sandro Tonali (who both went to Spurs for a king’s ransom), Aymeric Bouaddi (courted by City for a cool £90m), Bradley Barcola, Alex Scott, and Julián Álvarez (who’s probably crying into a Barcelona shirt at night). Up until today, the two frontrunners were Bruno Guimarães and Morgan Rogers. And right as I was drafting this, Ornie dropped an absolute bombshell:

Off to Chelsea for £117m... On one hand, if we were looking at him to operate primarily as a left winger, £117m is an astronomical sum, especially since his finest attributes are unlocked when he’s playing closer to goal with space to run into—scenarios he rarely encounters on the flank in an Arsenal shirt. On the other hand, playing under Xabi Alonso means he’ll likely be utilized perfectly, which could well come back to haunt us. Reports that ‘Rogers preferred Chelsea’ came as a bit of a shock, but I wouldn’t rule out Alonso promising him a starting berth in his absolute best position. That said, if we are dropping that kind of cash, I’d rather we target an explosive, dynamic dribbler for the left—a profile this squad completely lacks.

Meanwhile, the Guimarães trail seems to have gone cold because Newcastle’s valuation simply doesn’t align with ours. While our sporting director was busy spinning plates, Newcastle managed to raise a massive amount of capital through the sales of Tonali and Anthony Gordon, putting them in a position where they can hold out for top dollar. I know Bruno’s profile doesn’t tick everyone’s boxes—at 29, you’re looking at maybe three top seasons with zero resale value. But for my money, he is the only candidate in the market who walks straight into our starting XI, immediately raises our ceiling, and solves a glaring issue.

We might just have to bite the bullet and pay up here, because we aren’t looking for a mere backup to Declan Rice. The most logical (and cheapest) option for that role would be Martin Zubimendi. What we actually need is a midfielder capable of progressing the ball under intense pressure, breaking lines, driving forward, and carrying a genuine goal threat from deep. We’re essentially looking for someone to compete with Myles, and bringing in an experienced 29-year-old ensures we have elite depth while giving the youngster the perfect environment to eventually inherit the role in a couple of years. A £100m asking price from Newcastle is steep, but £75m feels completely reasonable for a player of his calibre. Unlike Rogers, where the immediate impact was up for debate, there’s absolutely no doubt that Bruno makes us better overnight.

But as it stands, after all the endless plate-spinning, we’re left empty-handed with most of our primary targets already snapped up by rivals. If we dither any longer, we’ll probably see Barcola and Scott head off to Liverpool and United respectively, leaving us with a very expensive, desperate panic buy at the end of the window. I thought the whole point of having a well-connected sporting director was to get deals over the line swiftly, navigating complex negotiations with notoriously difficult agents. Yet here we are, with a solitary data-driven signing and having recouped just £20m for our clutch winger who created the most chances at the World Cup. Are you not entertained?

P.S. And just as I’m hitting publish, the ‘injury-risk’ Rice puts in a masterclass with a stunning goal and an assist, while ‘injury-risk’ Saka already bagged a brace in the first half against France. Surely they are also starting in the Community Shield now, aren’t they?

The group stage of the World Cup is over. And despite all the controversies surrounding tournament organisation, eye-watering prices, and hydration breaks that were supposedly invented exclusively with player welfare in mind, it has actually been a cracking watch. We’ve seen a relatively low number of “boring” games and some mad celebrations from nations that rarely find themselves in the international spotlight.

To be fair, a bloated tournament wasn’t necessarily needed to achieve that. Most of the sensational performances are coming from the African teams, so perhaps it was simply a case of rebalancing the distribution of slots between the continents. I’m sure the FIFA top brass thoroughly considered this option during their hydration breaks.

From a purely sporting perspective, I’m also no fan of the “best third-placed teams” qualifying route. It hands an unfair advantage to the groups playing later in the schedule, as teams going into the final matchday know the exact goal difference required to progress. To be honest, none of the sides eliminated by virtue of an earlier kickoff deserved to go through anyway: South Korea couldn’t even muster a point against South Africa, and Scotland barely scraped a win against Haiti.

It also paves the way for a convenient final-day draw that sees both teams through on second and third spots, just as we witnessed with Australia and Paraguay, or Sweden and Japan. At the same time, without that third-place lifeline, we would’ve missed Ecuador’s beautiful last-minute winner against Germany and those tears of joy at the final whistle. By the way, that remains the only defeat suffered by a traditional heavyweight in the group stage, and the unwritten laws of the World Cup suggest it won’t be the last.

The major fly in the ointment of this World Cup is the worrying injury news surrounding a host of first-team Arsenal players—Rice, Saka, Saliba, and Trossard carrying Belgium, to name a few. If we are to have a successful 2026/27 campaign, the club absolutely must grant these players decent recovery time and ease them back into action slowly. I am not sure though that Arteta can stomach leaving his favourites out of the starting XI for the first five Premier League gameweeks. This essentially means relying on squad rotation in key positions, which naturally shines a spotlight on our business in the transfer window, which is already well underway.

Arsenal fans are getting a bit ahead of themselves with the plethora of high-profile names being bandied about in the media. However, this is all part of Berta’s “multi-plate” strategy, as confirmed by the BBC’s Sami Mokbel. He also mentioned that the club will likely sign only one of Rogers or Barcola, strongly hinting that Arteta is viewing Rogers as a left-winger. And that conclusion leaves me quite worried.

Broadly speaking, I have some serious reservations about Arteta’s taste in attacking players. You might find that a shocking statement, but if you look at our last few transfer windows and try to draw up a list of absolute, bang-on hits, you’d probably name Declan Rice, Jurrien Timber, Riccardo Calafiori, Piero Hincapié, and perhaps even David Raya. Notice a trend? Every single one of them is a defensive acquisition. In the attacking half of the pitch, however, the recruitment has been far more hit-and-miss.

I believe this is because the approaches to building attacking and defensive power are fundamentally different. If you look at players with elite statistical metrics in areas like duel-winning, discipline, and positional awareness, you’re almost guaranteed a top-class defender. Put four of them together, and you’ve got yourself a solid backline. A great defence relies on the coordinated actions of powerful individuals performing similar high-level roles. Out of possession, everyone knows exactly which zones or players they are responsible for, and their primary objective is to adapt and win the ball back.

When you’re on the ball, however, the dynamic changes completely. A player can boast brilliant individual stats on paper but still look like a square peg in a round hole in the actual team. Beyond individual brilliance, you have to consider:

• How well they link up with the rest of the team.

• How they complement the strengths of their teammates and leverage them for the collective benefit.

• How distinct profiles can combine to form a truly cohesive unit.

• How effectively they can execute specific functions in the build-up.

A player can be the best dribbler on the planet, but if those take-ons don’t generate big chances, it’s useless. Likewise, you can have the most clinical finisher in the world, but it counts for nothing if they can’t get into shooting positions. In these scenarios, individual quality doesn’t translate into team success. That is why scouting a compatible attacking player is a far more intricate task.

I get the feeling that scouting at Arsenal is currently driven by two distinct factors:

1. Data analysis of a massive player pool, identifying which metrics correspond to the missing qualities in the squad, and targeting players who excel in those specific columns.

2. Arteta watching a player in the flesh against us, being blown away by their performance, and telling the board: “I want him! I want him! I want him!”

When those two factors align, a player shoots straight to the top of our shortlist. In the old days, scouts would watch a target in 20 different matches against various opponents to assess their chemistry with teammates and spot potential red flags. That’s exactly how Cesc Fabregas was unearthed. Today, that old-school approach has been largely replaced by pure data. While it eliminates scout bias, it also introduces a massive element of uncertainty regarding actual tactical fit.

Let’s run the rule over the attacking signings Arteta has actually brought to the club.

• Gabriel Jesus. This wasn’t a triumph of traditional scouting; Arteta had worked with him (and Zinchenko) for years at Man City, knowing their games inside out. Consequently, both integrated seamlessly, executing exactly what was asked of them early on. While poor availability and finishing hindered Jesus’s long-term impact, you can’t deny how perfectly they both fit into that thrilling 2022/23 side.

• Martin Odegaard. His story is a bit differnet from the rest, given he arrived on an initial season-long loan. That spell allowed Arteta to evaluate the Norwegian closely over an extended period. His eventual success wasn’t down to a blind gamble, but a calculated, tried-and-tested fit.

• Fabio Vieira. A young Portuguese talent highly admired by Arteta, but it’s tough to argue against the fact that he looked far too lightweight for the Premier League. His subsequent loan spells have been underwhelming, to say the least. His impressive underlying creative numbers from Porto never quite translated into a consistent top-level career in England.

• Kai Havertz. Brought in to occupy the left-eight role alongside Declan Rice. Arteta was seduced by his duel metrics, aerial presence, and tactical versatility. What he failed to account for, however, was that Havertz lacks the passing range of a true midfielder, and his tight-space ball retention isn’t built to escape a high press. Deploying him in midfield made him an immediate trigger for opposition pressing traps. It feels like ancient history now, but his first four months were an absolute train wreck. The only thing that saved that 75m pound investment from being a total bust was Arteta redeploying him as a number nine. It was a logical pivot—leading the line demands fewer intricate turns and progressive carries from deep, allowing his aerial dominance, hold-up play, and spatial awareness to truly shine. But that was for sure not the original plan.

• Mikel Merino. The next roll of the dice for that left-eight slot. Arteta targeted a similar physical profile to Kai, but with superior passing and progression metrics. Yet once again, the data failed to highlight that Merino lacks the explosive pace required for the Premier League tempo. He’s a second too slow on the turn, which exposes him to aggressive pressing. Just like Havertz, he has looked far more comfortable higher up the pitch, where the lack of mobility is masked and he can operate in a more static, localized role without the need to cover a lot of ground.

• Leandro Trossard. Leo has been a fantastic servant on the left wing, but let’s not forget he wasn’t the primary target. Arteta was completely enamoured with Mykhailo Mudryk, launching personal charms and a 70m+ pound bid before Chelsea hijacked the deal. We ended up with Trossard, and the rest is history. Arteta wanted Mudryk because the numbers flagged him as an elite, explosive dribbler, triggering that “must-have” impulse. The stats didn’t show his lack of understnading how to connect with the rest of the team, which has been painfully evident at Stamford Bridge. But for those who believe divine intervention saved us from Mudryk, think again—Arteta didn’t abandon the concept. He simply went out and bought his own Mudryk 18 months later: an explosive winger with blistering pace who beats his man but doesn’t fit the team’s build-up play. Rings a bell?

• Noni Madueke. Arteta didn’t give up on the idea, he simply brought in Madueke down the line. Mikel himself admitted in press conferences how much he loved Noni’s box-carrying metrics (Factor 1) and noted how he always caused our backline nightmares whenever we faced Chelsea (Factor 2). That was enough to sanction a hefty bid, subsequently blocking a pathway for academy jewel Nwaneri. Any traditional scout watching Madueke for 20 games would have flagged his tunnel vision, but data sheets don’t capture that. Predictably, Madueke’s lack of end product has frustrated Gooners all season, yet Arteta consistently persisted with him. Even a string of poor performances didn’t see him dropped for Dowman. Max might still be a kid lacking raw, explosive pace, but his overall football intelligence makes the team tick. The disparity in minutes between Madueke and other prospects, like Norgaard tells you exactly who was the manager’s personal request. A year in, 99% of the fanbase can see that developing Nwaneri on the right flank would have been a far wiser choice structurally and financially. All this talk about Ethan needing to play centrally is just a convenient excuse; he’s a natural number ten, but playing him on the wing is the perfect environment to ease him into Premier League intensity.

• Viktor Gyokeres & Eberechi Eze. I doubt either was Arteta’s primary target. It’s an open secret our main striker focus was Benjamin Sesko, a deal that collapsed for various reasons. Gyokeres arrived because Berta’s recruitment strategy dictating “a backup choice is better than no choice” took over. To be fair, that pragmatic approach secured us our first league title in 22 years after Havertz broke down in gameweek one. Eze’s signing felt incredibly opportunistic; he was on the verge of joining Spurs before we swooped in, an urgent reaction to Kai’s long-term injury. It quickly became obvious Arteta hadn’t drawn up a clear plan for him. He was tried on the left wing, then as a ten (whilst Arteta openly stating Eze “never played on the right”), before being completely frozen out for six weeks. Claiming in February that he “finally knows how to use Eze” is an indictment of our reactive recruitment rather than proactive interest from the manager.

Then there was Sterling, but it’s hard to read too much into a panic-button deadline day loan. As the track record shows, only the players Arteta has previously worked with or thoroughly scouted via an initial loan spell have integrated according to plan. The solitary exception remains Leandro Trossard, a player who wasn’t even on the radar at the start of that winter window.

We now find ourselves in a position where elite clubs simply won’t loan us top-tier talent unless they’re facing severe financial meltdown and need cash immediately. Barring those exceptional cases, we are buying players semi-blindly without extensive in-person scouting. And that is exactly where my apprehensions regarding Morgan Rogers stem from.

Don’t get me wrong, Rogers is an absolute joy to watch and I think he would definitely strengthen Arsenal. He boasts impressive carrying, shooting, and creativity metrics, but he has blossomed in Unai Emery’s highly vertical Aston Villa side. If Arteta deploys him out wide on the left—as the media leaks suggest—I’m terrified we will blunt his sharpest weapons by pinning him to the touchline. His defensive duties will distance him from the box, and his technical limitations in tight-space dribbling could be brutally exposed. I’d much rather see Rogers utilized as a floating forward in a front two, turning on vertical passes and driving into dangerous zones immediately around the opponent’s box. If it’s a pure left-winger we want, Bradley Barcola looks a far better fitting profile. I’m not entirely convinced how much he moves the needle compared to our current options, but he is a specialist in what that role demands. Simply for the sake of freshening up our attacking look, it’s a move that makes sense.

It feels like both Rogers and Julián Álvarez are prominent on Arteta’s personal “I want him” shortlist. Both would command astronomical fees, severely crippling our budget to strengthen other areas of the attack, and neither guarantees an instant upgrade. I think most of you would agree that when you’re dropping north of £100m on a single player, you expect a transformative superstar from day one.

A traditional, touchline-hugging left-winger with elite 1v1 threat would take Martinelli’s spot in the roster. Meanwhile, deploying Rogers into a central role means selling one of our established senior options—be it Havertz, Gyökeres, Ødegaard, or Eze. Securing Álvarez (or Kroupi) would likely require two of those four to depart. Don’t get me wrong, I am all for a drastic attacking overhaul—it’s the only way to stay ahead of the pack—but I don’t see how we generate the necessary capital. The current rumours valuing Martinelli at a paltry £50m are frankly insulting in a market where any one-season wonder commands an £80m premium (and that’s on a good day). Instead, a player-plus-cash swap deal could be a smart avenue for all parties, offering our counterparts a top-tier replacement and helping them navigate PSR constraints. Frankly, both Atléti Madrid and Aston Villa would be lucky to have someone of Martinelli’s calibre.

I’d love to see a system where Arteta profiles the exact tactical traits he needs, allowing the scouting department to compile an extensive shortlist of 6-7 players. Traditional scouts could then watch them live against various opponents, trimming the list down to three ideal candidates to present to Arteta and Berta. But unfortunately, men wielding absolute authority in the organisation rarely operate that way. Just ask Mbappé or Messi—they’ll happily vouch for it!

Keeping in mind the transfer strategy outlined in the previous post, let’s run the rule over our current squad. First and foremost, the likes of Raya, Timber, Saliba, Gabriel, Rice, Dowman and Lewis-Skelly are operating at such a level that we simply won’t find similar quality elsewhere—or at least not for a price we could realistically replace them for. So, let’s look at the rest.

Jesus. Sell. For any price, to any league. His time at the club is well and truly up.

Kepa. Despite taking criticism for a few of his performances, I still reckon he’s one of the finest number twos a club could ask for, especially given our style of play and the demand for a keeper who can distribute under pressure and sweep up counter-attacks. The only fly in the ointment is the rumoured £5m release clause. For any newly-promoted Premier League side, triggering that is an absolute no-brainer.

Calafiori. He’s one of the few assets who could command a massive fee, and there were whispers of Real Madrid sniffing around ‘Ricky’. That said, following their purchase of Cucurella, Los Blancos will likely don’t look to get another expensive starter. But even with Madrid in the frame, Calafiori offers a unique profile that perfectly aligns with Arteta’s philosophy. For over a year, Arteta has banged on about football evolving into man-to-man duels all over the park, demanding players who are comfortable popping up anywhere. Nobody fits that bill better than Calafiori. Furthermore, Arteta managed Ricky’s minutes sparingly last season, ensuring we got plenty of mileage out of him. Crucially, a pairing of Hincapié and Gabriel lacks technical refinement on the ball, and Calafiori is the only man to solve that conundrum.

White. I’ve got a lot of empathy for Benjamin White, who has sacrificed his own body to get us to where we are now. At the same time, looking at it rationally, we need two starting-quality options at full-back. We need players who can step into any match without a notceable drop-off in quality. Given Timber’s surgery, we need a right-back who can take the burden off him, playing long stretches without breaking down. Unfortunately, Benjamin just doesn’t offer that anymore, either in terms of fitness or output. He put in a few decent shifts this season because he’s a proper warrior, but sadly he’s no longer a reliable option. Looking ahead, we need a much more creative and direct alternative to Jurrien Timber in that position.

Mosquera. Christian was the absolute revelation of last season. He proved beyond doubt that he can slot into two different positions, maintain a decent standard, and adapt cleanly to the opposition. That said, Mosquera isn’t a guaranteed starter in either role, so if a bid in the region of £60 million lands, cashing in would be a very smart piece of business. A replacement for his squad role would likely only set us back around £30m. However, it’s worth stressing that any offer must be substantial enough to justify the legwork required to find that replacement.

Zubimendi. Martín hit the ground running and his elite mentality quickly became apparent, popping up with several crucial goals that turned games in our favour—with one of the most notable being the home winner against Villa. He’s a class act, no doubt about it. However, his finest form was strictly confined to the first half of the campaign. While many put this down to burnout, I reckon it’s more to do with opposition managers figuring him out. Zubimendi hasn’t quite been the line-breaking passer we anticipated. He’s a central midfielder who excels at reading the game, keeping the ball, and winning his duels. But we’ve already got Declan Rice for that. What we actually need is someone to bust the press and feed the final third with dangerous balls. As soon as the rest of the league realised they could keep him and Rice at arm’s length by doing one of two things:

• EITHER pressing them man-to-man to prevent them from turning,

• OR sitting deep in two compact defensive blocks that they simply cannot unlock,

the efficiency of our double pivot took a downturn. That’s where Myles came in as a breath of fresh air. With his knack for turning his marker, driving forward, and releasing the ball early into the wingers’ feet, our attacking threat was suddenly resurrected. In the current setup, Zubimendi feels more like direct competition or a backup for Rice, rather than a partner who complements him. Look at the midfield targets being linked in the papers—the likes of Alex Scott and Fernandes are either progressive passers or superb ball-carriers. It makes me think we’re actually hunting for competition for Myles. Which begs the question: do we keep an expensive backup for Rice, or do we pocket £60 million if a bid comes in? Mind you, there’s still a strong argument that Zubimendi remains a bargain midfield option given the astronomical fees clubs demand for unproven talent these days. We know exactly what we get with him, and paired with the right profile, he could easily hold the fort while Rice recharges his batteries in cryochambers and mud baths, which is by the way absolutely crucial in the start of the season.

Norgaard. When we secured his signature a year ago, I thought Christian Nørgaard was a brilliant bit of business. I couldn’t quite believe we’d managed to land such a seasoned, dependable Premier League operator for next to nothing. Twelve months on, I stand by that. I’ve heard plenty of people calling this signing a disaster, but that’s completely wide of the mark. Just because Arteta has barely given him a look-in doesn’t mean he’s a failure. On the rare occasions he did feature, he put in a thoroughly solid shift. He never looked out of his depth and even slotted into the backline seamlessly. I’ll probably never know why he didn’t earn the boss’s trust. My hunch is that Arteta wasn’t convinced by his composure under a high press, hence the shift to centre-back where he can see the whole pitch ahead of him. Even so, there were plenty of games against the bottom-five sides where Christian could have done a job. Let’s not forget that Arteta is notoriously stubborn when it comes to rotation. He played Timber ahead of White relentlessly until Jurrien broke down, meaning the Dutchman now misses out on a World Cup where his country has a real shout. All that said, if Arteta isn’t going to use Nørgaard, there’s no sense in keeping him on the books (unless Mosquera moves on and he becomes Saliba’s understudy).

Merino. Mikel Merino was brought in to play as a left-sided eight, a role designed to leverage his ability to arrive late in the box and offer a serious aerial threat. However, after watching him play across various roles for over a year, I just don’t see him as a reliable long-term midfield option. His lack of raw pace and sluggishness on the turn make him a target in a high-tempo league. He’d be easily overrun against well-drilled, dynamic sides like Brighton, Bournemouth, or Brentford. He remains an incredibly likeable character—his attitude, adaptability, and tactical intelligence are top-tier. His most effective run in the side came as a false nine, complemented by dynamic, advanced midfielders. Our best football last term came around October 2025, when we paired Merino with Eze upfront. Mikel’s ability to act as a target man for long balls, drop deep to link play, and open up space for others caused real headaches even for a European heavyweight Bayern Munich. The false nine role in our system doesn’t require explosive speed because we’re not a counter-attacking outfit. However, we do come up against plenty of transitional sides, which is exactly why we need dynamism in our full-backs and central midfielders. We need to deploy Merino in scenarios where his lack of pace isn’t exposed, which brings me to a slight detour.

Morgan Rogers. Even before the World Cup, there were strong whispers linking us with the Aston Villa starlet, later backed up by the gold standard of an Ornstein report. There are plenty of reasons why this move makes total sense: ongoing rumours of Villa’s financial headaches, Rogers’ desire to step up a level, Arteta’s fondness for Premier League-proven talent, and our own bluntness on the counter-attack. In fact, we rank second or third in the division for high turnovers, which is exactly what you’d expect given the intensity of our press. But we drop right down into mid-table when it comes to actually punishing teams from those situations—a clear flaw that needs fixing. That’s where Rogers comes in. While he’s superb at driving forward and unleashing shots, his loose first touch means he can’t operate effectively in a congested midfield where a turnover triggers a lethal counter. Also, to maximize his threat, he needs to be deployed high up the pitch. The way I see Rogers fitting into this Arsenal side is in a tactical switch to a 4-4-2. One central midfielder would focus on progression, while the front two features a physically imposing, intelligent link-up man (think Havertz or Merino) alongside a direct ball-carrier with an eye for goal. The carrier can use the target man to receive the ball high up the pitch, face up the defender, and do damage. That profile fits Morgan Rogers to a tee... as well as Eberechi Eze.

If we transition to a system without a traditional number nine, relying instead on two well-rounded forwards who complement each other, a lot of the puzzle pieces fall into place. Imagine a Havertz/Merino type with the alternative in Kroupi or Alvarez, supported by Rogers/Eze (and of our own youngsters as understudies) upfront, with a central midfielder completely focused on feeding them. If that’s the blueprint for next season, the pursuit of Morgan Rogers makes a lot more sense.

I switched to discuss Rogers, because this is the perspective through which I am going to assess the next batch of players.

Eze. Speaking of Eberechi Eze, his debut campaign was a bit of a mixed bag. He endured a couple of months frozen out on the bench and a fair few games where he drifted through without making an impact in the final third. He hasn’t become a structural playmaker for us, but perhaps he was never meant to be. My hope was always that Eze would provide that unpredictable bit of magic in front of goal, and he certainly delivered some big moments—an assist against City, winners against Palace and Newcastle, a big display in the North London Derby, and a absolute rocket against Leverkusen. The one major black mark on his copybook was his complete disappearance in the Champions League final. Introduced late against a tired defence with spaces opening up, it was the ultimate stage for him to cement his lengendary status, but instead, he ended up as the night’s most disappointing penalty taker. Arteta did start using Eze’s unique on-the-ball ability to beat the press late in the campaign, but I suspect if Ødegaard had been fitter this season, we would have seen far less of number 10. If we adopt the 4-4-2 theory, Eze fits beautifully as rotation for Morgan Rogers. It’s unlikely we’ll get a decent offer to recoup our money this summer, so it makes total sense to tweak the system to suit his strengths.

Odegaard. Which brings us to the skipper. In a 4-4-2 setup, there isn’t an obvious home for Martin Ødegaard, who seems to drop deeper with every passing season. The only realistic slot for him would be in a midfield pivot alongside Rice, but I doubt Arteta would trust his physical engine in there. I agree with the consensus that nobody progresses the ball in this side better than Ødegaard, and losing that elite trait is a massive risk. However, I genuinely believe we can’t keep relying on him as our primary number ten option because that tactical well has run dry. Teams know exactly how to press him deep into the pitch, forcing us into that familiar, sterile ‘horseshoe of sadness’ passing sideways. If we want to keep winning silverware, we have to evolve rather than rolling out the same attacking patterns for a fifth consecutive season. His dwindling availability and goal return are also hard to ignore at this point.

The saving grace with Ødegaard is his undeniable pedigree; he’d walk right into the starting XI at sides like Bayern Munich, Inter, or even a rebuilding Real Madrid. If we can command a fee north of £60 million for him—and a sharp sporting director absolutely should—it might be the perfect moment to shake hands, thank him for that historic title, and move on.

Nwaneri. I’ve written at length about my thoughts on Ethan. He is a frighteningly talented lad who possesses all the physical attributes required—a lethal shot, brilliant dribbling, and crucially, the core strength to shield the ball from seasoned pros, which he showed back in 24/25. The only lingering question mark is over his mentality. His loan spell at Marseille, while admittedly disrupted by De Zerbi’s abrupt departure, was hardly a success. The main stick to beat him with was his inconsistency from game to game—perfectly normal for a youngster, of course. We can’t all be Lamine Yamal. The bigger red flag stems from the whispers of ‘attitude concerns’ filtering out of the Marseille camp. If there’s any truth to that, it would completely explain Arteta’s reluctance to throw him in. I totally get that a club chasing major honors can’t afford to wait around for a young player to find consistency, and it’s fair to demand they prove themselves out on loan first. I still reckon Ethan would be a massive coup for several Premier League sides and would walk into the XI of any team coming up from the Championship. In a 4-4-2, he could easily serve as Eze’s understudy given his eye for goal, but if Arteta has no plans to use him, we need to either find him another loan or cash in if a good bid lands. The irony of his Marseille spell is that it probably dented his market value (we won’t be getting over £60m now), which in turn might extend his Arsenal career. In my book, we should never have bought Madueke and instead used Ethan or Max on the right wing. What’s done is done though.

Madueke. Which leads me neatly onto Noni—a player I remain incredibly skeptical about. His complete lack of synergy with the rest of the team completely overshadows his explosive ability on the ball. While many Gooners have hyped up his international performances, if you actually distill his concrete contributions over the last couple of months, you’re left with:

• A won penalty against Croatia,

• A strong penalty shout in the Champions League final,

• A goal (first touch shot) in a dead-rubber against Palace,

• A won penalty against Leverkusen.

Every single one of those moments stems from individual actions, completely detached from any team play. The second Madueke starts driving past his man, his awareness of his teammates completely vanishes. What’s the use of an explosive winger if his bursts of pace rarely create high-quality chances for the team? His greatest asset right now seems to be baiting defenders into fouling him in the box. Eventually, Premier League full-backs will wise up to this; they’ll simply stand off him, show him inside, and watch the attack fizzle out. If he doesn’t start turning his carries into assists, his effectiveness will plummet, and that tactical maturity isn’t easily taught. This is the danger of scouting purely by data. I’m convinced the club saw Noni’s staggering dribbling statistics and looked no further. Any scout watching 15 Chelsea games live could have spotted this flaw a mile off. If a £40 million offer arrives for a player who still has youth on his side, I’d bite their hand off, promote Dowman and Nwaneri as right-wing cover, and reinvest the cash where it’s actually needed.

Havertz. This is arguably the most polarizing and difficult player to sum up. On one hand, he’s incredibly versatile, improves those around him, offers a real target in the air, and scored the winner in a Champions League final. On the other hand, his ball striking technique limits his threat in front of goal in many scenarios, and his injury record last season is a massive red flag. Elite managers like Tuchel and Nagelsmann have sung Kai’s praises, and I’m certain Arteta deeply values his versatility. I suspect Arteta will fight to keep him, unless the medical department warns him that these underlying fitness issues are going to stretch well into next season. That said, Havertz is also one of the few assets who could fetch a serious fee, and you could easily see him starting for European giants like Real Madrid, Barca, or PSG (where Dembélé rarely lasts past the 70th minute). If we manage to bring in a more prolific goalscorer to play alongside him—someone like Álvarez, Kroupi, or Rogers—I’d argue Havertz is a better long-term investment than Gyökeres. But ultimately, it’ll come down to what kind of money is put on the table.

Gyokeres. Viktor Gyökeres put in a decent goalscoring return in his debut season, proving himself a lethal finisher and helping us secure silverware, largely by being robust enough to start week in, week out. His understanding of the teammates’ habits grew, as did his link-up play. However, it’s hard to ignore how much he struggled against elite Premier League center-backs, particularly when facing sides in the top half of the table.

If you strip away the penalties, his record against the division’s top sides looks incredibly thin. While his raw pace and power are devastating in bursts, they don’t give him the same edge in the Premier League, where defenders are among the quickest and strongest on the planet. I genuinely think a move to Serie A or Atletico Madrid would be better for Viktor’s own future. He’d be a nailed-on starter there, whereas at Arsenal, his technical limitations will always leave him open to scrutiny and criticism.

Saka. Bukayo has endured a deeply frustrating, underwhelming campaign. You can count on one hand the number of matches where he truly seized control and decided the outcome. He was almost a passenger in both Cup finals and really only turned it on against Fulham during the run-in. Reports suggest he’s been battling an ongoing Achilles issue, and his recovery from his last operation looked rushed and ineffective. Having committed to a massive new contract, he isn’t going anywhere this summer. However, next season feels absolutely make-or-break for his Arsenal career. It doesn’t matter what reasons caused him to drop the level in the end, once an explosive winger loses the confidence to beat his man and make things happen, it’s a long road back, often requiring a complete change of scenery to spark a revival. Saka cannot afford another flat year; otherwise, defenders will stop fearing him entirely. I get the sense he’s lost a yard of pace but retained that burning desire to be the match-winner, which in turn led to selfish decisions on the pitch, consequently becoming less efficient all around and locking him into a frustrating downward spiral. To get him back to his world-class best, Arteta needs to enforce a complete break after the World Cup—meaning he shouldn’t feature until well after the first international break, ensuring he only returns when he is 100% sharp and introduced very gradually. Even with a delayed start in November, a fully fit Saka can deliver an outstanding season and carry us to silverware. We’re past the point of needing to prove ourselves, rushing players back out of desperation, especially with Madueke, Ethan, and Dowman available to hold the fort.

Trossard. Leandro Trossard has topped off his career with a well-deserved Premier League medal. He’ve been one of the most efficient, value-for-money attacking signings we’ve ever made. That said, he isn’t getting any younger and his capacity to affect games from the start is visibly shrinking. Last term, he was often spent after about 60 minutes, running out of moves against fresh full-backs. He’s been largely efficient as a super-sub, and in my eyes, that’s the only way he could be used next season. He’s excellent technically and still one of our coldest finishers, and we certainly won’t find a better squad option for £20 million. But it does mean we need a fresh, regular starter in that role come September.

Martinelli. As painful as it is, and as much as we all love a player who bleeds for the shirt and radiates passion, cold logic says it’s time to move him on. Gabi is a fantastic character, but he looks to exhaust his repertoire in Arteta’s Arsenal. He’s a quality operator, and I’m sure any side playing a more direct, transitional style of football would be getting a serious player. Klopp famously labelled him the ‘talent of the century’, and you just know he’d put up ridiculous numbers in a side like Liverpool. His raw pace and defensive work-rate are incredibly rare commodities in today’s market of flashy, inconsistent wingers. Ødegaard, Saka, and Martinelli are the remaining parts of the attacking routines of that thrilling 22/23 side. Bukayo is going nowhere, so the time has come to cash in on the other two. If the exit rumours gather pace, I’ll be buying a shirt with Gabi’s name on the back. He was one of the few bright sparks who kept the flame alive during our darkest periods.

I’d love to hear where your opinions match up or diverge on our squad in the comments.

One final thought on the newly released 26/27 Premier League fixture list. When people talk about a ‘favourable’ schedule, the only metric that actually carries any weight is the difficulty of the run-in.

The April/May list is quite favourable. The North London Derby in case of resurrected Tottenham would take place at home. Villa is at home as well. Bournemouth will no longer be the force they used to be under Iraola. I am feeling pretty optimistic about this stretch, if you know what I mean 😉.

Let’s kick off with the big interview Zinchenko gave to the Ukrainian media last week. Generally speaking, interviews done in a player’s native tongue tend to be a bit more revealing than the usual PR-vetted stuff served up to the British press while they’re on the club’s books.

The few details he shared that I found interesting and you might or might not believe:

He claims he dropped his book already rather than waiting until hanging up his boots, because he wanted to capture all those fascinating little details about his teammates while they were still fresh in the memory. Personally, I reckon it was purely opportunistic—he got a great offer from the publisher to boost his popularity globally and jumped at it. An offer like that might not be on the table five years down the line when he’s drifted out of the limelight.

He shared a brilliant anecdote about a pre-match training session where he pulled out of a challenge on Mahrez, not wanting to risk crocking a “supposed starter”. Afterwards, Vincent Kompany literally lifted him off the floor in the dressing room and gave him a proper dressing down, telling him that was the absolute last time he wanted to see that sort of attitude and that from now on, he goes all in on the tackles. Given Mikel Arteta’s notorious intensity, you can bet your house that this attitude was carried straight from City over to London Colney, which goes a long way to explaining the sheer volume of injuries our lads pick up on the training pitch.

He also revealed how Pep Guardiola would delay naming his starting XI for the Manchester derby until they were practically walking out of the tunnel, leaving everyone completely in the dark. Pep apparently tried to leave it to the players to sort out who was starting, only for Fernandinho to step in and remind him that he’s paid the big bucks to make those tough calls.

He confirmed what we all suspect—that players are heavily influenced by the toxic noise on social media. He admitted he was absolutely bricking it walking out at the Emirates after posting his support for Israeli victims of the terror attack without fully digging into the nuances of the situation. Luckily, the home Emirates crowd backed him that night. Still, it’s proof positive that players are incredibly sensitive to the atmosphere in the stands and can be mentally rattled by the online keyboard warriors.

As for why he decided to join Arsenal, he first opened up about how City’s negotiators promised him a contract review the moment he broke into the first team, yet he ended up playing a couple of seasons as a regular starter on a fraction of what his teammates were banking. But then he admitted that the way Arsenal courted him was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. Arteta and Edu literally flew out to see him, laying out the project in meticulous detail, explaining exactly how Mikel planned to integrate him into the side. They showed they were willing to go to the ends of the earth to get his signature, and with that kind of love shown, it was impossible to say no. No doubt the promise of regular minutes played a massive part too.

But the biggest takeaway for me was that he doesn’t hold a grudge against Arteta or the club for how his Arsenal career has stalled. He gets that the manager depended on him for a specific role, and if he’s constantly in the treatment room, the manager has no choice but to move on the patterns and integrate players who are actually fit. He completely blames himself for not managing his recovery properly and rushing back too soon few times, which inevitably triggered the next setback.

And frankly, those details are deeply worrying. We know from various sources that Arteta values players that put their bodies on the line, playing through the pain barrier for the badge. But that exact culture encourages players to rush back ahead of schedule, often ruining their chances of hitting top gear again. We’ve already seen Ben White pushing his body to the limit. It’s highly likely Havertz and Saka are walking the same tightrope, and it’ll take a long, patient road to get them back to peak fitness. Throw in a highly fragile Ødegaard, Jurrien Timber missing a World Cup, Saliba playing through a suspected back issue, and Declan Rice holding things together miraculously, and it’s clear: if Arteta doesn’t learn how to rotate his key men preemptively (and not when they are on their way to the doctor), this injury crisis will just keep repeating itself.

Back to the transfer business

We’re heading into the madness of the summer transfer window. I’ll be honest with you right now, I can’t be doing with dissecting every single player we’re linked with. These rumours are pushed by everyone—selling clubs, agents, journalists needing clicks—with very different purposes, majority of them being not related to real prospects coming to Arsenal. The media know football fans will absolutely pump their click metrics if they stick “Arsenal” in the headline. I’ve fallen into that trap far too many times before, and I’m not spending hours scouting a player unless we get a concrete update from our trusted man Ornie.

That won’t stop me from giving a quick run-through of my thoughts on a few targets, though. Look, we’ve put ourselves in a brilliant position where we can actually pivot our strategy. We aren’t desperate to buy players just to fill out the gaps in the squad, nor are we under financial pressure. The only scenario where we absolutely must bring someone in is if we lose a player in that position. And that should dictate our whole approach.

In my book, we must absolutely avoid the kind of signings we made last season, the likes of Madueke, Gyökeres, or even Eze. Specifically, players brought in just to “compete” for a spot without any clear resale value. We are a top-five team in the world now; the player we have already won us the league and demonstrated we can go really deep in Cups. If we’re going to splash serious cash—say, upwards of £75 million—it has to be on a player who genuinely raises the ceiling of this starting XI.

That’s why, for me, it makes way more sense to drop £140 million on Vinicius Jr than £110 million on Julián Álvarez. Now, I’m no fan of Vinicius’ antics; he behaves like a spoiled kid at times, especially with all his whining over the Ballon d’Or. His responses to racist abuse could also be handled with much more dignity and power, like we’ve seen from legends in the past. So I have real doubts about how he’d fit into Arteta’s cultural framework. But purely on the pitch? Vinicius is a monumental upgrade on our current left-wing options. Even if he only starts 20 league games and 10 in the Champions League knockouts, he possesses the kind of world-class, match-winning quality we haven’t seen in an Arsenal shirt for years. It sounds crazy, but if world-class talents like him become unsettled, they don’t have many options. Arsenal, alongside PSG, City, and Liverpool, would definitely be on his shortlist, but I am not sure who else beyond that.

On the flip side, I’m really not convinced Álvarez gives you that same devastating impact as a number nine. I don’t see him replicating Havertz’s physical dominance, Merino’s clever link-up play, or even Gyökeres’ pure instinct inside the box. He’s a brilliant all-rounder, sure, but he hasn’t put together back-to-back prolific goalscoring seasons as the main man. Spending north of £100 million on a slight upgrade is a massive gamble. When we signed Declan Rice, nobody questioned the fee because we knew exactly what we were getting. That’s the calibre of signing I’d like to see this summer.

In my opinion, our recruitment focus should be split into three distinct categories of players:

1. Elite players operating on a significantly higher level than our current options—genuine game-changers who walk straight into the starting XI. Think Vinicius Jr.

2. Smart, under-£40m depth signings. This means either unearthing a young talent with massive upside—someone like Christian Mosquera—or picking up established players on a discount due to a bit of baggage or risk. Take Marcus Rashford, for example. Despite the obvious risks, you can’t deny his raw ability, and as a squad option, it’s a gamble well worth taking.

3. Direct, like-for-like replacements for any outgoings, ideally for a lower fee or a more sensible wage structure. This is vital if we want to keep evolving and asking new questions of the teams we battle at the top of the table year in, year out.

It’s that third category that should dictate our incoming business. Fortuitously, we are finally in a position where the squad is so well-stocked in attack that we can afford to offload someone before signing a replacement. That completely hands us the leverage in negotiations, as we aren’t desperate to sell like we used to be. Since this piece is turning into a bit of a marathon, I’ll save the full squad audit for my next post.

To wrap things up, a quick word on the World Cup. I’ve got a pretty low opinion of FIFA—a thoroughly cynical and corrupt organization—same as the current US government, so this tournament feels a bit tainted for me. I won’t bore you with the visa fiascos or skyrocketing ticket prices, but at the same time, you can’t deny the magic of a World Cup. It’s the one stage where you see completely unknown players trying to write their names into football history. The pure unadulterated joy of the DRC netting against Portugal, or Cape Verde snatching a point off Spain— and the supporting fans going absolutely mental in the stands. It’s a beautiful celebration of a unity in a love of the global game, and not even the suits upstairs can completely ruin that.

And to be fair, it’s been a great tournament so far—shocks galore, and almost every team getting on the scoresheet or coming agonizingly close. I fancy England as strong favourites to lift the trophy, purely because I rate Thomas Tuchel incredibly highly in a tournament format. He doesn’t give a toss about media perception; he picks the players he needs for his tactical blueprint, and he’s one of the absolute best on the planet at prepping for a one-off, must-win match. Chelsea’s Champions League triumph five years ago is all the proof you need. He might be overly intense and direct—not necessarily a manager you’d want day-in, day-out over a long domestic season—but for a month-long tournament, that doesn’t matter. The players only have to buy into his intensity for a few weeks, a small price to pay for footballing immortality.

And every time I watch Harry Kane, I’m reminded of what a truly world-class footballer he is, and how effortlessly he’d slot into this current Arsenal side and elevate us, even at this stage of his career. He’s commited to the team, works his socks off (making goal-line clearances), holds the ball up beautifully, links the play, offers a real aerial threat, and is a lethal finisher. He is the absolute textbook definition of the number nine we’ve been crying out for. He might lack electric pace and stamina, but with our style of play in most of the game, he doesn’t need it. The mad thing is, if we theoretically brought him to the Emirates this summer, the Premier League trophy would be nailed on next season. A crying shame he’s got that Tottenham past.

One final bit of advice: don’t get sucked into the hype over players who have a few good games at a World Cup. It’s a classic trap that clubs fall into time and time again. International football requires an entirely different skill set to the club game. Teams are loosely put together without complex tactical structures, often playing against inferior opposition. These tournaments showcase individual flair and on-ball quality, but they aren’t a true indicator of how a player will adapt to a highly structured, well-drilled club side where everyone has strict tactical responsibilities. It’s why Mbappé shines and is on course to become the World Cup’s all-time top scorer, despite never having won the Champions League... yet. Scouts might find the odd hidden gem, but they’re rarely worth the hyper-inflated asking price because the whole world is watching, and selling clubs are always ready to cash in on the hype.

Enjoy the rest of the football, especially if your country is out there, and I’ll be back soon with a full squad audit!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This are the moments we are living for!

And these are the people that got us here:

Riccardo Calafiori

Gabriel Martinelli

Martin Zubimendi

William Saliba

Gabriel Magalhaes

Eberechi Eze

Thomas Frank

Mikel Merino

David Raya

Leandro Trossard

Declan Rice

Viktor Gyokeres

Jurrien Timber

Max Dowman

Bukayo Saka

David Moyes

Mikel Arteta

Martin Odegaard

Chris Kavanagh

Kai Havertz

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

David Raya claiming every cross with infuriating coolness.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I nearly welled up watching that support.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

However, the problem is:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A detour in Spain

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

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

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

The Game On Sunday

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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