Chelsea - on the bus. Just a pub team

Arsenal come out on top in yet another London derby, but the win has served only to bring those age-old questions back to the surface.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Arsenal - Chelsea stats, CannonStats, Opta

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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