Liverpool - on the bus. Domination is deferred
A goalless draw leaves Arsenal fans disappointed
Goalless first half
Even Arne Slot’s nan could have called our starting XI, so I won’t bore you with the selection. Frimpong lining up on the right for Liverpool was as predictable as they come. He essentially plays as a winger anyway, and it’s a tactical ploy several Premier League sides have used at the Emirates to allow for a quick transition into a back five when defending deep.
From the first whistle, the players radiated a sense of calm that’s quite rare against an opponent of this stature, reflecting a real belief that they could handle whatever was thrown at them. Saliba was wandering into the final third with the ball, while Gabriel was comfortably heading things back into Raya’s gloves even with Liverpool shirts buzzing around him. Having been scarred by the “panic stations” era of Mustafi and Chambers during the banter years, I absolutely love seeing this level of composure. That said, Arsenal are at their most lethal when we play with a bit of aggression. We’re tight at the back regardless, but we’re far more dangerous when we’re really on the front foot.
The first real opening of the match came after Saka’s proper security rub-down of Liverpool’s left flank. After ghosting past Kerkez and Mac Allister with real grace, the only thing left was to pick out a teammate in the area. Zubimendi was inches away from slotting it home but, unfortunately, couldn’t quite find the finish. Watching the replay, I reckon the Spaniard should have done better there. He had a clear wide channel to run into while Saka was navigating a forest of legs with only milliseconds to react. A run slightly to the right would’ve been the smarter move and likely would have resulted in the opener.
The second big scare happened down our end. A breakdown in communication between Saliba and Raya gifted Bradley a chance, and he rattled the crossbar with a strike that really woke us up. Just like the previous episode, I’d pin this one on the Spaniard. Saliba had everything under control, he could easily shield the ball from Frimpong, and just needed a yard of space to play a simple ball back to the keeper. Raya’s charge out was an unnecessary bit of “heroic move” when the situation was already managed, and it nearly cost us dearly.
The rest of the half was a bit of a damp squib, truth be told. We registered a measly 0.3 xG, and Liverpool managed even less. They were essentially operating in a 5-1-4 shape, often parking six men in their own box—a low block that this current Arsenal side often finds tricky to unpick. I wasn’t overly concerned, though. We looked even more blunt in the first half against Villa and that also went in 0-0, only for us to blow the game wide open after the break.
Goalless second half
The difference with the Villa game though? Back then Arsenal emerged from the tunnel looking properly up for it. Arteta clearly lit a fire under them at the break. To be fair, he’s been remarkably consistent at galvanising the lads in home games over the last few seasons. But on Thursday? On Thursday, the wheels didn’t just come off—the whole situation took a darker turn.
Liverpool kept things tidy for ten minutes before starting to dictate play. In that 10-minute spell, it became painfully obvious that neither the team nor Arteta had any fresh ideas to unlock them. Usually, we see a tactical tweak or two at half-time that adds a bit of bite, but against Liverpool, we looked toothless. It reached the point where Saliba was practically invited to wander into the final third, where he looked a bit like a fish out of water. Building an attack shouldn’t be exactly his main task, should it? He whipped in a few crosses, one of which nearly found Gabriel’s head after a corner. Imagine the meltdown of social media if our only goal had come from a Saliba assist to Gabriel.
During one of those endless breaks in play, I found myself thinking about Hincapie. Looking at our back four, he’s probably the weak link in terms of 1v1 defending and isn’t the most graceful on the ball. That said, he’s got a phenomenal recovery pace. When you’re playing alongside world-class defenders, that’s a massive asset—having someone who can sniff out a counter and put in a tactical foul when needed.
Of course, a few minutes later, Hincapie went and picked up a knock, forced off for Myles, and the gulf in output was night and day. I know Myles is only a kid and hasn’t had much of a look-in this term, but it was a massive drop-off. He went from keeping Rodrygo in his pocket in the quarters to being absolutely rinsed by a player who looks like he’s got a season ticket for every “coffee shop” in Amsterdam. The only reason we didn’t concede more was that Frimpong’s delivery was as shocking as his hair style. He had five chances with no one near him and failed to find a familiar shirt once. Honestly, this performance might be a perfect time to start moving MLS into the middle. Arteta lacks a proper deputy for Rice—Merino is far too leggy, Norgaard is not trusted—and Myles could be the man for the job.
On the other flank, Gakpo didn’t even bother trying to take Timber on. Poor lad probably knows exactly what’s in Timber’s locker from their time with the Oranje and decided a failed dribble just wasn’t worth the hassle.
As the clock ticked down, Arteta rolled the dice with his first attacking subs. Having nailed the starting XI, Slot’s nan probably completed her bingo card by predicting the 65th-minute changes: Martinelli for Trossard and Jesus for Gyokeres. Supporters love to debate Gyokeres versus Jesus, but for me, they’re simply incomparable. Jesus seems to pop up everywhere except where a traditional number nine should be.
He plays like a bit of a free spirit, a number ten with no fixed abode, drifting wherever he thinks he can help. You saw it with the likes of Palmer, Bruno at United, or even Coutinho back in the day. Naturally, Jesus had zero output yesterday. Just look at his pass map against the Reds.
I’m not sure what Arteta’s master plan is for him, but when he’s our focal point, he provides zero pressure on the center-halves. They’re given a free pass to step up, which pushes their midfield higher and triggers a nasty domino effect on our shape.
He could still be a useful type of player, sure, but if Jesus is on, he needs a partner to actually occupy that number nine space. We had Merino on the bench; bringing them both on for Gyokeres and Odegaard would have made far more sense.
Gyokeres copped a lot of flak for his shift, but at least he played a couple of link-up passes to Hincapie and Timber that kept our verticality alive. He puts the work in, but his hold-up play and shielding aren’t quite on Merino’s level. He’s quicker than the Spaniard, but still only average by PL standards. My main gripe on the day was him failing to gamble on Rice’s cross from the left. At least he was in the mixer, though—unlike our Brazilian “saviour” during the Madueke delivery.
Madueke finally got his chance alongside Eze for the final fifteen. It’s so unlike Arteta to hook Saka and Odegaard in the clutch. It shows just how desperate he was for the win, sacrificing his most trusted lieutenants to try and force a result.
But the team just wasn’t at the races—too slow, too predictable, too passive, and frankly, too bland. Along with that peach of a cross, Madueke delivered a decent corner in the dying seconds. It found both Gabriels unmarked at the back stick. Big Gabi blamed Jesus, but I don’t think he was ever reaching it anyway. Jesus was better placed, but you can’t blame Gabi for wanting to settle it himself given his record.
Eze was a bit of a ghost, but I won’t slaughter him for it. You can tell all right things about the trajectory and stories about “desire to change the mind” in pressers, but if you leave a player out in the cold for three weeks, you can’t expect him to come on against Liverpool and pull up trees. The Premier League rhythm is impossible to mimic on the training pitch. An out-of-form number ten is the price you pay for placing Merino into that role earlier.
The final fifteen was just a sequence of tactical fouls from Liverpool, and Anthony Taylor fell for it hook, line, and sinker. We probably played about four minutes of actual football in that period, ending with the Martinelli and Bradley spat. There’s no debate here: Bradley rolled onto the pitch, Martinelli thought he was time-wasting and gave him a shove. He got his booking and apologised after the game. Move on; anyone still talking about it is just gaslighting.
Goalless result
In general, the result itself isn’t tragic, considering City have just had three draws on the bounce. But it was never really about the result. It was about pride; about finally getting some payback for all those “banter years”; about making teams fear coming to the Emirates again. It was about sending a message to the rest of the league regarding the kind of force they are dealing with this year. It was about domination. After this result, that domination has been deferred.
Even Arne Slot’s comments about Liverpool’s performance being unimpressive felt like a dig at our own strength. We used to praise a 0-0 draw at the Etihad back in 23/24, but Slot is essentially saying that Arsenal at home isn’t actually that scary. I don’t like all these stats people are pulling out to try and make us feel better—things like “we held Liverpool to zero shots on target since whenever.” We are the league leaders, sitting 14 points ahead of Liverpool and playing on our own patch. We should be looking to rip their net apart, not worrying about how many shots they had on our target.
If we are going to let a club’s name or a massive transfer fee rattle us, then we might as well not bother turning up for the Champions League at all. It feels like Arteta has a bit too much respect for the sides that have done him badly over in the past, and he isn’t really looking at the level they are actually at right now. In every game against City and Liverpool this season, we’ve been far too cautious and haven’t managed a single win. At this stage, the cost of playing it so safe is getting impossible to ignore.
The most worrying part of the match is that it feels like another team and another manager have got our number. In two games this season, we’ve failed to score a single goal against Liverpool, barely creating over 1 xG across 180 minutes. We’ve really struggled to offer them any genuine threat.
Eddie Howe used to shut us down in a similar fashion, as did Marco Silva and Iraola at times; now Slot joins that list. It seems whoever deploys a five-man defence to cover the wings and manages to completely nullify Odegaard, they nullify Arsenal. We don’t have anyone properly occupying that number 10 space on the left side, so we lose most of our ways to threaten.
Looking at this heatmap from Liverpool, it isn’t a “deadly scorpion”—it’s the “horseshoe of death.” Martin Odegaard, who was completely passive yesterday, didn’t manage to create a single big chance.
His pass map is the very definition of that “horseshoe of death”—95% sideways passes with only one actually going into the box. Arteta used to solve this problem not through the midfield, but by sending our full-backs high up the pitch (as if they don’t do that enough already). When both Timber and Calafiori do it, we certainly look more dangerous. Timber was the one receiving the ball in the most dangerous areas yesterday, but his final ball is sometimes a bit off. To be fair, that shouldn’t really be his responsibility. He’s already tasked with stopping the wingers; the system should be adding more attack-minded players in other areas.
More managers will surely watch this game and adjust their tactics before facing us. Our road to the title isn’t going to be quite as smooth as it looked after City drew with Brighton.
A goalless FA Cup run?
Yesterday’s result served as a reminder that this team isn’t almighty just yet. A quadruple has never been achieved by any Premier League side, and some of them looked more convincing than we do right now. We aren’t exactly swimming in trophies, so we need to be realistic about our chances. We can’t go all-out in every competition; we need to sacrifice one.
In my humble opinion, that should be the FA Cup. The final stages of this competition hit in March and April, and we really don’t need that distraction during the Premier League run-in and the Champions League knockouts. The FA Cup should be used exclusively for players lacking minutes or youngsters who need the experience. If that selection manages to reach the final—great, we can roll out the big guns in May. If not, then we’ll have more in the tank for the two major tournaments. The Carabao Cup is a different story, as the final is played well before the business end of the season and can actually give the squad a taste for silverware.
That being said, I absolutely do not want to see anyone from the regular starting eleven against Portsmouth. At the same time, I really want to see Kepa, White, Salmon, Myles, Norgaard, Eze, Nwaneri, and maybe 30 minutes for Havertz. As for the rest, I don’t mind if it’s senior squad members or academy lads.
It should be more than enough against a team whose top scorer has only managed three goals (though perhaps I shouldn’t be talking about top goalscorers right?).
Couldn’t agree more with this analysis. Every word. Particularly the comments about Jesus, Odegaard and Eze. Personally I might have started the latter just to mix it up. What’s the point in having such a deep squad if our starting 11 becomes so predictable? Annoying.