Oh, Arsenal.
It would be really hard to describe Sunday afternoon’s “performance” against Manchester United in any other terms than a collective brain fade from everyone involved in it. We could be 7 points clear today, but the gap is now down to 4 following weekend wins for our nearest rivals, Manchester City and Aston Villa.
Having had the dubious privilege of watching proceedings from block 24, a matter of feet away from the positively, and understandably, gleeful away support, there are many thoughts crashing around my head today. Knowing how we are as a fanbase and that the chances of anyone coming out of “Mugabe Media Lockdown” to actually read this are… minimal, I have total freedom to say whatever comes to mind. So this is literally just for me but if you are reading, hello and welcome to the Masochism Hour; step right in, the water is warm.
Right up front, whilst I wouldn’t go so far as to say I was especially worried about United yesterday, I will say that the removal of Ruben Amorim and the Michael Carrick inspired ransacking of their city rivals last week had given me a slight cause for pause. However, we were at home and, as I said to James Craddock in the pub beforehand, if we turned up we would win.
And for about half an hour of yesterday’s game, we definitely did turn up. Interestingly, we seemed to be carrying an equal threat down both sides of the pitch, with both Saka and Trossard causing United some problems. The opening goal, when it arrived, came from our right side, Saka and Odegaard combining before Lisandro Martinez, battling with our new centre forward Jurrien Timber, contrived to put his clearance into his own net. One nil up, we never lose at home from there, so it’s all going to be fine, right?
Not today, baby.
From the Clock End, it’s not always easy to see what’s happening 150 odd yards down field, so it’s only just now I’ve seen back the full horror of the equaliser we conceded and for me, it’s as much on the pass from Saliba to Zubimendi as how Zubi dealt with it. Regardless, for our watertight defence to give away a goal like that, just a few weeks after the Bournemouth one, is not good enough. And not for the first time this season, you felt the cognitive dissonance of watching players much happier to take risks on the edge of our own penalty area than the opposition’s.
Scores level at half time, we have been a strong second half team for much of this season, albeit less so recently. Whatever Arteta said to the players though, United came out and dominated the early exchanges before Patrick Dorgu combined with Bruno Fernandes twice and crashed home a screamer via our crossbar. Two shots on target for the visitors, two goals.
How would we react? Well, in the manager’s case, emotionally.
Hincapie, Zubi, a worryingly peripheral Odegaard and an anonymous Jesus were all hooked in place of White, Merino, Eze and Gyokeres. I think you all know by now, Mikel Arteta is very much in credit with me, but I’m not sure how much thought went into these substitutions with over half an hour left. It felt like an angry, Hail Mary play at least 20 minutes early.
I do think we need to talk about the captain.
Rested in midweek so he could be fresh for this game, Odegaard has now been hooked before the hour in his last 2 games. And this is a player who, as the manager’s voice on the pitch, has always remained on it when available. You could point to the increased options we now have, but the truth here is Arteta doesn’t usually substitute players who are playing well.
I remember reading some talk a couple of months ago, saying Odegaard may be considering a future outside of North London. I’m starting to wonder if maybe we’ve outgrown him to a certain degree. Although I will happily concede I wasn’t saying that after the Brighton game.
As the second half progressed, with United happy working the ball around their midfield and defence, and happier still to slow the game down whenever they got a dead ball, Arsenal’s desperation increased. And so did the crosses into the box, mostly dealt with by a regretfully, newly competent United defence.
As time ticked away and I began to make my peace that it wasn’t going to be our day, a corner (what else?) came to our rescue. A Saka inswinger, yet another contribution from him which will go unrecorded in his stats was forced home by Merino after a couple of ricochets.
As those of us in the Clock End next to the United fans surged towards them, I remember a guy behind me in the chaos holding up two fingers on each hand, “It’s 2-2, calm down” he seemed to be saying, if only anyone would listen.
Sage, as it turned out.
I find it very difficult to reconcile the Arsenal I’ve watched for the majority of this season with the one that allowed Matheus Cunha the freedom of North London to fire home the winning goal just two minutes later. As he cut into our view from our right, my life seemed to flash before my eyes in seconds – one touch, a second to set the ball and then with his third he ripped Manchester United’s third shot, the kill shot, on target into the corner of David Raya’s net.
Silence all around me. And, just feet away to my right, the away support going absolutely ballistic.
We’ve all seen enough football to know there was no coming back from this and United managed the remaining minutes in a professional manner, leaving those of us still in the ground awaiting the inevitability of a final whistle which felt like a funeral bell.
James and I were at the end of our row, which gave us a bit of a gallows laugh when a little boy, about 6 I reckon, rushed past us to the aisle and turned to his Dad, vainly imploring him to take him home.
A few weeks ago, again at Bournemouth, we’d watched Junior Kroupi be given all the time in the world to detonate a screamer past David Raya from the space our central midfield should be occupying. It didn’t cost us on that occasion, but we haven’t heeded that warning and it feels a little like we’re so reluctant to take shots from distance, it doesn’t really occur to us that other teams might not have the same worry. United have proved us wrong there in devastating fashion. Earlier in the first half Declan Rice had broken through midfield and careering towards the penalty area, the space opened up for him to take a shot.
Obviously he passed the ball wide to – checks notes – William Saliba.
Look, we’ve got 50 points from 23 games, we have also just beaten Internazionale with a rotated side fairly comfortably. Mikel Arteta is clearly doing more right than wrong, but it’s also clear we’ve got the wrong players in the wrong positions of the pitch at times. Saliba should not be popping up on the right wing anymore than Jurrien Timber should have be at centre forward with such regularity.
We lack cohesion in the attack, with Saka and Trossard starting the majority of our Premier League games there is also a distinct lack of pace to it. For me, one of Martinelli and Madueke should be starting on the other side to Saka – or indeed Trossard, and I would like to see at least one, if not both of Eze and Merino given a run in the side again. Eze would at least give us some focus in central areas (and yes, I know he hasn’t exactly been tearing up any trees recently).
As we escaped out onto the Holloway Road, towards the House of Hammerton, we overheard two friends, “That’s the worst football game I’ve ever been to” said one, his mate laughed and said “Shut up you idiot, it’s the only game you’ve ever been to”. He laughed, “Oh yeah”. They laughed, we all laughed together.
Having made it the pub for one before we split up into small groups, me drinking a beer appropriately named “Trauma”, we pondered a question that comes up every few years, but never gets any less pointed,
“Why do United seem to keep sacking their manager just before they play us?”