Well, that’s over anyway. How to describe the emotional energy of this game? For long periods this felt like all the things that football matches usually aren’t. Creepy. Awkward. Uptight. Even as an apparently endless second half stretched out there was a sense around the crowd of some necessary duty being discharged, football reimagined as a trip to Dignitas or a no-fault divorce.
There were still moments of drama. Tottenham played really well, and might have drawn the game if they had a sharper edge. The idea that Spurs would ever “choose” to lose to Manchester City’s annihilating title-bulldozer was always bizarre. When did choice ever have anything to do with this? But it was still a strange occasion, as though the banter-buildup, the endless chat about not helping Arsenal to win a league title had undermined the usual dynamic.
