I sometimes joke that I’m not sure I actually like football, just Arsenal. Hate-watching rivals aside, if a game doesn’t concern the Gunners it probably doesn’t concern me, such is my one-club tunnel vision. Even then, there are occasions where my love of Arsenal appears debatable. As a friend recently put it to me: “I’ve watched Arsenal games with you. I’m not sure you like Arsenal and yet you’re possibly the most fervent Gooner I know.”
Ah, the torturous dance between joy and torment. I relived it again last Sunday evening, when Arsenal lost to Manchester United. On paper, it should have been simple enough to compartmentalise: you can’t win them all and we’re still four points clear at the top of the league table and looking strong in all three cups. And yet, for the first time this season, I succumbed to true result-induced head loss.
