I have been going to the Emirates Stadium in London for years with my husband, a die-hard Gooner. And in the last few years, I must admit it has not always been great. I have had to endure a long silent walk from the Emirates to the St. Pancras station far too often, with my head bowed as a result of yet another Arsenal loss.
Sunday, February 4, wasn’t one of those days. The stadium was pounding, with 57,000 beaming faces, strangers hugging each other, and all was all right. Arsenal deserved the 3-1 victory over Liverpool as they played some sublime football. But that wasn’t the point of Sunday night in North London. The real point was that I witnessed pure joy, on and off the pitch. And it reminded me of what football is all about.
The run didn’t result in a goal, but it set the tone for the rest of the game
Gabriel Martinelli jostles for possession along with Trent Alexander-Arnold
There were two moments in the game that still make me smile, several days after the game. And you didn’t have to be a football pundit to appreciate them. Ten minutes in, David Raya hurled the ball to Gabriel Martinelli, a £6 million purchase from a third-tier Brazilian club, and he started running down the left flank. As he ran furiously, all of us in the stands started running with him, rising and bellowing as he went faster and faster, willing him on! Ibrahima Konate, one of the finest young defenders in the Premier League, stayed in pursuit but was beaten, even humiliated, by Martinelli’s sheer pace and desire. The run didn’t result in a goal, but it set the tone for the rest of the game and destroyed Konate’s morale.
A roar of absolute, unfettered joy!
Leandro Trossard en route to scoring the goal that sealed the game for Arsenal
The second moment came in the dying minutes of the game. With Liverpool pressing for an equaliser, Leandro Trossard collected the ball just before the halfway line (just below us, in fact) and executed a delectable dribble on the 20-year-old Harvey Elliott. Then, Trossard ran. And boy, did he run! Both Elliott and Luis Diaz gave up as Trossard culminated his run by squeezing the ball into the back of the net from the narrowest of angles. The Emirates erupted! I have never heard a roar like that, a roar of absolute, unfettered joy!
Soon enough, my eyes turned to Mikel Arteta, who was running up and down the touchline at such speed that I thought he might knock off Jurgen Klopp or have a cardiac or pull a hamstring! Again, just pure joy! When the final whistle went, I couldn’t stop smiling. Not just because of the result, but because of the scenes on the ground. Jorginho, the £12 million transfer from Chelsea, who played a monster of a game, was dancing to Sweet Caroline. Martin Odegaard had grabbed the camera from the club photographer, Stuart MacFarlane, to take his picture. These were scenes of pure joy, of a group of boys having fun, after competing with and taking apart one of the best teams in Europe.
And then, my attention turned to the noise of “thud, thud, thud” on my right, only to see that a 50-year-old man was jumping up and down in sheer delight, high-fiving fellow Gooners and belting out “North London Forever” at the top of his voice. Out of nowhere, I got planted with a massive hug. I have known this man for 30 years but can’t remember the last time I got such a joyful hug! Well, that’s football for you. Maybe I should go to the Emirates with my husband more often!
