Arsenal to win the whole of football - I'm Gunner curse it by writing this...

25 April 2023 , 17:53

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One duff move and it could all be over... for Arsenal (Image: AFP via Getty Images)

Some friends who’ve moved out of London might be coming to stay in May, but I’m forbidden from putting it in my diary. If I do, without hyperbole, that single admin action will irrevocably change the course of sporting history and ruin my husband’s entire life.

Welcome to the most confusing era of my football widowhood so far, when I discover the man I married is even more of an arse when Arsenal might actually win something for once (although don’t say or even think that or you’ll jinx it.)

If you’re lucky enough not to know what I’m on about, can I come and live with you please? Sigh.

So Arsenal, after years of constantly losing, have done the opposite, and stand a good chance of potentially winning all of football and having a little parade, which my husband and the aforementioned friends would like to attend.

I’m going to be in trouble for writing that sentence, because (like everything else in the world) it could be seen as tempting fate, even though I made sure I included the word potentially.

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When Arsenal always lost, at least we knew where we were. He’d scamper off to the Emirates, eyes shining with hope, then trudge back later, despairing, devastated and depressed.

It wasn’t always easy, it wasn’t ever fun, but at least it was consistent. Now, he’s a nervous wreck. Up one minute, down the next. A ball (intended) of anxiety, briefly daring to dream, then certain he’s single-handedly spoilt his beloved team’s chances by doing so a second later. Wanting to talk about it endlessly but also worried to mention it just in case.

It’s completely draining and exhausting, not least because I can’t possibly communicate to you – or, apparently, him – just how uninterested I am, and yet he insists on narrating his every thought and feeling about it.

Also, none of it makes sense. Like tonight, there’s an ultra important game which he cares so passionately about that he might not watch it. He isn’t sure he’ll be able to bear to, you see. No, me neither.

It’s the same as when Arsenal used to lose and he’d come home from the match and spend hours reading the theories of strangers online about why they lost, even though as I always helpfully informed him, it was because they didn’t get as many goals as the other team.

Every Gooner’s life mantra – it’s the hope that kills you – has never been more apt. My husband is so unaccustomed to the idea that Arsenal may actually triumph, it’s too much for him to be able to process and deal with.

Ironically, although he’ll clearly be heartbroken if it all goes wrong tonight, maybe he might also be a bit relieved, too? At least he’ll be back on familiar ground.

Obviously I’m only saying that as a double bluff though, or something.

If I shared a home with a sane human being I might end this by saying “Come on Arsenal, you can do it!” but that’s probably too much pressure, or feels like overcompensating so indicates a lack of genuine belief, or could accidentally prove to be a curse.

Therefore I’ll leave the last word to legendary Liverpool manager Bill Shankly, who said, “Some people think football is a matter of life and death. I assure you, it’s much more serious than that.”