O bjects in the rear-view mirror may be closer than they seem. For what feels like at least a decade now, from way back in the early years of this endless Premier League season, Arsenal have maintained their lead over Manchester City at the top of the table, keeping that sky blue vessel of sporting perfection in the near slipstream all the way from autumn into spring.
At the final whistle on a muggy, sullen afternoon at the London Stadium five of Arsenal’s outfield players slumped intothe same position, bent at the waist, staying on their feet, but kidney-punched, feeling that wash of late-season nausea.
A 2-2 draw here meant that an eight-point lead had become five points, had become four points and might yet become one point.
That black-clad skinny-legged figure in the rear-view mirror, fists pumping, eyes bulging, has seemed distant at times. Glance back now and he’s right there, a single hand clamped down on the rear bumper, never breaking stride.