Arsenal losing the league does not have to be a collapse of character

I n the moment of full operatic collapse, the pain of a season of dashed and throttled glory reaching its narrative end point, the Emirates Stadium was treated to the sight of Roberto De Zerbi doing a knee slide.

A slightly creaky one but with sufficient momentum to get a little purchase on the lime green early summer turf, fist pumping, head up sedately. Brighton had just gone 3-0 up in this game, playing a lovely, breezy, light kind of pass‑and-run football. And De Zerbi had marched and pranced and barked around his technical area all afternoon, chest puffed, like an alpha squirrel taking control of the acorn patch. His team were delightful here, and instructive too en route to a vital victory.

This will probably go down as the afternoon Arsenal lost the title, if only because losing something is more fun, a little more brutal, a little more cinematic than someone else winning it. Is that the right way to read this?

The correct answer is, of course, no. Or at least, it is if we can move beyond the pure pleasure of footballing schadenfreude. Losing the league doesn’t have to be a collapse or a failure of character, although no doubt this is the kind of entry‑level psycho‑whiffle that will be punted about the place by some of our more heavyweight ex‑pro pundits.

Chokes, bottle jobs, collapses: these all exist in sport. But to decide that this is what happened here is a failure to see the strain of getting this far, the steps already taken, and the beauty, sometimes, of failure. Perhaps having a better squad, an all-time great manager and nation‑state‑backed resources really does give you “character”. It certainly makes you into a thrillingly good football team. Arsenal are not the first opponents to have melted trying