A Snarling Gabriel ('24-25 Tottenham Hotspur Away 0-1)

Banner image by John Walton/PA, via The Guardian.

1. WE EXIST

A thousand miles away, men chant in tribal fury, seeking to exert dominance with their cries.

I can't hear the words. But I can tell that they are – declaring. That they are here, they are alive, that they, too, can influence outcomes, and therefore manifest the universe they desire.

But in the quiet of my living room, there is no sound. I see only patterns, chess pieces in black and white – autonomous, probing, orbiting, rotating.

At the centre of it all, William Saliba is majestic.

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2. ANXIETY

All September, I have been occupied with thoughts of this match, longing and fretting for the appropriate outcome.

I'm afraid of South Korea's most famous Son, a benevolent assassin who has terrified me for years.

The camera cuts to Mikel Arteta, resigned to fate. At this point, even he is powerless to control the outcome.

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3. CAUSES FOR OPTIMISM

Trossard releases Martinelli down the left wing. I  am reminded that we are the better team – better coached, better drilled, more experienced, more comfortable.

Jorginho steps in with a big tackle at the edge of the box.

These men in the strange black jerseys – their histories are known to us.

4. ASCENDANCE

Beautiful, rhythmic, pressing leads to a corner.

Partey looks more comfortable in a double pivot with Jorginho. Someday, I too wish to play in a double pivot with Jorginho, perhaps in a charity match in the metaverse in 2050.

Son feigns as if he's going to take on Saka on the left wing, but chickens out.

Udogie then mauls my beloved Bukayo in an act of desperation.

Gabriel does enough to bother Solanki at the back post.

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5. IN WHICH I FALL IN LOVE WITH KAI HAVERTZ

Kai Havertz comes short, swivels, and evades Bentancur as the Uruguayan tries and fails to foul him. Kai then tumbles as Bentancur fouls him a second time. In this moment I realise that I love Kai Havertz, for his hunger, his attitude, his flaws and his weaknesses, his sheer energy and determination.

Despite his imperfections, he is a trier, and so am I.

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6. SPURS BAKCHODI / JURRIEN TIMBER INTERLUDE

Porro flops around like the slippery fiend that he is.

Kai is yellow carded, apparently for the crime of suffering an attack by the Spurs keeper.

Timber is now handling Son with ease, a kind of artistic savagery, comfortable in his athletic superiority.

Brilliant defending again, as Jurrien shuts down another counter attack.

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7. NAIVE IDEALISM

I love football for its naive idealism, this thrilling diversity in action.

I love the experience of watching two Londoners – one white, one black, born 3 years and 16 kilometres apart, separated only by the Thames and the turn of the millennium – exchange positions at lightning speed with a lanky, vaguely equestrian Aachener.

The irony of having world-class players in your team is that they're going to have to play more games, because they're good, which in turn increases chances of injury.

The huddle - that place of unity. Jorginho talking. It is a place of strength, and support, and respect. Years after being our blue rival's linchpin, Jorginho is the Arsenal captain tonight.

Hold-up play from Havertz - teamwork. Saka deflected shot for a corner. Textbook corner – goal.

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8. 1-0

Toughness. Grit. Willpower. Desire. Hunger. Belief. These things matter. This is who we are now.

I think about turning on the volume, but decide not to, in case my lingering anxiety affects the outcome.

Look at that celebration. The beauty of Gabriel screaming, beating his chest in front of a small, angry sea of flailing limbs, is somethuing else. It is petty, animist, tribal and powerful.

Ange sulks like he doesn't want to be there.

Trossard explodes in rage. His shirt looks like it's been ripped – a piece of fabric from his chest almost torn off.

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9. TRYING TO ENJOY IT

Kai effortlessly surges into his stride from a Raya goal kick. Magic. We are so much fitter than Tottenham.

Jorginho fakes cramp to waste time.

Raheem Sterling appears in an Arsenal jersey. These are strange times.

Gabi makes a sharp tackle to stop Solanki, who tumbles into two of his teammates. They collapse like spare bowling pins.

Ben and Gabi gesture about formations and I can tell that they're listening, paying attention to each other, communicating without ego.

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10. SCHADENFRAUDE

The cameraman decides to focus on Teddy Sheringham, looking immaculate in a grey summer suit. His pain is my joy.

Classic Sterling, too nany touches, no clear plan.

Cut to – Jermaine Defoe, black tie, grey suit, also unhappy. I feel smug.

Kulusevski shoots over from 30 yards – we are almost safe, and now we are.

The men in black have earned this post-victory huddle hug.

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