I’d love to be able to blame our humiliating annihilation on the numbskull responsible for dressing us in a green kit, upon a grass pitch, but frankly that’s a feeble excuse. Saturday’s demolition served as a timely reminder of the enormity of the task facing Unai Emery.
The most important figure in the Arsenal team for tomorrow’s Carabao Cup final against Manchester City will not be big money January signing Pierre-Emerick Aubameyang, World Cup winner Mesut Ozil, or England international Jack Wilshere.
The old cliché that form goes out of the window for the North London derby certainly held true. Arsenal, lacklustre so far, were lively and dominant; Spurs showed absolutely nothing of the form that has got everyone talking and referee Mike Dean firmly put to bed the view that he is biased towards Spurs.
So emphatic, so mesmeric at times, was the quality of this Arsenal win that it was difficult to know whether to be hypnotised by its quality or outraged that a group of players who chronically underachieved for long periods of this campaign should finally hit peak form when it may be too late for Arsene Wenger and Arsenal’s season.
After describing how proud he was of his Tottenham Hotspur side’s performance in a one-sided north London derby, Mauricio Pochettino was asked whether Chelsea’s victory at Everton earlier in the day meant there was an underlying feeling of disappointment in home dressing room at White Hart Lane.
We’ve all nodded along sagely to warnings that Double Gameweek players don’t necessarily outscore their single-fixture counterparts, but it takes a week like this to make us actually believe it.
Yesterday’s Munster Club SHC quarter-final came down to one play in injury time, when Thurles Sarsfields’ free-taker, Pa Bourke, stood over a 65 that would nudge his side one ahead against Waterford champions Ballygunner.
While myself and a substantial number of Gooners might well concur with the sentiments expressed in Saturday’s vague and decidedly futile protest, the somewhat embarrassing and decidedly schizophrenic scenes during our encounter with Norwich felt like a sad indictment of our modern day, social-media obsessed “supporters”.