This piece is written by Chris Bowyer; you can read his Indecision is Final Substack here.
Since Mikel Arteta took charge of Arsenal in December 2019, there has been no shortage of jibes sent his way. Pundits, media outlets, rival supporters, opposition players. Often his own fanbase.
It didn’t start this way, of course. Within months of his appointment, Arsenal had already added to their impressive FA Cup collection, before converting that particular try with a Community Shield. A solid start for the apprentice, as he began plotting his own managerial pathway. Winners aren’t funny.
But a barren spell followed and the taunts began. And they didn’t stop.
In terms of material, take your pick…
Speakers blaring You’ll Never Walk Alone in training to ‘simulate’ Anfield. Pickpockets hired to steal from players at a team dinner. A 150-year-old olive tree wheeled in as a motivational prop. The club dog named Win; even Liam Rosenior would’ve probably drawn the line at that one.
Arteta himself laughed at Newcastle’s Jacob Murphy calling him ‘Lego Head’ – a nickname then repeated by Arsenal’s own supporters on AFTV. The Kop took great delight in lifting a massive banner mocking the former Evertonian and his lack of success: ‘Always the bridesmaid, never the bride.’
And who could forget his infamous All or Nothing inspired team-talk referencing Thomas Edison and the lightbulb. Encouraging his players to shine, to transmit light, energy and passion. ‘Because what happens when we play connected, guys?’…
…you lose 2-1, finish fifth and miss out on qualifying for the Champions League.
Poor Lego Head.
The football world had a field day. Here was a man so deep in the details, so obsessed with wacky metaphors and perceived originality, so committed to marginal gains, that he’d apparently lost the plot entirely.
Arteta said nothing. He just kept turning the lights on.
Because here’s the thing about that particular team-talk. It didn’t matter that Arsenal lost that game. It didn’t matter which outsiders found the whole thing ridiculous. What mattered was that Arteta was building something – a culture, a belief system, a method, a standard, a mindset – that was entirely his own. As unmoveable as his hair itself.
The pickpockets weren’t a gimmick. They were a message about awareness, attention, staying sharp when you least expect it. The speakers weren’t eccentric; they were preparation. Doing something different to try and break an Anfield curse that had lasted nine years. The dog wasn’t madness – it was intent made visible.
Fast-forward to this season and the taunts and denigration have surfaced again, albeit manifested in different form. Less personal this time, with more focus on events on the pitch itself. This despite Arsenal spending a total of 238 days at the top of the table – 200 of those consecutive.
In January, Paul Scholes said Arsenal would be the worst team to ever win the Premier League, before going one step further in March, declaring that no-one deserves it this season. That they should pass on giving the trophy out this year.
Alan Pardew – on a break from his amusing Uber Eats commitments – backed him up, claiming their title would carry an asterisk, such was their reliance on functionality and time-wasting.
Too cautious. Too pragmatic. Nothing beautiful about them. The low block. The gamesmanship. The wrestling. The refusal to take the handbrake off. Not credible unless they beat Liverpool and City. Bottlers. Playing it too safe. We’ve heard it all.
Arteta’s response? Win the league anyway. And smile that Lego smile.
The truth is that Arteta has never been playing it safe. Unless safe means being obsessed with the little things, even if they are a little hard for others to understand.
The genius set-piece routines, the fanatical organisation, the bodies thrown in front of shots, often manoeuvring themselves into the most unnatural of natural positions to do so. Players willing to take a ball in the face in a way that shames their rivals, such is the desire to get a result. Even if it does end up being ‘only’ One-Nil to the Arsenal.
None of this happens by accident. It happens when a manager makes every detail feel like it matters, because he genuinely believes it does. And if that begins with a cheesy lightbulb analogy, or a training ground stroke under Win’s chin, so be it.
No longer the nearly men and no longer the bridesmaid. And with his domestic rivals firmly in transition phase, this marriage might be a long one.
But immortality? That’s still one game away.
Budapest. Saturday. The Champions League final. Big Ears. Ninety minutes from the biggest prize in club football. A perch Arsenal have never sat on before.
It’ll all come down to the details. It always does with Mikel.
Nobody’s laughing now.
This piece is written by Chris Bowyer; you can read his Indecision is Final Substack here.
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