NINE POINTS CLEAR - FINISH LINE NEARER🔴⚪️

Four wins on the spin. Nine points clear overnight. Another clean sheet chalked up like it was routine. Arsenal did the job on Sunderland, but only after being made to work for it.

The first 40 minutes were tight, competitive and just awkward enough to remind us this wasn't going to be a stroll. Sunderland didn't park the bus, didn't roll over, and for a while they matched us stride for stride. We nearly nicked it inside 30 seconds — Trossard wriggling free on the byline, Havertz rising unmarked — but the header drifted wide and the tone was set: chances would need to be earned.

Rice fizzed one just past the post, Madueke caused chaos, and Havertz put his body on the line at the other end to snuff out Brobbey. Still, it felt like the game needed something.

Step forward, Martin Zubimendi.

Late in the half, Trossard rolled it into his path and the Spaniard did the rest — a low, vicious drive that kissed the wet turf, clipped the inside of the post and finally cracked the game open. It was crisp, controlled, and absolutely ruthless. Five league goals already. For a midfielder. That's not normal.

There was nearly more before the break — Jesus ruled marginally off after rounding the keeper, Havertz curling just over — but the real statement was still to come.

Sunderland came out swinging after the restart. Talbi tested Raya, Saliba hacked clear, Gabriel timed a challenge to perfection. This wasn't done yet. It needed a killer.

Enter Viktor Gyokeres.

Fresh off the bench, the Swede wasted no time. Havertz linked it, Gyokeres bullied his marker and smashed low inside the near post. Game over? Not quite — but it felt inevitable from there.

Eze went close, Sunderland chased shadows, and deep into injury time Gyokeres delivered the final blow, sliding in Martinelli's pass on the break to make it 3–0 and take his season tally to 13. Clinical. Relentless. Proper centre-forward stuff.

Another clean sheet — our 21st in all competitions, already more than last season managed in total. Control, depth, ruthlessness. All present.

Next up? A trip to west London on Thursday, then back home to the Emirates for FA Cup business.

This machine just keeps rolling.

Curse of the Ex Ends Blues

There are wins, and then there are statements. On a sodden night in north London, Arsenal did the sensible thing, the patient thing, and then—right at the death—the cruel thing. Kai Havertz, once of this parish in blue, rolled the ball around Robert Sánchez and rolled us straight to Wembley. One chance. One touch. One German shrug. Carabao Cup final booked. Aggregate: 4–2. Chelsea: packed up and sent home.

We came into the second leg with a cushion built on first-leg graft—Gyökeres, White, Zubimendi doing the damage—and with it the quiet confidence of a side that knows when not to blink. The night itself offered precious little glamour. Rain lashed the Emirates, the game crawled, and the tie simmered. That suited us just fine.

Cagey half, sharp nerves

The opening exchanges had the feel of a semi-final that knew its own weight. Few risks, fewer chances. Chelsea—burned but not beaten—prodded first through Liam Delap, scuffing wide on a slick surface. We answered in phases: corners, pressure, a moment of chaos.

Eberechi Eze picked out Piero Hincapié on the edge, the Ecuadorian's left foot crackled, and Sánchez beat it away theatrically. Gabriel pounced but the touch ran away. Close. So close.

There were warning signs the other way, too. Martinelli latched onto a long ball, shook Malo Gusto, turned—only for the recovery tackle to nick the moment away. At the other end, Enzo Fernández tried his luck from range and found Kepa standing firm. Two shots on target in a half that felt like a chess problem played in the rain.

No way through

The second half began with a scramble—Delap stabbing just wide after a corner melee—and then settled back into trench warfare. Madueke threatened without end product, crosses swallowed by blue shirts. Chelsea threw on Cole Palmer and Estevão, later Alejandro Garnacho, searching for the spark that would crack the tie.

We answered with control. Declan Rice stitched the middle together; Zubimendi kept finding angles; Gabriel rose and rose only to find Cucurella blocking the path. Time ticked. Tension climbed. The kind of night where one mistake decides everything.

Kai with the dagger

As the rain thickened, Chelsea committed bodies. Palmer's free-kick smacked the wall; Fofana nodded wide. Six minutes went up. Then—finally—space.

We nicked it. Trossard slid it. Rice squared it. And Havertz did what strikers do when the world slows: rounded the keeper and passed it into inevitability. Former club? Former noise. Wembley beckoned.

It finished 1–0 on the night, and with it a first Carabao Cup final in eight years. Not loud. Not flashy. Just ruthless.

What's next

We dust ourselves off and get back to league business in N5, hosting Sunderland on Saturday, February 7 (3pm UK). Then it's a short hop to west London for Brentford at the Gtech on Thursday, February 12 (8pm UK).

But for now? Enjoy the rain-soaked grin. Enjoy the dagger. Wembley awaits—and we got there the hard way.

Zinchen-Gone!

ZINCHENKO MOVES ON — THANK YOU, ALEX

Another chapter closes quietly in north London, as Oleksandr Zinchenko heads to Ajax on a permanent deal.

The Ukraine international's season-long loan at Nottingham Forest has been brought to an end by mutual consent, clearing the path for a move to the Netherlands and a fresh start in the Eredivisie. No drama. No saga. Just a clean break and a respectful goodbye.

Zinchenko arrived from Manchester City in the summer of 2022 with a Champions League medal collection, a point to prove, and an instant aura of authority. He gave us exactly that — 91 appearances across three seasons, a league title in the first, leadership in the dressing room, and no shortage of personality on the pitch.

At his best, Zinchenko embodied Arteta's obsession with control: stepping into midfield, demanding the ball, and trying to impose order on chaos. Sometimes it worked beautifully. Sometimes it didn't. But you could never accuse him of hiding.

His CV beyond Arsenal speaks for itself. Youngest goalscorer in Ukraine's history at 19. Youngest captain at 24. Seventy-five international caps. Ukrainian Footballer of the Year. This was never a lightweight signing — and it wasn't a lightweight contribution either.

In truth, injuries and tactical evolution slowly nudged him out of the picture, and the Forest loan never quite felt like a long-term solution. Ajax, though? That feels right. A club that values intelligence on the ball, positional bravery, and leadership. If there's a place for Zinchenko to reboot, it's Amsterdam.

So, thanks for the memories, Alex. Thanks for the title season. Thanks for the fire, the shouts, the calm in possession — and even the occasional heart-in-mouth moment.

All the best to you and your family in the next chapter.

Once a Gunner. Always a Gunner. 🔴⚪️

Seventh Heaven In Elland Road Cauldron

SEVEN CLEAR, AND SINGING IN YORKSHIRE

Bubble, bubble, toil and trouble,

Arsenal fire four and could have been double (Well, maybe not, but it rhymes!)

Seven points clear again. No drama, no wobble, no mercy. A slick, swaggering dismantling of Leeds United at Elland Road restored our cushion at the summit of the Premier League, and did it with the kind of authority that tells a chasing pack to stop checking the rear-view mirror.

This was supposed to be tricky. An in-form Leeds, beaten once in eleven, Elland Road rocking, narrative ready-made. Then came the gut-punch in the warm-up: Bukayo Saka pulling up, plans torn up before kick-off. Enter Noni Madueke. Exit doubt.

MADUEKE THE MAN

Thrown in cold, Madueke spent the opening twenty minutes getting his bearings while Leeds huffed and puffed. A speculative Ethan Ampadu effort flew over, a Martin Zubimendi grass-cutter skimmed the turf, and then—click—control.

On 27 minutes, Madueke made the moment. Declan Rice recycled a half-cleared corner, Madueke bought himself a yard on the right, and whipped in a cross begging to be attacked. Zubimendi obliged, ghosting in to glance a header past Karl Darlow. Silence fell. We'd arrived.

Eleven minutes later, Madueke turned the volume down again. A vicious, flat corner swung into the mixer, chaos ensued, and Darlow—clattering into Dominic Calvert-Lewin—could only watch the ball ricochet off the post and into his own net. Elland Road groaned. We grinned. Two-nil, and utterly deserved.

GYÖKERES KEEPS ROLLING

The second half began with intent. Viktor Gyökeres was a sliding block away from pulling the trigger five minutes after the restart, Jurrien Timber nodded the corner over, and Leeds' crowd tried to summon something—anything. David Raya remained largely untroubled.

Then, on 69 minutes, we iced it. Martin Ødegaard split the lines, Gabriel Martinelli roasted Pascal Struijk (twice), and the cross was perfect. Gyökeres bullied his way through and steered home from close range. Seven straight wins at Elland Road, stretching back 25 years. Tradition respected. Job done.

JESUS ADDS THE GLOSS

With the game safe, we went hunting. Gabriel Jesus—on for Gyökeres—went close, then closer, Darlow pulling off a sharp stop. Third time was the charm. Ødegaard again threaded the needle, Jesus held off Struijk, turned, and flashed a finish inside the post. Four in four against Leeds. Nearly five, too, but a looping header was hacked off the line.

Four goals. Clean control. Statement made.

FACTS THAT HIT HARD

• January 2026 has delivered away wins at Bournemouth, Portsmouth, Chelsea, Inter and Leeds—five away wins in a single month for just the second time in our history (last: April 2000, also featuring a 4–0 at Elland Road).
• We've now scored 4+ away goals at Leeds five times in the Premier League—joint-most any side has managed away to a single opponent.
• Leeds' five-game unbeaten home run? Ended. Just their second loss in eleven.
• Corners are our weapon: 14 goals from them, more than anyone. Headed goals? 10—level with Tottenham.
• Five own goals already this league season; only 2009/10 brought more.
• Gyökeres: four goals in six, now our outright top scorer with 11.
• Zubimendi: five goals this season—just one shy of his final two seasons at Real Sociedad combined.
• Declan Rice, aged 27y 17d, becomes the fifth-youngest to reach 300 Premier League appearances.

WHAT'S NEXT

Back to north London on Tuesday for the second leg of our Carabao Cup semi-final against Chelsea, holding a 3–2 lead. Saturday brings Sunderland to the Emirates in the league, before a Thursday night trip to Brentford.

Seven clear. Ruthless away. Title pace.

On we go.

Almighty Kai Rattles Almaty

Kai Havertz came back like he'd never been away.

First start of the season. One goal. One assist. General air of "oh yeah, I can do this too." Arsenal made it eight wins from eight in the Champions League league phase by seeing off Kairat Almaty, ticking off another piece of history and handing Mikel Arteta his 200th win in the process.

You know, just another quiet European night in north London.

KAI RETURNS IN STYLE

Two minutes. That's all it took.

A delicious ball from Eberechi Eze found Havertz in that half-space defenders hate, and the German did the clever bit — slipping Viktor Gyökeres through with the kind of pass that makes centre-backs start blaming each other immediately. Gyökeres finished. 1–0. Job done. Or so we thought.

Naturally, chaos followed.

Riccardo Calafiori was deemed to have tugged Jorginho in the box, VAR went for a long wander, and eventually the referee pointed to the spot. Jorginho sent Kepa the wrong way, and suddenly it was level. Seven minutes in. Breathless stuff.

But if anyone thought Havertz was easing his way back gently, that idea didn't last long. On 15 minutes, Ben White clipped an inch-perfect ball over the top, Havertz chased it like a man who'd been waiting months for this moment, chopped inside, and curled one home with his left. Class. Control. Calm. 2–1.

Welcome back, Kai.

GABI KEEPS IT ROLLING

From there, it was all Arsenal pressure.

Gyökeres went close twice — once just wide, once over from close range after Myles Lewis-Skelly whipped in a nasty low cross. Noni Madueke danced his way into the box and saw a goal-bound effort blocked. The third goal felt inevitable.

And when it came, it was beautifully messy.

Christian Nørgaard found Havertz in the box. Havertz squared. Gyökeres tried to finish, sort of half-did, half-didn't, and Gabriel Martinelli arrived to do what he does best in Europe. Goal given. Then not given. Then given again after VAR decided Havertz was, in fact, onside.

Six Champions League goals this season for Martinelli. Absurd numbers.

He nearly had another within a minute, too — found again by Havertz, but Temirlan Anarbekov made a smart save to keep Kairat alive.

KNOCKING ON THE DOOR

Martin Ødegaard came on at the break, celebrating five years at the club by immediately trying to score twice with his head. Both times, straight at Anarbekov. Not quite the fairytale, but close.

Madueke volleyed from range. Martinelli terrorised the left flank and kept finding Ødegaard. The fourth goal hovered in the air, teasing, refusing to land.

It didn't really matter. Arsenal were in cruise control.

HALE END, AS EVER

And then came the bit that always matters.

Brando Bailey-Joseph came on to make his debut, the 926th player to pull on the shirt, greeted with a proper roar from the crowd. He nearly had a moment to remember too, found in the box by Madueke, just unable to sort his feet in time.

Ife Ibrahim followed soon after, fresh from signing his first pro deal, becoming yet another Hale End graduate trusted by Arteta. Nineteen academy debuts under this manager now. That's not an accident. That's a philosophy.

Gabriel Jesus and Martinelli both flirted with adding a fourth, both denied by tight margins and tighter flags.

A LATE TWIST, BUT HISTORY SECURED

Kairat did get their moment. Ricardinho headed home late on, giving the travelling support — who'd come more than 4,000 miles — something to shout about on the way home.

But the story was already written.

Eight wins from eight. The first team ever to do it in the Champions League league phase. Arteta's 200th win. Havertz back, smiling, decisive. Martinelli relentless. The machine still humming.

WHAT'S NEXT?

Premier League business resumes on Saturday with a trip to Elland Road to face Leeds United, before Chelsea come to the Emirates for the Carabao Cup semi-final second leg. Europe? That can wait until March.

This team has bigger things on its mind.