Starlet Heads To South Of France

Nwaneri to Marseille: Thrown to the Sharks — and That's the Point

There are loans, and then there are statements. Ethan Nwaneri heading to Olympique Marseille for the rest of 2025/26 feels very much like the latter. Not a hiding place. Not a bench-warmer's exile. A deliberate shove into deep, churning water.

And yes — it's uncomfortable. It's meant to be.

Ethan Nwaneri, freshly tied down on a new deal, already has a Carabao Cup goal on the board and nine strikes from 37 games last season. The talent is not in question. The minutes were. And when you're chasing the biggest honours, sentiment doesn't get a squad place.

That's where Mikel Arteta steps in with a rare dose of brutal clarity.

"The last thing we want is to cut his development."

Translation: we rate you too highly to let you rot.

The Saliba Blueprint (Again)

Arsenal have been here before. We know how this film ends — because we've already watched it. William Saliba went to Marseille, grew teeth, came back and now starts big games like it's nothing.

That memory matters. Not just emotionally, but structurally. Arsenal aren't guessing here — they're repeating a model that worked.

And there's another familiar face in the picture.

De Zerbi, Chaos Merchant (Complimentary)

If you're going to throw a teenager into "the sharks", at least give him a manager who likes sharks. Roberto De Zerbi doesn't wrap young players in cotton wool. He trusts them, demands from them, and puts them in systems where the ball actually comes looking for them.

High press. Possession. Courage. Risk.

Sound familiar?

Arteta clearly thinks so — and that shared footballing DNA matters. Marseille won't be a soft landing, but it will be a relevant one.

Why This Prevents a Problem at Arsenal

Let's be honest: Arsenal's squad depth is now both a blessing and a blockage. Title races don't allow developmental charity. Every dropped point is forensic. Every selection is political.

Nwaneri's pathway this season? Narrow. And getting narrower.

Keeping him "just in case" would have felt emotionally comforting — but strategically negligent. Loans like this are how elite clubs avoid wasting elite potential.

Fear, insecurity, distance from family — Arteta didn't sugarcoat any of it. That honesty is important. This isn't a holiday. It's professional adversity.

And adversity is the final ingredient.

What This Means (and What It Doesn't)

This is not a goodbye.

There's no buy option.

No subtle nudge toward the exit.

This is a holding pattern for growth — a deliberate pause before the next internal competition at Arsenal begins.

If he comes back sharper, braver, louder — he fights again.

If not, Arsenal reassess.

That's elite football. No romance. No panic.

Just decisions.

And for once, one that actually makes sense.

If Saliba showed us the path, Nwaneri's just taken the first step onto it — except this time, everyone knows exactly what they're doing.

Thrown to the sharks?

Good.

That's how you learn to swim.

No VAR To The Rescue

Arsenal 2–3 Manchester United (helped on by two non-investigations into crucial handball incidents)

The unbeaten home record is gone. Not with a bang, but with a series of self-inflicted wounds, long-range thunderbolts, and that familiar sinking feeling when momentum evaporates in front of our own crowd in north London.

This was supposed to be a reset night. Four away games, four competitions, ten days of living out of suitcases — done. Back home. Emirates lights on. Control restored.

Instead, we handed United belief, space, and ultimately the points.

Bright start, brittle foundations

For half an hour, this looked like business as usual. The ball moved crisply, the press was sharp, and United were penned back, reduced to chasing shadows and hoping for transitions.

Saka was electric early, driving at defenders and forcing corners. Trossard looped one over. Rice surged, combined, and shot. Zubimendi rose to meet a free-kick, only to be denied by sharp goalkeeping. It felt inevitable.

The breakthrough, when it came, was messy but deserved. Saka's touch was pure silk, the cut-back perfect, and Ødegaard's first-time strike was diverted into his own net by Martinez under pressure. Not pretty. Not a classic. But 1–0, and fully merited.

What followed was the problem.

The gift that changed everything

Instead of tightening the grip, we loosened it. United grew into the game, Fernandes found pockets, and the warning signs flickered.

Then came the moment of madness. A loose, under-hit backpass. No pressure. No need. Just panic. Mbeumo accepted the invitation, took a touch, and rolled it past Raya.

From dominance to level in seconds. United didn't earn that goal — we donated it.

A screamer and a swing

The second half barely had time to settle before the dagger arrived. A possible handball in the build-up. Waved away. Play on.

Dorgu took one touch and absolutely leathered it from distance, the ball crashing in off the bar. You can argue about VAR, about consistency, about referees — but the truth is simpler: we allowed him the space, and at this level that's fatal.

Arteta rolled the dice early. Four changes. A clear message. But the fluency from the opening half hour never really returned. United sat deeper, waited, and backed themselves to strike again.

Hope, noise… and the inevitable punch

With ten minutes left, Saka nearly caught the keeper at the near post. The corner that followed descended into chaos. A scramble. A prod. Merino, off the bench, forcing it over the line.

The Emirates roared. Belief surged back. You could feel it — one of those finishes.

It lasted about two minutes.

Cunha picked up the ball outside the area, was afforded just enough room, and curled a finish into the bottom corner with infuriating precision. Another long-range strike. Another failure to close down. Another lesson unlearned.

Seven minutes of added time came and went with more noise than incision. The air had gone. The damage was done.

Loose Cannon verdict

• The start was excellent.
• The mistakes were catastrophic.
• The response was emotional, not controlled but VAR should have penalised Maguire for a handball that prevented an Arsenal goal and Dorgu's control with his arm.

However, you do not lose unbeaten home records by accident. You lose them by switching off, gifting goals, and failing to manage moments. It could be mental tiredness.

United didn't outplay us for long spells. They outpunished us when it mattered.

That's the difference.

What's next

Champions League business resumes midweek, with top-two already secured and knockout seeding in place. Then it's back to league duty away at Leeds — and a chance to prove this was a stumble, not a trend.

But make no mistake: nights like this linger.

And in a title race, generosity is punished.

Seventh Heaven In Milan

SEVEN FROM SEVEN, AND STILL NOT SATISFIED

A San Siro statement, signed, sealed, and sent to Europe

They said the San Siro humbles visitors. They said leaders of Serie A don't fold at home. They said this would be cagey, tense, one mistake either way.

Instead, we turned up, scored three, and booked ourselves a top-two finish with a game to spare. Seven wins from seven. History made. Again.

This wasn't sneaking through on vibes or VAR. This was authority.

POACHERS, PUNISHERS, AND A PROBLEM CALLED JESUS

The opening ten minutes told you everything. We weren't here to admire the architecture. Lewis-Skelly and Merino were snapping into shots inside sixty seconds, Saka was already twisting defenders, and Inter looked faintly surprised we hadn't read the script.

When the breakthrough came, it was pure centre-forward instinct. Timber's shot was half-blocked, the ball spun loose, and Gabriel Jesus—unmarked, alert, ruthless—stabbed it home. No fuss. No celebration choreography. Just business.

Inter hit back, to be fair. Sucic's strike was thunderous, the sort you applaud through gritted teeth. But even then, this Arsenal side doesn't wobble. It resets.

And before half-time, it struck again.

SET-PIECES AND SERRATED EDGES

Saka's corner. Trossard's header. Crossbar chaos. And there, again, was Jesus—nodding in his second like a man who knew exactly where the ball would land before anyone else did.

Nineteen goals from corners this season. Nineteen. That's not luck. That's repetition, structure, and hunger.

Crucially, it was backed up by defending that doesn't get enough headlines. Mosquera was immense—blocking, delaying, reading danger. The sort of centre-back performance you only notice if it isn't there.

Raya's double save before the break mattered too. These nights swing on moments, and we owned more of them.

DEPTH THAT ENDS GAMES, NOT JUST STARTS THEM

The second half followed the same pattern: we pressed, we created, we missed a few, and Inter threatened just enough to keep it honest.

Then Arteta did what elite managers do. He finished the job.

Rice. Gabriel. White. Martinelli. Gyökeres.

That's not rotation—that's closing time.

With four minutes left, the clincher arrived in style. Martinelli's long ball was perfect. Gyökeres' strength was brutal. The shot? Twenty-five yards of cold certainty into the top corner.

Game. Set. San Siro silenced.

WHAT THIS ACTUALLY MEANS

Let's be clear about the significance here:

• Seven wins from seven—our longest Champions League winning streak ever
• Top two secured—no play-offs, straight into the last 16
• Home advantage in the second leg when it matters
• First win in Italy since 2008—and far more convincing than that Milan night

This is no longer "progress." This is presence.

We're not sneaking into the conversation. We're sitting at the table.

AND NEXT?

Kairat at home. One more chance to go perfect. One more opportunity to do something no club has ever done in this format.

Before that, Manchester United at the Emirates. Because nothing says "European momentum" like welcoming old rivals on a Sunday.

Seven from seven. Still hungry. Still improving.

Europe's been warned.