Mr Brobbey & Ex End Winning Run

So there it was — 93 minutes on the clock, three points practically wrapped in red and white ribbon, when Brian Brobbey decided to play the pantomime villain and rob Arsenal of an 11th straight win. Sunderland 2, Arsenal 2. You could almost hear the collective groan from north London to Nagoya.

⚽ A BAD DAY FOR CLEAN SHEETS

Ex-Gunner Dan Ballard — yes, that Dan Ballard, the one who used to warm our Hale End benches — had the audacity to end our run of eight consecutive clean sheets. It had been 812 minutes since anyone breached David Raya's net, and it took a long free-kick and some uncharacteristic chaos to undo it. The defending? As ragged as a Black Cats scarf after a pub fight.

Still, there were warning signs. The first half was the footballing equivalent of a lukewarm pint — slow, flat, and full of stoppages. Eze blazed over, Saliba skied a sitter, and by the time half-time rolled around, the only ones awake were the travelling Gooners wondering if there was still time to make the last train back to King's Cross.

🔥 SAKA SPARKS THE COMEBACK

Whatever Arteta said at half-time, it worked. The lads came out with a bit of needle — Zubimendi had a pop, Saka whistled one wide, and then our starboy did what he does best: punished carelessness. Poor Enzo Le Fee must still be seeing Declan Rice in his nightmares, because the England man mugged him twice and started the move that ended with Saka drilling in the equaliser.

Suddenly, Arsenal looked like Arsenal again — quick passing, clever angles, and pressure that had Sunderland gasping for breath. Zubimendi rattled the bar, Eze tested the keeper, and Trossard — bless that Belgian metronome — finally leathered us ahead with a thunderbolt that deserved to win any game.

😩 BUT THEN… THE NORTH-EAST CURSE STRIKES AGAIN

You'd think we'd learned our lesson up here after the Newcastle nonsense, but no. Deep into stoppage time, Raya, Gabriel and Brobbey all went for the same ball like it was the last sausage roll at halftime. The result? Brobbey bundling home the equaliser while Sunderland fans celebrated like they'd won the league.

Even worse, Ballard — clearly still bitter about leaving Hale End — threw himself in front of a Calafiori effort at the death to make sure his old mates went home sulking. Cheers, Dan. Don't call us, we'll call you.

📊 STATS - SOME HURT

• First time we've failed to beat a promoted side since May 2023.
• First time we've conceded twice in any competition this season.
• Saka's first league goal outside London since April.
• Trossard's first long-ranger since 2021 (when he still wore Brighton blue).
• Sunderland have now scored five stoppage-time goals this season — clearly inspired by Fergie-time folklore.

🗓 WHAT'S NEXT?

The international break comes at just the right time — a week to cool tempers, ice thighs, and maybe teach the back line how to clear their lines in the 93rd minute. Because after the break comes that derby: Tottenham at the Emirates, followed by Bayern Munich in the Champions League, and then Chelsea away to round out November.

If Arsenal want to stay in the title conversation, they'll need to turn frustration into fury. A draw at Sunderland shouldn't derail the season — but it should sting enough to wake everyone up.

Because if we're serious about silverware, we can't keep dropping points in stoppage time to clubs that still celebrate 1973 like it was yesterday.

Arsenal March On Without Gyo

There's something quietly terrifying about an Arsenal side that doesn't even flinch when their star striker is out.

Mikel Merino, playing as an emergency No. 9, scored twice in the Czech capital to make it four wins out of four in the Champions League — and in doing so, helped us equal a club record that's older than the lightbulb in the Marble Halls: eight consecutive clean sheets, dating back to 1903.

⚔ EARLY STORMS, CALM BRAINS

If anyone thought the trip to Prague would be a walk in Letná Park, they hadn't read the script.

The hosts came charging out like a Sparta army reborn — firing off four efforts in the first ten minutes, all of them thankfully more "pub football" than "Prague precision."

Gabriel, our rock, nearly stole an early lead with a hooked volley that whistled past the post — and from that moment on, he and his Brazilian backbone partner shut the door on anything resembling Czech optimism.

💥 SAKA STRIKES FIRST (AGAIN)

Bukayo Saka decided it was time to move from probing runs to punishment.

After Gabriel's header hit a stray arm, VAR had its little moment of theatre — and up stepped Saka, as cool as you like, rolling his penalty low into the corner.

That made it 12 Champions League goals from just 20 starts, a record any wide player would be proud of. It's frightening how inevitable he looks now — like a student who's figured out every teacher's marking scheme.

⚡ MERINO'S MOMENT

Then came the Spanish encore.

Just 35 seconds into the second half, Christian Nørgaard snapped into a tackle, Declan Rice drove forward like a midfield locomotive, and Leandro Trossard's whipped cross found Merino ghosting between two defenders.

Bang. Volley. 2–0.

And because one wasn't enough, twenty minutes later Rice turned supplier again, floating one in for Merino to nod home after the keeper flapped helplessly at thin air.

That's 18 goals this calendar year for Merino — not bad for a man who supposedly plays midfield.

👶 DOWMAN'S DREAM

Then came a moment that'll make every Hale End parent puff their chest out:

Max Dowman, aged 15 years and 308 days, became the youngest player in Champions League history when he came on for the final 20 minutes.

He even shared the stage with another academy gem, Andre Harriman-Annous, as Arteta gave the next generation their night under the floodlights.

The only late drama came from VAR again, overturning a penalty against Ben White. Not that it mattered — by then, Arsenal's defence looked carved out of granite and good habits.

🧱 CLEAN SHEETS, CLEAN CONSCIENCE

Eight clean sheets on the spin. A stat that echoes back to the days before television, before the Emirates, before Arsenal were even The Arsenal.

Arteta's side are now defending like a team that knows history is watching — and scoring like one that doesn't care who's missing.

🗓 WHAT'S NEXT

We head north again on Saturday, this time to Sunderland, a side rediscovering their roar. Then comes the small matter of Bayern Munich at home after the international break — a proper European test, and one the Gunners look ready for.

Verdict:

The clean-sheet run might date back to Edwardian times, but this Arsenal is pure modern engineering:

clinical, composed, and quietly ruthless.

Merino up top? Dowman in the history books?

This isn't rotation — it's evolution.

Forever Young - Etched In Arsenal Folklore

💔 "The Biggest Willie in the Land" – A Loose Cannon Tribute to Willie Young

Everyone connected with Arsenal is heartbroken to learn of the passing of our former defender Willie Young, aged 73 — a man who stood taller than most in every sense that mattered.

I remember when Willie crossed north London in March 1977, swapping Tottenham for Arsenal, it wasn't just a transfer — it was an act of courage. You could almost hear the gasps from both ends of the Seven Sisters Road. But then again, Willie wasn't one to flinch. He followed his old boss and ex-Arsenal legend Terry Neill to Highbury, arriving like a highland storm to stiffen a side that had lost its swagger since the Double days. Legend has it the club couldn't even find a shirt big enough for the 6'3" Scot at his signing — a fitting omen for a man who'd soon fill more than just a jersey; he'd fill a void.

The Highbury faithful had their doubts, as they would, given Young was considered very solid but a bit agricultural in his approach: ungainly but difficult to play against. He admitted as much himself, wryly remarking before his debut:

"I was sent off against them after scoring my only First Division goal for Spurs this season. That's a double insult to Arsenal. But I hope the fans will forgive me now that I've come over. I know the players have."

Forgive him we did — eventually. A 4–1 defeat to Ipswich wasn't the dream debut, but in the next few weeks, supporters began to realise that this rugged Aberdonian wasn't just there to play football; he was there to bring back the fight. He scored in a 2–1 defeat to QPR, then helped the team win six of the next eight. Alongside a young David O'Leary, he forged one of the great yin-and-yang partnerships: O'Leary the silk, Willie the steel.

For three glorious seasons, they anchored a defence that powered Arsenal to three consecutive FA Cup finals and that unforgettable "Five-Minute Final" win in 1979, as well as a draining 64-game campaign that took us all the way to the Cup Winners' Cup Final in 1980. Willie barely missed a match — not because he couldn't, but because he wouldn't.

He was dominant in the air, fearless in the tackle, and occasionally ferocious — the sort of player who made you feel safer just knowing he was back there. The fans adored him for it, serenading him with one of the most memorable terrace chants of the era:

"We've got the biggest Willie in the land."

It was cheeky, it was affectionate, and it was true.

Off the pitch, Willie had the same big-hearted presence. After leaving Arsenal for Nottingham Forest in 1981 — turning a tidy profit for the club — he went on to play for Norwich, Brighton, and Darlington before settling in Nottinghamshire with his wife, Lynda. There, he ran a pub, chatted football with anyone who came through the door, and later managed a cattery with the same care he once showed his teammates.

In his first interview as a Gunner, he said:

"Terry has bought me to do a specific job for him — that's to stay in the middle and stop the goals going in."

He did that job, and more. He stopped the goals, he steadied the ship, and he stood tall for Arsenal at a time when we desperately needed backbone.

Today, we raise a glass — perhaps even in his old pub — to a true cult hero.

A man whose name still makes fans of a certain vintage smile.

A man who made us proud to sing something silly, because we knew the heart behind it.

Rest easy, Willie. You'll always be one of the biggest heroes of the 70s, in what was a memorable and exciting team.

❤️ Our thoughts are with Lynda, the Young family, and all who knew and loved him.

Heading High

ARSENAL HEAD BURNLEY INTO SUBMISSION"

They say Turf Moor is where title dreams go to die, but not for this Arsenal side. Not this machine built on corners, counter-attacks, and cold-blooded composure. Two first-half headers — one from Viktor Gyökeres, the other from Declan "Iron Chef" Rice — secured a fifth straight Premier League win and a seventh consecutive clean sheet, as Mikel Arteta's men made the most of another afternoon of set-piece sorcery.

SET-PIECE FC STRIKES AGAIN

We used to be allergic to corners. Now we're addicted to them.

Before a single claret shirt could blink, Declan Rice whipped in a beauty that found Gabriel Magalhães at the far post. Big Gabi, channelling his inner ballet dancer, cushioned a volley back across goal for Gyökeres to nod home from roughly the distance between Arteta's hairline and perfection. One-nil, one yard, one headache for Burnley.

Every subsequent corner had the away end roaring like it was a penalty. Trossard — making his 100th Premier League appearance in red and white — was buzzing like a caffeine-addled bee, testing defenders and statisticians alike. Even Calafiori joined the party, forcing another save as we pummelled Burnley's box with the regularity of a metronome.

RUTHLESS RICE AND THE COUNTER-CRUSADE

If the first goal was poetry in short range, the second was a sprinting sonnet.

Saka — fresh from tormenting full-backs for sport — cleared a Burnley corner with a deft flick. Gyökeres, half Viking, half delivery driver, pinged a glorious cross-field ball to Trossard. The Belgian, all composure and cruelty, spotted Rice galloping into the box and delivered an inch-perfect cross. One thunderous header later, and the Burnley net was shaking like a leaf in the Lancashire wind.

It was the kind of counter-attack that used to happen to us. Now it's us doing the haunting.

DEFENCE WINS TITLES (AND MAKES BORING TEAMS JEALOUS)

Burnley tried, bless them. They floated, they prodded, they prayed. But Gabriel and Saliba were immovable objects, while Raya barely needed to grass-stain his gloves. Esteve's header went begging, Florentino Luís aimed for the moon, and Marcus Edwards struck the post with Burnley's dying gasp.

Meanwhile, the clean-sheet count keeps rising. Seven on the bounce. The Emirates firewall remains intact.

THE KIDS ARE ALL RIGHT

Ethan Nwaneri nearly capped things off with a low drive that whistled just wide, and Christian Nørgaard fancied a pop too — though Dubravka's gloves were the only thing Burnley fans could applaud by the end.

Arteta even gave Gyökeres an early rest, bringing on Mikel Merino — because when you've already decapitated your opponent, why not sharpen another blade?

WHAT'S NEXT?

Next stop: Prague. The Champions League awaits on Tuesday, November 4, with Slavia in our sights. Then it's back to domestic duties on Sunday, November 8, up at Sunderland's Stadium of Light — where we'll look to turn the Black Cats into black-and-blue ones.

FINAL THOUGHT

Arsenal are not just winning anymore — they're controlling the narrative. Corners are weapons. Counters are art. Defence is doctrine.

This isn't the Arsenal of old. This is The Arsenal, with a blueprint written in set-piece drills and headed goals.

At Turf Moor, we didn't just beat Burnley — we rose above them. Literally.