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.

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.