What a difference a week can make in football.
Last Tuesday we were all elated at having come from a goal down to take all three points at the Emirates against Crystal Palace. Fast forward a week and we are biting our nails hoping the rumours that our donkey (as some would have you believe he is) is not out for 3 months is crap, wishing that Koscielny’s ankles morph into animantium, praying that we end the transfer window on a high having addressed all our problems, bothering that the same tactical problems that brought us down last season will be addressed.
You can see, it’s all so very exhausting mentally and only those with a high level of mental toughness can get through these times without having meltdowns.
It is my belief that as Arsenal fans , giving our hearts to something so unpredictable and at the same time so powerful can only be likened to the game of Russian Roulette.
Every game is a trigger pulled, and judging by the outcome of that game, we’ve either been shot or we’ve missed a chance to be shot, at which point are elated, but only for as long as the next game.
Russian roulette is a lethal game of chance in which a player places a single round (bullet) in a revolver, spins the cylinder, places the nuzzle against their head, and pulls the trigger.
Arsenal Roulette however is a lethal game of chance in which a player places multiple rounds in a revolver, leaving only one round slot blank, spins the cylinder, places the nuzzle against their chest, and pulls the trigger.
That feeling you felt when Ryan Babel sprinted past Cesc Fabregas to score the goal that sealed our fate out of Europe that season at Anfield was the bullet ripping through your heart, the shock you felt after the loss of the Carling Cup final against Birmingham at Wembley was hearing the revolver go off, the tears you cried at the sound of the final whistle that night in Paris was as a result of the pain in your chest.
The sad reality is that even after realizing just how bad this game is for your health, you still find it almost impossible to stop. You are just as addicted to this game as Walter White was addicted to providing for and protecting his family (ALL HAIL THE KING).
After getting shot, you’re like meth heads who promise never to do it again, swearing that you’ve had enough, but at the next game, you’re seated with the revolvers pointed at your chest all over again.
Insane right?
Have a nice day.
PS. I just remembered how fitting it is that our clubs logo incorporates a canon. Little wonder why it is that we seem to suffer the most from the game of Russian Roulette. Funny eh?
