By Daniel Finton (Deputy Editor)
What up, Pimps?
Welcome one and welcome all to the Finton’s Frolic right opinion zone. We’ve done it. For the first time since I was 16 years old, since before I could drive, while I still had hair, and when I still could see my toes, we defeated Manchester City and damn it feels good.
But like any match, I, as an ever-credible, highly regarded, sexy plus sized journalist have a responsibility. And that is to nail down what exactly won us the match against the best team in the world.
Some may say the tactical brilliance of one Mikel Arteta is what nipped us the three points. Or perhaps the tremendous trio that came off the bench to combine with yet another sub in Gabriel Martinelli to score the 87th minute winner. But I, as an intellectually superior being, bring another face to light. One of even more awesome power than me — he who truly won us the game. And it is that one Peaky blinders hat fan. Or as some others call him “Gentleman NPC”.
Just imagine being in Kai Havertz’s position coming onto the pitch, for example. Sure, you’ve played against this City side many times before, and even scored against them in the Champions League final, but it no doubt is nerve wracking considering your start to life at your new club. Then, however, you look over and see 𝐇𝐢𝐦. Supporting you and all of your new buddies — with the ever-understanding eyes only comparable to that of a kindergarten teacher’s just before nap time when the kids are getting fussy.
Those dazzling ojos. The classy coat. And above all else, the Peaky blinders cap that surely only a Brit could pull off (or on, you need to do both to wear a hat). From there his and anybody’s confidence would skyrocket, so much so that you would provide your first Arsenal assist ever. And as it turns out, your good mates Takehiro, Thomas, and the rest of Mikel’s tricky reds saw the same supple windows to the soul out upon the red seats. Ones of intensity but also compassion.
And no doubt at the full time whistle the 20 odd lads on the bench would look over to the man to see an empty seat. Not because he left early but because he had to go for a piss. Crossing streams with score guy, of course. It’s tradition.
Their jobs were done for the day. Score guy got the larger portion of screen time on this occasion, but they’d then go home to crochet together. They’re not enemies, nor friends. Just two lads that love the Arsenal and the art of knitting. They only urinate together after a victory, by the way.
Supporters like them battling for the headline role week in and out, in a respectful but determined way, could be what helps see Arsenal to the first Premier League title in over twenty years. The “foggin standards” are higher than ever, and boy is it showing.
Toodloo …!
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