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Chapter 190: Top Of The Table
🕑 Added 2025-10-13 22:18:53 +0000 UTCIn the VIP room of White Hart Lane, Usmanov sat comfortably, a cigar between his fingers and a satisfied grin stretching across his face. His eyes were narrowed to slits — partly from the smoke, but mostly from amusement.
It was his first time watching a match live, and the experience was intoxicating. The roar of the crowd, the tension in the air — he thought to himself that he should do this more often.
He turned to glance at Tottenham’s chairman, Daniel Levy. The bald Englishman’s face had turned a dangerous shade of red. His knuckles were white from gripping the armrests, veins bulging along his temples. He looked like a man on the edge of eruption.
Usmanov found the sight absolutely delightful.
For an Arsenal man like him, nothing was more satisfying than watching Spurs get dismantled on their own turf — and by Arsenal, no less. The sweet sting of humiliation was a flavor he could savor for weeks.
Over the past few seasons, Usmanov had won the hearts of Arsenal supporters. The reason was simple: the team was finally on the rise again.
Many fans credited him for investing heavily — bringing in talents like Suarez and helping stabilize the squad. While Kai might be the captain and spiritual anchor of Arsenal, it was Suarez who gave the team its edge, the star who caught neutral fans’ eyes.
And Usmanov was deeply grateful to Kai.
Since taking control of Arsenal, he’d watched the club rise from stagnation to resurgence — and Kai had been at the heart of it all.
It also solidified Usmanov’s position at the club. Kroenke still held a portion of shares, but he was hanging on by a thread. Under mounting pressure, it was only a matter of time before he folded completely.
When that day came, Arsenal would belong entirely to Usmanov — and he intended to make it one of Europe’s great footballing powers again.
But above all, one thing was non-negotiable: Kai had to stay.
He wasn’t just Arsenal’s captain. He was Arsenal.
...
As the second half kicked off, Tottenham tried to claw its way back. Villas-Boas’s men still believed they could level the score, but their midfield issues remained unresolved.
Boas seemed to think that stretching play wide and swinging in high crosses could bypass Arsenal’s pressing game — a grave miscalculation.
He underestimated Kai’s presence in the middle.
Time and again, Kai read the play perfectly, cutting off passes before they could even develop. Tottenham’s rhythm broke apart under his anticipation and positioning.
Then came the 56th minute. Arsenal won a corner.
Cazorla whipped the ball in, and amid the chaos in the box, Mertesacker rose above two defenders and nodded it home.
His fourth header goal of the season. The big man was on fire.
That goal effectively sealed the match. Tottenham’s spirit was broken.
But Arsenal didn’t ease up. They pressed harder — wave after wave of relentless attacks.
In the 67th minute, Cazorla let fly from distance. The ball swerved beautifully past Lloris into the top corner.
4–0 to Arsenal.
Cazorla’s first hat-trick of the season.
White Hart Lane fell silent — except for the pockets of Arsenal fans celebrating wildly.
In the 87th minute, Kai tried his luck from range, his strike thundering toward goal. Lloris, wiser this time, anticipated it early and palmed it wide. Kai stood with his hands on his hips, shaking his head and grinning ruefully.
And just when Tottenham thought it was over, the final blow came.
Deep into stoppage time, Kai threaded a perfect through ball for Suarez. The Uruguayan surged forward, coolly slotted past Lloris, and made it 5–0.
At full-time, Arsenal had humiliated their North London rivals.
A proper belt to ass experience.
It was a few minutes ago, in the 80th minute, when many Spurs fans had already started filing out. By the final whistle, whole sections of the stands were empty.
As the Arsenal players celebrated, the cameras cut to Martin Taylor and Alan Smith in the commentary box.
As the final score flashed on screen — Tottenham Hotspur 0, Arsenal 5 — the broadcast panned to the remaining dejected Spurs fans shuffling out of the stadium.
For them, it was a day of misery.
For Arsenal, it was a joy. Pure unadulterated joy.
Villas-Boas was nowhere to be seen at the post-match press conference.
Reporters later noticed him leaving the stadium in the same car as Tottenham chairman Daniel Levy. Both men wore grim expressions; the atmosphere between them was heavy enough to cut with a knife.
It didn’t take a genius to guess what was coming next.
Levy was clearly preparing to settle accounts, and Villas-Boas might not survive the fallout.
Meanwhile, Arsenal’s camp was in far better spirits.
Another victory, another step forward — the Gunners had extended their winning streak in the league, pushing their points total past 70.
Even better, Chelsea had slipped up.
Before this round, Arsenal trailed Chelsea by just two points after 29 games. But that defeat flipped the tables — Arsenal now sat on top of the Premier League standings.
It was a moment fans had waited nearly a decade for.
Since that glorious 2003–04 Invincibles season, Arsenal hadn’t lifted the league trophy again. An entire generation of supporters had grown up without knowing that feeling — and many older fans had passed away before seeing their beloved club back at the summit.
How many years does a person have to wait in one lifetime?
But now, at long last, hope had returned. Arsenal was back in the title race — truly back.
The celebrations across North London that night were electric. Fans poured into pubs and streets, singing and chanting deep into the night.
…
The next morning, though, the mood at London Colney was completely different.
The locker room was quiet. No music, no laughter.
The players changed into their kits in near silence, preparing for training.
Yes, they were top of the league — but that also meant the pressure had doubled.
When you’re chasing, you play with freedom. But when you’re the one being chased, everyone’s waiting for you to slip.
It’s lonely at the top.
And deep down, every player felt that weight pressing on their shoulders.
Kai could feel it too. He looked around during warm-ups — the tension was thick enough to taste.
“These guys still don’t know how to handle pressure,” he muttered under his breath, before finally clapping his hands together.
“Hey! Listen up!” he shouted.
Heads turned toward him.
“I know what’s running through your minds,” Kai said, his voice firm but calm. “We’re top now, and yeah, that means pressure. But pressure’s not the enemy — it’s the price of ambition. We’ve worked too hard to get here to start doubting ourselves now.”
He paused, then added, “Alright, let’s look at what’s ahead. We’ve got City, Everton, West Ham, Hull, Newcastle, West Brom, and Chelsea…”
As he listed the fixtures, his voice began to trail off — and the faces around him started to twist into grimaces.
The room fell awkwardly silent.
They all knew how tough that run was. City, Everton, Chelsea — all top sides. And the relegation-fighting teams? Even more dangerous this late in the season.
Kai glanced around and sighed.
“Okay… I get it.” He spread his hands in mock defeat. “Let’s just admit it — this run’s brutal.”
That broke the tension instantly.
Laughter rippled through the room.
Chamberlain grinned and called out, “Come on, Captain! You were supposed to inspire us, not join us in panic!”
Kai chuckled. “Inspire you? I’m trying to survive this schedule myself! Anyway, save the jokes — we’ve got to grind through this stretch. Next few matches, I don’t want to see anyone walking. Run until your legs give out if you have to!”
Walcott smirked. “So much for motivation — now you’re threatening us!”
“What motivation?” Kai shot back, shaking his head. “That fixture list killed it! It’s pure torture!”
The laughter grew louder.
Finally, Kai waved his hands as if shooing them away. “Alright, enough. Save your energy. Go polish your ball control or something before I make you run extra laps.”
The players filed out of the locker room one by one, still chuckling. The tension had eased.
Sometimes, leadership wasn’t about fiery speeches or grand gestures — just a bit of honesty and humor to remind everyone they were in it together.
