Football does more than just mock your predictions. Sometimes it frames them and hangs them in public. I said Arsenal would stroll this. Manchester United replied with defiance and a ruthless 3–2 victory that laughed at the Gunners’ form.
Coming into this match, the narrative felt settled. Arsenal were flying, pressing like title contenders, and playing with structure and belief.
United arrived carrying questions, inconsistency, and the familiar weight of their past. On paper, this was Arsenal’s night. On grass, football told a different story.
The Gunners started exactly as expected. High tempo, aggressive intent, and confidence flowing through every pass.
When sustained pressure forced Lisandro Martinez into an unfortunate own goal in the 29th minute, Arsenal looked in control. United looked vulnerable.
Then football did what it does best. One costly error from Martin Zubimendi flipped the mood entirely.
Bryan Mbeumo accepted the gift and finished past David Raya with brutal calm. Against the run of play? Yes. Against the logic of momentum? Absolutely. But United did not arrive to respect logic.
What followed was not dominance, but execution. United turned Arsenal’s possession into something decorative rather than decisive. Every mistake was punished.
The second goal drained belief from the stands. The third turned confidence into disbelief. It was the oldest lesson in elite football, delivered without apology: survive, strike, repeat.
Even when Arsenal clawed their way back into the contest, the sense remained that United were ready for chaos.
This was not control. It was resistance. The kind rooted in rivalry, pride, and the refusal to be embarrassed on a stage this big.
This result does not erase Arsenal’s progress or end their title hopes. One defeat does not define a season.
But it does expose a hard truth. Football does not care about narratives, metrics, or predictions. It only respects execution.
As for my call of an Arsenal landslide, it died publicly and painfully. That is the twisted beauty of this rivalry. Form becomes fiction. Someone always gets embarrassed. This time, it was Arsenal and my prediction.
The title race rolls on. The debates reload. And football, once again, reminds us why it always gets the final laugh.
