Arsenal till the day I die!

You want me to come over, I got an excuse,

Might be holding your hand but I'm holding it loose,

Go to talk then we choke, it's like our neck's in a noose,

Avoid the obvious when we should be facing the truth,

Start to think it could be fizzling out,

Kinda shocked because I never really had any doubts,

Look into your eyes and imagine life with out ya'

And the love kick starts again... kick starts again!

-Example

I once read somewhere that love is like temporary madness. It erupts like a volcano and then subsides. And when the lava subsides, you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether the roots are so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part.

The Invincibles is distant memory now. A six-year trophy drought definitely indicates that the lava has subsided. And the nightmare that unfolded at the Theatre of Dreams (the irony, eh?) last night suggests that the honeymoon period is well and truly over.

And so I ask myself... Why do I put up with all this? All the pain, the agony, the humiliation? Why do I invite the jeers of the rival fans? Why do I lose my sleep and appetite over a club on the other side of the globe? Why?

I would be lying if I said I don't care about silverware. Ofcourse I do. Who doesn't? I pine for a time when they are hard pressed for space in the Emirates trophy cabinet. I wish Arsenal were ruthless on the field. Untouchable even. Or (God forbid) Invincibles again.

But like Nick Hornby wrote in Fever pitch... After a point, the brand of football that your favourite club dishes out cannot be compared to the food they serve at your favourite eatery. Quality takes second place. Consumption is top priority. It is all that matters. While I would be overjoyed if they won a trophy or two, I am happy as long as they take the field every Saturday night.

On nights like these when I've lost my appetite and sleep seems unfathomable, I just have to remind myself about why I used to rush home to the television after chemistry tution in tenth grade. Or why I took three buses to my friend's place in the other end of chennai when I barely knew the friend or the city well enough.

I think of these and a other million instances when Arsenal took centre stage and everything else in life was mere background detail. And then for a moment, I pause to think of how empty life would have been without Arsenal. Then the love kick starts again.

I am Arsenal till the day I die!

FAIRFURREN CESC FABREGAS!

And so you sailed away

Into a grey sky morning

Now I'm here to stay

Love can be so boring

Nothing's quite the same now

I just say your name now

But it's not so bad

You're only the best I ever had

You don't want me back

You're just the best I ever had

-Vertical Horizon

First things first, I harbour no ill feelings towards Fabregas. He is not deserting Arsenal, he is just going back home. Barcelona is where he grew up, where he learnt to play football, where he belongs. And eight (ultimately fruitless) campaigns is more than one can ask from someone destined to become one of the greatest playmakers in history. Anyone else would have left the first time Barca came calling. But credit to Fabregas, he was patient. He tried really hard for the Arsenal cause. Despite never having the teammates he deserved, he trudged on. There is no denying that ever single time he put on an Arsenal shirt, he played his heart out. He played through pain and injury. He played an entire match with a broken foot just to help Arsenal draw level with (of all teams) Barcleona. And that is the true mark of the man!

But it's sad nevertheless to watch a player with that kind of dedication and quality leave. All those defence splitting passes, all those spellbinding goals, all those heartlifting performances. And to think he hasn't even touched his prime.

Towards the end of the 1999 flick Fight club, Edward Norton’s character, in a moment of clarity tells Marla Singer: "You met me at a very strange time in my life!" In a slightly different context, that's exactly how I feel about Fabregas. He happened at a very strange time in Arsenal's history. Though he will always be regarded as an Arsenal legend, his stint lacked the one single yardstick that defines a great player: silverware. 

He joined in 2003 but was never really an Invincible. The 2005 FA Cup is the only medal that he won in eight seasons in London. Had he played in any other era at Arsenal, when trophies weren't so hard to come by, when there was genuine quality within the ranks, we would have seen the true potential of the man.

Football folklore abounds with stories of what might have been. This is one more chapter I guess. It is heartwrenching to see him leave. He was my favourite player since Thierry Henry. Hopefully Jack Wilshere will take over his mantle at Arsenal.

Fairfurren Cesc Fabregas. Thank you for eight years of magic. I hope you touch the skies. And I hope you return someday to grace the Ashburton turf. 

And even if you don't, you will always belong!