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!