Stay Humble? More like Be Humbled..

The different ball which Arsenal couldn’t play with in the first leg, the 5-1 thrashing of Man City, the less than humble celebration after, the words of Martinelli of how they are going to score so many goals against us and yet by the time the whistle went with Trippier, who some might say was Man of the Match, dispossessing Havertz for the 100th time of the night - a man of 6 foot 4 inches who rolled around St. James’ and didn’t do much else, gasping for air and the roar of the whole stadium - Arsenal had indeed been humbled and their words they have now to gulp down with a side of Geordie delight. It was phenomenal. We were phenomenal, apart from Odegaard grazing the post - we had demolished Arsenal again. Each player followed the plan set out by Eddie Howe and the crowd had played their part. Arteta yet again had been shown how toothless his team really are.

There was apprehension and nerves everywhere we looked last night. Everyone I spoke to said that they were worried that we might just do a “Newcastle on it” but those days are long gone. Not so much forgotten but they are gone with the Ashley’s and Ashworth’s of this world. Beer was consumed a tad quicker than normal and I could see visible tension written over people’s faces. Some were confident but I feared that they just wished to calm themselves by outwardly showing such bravado. We needed to stay humble and laser focussed on winning.

The team announced - some gasps and scratching of heads ensued but we all knew what Eddie was doing. He needed height in the team so the “Stoke City” tactic that Arsenal now use to get results could be nullified and he needed leaders on the pitch which he had in Burn, Trippier and Bruno. What would he play? A 5-4-1, 5-3-2, 3-4-3 or the classic 4-3-3. No need for the 5-5-0 just yet. He played all of these formations. It was fluid and mesmerising. Sometimes Hall was LB then Burn then Schar was in Midfield then Burn was a 10 - it all shifted across the lines and forced Arsenal tighter and tighter in Midfield. They had nowhere to go.

It comes as no surprise that many Arsenal fans stated the simple fact - you have Isak and we don’t - which is true but we have heart and determination also and players who literally gave everything they had to win and progress to a 2nd final in 3 years. They all wanted it. It was 52000 plus 11 on the pitch. The change in formation, the movement of Burn and Schar into midfield to track Rice was a masterstroke. Arsenal couldn’t get comfortable all night and Isak, Gordon and Murphy had Saliba and Gabriel looking like League one defenders. The absolute desire to collectively get into them was there from minute one. Arsenal knew they were in a game within 3 minutes, Isak racing through and smashing a very precise strike past Raya was only the start of the night in which most of Arsenal’s players were run ragged. VAR came to their aid with a very contentious offside decision - anyone who has seen it back would say he may have been offside by a toenail.

The game progressed as we all had hoped. Isak in again and with a beautiful left foot strike - it thumped off the bar and ran right over to Murphy, who by the way was also a contender for Man of the Match - his form unbelievable this season (who needs a right winger eh?) - from there he slotted home. No more need for an inverted winger - Miggy may have missed that chance but Murphy was on point and ready. Glorious and agin the roar shook not only the stadium but the whole city. I know us Irish Mags enjoyed it as we nearly turned over several tables in the fabled Bleecker Street bar. It was unbridled joy. Bliss.

The 2nd half had only progressed a few mins and before we knew it - it was 2-0. Schar again doing one of his trademark slide tackles ala PSG and the ball slipped right in front of Gordon, who had just missed an open goal a min or two before (it was a ways out yes but it could have drowned his confidence but not tonight), he turned on a sixpence and rifled it past Raya who despaired at himself and Gabriel, who looked face down into the slanted turf in anguish. The Stadium erupted again there were kisses being thrown around and scarves waving - limbs everywhere. We were on our way.

To be honest I don’t remember much from the last 30 mins as I was celebrating too much, planning the trip to London and just all together with the Irish Mags in the Bleecker reeling in pure happiness. We had done it and all of our nerves and apprehension could melt away and some creamy pints could be consumed or the mad apples as some of us drink Cider.

I know we all can smell it. The success. The Cup. Those arches on a Sunday in March being invaded by an army of Geordies and a good few Irish Mags with St. Patrick's day afterparty planned. Liverpool or Spurs it will not matter - We are destined for this to be our time. If we play as we did over these last two legs against one of the best teams in England - we can beat anyone. Tell his Ma, Tell her Ma, tell all the Ma’s of this world - we are going to Wembley and this time we are going to win it.