Samir Nasri, Marouane Chamakh and Theo Walcott all had tremendous starts to the season, but with their form rapidly dipping, so has the team's. Despite often being blighted with injuries at key moments during the past few seasons, the club simply cannot keep churning out the same excuses year after year.
Many can also point to the fact that Manchester United have been quite fortuitous to pick up some vital wins on the road. In each of their wins, there has been a controversial moment which has gone in their favour. Even still, United's form has been far from convincing at times this season, but Arsenal just have not capitalised. But why, with the season reaching it's dawn, have we let trophies slip out of our hands once again?
With defeats in the Carling Cup final, the FA cup quarter finals, at the hands of United, and a comprehensive Champions League second-round exit, we have pushed the self-destruct button. At times this season, we have shown the form of Champions. Late winners, ground-out results and a new steely side seemed to reflect all of the praise that Arsene Wenger showers on his youngsters.
There is evidently something fundamentally wrong in the team. Without Johan Djourou in defence, we have no organisation at the back. Without Cesc Fabregas in the middle, we have no talismanic presence that can lift us in tight games. Without Samir Nasri, we lack a player who can turn a game on it's head with one piece of magic. Too many players are out of their depth. Squillaci, Fabianski, Denilson and Bendtner are all good footballers, but they're not players that win you league titles, not players that can stand up when the going is tough and be counted for.
Perhaps the most heart-wrenching defeat of the season came in that Carling Cup final. To lose to a team as techincally poor as Birmingham is one thing, but to concede the goals in the manner we did is simply inexplicable. That competition, undoubtedly, represented our best chance in these six long trophyless years of success. With a mediocre Premiership side to face, we were quite rightly favourites. We dominated, as we tend to do, but conceded a goal as farcical as a Basil Fawlty German walk.. It epitomised our luck, our concentration (or lack of it) and our inability to see out matches. All in one.