Arsenal's German midfielder Kai Havertz headers the ball to scores the opening goal during the English Premier League football match between Arsenal and Burnley at the Emirates Stadium. Arsenal won the Premier League.
There is a particular kind of love that is born in loss. Not the ordinary love of convenience or comfort, but the love that crawls toward you in your darkest hour and says, here, hold onto me. That is the love I found in Arsenal Football Club. And I did not choose it as much as it chose me – right on the edge of the deepest grief a child can know.
I was fresh out of primary school in 2002, stepping into a world that felt bigger and more frightening than anything I had prepared for. I was a new supporter, eyes wide and full of wonder, watching a team in red and white play football the way artists paint – with intention, with drama, with a swagger that felt almost reckless.
Thierry Henry glided across the grass as though gravity was merely a suggestion. Patrick Vieira walked into every contest as though defeat had never been personally introduced to him. Arsenal were not just winning. They were announcing something. And in 2003–2004, they went an entire league season unbeaten. The Invincibles. I had arrived at the right cathedral at the right time.
