John Crace and Nick Hopkins 

The ultimate dilemma for United and Spurs fans: what if winning hands your rivals the title?

In Manchester, City’s fiercest rivals can do them a favour. In north London, a Tottenham victory could gift the Gunners the title. Two Guardian writers’ reflect on the worst of both worlds
  
  

Banners from Manchester United (left) and Tottenham supporters taunting their rivals; Manchester City and Arsenal respectively.
‘Arsenal inflicted early, life‑shaping pain. City have tormented me in middle age,’ says Manchester United supporter Nick Hopkins. Composite: Action Images/Reuters; Action Images

‘I just want this season over and done with’

So. It’s come down to this. As yet another season peters out in disappointment, Spurs have one last act to play as possible kingmakers while they struggle to hold on to a Europa League place. Excuse me as I try to contain my excitement.

The maths is straightforward. If Spurs beat Manchester City on Tuesday and Arsenal win both their last two games, then the Premier League title heads to north London. If Spurs lose and City win their last two games then Pep Guardiola gets to lift the trophy. Again.

This is a no-brainer for some fans. Their hatred of Arsenal is so intense that they would stop at nothing to deny our closest rival the glory. On some of the fan group websites you can find some supporters urging Ange Postecoglou to send out a second-string team against City. Though how anyone could tell the difference from the first team right now is a moot point.

For me, though, it’s all rather more complicated. I’m genuinely conflicted. In my ideal world neither Arsenal nor City would come top. Or Liverpool for that matter. There’s an entitlement to all three clubs that sticks in the throat.

Now don’t get me wrong. I haven’t suddenly gone soft on Arsenal. Well maybe a bit. After more than 60 years of supporting Spurs my hatred of our north London rivals is no longer visceral. It’s more cartoon like. Tinged with comedy. Two-dimensional. Something I adopt because I always have. Obviously I never want them to win – I’m in a grump for a few days every time we lose to them – but you know what? Shit happens. If you haven’t learned that as a Spurs fan, then you can’t have been paying attention.

So here’s the thing. We’ve got ahead of ourselves a bit. Because Spurs had a chance to dent Arsenal’s title hopes a fortnight ago. Only we went 3-0 down after 30 minutes as our defence took the first half off. It could have been 5-0 by half-time. So let’s not make it all about the City game. And I’m not so messed up – this will come as a surprise to my therapist – that I would actively head up to Tottenham hoping to see us lose next Tuesday.

More to the point, City are also a hard team to love these days. They and their supporters have changed from the perennial underdogs of 15 years ago. They have become bloated on the success bought with petrodollars. They have lost their charm. Become just another footballing mega corp. They now think they deserve what they have got. Sad, really. The one thing to be said for City winning yet another title is that it will mean less to their supporters. Just another notch on the bedpost. No real emotional engagement.

Mind you, it’s a bit of a stretch to think Spurs might have any say in the title race. Other than as passive observers. The way we are playing right now, we would struggle to beat Plymouth Argyle. The team appear genuinely out of ideas. I would say tired but we’ve had precious little football to be tired from this season. City would have to overdose on fentanyl to lose against us. The idea that Spurs are going to remember how to play football on Tuesday is fanciful.

But what will be will be. I will go to the game with little hope and little expectation. Whatever the result, there will at least be some upside. Truth is, I don’t really care who wins the title. I just want this season over and done with. In a week, I will have forgotten all about it. Generally the best thing to do as a Spurs supporter. JC

‘A footballing bush-tucker trial with only maggots and worms on the menu’

So, Manchester United have a pivotal role in the destiny of the Premier League title? Sort of. Certainly not in the way any of us wanted. Win against Arsenal, the title most likely goes to Manchester City. Lose, and it might help give it to the Londoners.

Who would I prefer to win the title? It’s a footballing bush-tucker trial with only maggots and worms on the menu. An unpleasant choice. Yet in reality, there is no choice at all.

The case against City is easy enough. There are at least 116 reasons why City should not be crowned champions – again. One hundred and fifteen of them were helpfully provided by the Premier League, which set them out in detailed charges of (alleged) cheating.

The presumption of innocence may be the way things work at the Old Bailey. At Old Trafford the reverse is true. Points deduction, relegation, stripped of titles – this should all happen before the outcome of the legal process.

And the 116th reason? Tippy-tappy, tiki-taka football. I am so over it. Even City fans seem bored to death of “Perfect Pep”, which must be why the Etihad never seems full.

So it’s Arsenal then. Except it isn’t. This is where it gets more complicated.

Arsenal and Liverpool are two reasons why I ended up supporting Manchester United. My dad supported the former, my friends supported the latter, and in the mid-1970s, Tommy “the Doc” Docherty seemed pretty cool. Compared with Bob Paisley, anyway.

Stuart Pearson was my hero in the 1977 Cup final, Alan Sunderland broke my heart two years later. Those two clubs caused scars that didn’t properly heal until the Alex Ferguson era.

Arsenal inflicted early, life‑shaping pain. City have tormented me in middle age.

I have had a lot of time to reflect on all this in recent months. Consider the drive back to London from Manchester after losing 1-3 to Brighton, for instance. Four and a half hours of unwelcome contemplation. The 0-3 against City was much the same. So too the 0-3 against Bournemouth. The 1-2 against Fulham.

This season there has been a lot of time to think things through. I have witnessed a lot of theatre, but been provided with very few dreams for the price of my season ticket.

Which brings me to the game on Sunday. I fear the north Londoners will go home happy. Not by some conspiratorial design. But because we have been heartachingly calamitous this season.

I’ve suggested to my daughter, Jess, that she take her boots on Sunday. With all our injuries, a handy left-back with a good engine might make the bench.

At the first whistle, until the last, there will be only one thought, and all other permutations will be set aside. Because only one thing really matters. And it’s not what happens at the top of the table. Come on United! NH

 

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