Arsenal's Legendary Season Divides Opinion: Rivals 'Duty Bound' to Criticise Every Achievement

The Arsenal question refuses to go away: are opposing fans merely doing their duty by tearing down every Gunners accomplishment, or has competitive banter curdled into something that sucks all the pleasure from football?

The Mikel Arteta side stands on the brink of something special. A league title looks increasingly likely, and they've engineered a genuine shot at the Champions League crown. Yet for all this, they're getting hammered at every turn—accusations of boring football, corner-kick brutality, an exorbitant net spend, and tactical cynicism dominating the discourse.

One perspective cuts through the noise: rival supporters are simply exercising their prerogative. Corner thuggery? Check. A provocative manager? Absolutely. The astronomical spending? Fair game. From a fan's standpoint, these become ammunition, legitimate talking points to diminish whatever silverware Arsenal ultimately collect. It's the theatre of football fandom, the unwritten rule that you denigrate your rivals' achievements however you can find purchase.

Yet here's the rub—they're probably winning the league and have every chance of doing the double. That's a legendary season by any measure. Should Arsenal complete the Champions League triumph, their supporters will have earned the right to be insufferable about it. Nobody needs to apologize for celebrating genuine success at the highest level.

The real tension isn't about Arsenal at all. It's whether modern football has become so obsessed with diminishing others' joy that we've forgotten how to simply enjoy our own. Managers are criticising players for celebrating survival. Fans police every moment of happiness. Victories are greeted not with delight but with accusations that the winning team's supporters are the worst in the league.

The mathematics are simple: if the only satisfaction available to you comes from watching others fail, something fundamental has shifted. That's not rivalry—that's joylessness masquerading as passion.

One supporter posed the question directly: would you rather see your club win the league or watch your fiercest rivals drop into the Championship? That such a choice even registers as a genuine dilemma speaks volumes.

The irony, of course, is that Arsenal have had their share of years watching others celebrate while they went without. If they finally end this drought with a double—or even a treble, should fate smile—their fans deserve to revel in it without constant asterisks and caveats.

Perhaps the real conversation isn't about Arsenal at all. Perhaps it's about whether we've collectively decided that schadenfreude is the only currency that matters anymore. If so, we shouldn't be surprised when fandom becomes exhausting rather than exhilarating.

Arsenal are having a remarkable season. They might win the lot. And yes, rival fans will spend the next decade finding creative ways to diminish it. That's the game. But somewhere along the way, we might ask ourselves whether that's really what we want football to be about.