The adrenaline has faded. The “North London is Red” chants have drifted into the ether, and the dust has finally settled on one of the most comprehensive Derby destruction in recent memory. But looking back at the 90 minutes with a cold, analytical eye, this wasn’t just about passion, pashun, or “wanting it more.” This was a tactical humiliation of the highest order.
We went into this game with a narrative of fear—fear of missing Gabriel Magalhães, fear of a defensive reshuffle, fear that the “chaos” of Tottenham would destabilise our control. We left with the realisation that Mikel Arteta has built a machine that functions regardless of the parts. It was a victory of system over individuals, of structure over “vibes.”
Here is the comprehensive breakdown of how Arsenal dismantled Tottenham, destroyed the media narratives, and kept the neighbours at arm’s length without them firing a single shot on goal from open play.
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The Emirates factor: from library to fortress
Before we dissect the tactics, we have to acknowledge the stage. There was a time when conceding possession to Tottenham at home would have triggered anxiety in the stands. A groan with every backward pass, a shriek of panic when the opposition pressed high.
Sunday was different. The Emirates crowd has matured alongside the team. There was a palpable understanding in the stadium that when Arsenal didn’t have the ball, we were actually most dangerous. When Spurs had possession at the back, the crowd wasn’t nervous; they were waiting like a coil, anticipating the trap. That synergy between the stands and the dugout is the unsung hero of this era. We have stopped demanding “Attack, Attack, Attack” blindly and started appreciating the art of “Control, Control, Control.”
The Hincapié revelation: “Big Gabby” who?
Let’s address the elephant in the room that vanished after five minutes. The pre-match buildup was dominated by the absence of Gabriel Magalhães. The media told us we would miss his aggression, his aerial dominance, and his leadership. We were told that without our Brazilian rock, the floodgates would open.
Enter Piero Hincapié.
Making a full Premier League debut in a North London Derby is usually a recipe for disaster. It is the kind of environment that chews up newcomers and spits them out. Instead, Hincapié fit into this back line like a glove. He didn’t just survive; he thrived.
His performance was a masterclass in proactive defending. He stepped up to engage attacks before they started, mirroring the aggression we usually get from Gabriel but adding a silky, almost midfielder-like composure on the ball. There was a moment in the 20th minute where he stepped out of the defensive line, intercepted a pass intended for Spurs player, and immediately drove 30 yards up the pitch to start a counter-attack. It sent a message: I am not just a backup; I am an upgrade on your best attacker.
The stat that matters? Tottenham had zero shots on target generated from their own play. They barely escaped their own half. That level of dominance doesn’t happen by accident; it happens because your “backup” defender is playing at a world-class level.
The “suffocation” press: why Vicario looked lost
We talk about pressing often, but this wasn’t just running around with high energy; it was geometry. The narrative was simple: “The Cage.” Spurs are obsessed with playing out from the back—it is their dogma, their religion. Arteta didn’t just stop it; he weaponized their arrogance against them.
With Mikel Merino dropping deep to act as a physical pivot and the wingers tucking in aggressively, Arsenal created a literal box in the centre of the park that completely severed the passing lanes to Bentancur and Palhinha. Spurs were suffocated. They looked like a team trying to solve a Rubik’s cube while being punched in the face.
Every time Vicario rolled the ball out to his centre-backs, he wasn’t starting an attack; he was rolling a live grenade to his own defenders. We didn’t just defend our 18-yard box; we defended their 18-yard box. By forcing them wide and trapping them against the touchline, we turned the pitch into a corridor of death.
The false 9 masterstroke: Mikel Merino
The team sheet raised eyebrows. Mikel Merino as a False 9? It looked like a gamble. It looked like Arteta overthinking. In reality, it was the key that unlocked the entire game.
Merino didn’t play a traditional striker role. By dropping deep, he dragged the Spurs centre-backs, Romero and Van de Ven, into a “no-man’s land.” They didn’t know whether to follow him into midfield (leaving a gap behind) or stay back (allowing Merino to turn and dictate play).
He played to disrupt. His physical presence allowed him to hold up the ball and spin, acting as a wall for our midfielders to bounce passes off. But his most crucial contribution was the space he created for the “runners”—Saka, Trossard, and Eze. They didn’t have to beat defenders one-on-one; they just had to run into the acres of green grass Merino created by vacating the centre forward position. It was a tactical checkmate that left the Spurs high line looking suicidal.
The engine room: The ghost and the starboy
While Merino provided the physical disruption, Martin Zubimendi was the ghost in the machine.
We have to address the elephant in the room—he was at fault for the lucky goal Spurs clawed back, caught dwelling on the ball in a dangerous area. It was a lapse in concentration, perhaps the only blemish on a near-perfect afternoon. But if you look past that one error, his performance was a masterclass in tempo management.
He was the conductor. When Spurs got frantic, trying to turn the game into a basketball match, Zubimendi put his foot on the ball and killed the noise. When they fell asleep, he sped it up with a one-touch vertical pass. He controlled the chaos, ensuring the game was played at our speed, not theirs.
But the real tactical evolution was on the right flank with Bukayo Saka. In this False 9 system, Saka wasn’t just holding width; he was everywhere. Because Merino’s “weird” positioning occupied their centre-backs, Saka had the freedom of the park. The interplay between him and Jurrien Timber is becoming telepathic—Timber inverting allows Saka to drive inside, creating a nightmare for the fullback who doesn’t know who to track. Saka is no longer just a winger; he is an orchestrator.
Eberechi Eze: The prodigal son returns
It feels poetic, doesn’t it? The boy who was released by the Arsenal academy, who had to grind his way back to the top via QPR and Palace, scoring his first-ever hat-trick against our bitterest rivals in the biggest game of the season.
Eze has shown flashes of brilliance since signing, but Sunday was his arrival. He finally looks like he understands exactly what Arteta demands. He wasn’t just a luxury player floating on the periphery waiting for the ball; he was pressing, he was tracking back, and when the chances fell, he was ruthless.
His second goal was the pick of the bunch—the composure to pause, let the defender slide past, and slot it home was reminiscent of a prime Thierry Henry. This wasn’t just a hat-trick; it was a statement. He understands the weight of the shirt now. He understands the club he once left, and he played like a man determined to make up for lost time.
The silent assassin: Leandro Trossard
If Eze is the headline, Leo Trossard is the footnote that kills you. We need to start having a serious conversation about Trossard being arguably the best finisher at the club.
His impact is frighteningly consistent. While others need three or four chances to calibrate, Trossard needs half a yard and a split second. His goal was a lesson in technique—head over the ball, hitting it clean, no fuss.
The Trossard effect:
Efficiency: Trossard is currently outperforming his xG (Expected Goals) at a higher rate than any other Arsenal forward.
Big Game Player: Look at his scoring record against the “Big Six.” He doesn’t stat-pad against the relegation fodder; he turns up when the lights are brightest.
Nicolas Jover’s “dark arts”: The unseen MVP
It’s time we build the statue. If we dominated open play, we strangled them on set pieces. The narrative here is simple: “Even when the ball stops, we win.”
Every corner Spurs won—usually their only lifeline when the football isn’t working—looked completely routine for us to defend. There was no panic, no scrambling. The defensive organisation was militaristic. You could visibly see the hope draining out of the Spurs players when they realised that their “chaos” in the box was being met with a brick wall.
It’s a psychological blow: knowing that even if you get a lucky deflection for a corner, Nicolas Jover has already calculated exactly where it’s going to land. We have turned set-pieces from a lottery into a science.
The “managerial chasm”: process vs. stubbornness
Finally, we have to talk about the dugout. This ties into the reality of where we are as a club and reinforces a point I’ve made before about managerial comparisons.
This match highlighted the brutal reality of the managerial landscape. Thomas Frank, for all the hype and the “media darling” status, stuck to “his way” even as it was actively burning down around him. He refused to compromise. He played a high line against pace; he tried to play through a press that was clearly suffocating him. It was stubbornness masquerading as philosophy.
Mikel Arteta, however, showed what a mature project looks like. He didn’t just roll out the same XI; he adapted.
He utilised a False 9 to confuse their markers.
He trusted a debutante (Hincapié) in a high-pressure cooker.
He tweaked the pressing triggers to exploit specific weaknesses in the Spurs setup.
But more importantly, look at the in-game management. When we went 3-0 up, Arsenal didn’t keep chasing a fourth recklessly. We killed the game. We engaged in the “dark arts”—slowing down restarts, winning cheap fouls, breaking the rhythm. This is the difference between a naive team and a champion team.
This highlights the disparity between a mature project (Arsenal) and a team still trying to find its identity. Critics love to compare Arteta’s first year to new managers like Frank or Amorim, but they forget that Arteta spent that first year installing a culture. Frank has had time, yet his team looked tactically naive. This wasn’t just a win on the pitch; it was a victory in the dugout.
Conclusion: The new normal
As the dust settles, the takeaway is clear. We didn’t just beat Tottenham; we rendered them irrelevant. We kept them at a distance, we denied them a single shot on goal from open play, and we did it all while missing our best defender.
For years, the North London Derby was a 50/50 toss-up, a game of chaos and emotion. Arteta has removed the chaos. He has turned the derby into just another fixture where the better team, with the better plan, wins comfortably.
Arteta didn’t just send a team out to play a derby; he sent a squad out to dismantle an ideology. And they did it without breaking a sweat. North London isn’t just Red; it’s serene, calculated, and completely under control.
Images courtesy of Reuters/Action Images