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Chapter 38: The Breaking Point
🕑 Added 2025-05-17 11:24:25 +0000 UTCFriday, May 18th, 2012.
It has been five days since the end of the 2011/2012 season.
Manchester City have claimed the Premier League title for the first time in 44 years.
In a dramatic finish, they matched Manchester United in points, but edged them out on goal difference. For City fans, it was pure ecstasy — the kind that only comes once in a generation.
That day, the city of Manchester belonged to the Blue Moon. It belonged to them.
Aguero’s last-minute goal became immortalized — a strike worth more than gold. Having only joined that season, Sergio Aguero instantly became a City legend.
Manchester United, under Sir Alex Ferguson, put up a fierce fight. They didn’t retain the title, but their legacy remained intact — the Red Devils, though wounded, were still formidable.
Elsewhere, Chelsea had given up chasing the league long ago, turning their attention to the Champions League. Their Premier League form had faltered, but in Europe, they were surging. Tomorrow, May 19th, they would face Bayern Munich in the Champions League final.
André Villas-Boas had been dismissed mid-season. Roberto Di Matteo took the reins and, against all odds, led the rejuvenated veterans past European giants — including a stunning victory over Barcelona — into the final.
Arsenal, meanwhile, had secured Champions League qualification. Most of the first team were already off on holiday or preparing for the European Championship.
It had been an unpredictable season for the Gunners, filled with both promise and frustration. But Van Persie had been nothing short of extraordinary.
Without his goals, Arsenal wouldn’t have made the top four. Injury-free all season, he won the Premier League Golden Boot and was named the league’s best player.
Arsenal fans clung to the hope that his form would carry into next season. With Van Persie at the helm, they believed the title chase would resume in earnest.
...
[Head Coach Office]
Arsène Wenger wasn’t celebrating. The season may have ended, but his work hadn’t.
There were reviews to complete — performance assessments, transfer planning, and future strategy.
Van Persie’s numbers spoke for themselves: full attendance, 30 goals — he had carried the club on his back.
Wenger was pleased. He hoped to keep building around the Dutchman.
In midfield, Arteta had done his job — not flashy, but dependable. He wasn’t Cesc Fabregas, and Wenger never expected him to be. He was a bridge, a stopgap, and he’d done well.
Walcott had made real strides too. Arshavin, though inconsistent, still contributed. Next season, Gervinho would be given more opportunities.
Rosický's injury cast a shadow over midfield plans, but there was good news — Jack Wilshere had returned.
Wenger envisioned next season’s midfield centered around Arteta, Wilshere, and Kai, with Kai playing in a rotation role.
In just half a season, Kai had made an impression.
Wenger flipped open Kai’s file.
Five appearances — one in the FA Cup, four in the league. All as a substitute. And yet…
3 tackles per game.
4 interceptions.
93% pass accuracy.
Four key passes.
For someone getting limited minutes, those stats were remarkable. That’s why Wenger had decided to move on from Alex Song. Sell while his value was high. He believed Kai was already a better option defensively, and the squad trusted him.
That kind of trust, in just five games? Rare.
Wenger leaned back in his chair, scribbling notes, drawing out next season’s blueprint — until a sharp knock interrupted him.
Before he could respond, the door burst open.
Pat Rice stormed in, a newspaper in hand. He slapped it down on the desk and growled, “Another one gone!”
Wenger looked up, confused. Then he saw the headline.
Daily Mail: <<Van Persie confirms he won’t renew his Arsenal contract. Transfer likely?>>
Wenger’s face froze.
He’d known there were whispers. He’d been talking with Van Persie, trying to negotiate a middle ground. He’d believed they could still find a way.
But now, it was out there — a public declaration, and one he hadn’t been warned about.
He reached for his phone, quickly dialing Van Persie’s number.
No answer.
He tried again. Still nothing.
Frustrated, he dialed the agent’s number instead.
This time, the line connected.
“Professor,” came the agent’s familiar voice.
Wenger's tone was controlled. “I need an explanation.”
There was a pause on the other end.
“This wasn’t a sudden decision,” the agent said quietly. "Robin’s felt isolated here for a while. He wants more. More titles, more competition — a deeper run in Europe. He doesn’t want to carry the team alone anymore.”
“He’s the tactical core,” Wenger said, voice rising. “Of course, the others depend on him.”
“But he’s not happy, Professor,” the agent replied. “He’s not inspired. He needed a partner, someone to share the load. He waited through the summer and winter windows. No one came. So now he’s made his choice.”
“Where’s he going?” Wenger asked.
“He won’t stay in England,” the agent said. “He doesn’t want to become the enemy. He’ll go abroad and chase the Champions League.”
Wenger exhaled deeply. His hand trembled slightly as he gripped the phone tightly.
“What if I ask him to stay?” he said quietly.
Pat, standing nearby, turned sharply. He wasn’t used to hearing this tone from Wenger. It was... vulnerable.
The father of modern Arsenal — pleading.
But this wasn’t just about one player. Arsenal couldn’t afford to lose another captain. Not again.
The line was silent for a long time.
Then, finally: “I’m sorry, Professor.”
The call ended.
Wenger lowered the phone and sat back, stunned. His energy seemed to leave him all at once.
“Arsène,” Pat said gently.
Wenger waved him off. His smile was thin, brittle. “Give me a minute, will you?”
Pat nodded and stepped out, quietly closing the door behind him.
He stood there, feeling a mixture of anger and helplessness.
Wenger had given everything to Arsenal. And again, he was being left behind.
Henry. Vieira. Ljungberg. Pires. They all came to mind — the greats, one by one, walking away.
Eventually, the door creaked open.
Wenger emerged, looking older than he had minutes ago. Tired. Worn.
“What do we do now?” Pat asked.
Wenger straightened his jacket and said calmly, “We see the boss.”
“Kroenke?” Pat frowned. The American majority shareholder had never sat well with him. All business, no heart.
Wenger smiled bitterly. “I’ve lost patience with him. He made promises — none of them were kept. It’s time to find another boss.”
Pat’s eyes widened.
Arsenal had a second major shareholder — the Russian billionaire Usmanov. Like Abramovich at Chelsea, he had always advocated for heavier investment.
But with Kroenke holding the majority, Usmanov had been sidelined.
“I’ll help him increase his share,” Wenger said. “But he has to invest. No more penny-pinching.”
His voice turned hard, rare emotion breaking through.
“I’ve had enough of this crap, Pat. I need money. A lot of it.”
Pat had his mouth wide open. Wenger rarely spoke vulgarly.
