God Of football

From the first whistle, Brentford made it clear they hadn't forgotten the scars of that 7–1 drubbing earlier in the season.

This was a different posture — disciplined lines, midfield and defence knitting together into a compact wall, refusing to give Arsenal the freedom they'd enjoyed last time.

But Arsenal, buoyed by midweek confidence and the return of Bukayo Saka, didn't look rattled.

Saka, especially, was sharp from the opening touch.

Barely five minutes in, he ghosted infield from the right, timing his run to meet a lofted diagonal from Declan Rice.

With one neat touch to control, he opened his body and swept a curling left-foot effort towards the far corner, but, "Flekken keeps watch all the way… and it's tipped over!" the commentator called, the camera catching Saka's grin as he jogged away.

It was the first test for Brentford's keeper, but certainly not the last.

Ten minutes later, Arsenal moved the ball with precision from back to front — Gabriel threading a pass between the lines to Ødegaard, who feathered it wide for Izan in a single motion.

Izan, not in the mood for elaborate dribbles, whipped a flat, teasing cross into the six-yard box.

Saka's dart was perfectly timed, meeting it with a firm side-foot that forced another smart save.

"Should have been the first goal of the game, but Flekken gets down quick enough to deny Arsenal the lead and Saka, his first goal of the game and in a while."

The Arsenal fans were finding it hard to contain the joy as their team edged closer to the goal with each attack, and with Arsenal's rhythm building, it was just a few moments off, and they felt it.

Arsenal were playing with a controlled urgency, not desperate but constantly searching for the gap.

Brentford's defensive shell was strong, but when Arsenal found a seam, the incision was immediate.

And on the half-hour, the breakthrough came.

It started again with Izan, as always drifting wider, drawing two defenders with him.

Ødegaard spotted it instantly, sliding a pass into the space created, and Izan's delivery, low and hard, skimmed past the first defender, deflecting awkwardly into the path of Saka.

"Loose touch— SAKA!" The commentary burst with a mix of surprise and delight as Saka's left leg coiled back.

The latter adjusted his stance in an instant, lashing a left-foot volley through the crowd and past the outstretched arm of the keeper and like they knew, the roar of the crowd rose even before the ball hit the net.

"Starboy Saka, back with a banger like he never left", the commentator croaked as Saka slid on his knees near the corner flag.

The roar from the home fans was a sharp contrast to the groans that rolled through the away stands.

Arsenal's players didn't over-celebrate — just a huddle, a few pats on Saka's head, and straight back to shape.

The intent was obvious: no easing off.

Brentford barely had time to settle before they were being harried again.

Martinelli nearly doubled the lead minutes later, stinging the keeper's palms after a rapid one-two with Havertz.

The pressure eventually drove Brentford into mistakes, and when they committed men forward for a rare corner in the 43rd minute, Arsenal pounced.

Raya claimed the ball cleanly, tossed it to Ødegaard, and suddenly there was space to run.

Ødegaard surged forward, his head up, scanning up looking for the spearhead of their every attack when he was on the pitch.

Izan, sensing Odegaard's intent, moved closer to accommodate the pass of the Norwegian before he peeled away to the left, drawing a marker, then angled a clever pass inside to Havertz.

With his back to goal, the German flicked it behind him without looking — a perfectly weighted touch into Ødegaard, who hadn't broken stride after his pass to Izan.

"He's through here, Ødegaard!" the commentator jumped as the former broke past the Brentford defensive line.

One touch to steady, then the Arsenal captain rifled it high into the near side of the net, leaving the keeper with no chance.

The celebrations were more animated this time, Ødegaard punching the air as Izan jogged over to ruffle his hair.

2–0, and halftime just a whistle away.

The interval arrived with Brentford looking like they'd been hanging on for dear life, Arsenal dictating tempo without ever feeling rushed.

It was the kind of half that showed control, confidence, and a willingness to punish mistakes.

The second half wasn't much better, but Brentford were lucky.

From the restart, Arsenal moved with the same quiet menace they had shown before the break, pushing and probing.

Kai Havertz, perhaps sensing the game's openness, seemed intent on adding his name to the scoresheet.

The German's chance came early, slipping into space just as Izan threaded a perfectly weighted pass through the narrowest of channels.

"Oh, that's delicious from Miura!" the commentator's voice lifted in the gantry. "Havertz… through here and makes it count! 3 to the good and suddenly, Arsenal have tripled their lead."

The Emirates roared, but only for the assistant's flag to slice through the noise.

Havertz, off to celebrate, turned after hearing the whistle before seeing the raised flag of the assistant.

"No, no, no. I was on," the forward debated, but the official and his cohort seemed to have come to a decision.

The replay came, and it showed that Havertz had strayed by half a step.

The forward grinned wryly after seeing the video before turning towards Izan and giving a thumbs up.

"That assist", the commentary came through, " would have taken the 17-year-old clear of Kevin De Bruyne and Thierry Henry's joint record of twenty in a Premier League season; but it looks like Izan would have to do more to get that, but with him, I suppose it isn't that hard to do."

Brentford, still two goals down, did what they could to keep it from slipping further.

A few half-chances arose for Arsenal—the kind that make a crowd lean forward without quite getting them to their feet.

Saka saw a low drive skim agonisingly wide of the far post.

Odegaard bent one from range that kissed the top of the net on its way over.

Brentford's goalkeeper, Mark Flekken, earned his applause too, throwing himself full length to deny Trossard, who had come on a while ago from point-blank range.

Still, the resistance cracked again in the 78th minute.

A loose clearance from a crowded box landed perfectly for Izan at the edge of the area.

He took one touch to set himself, his eyes scanning for the shot before he followed through with the shot, but before the ball could threaten Flekken, a Brentford defender lunged, arms flaring for balance.

The contact was unmistakable, and the whistle came immediately.

"No hesitation from the referee!" Ally called.

"And Arsenal, through their teenage talisman, have the chance to make it three."

Izan stood over the ball, calm in a storm of noise.

The keeper tried mind games, shifting on his line, pointing to his left, but none of it mattered.

Izan's run-up was steady, his strike ruthless—rifled into the roof of the net with such force that even if Flekken had guessed right, it would've needed more than two hands to keep it out.

"Unstoppable and there's no way back now!"

3–0, and the air went out of the contest.

Arsenal, professional to the last, kept possession, ran their patterns, and forced Brentford to chase shadows.

The visitors looked grateful for every second that ticked away, and by the time the referee finally brought it to a close fifteen minutes later, the home crowd was already in celebratory mood, the players walking off to warm applause and another clean sheet in the books.

"And that's it! The full-time whistle blows at the Emirates — Arsenal three, Brentford nil. A comfortable, confident win for Mikel Arteta's men."

"They never looked in trouble, really, and from the moment Saka put them ahead on the half-hour mark, you just felt this was going to be their day. Odegaard's strike before the break doubled the cushion, and Izan's thumping penalty in the second half sealed it in style."

"Three points in the bag, and they're still right ahead in the thick of this title race. You can sense it here in North London — there's a buzz, a belief. The atmosphere inside this stadium tonight has been electric, and the supporters are going home merry, dreaming of what May might bring."

"But there is no time to rest on their laurels because up next is a trip to Madrid for the second leg of the Champions League quarter-final. They will face a huge test, and they'll need all of today's sharpness and more if they're to advance further in Europe. For now, though, it's job done in the Premier League. My name is Ally McCoist, and good night."

A/N: Sorry again for not releasing this one early. As I said, I was feeling a bit drowsy the previous day, so I decided to rest a bit. Have fun reading and I'll see you in a bit with the last chapter of the day.