There was a delightful moment in the second-half where – faced with two players and tight to the touchline – he executed the cutest of Cruyff turns to get out of trouble and race away

I live a mere one-stop train journey from Wembley Stadium. But as I have little interest in supporting the English national team – and even less interest in forking out money to watch them – I’d long since decided that my first trip to the new Wembley would only be for an Arsenal game. A guy at my workplace lives in South London and has the Wembley Arch as his desktop background and marvels at it. I go past it everyday and quite frankly didn’t give a shit.

Until Sunday. The opportunity came for me to attend to the game and I grabbed it with two hands, two legs and my mouth. Such was my excitement at going to a stadium and occasion this big, I even managed to find some yellow ribbon to wear, in keeping with the Club’s famous Wembley chant. Alas, my hair is not long enough to wear it in a ladylike fashion, so tying it around my wrist had to suffice.

My mate DJ had a funny feeling in the morning that our esteemed Gaffer would fudge the team selection, and he was right. I harked back to 2004 when he chose Aliadiere instead of Henry, but that was forgivable as we had a vital Champions League quarter-final against the Chavs around the corner.

As we got into the stadium after comprehensively outsinging the dirty pikey Chavs down Wembley Way, we looked at the first XI vigorously warming up to our left and the subs playing keep-ball on our right. And it was not a good look.

I’ve always felt that the FA Cup this season was the Eduardo and Arshavin show. Eduardo because it was the tournament he made his goalscoring return in and Arshavin because it is the only trophy he himself could play for. Whilst I assumed the Crozillian would be on the bench, the omission was understandable due to his tenuous fitness situation. But Arshavin missing from the starting lineup?

Anyway I digress. The subject of this piece is not the lineup, that has been and will be debated far and wide amongst Gooners on the Interweb. The result was not the one we were looking for, and of course the team selection grates even more now that it would’ve been Everton in the final, but the performance of one man stood out for me.

That man is Theo Walcott.

In a day where our reserve keeper came off his line too quickly, where our second-choice defence was far from decisive, where our midfield was neither sharp nor shrewd and our attack starved of opportunity, our sole Englishman lit up his national stadium with a dazzling performance.

One more than one occasion did he make a mug of our “beloved” Ashley Cole. I haven’t seen the highlights (nor do I intend to) but I vaguely remember him doing Cashley in the first-half down the line and then getting clattered, and then toward the end of the period getting in a ball-winning scrap with the c*nt and not ceding any ground. There was a delightful moment in the second-half where – faced with two players and tight to the touchline – he executed the cutest of Cruyff turns to get out of trouble and race away. This was supplemented late on by a 50:50 challenge with John Terry near the touchline. Instead of going in full-blooded he used his brain, hurdled the challenge and came away with the ball before his cross only just evaded Abou Diaby.

But his best moment was his goal. It didn’t have the finesse of his finish against Villarreal in midweek, but it certainly had the importance. A former right-winger of ours used to be called ‘First Goal’ Freddie due to his penchant for opening the scoring in massive games, and now Theo has begun to follow suit. ‘Tie Breaker’ Theo, anyone?

A final positive was the fans. Not only did we outsing the Chavs before the game, but even as we trudged off defeated after the final whistle we kept our voices raised despite our dampened spirits. The most hilarious chant of the day was a witty ditty concerning John Terry’s mother and her apparent thieving ways (Google or YouTube it, sit back and laugh).

Whilst I concede that we still have fourth place to cement and a chance of getting to the Champions League final, I personally can’t wait for next season now. Whenever I close my eyes and think about it, all I can envisage is a mouthwatering attacking lineup comprising Theo, Arshavin, Robin, Eddie, Nasri, Vela and Ade (if he stays) ripping apart defences week after week. Hopefully this will be combined with a fully-fit defence exhibiting the hard-nosed qualities they seem to have picked up over the last few months. The Champions League and domestic cups are one-off games which heighten excitement and tension to exorbitant levels for a day or two. But a sustained, title-chasing run in the league really gets the blood flowing. Do you remember how you felt least season from August to February as we dispatched all before us and led the way in the league, seemingly marching on to glory?

Luck and goals deserted us at the business end of the last campaign. Whilst we have no control over the former, a certain Theo Walcott can aid the latter in the manner that his predecessor, Freddie Ljungberg, dragged us over the finishing line in 2002.