Of all the indignities foisted on Arsène Wenger during his time in English football, this was perhaps a fresh level of zip-fumbling, hood-gnawing horror. At the end of a room‑temperature semi-final Wenger said he had quite enjoyed his 90 minutes in the Stamford Bridge press box. “You see, you’re well treated, you have nothing to complain about,” he told the gathered journalists, expertly seizing the opportunity to chastise, once again, the people he most enjoys chastising.
VAR issues aside – the image of Martin Atkinson fiddling with his ear will live long in the memory – this was the most notable aspect of Chelsea’s and Arsenal’s 0-0 first-leg draw. Before kick‑off at Stamford Bridge the news that Wenger would be cramming himself into one of the shin‑barking blue plastic seats of the Chelsea press box, peering down sadly the back of Antonio Conte’s elegantly coutured frame, had inspired a protective tenderness in the waiting press corps.
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