A Gooner’s Perspective on a Rivalry That’s More Comedy Than Competition
By the Arsenal Addict
Let’s get one thing straight this isn’t a rivalry in the traditional sense. It’s a one-sided obsession. For Arsenal, beating Spurs is tradition. For Spurs, trying to beat Arsenal is identity. Their existence revolves around hating us, while we just enjoy reminding them what actual success looks like.
Ask any Gooner what fixture matters most and you’ll get a smirk: the North London Derby. Why? Because no matter what state either team is in title-chasing, rebuilding, falling apart it’s personal. It’s about pride, history, and reminding that little club down the Seven Sisters Road that no matter how hard they try, they’ll always be in our shadow.
From Chickens to Chokers
Tottenham Hotspur. A club that’s somehow convinced itself it’s big despite decades of evidence to the contrary. Two League Titles in their entire history (the last of which was in 1961) and yet, the way their fans talk, you’d think they invented modern football.
They’ve had moments, sure Gazza’s free kick in the FA Cup, the 2019 Champions League run but what have they actually won since color TV became standard? One League Cup. In 2008. And they still parade it like a Champions League trophy on Twitter every year.
Spurs don’t win trophies. They win DVD sales. They win the “We Nearly Did It” award. The “We Beat Arsenal Once and Now We’re a Top Club” prize. Every time they put together a mildly decent squad, they collapse under the weight of their own hype. Same script. Different year.
Kane and the Curse of Relevance
Harry Kane. Their golden boy. A man who spent his entire prime chasing shadows of Arsenal’s legacy. Sure, he scores goals. Penalties mostly. But even he had to escape the trophy drought and flee to Bayern Munich in search of silverware only for Bayern to somehow go trophyless the minute Kane got there. That’s not coincidence. That’s Spurs DNA following you across borders.
And now, without Kane? They’ve pinned their hopes on Heung-Min Son, who is talented but stuck captaining a circus. Throw in Richarlison, who acts like he’s prime Adriano but has a goal record that screams “League One reserve,” and you’ve got a front line full of vibes but no end product.
New Stadium, Same Bottlers
Spurs spent a billion pounds on their shiny toilet bowl of a stadium. And for what? To host NFL games and Beyoncé concerts? Because it sure as hell hasn’t brought them any silverware. They tried the “big club energy” route hiring Mourinho, Conte, even briefly flirting with the idea of Poch 2.0 but every manager leaves the same way: burned out, fed up, and trophyless.
They talk about “project rebuild” every summer, yet somehow keep fielding Eric Dier.
Spurs Fans: The Audacity Olympics
Let’s talk about the fans. A mix of delusion and desperation. These are people who act like they’re too good for the Europa League, yet celebrate finishing above Arsenal like it’s a major title. Mind you, in 22 of the last 28 seasons, they’ve watched us finish higher and in that time, we’ve won four FA Cups, three league titles, and gone invincible.
They mock our Champions League exits while they’ve only been in the competition a handful of times. And when they did make the final, what happened? A snoozefest of a loss to Liverpool where they barely laid a glove.
Their obsession with us borders on tragic. “Mind the Gap” they cried in 2017. And then what? We won the FA Cup. Again.
Why It Still Matters
Spurs might not be the most successful or consistent rival, but they are the most infuriating. They’re loud without substance. Petty without purpose. Every derby win for them is a parade. For us? It’s a normal weekend.
And yet, it always means something. It’s about bragging rights at work, in pubs, at family dinners. It’s about putting North London back in its rightful place, red.
When that fixture list drops, after I scan for United and City, my eyes lock in on Spurs. Because no matter how bad or good the season is, beating Spurs is spiritual. It’s therapy. It’s a reminder of who runs North London.
And spoiler alert: It’s not the club with the cockerel.
