
If readers will indulge me, I’d like to explain why there is a certain irony in the fact that, of all the places Arsenal may need a favour from in this title race, it happens to be Bournemouth.
Seven years of my childhood were spent in Poole, where I later returned to live for another five years as an adult. Anyone familiar with the area will know it boasts some of the best beaches in the UK. I lived near Sandbanks, where Harry Redknapp lives, and you can walk along the coastline all the way into Bournemouth.
For many of my school friends, the Cherries were their local club.
Back then, Bournemouth were very much a League One and League Two side. My stepdad would often take me to Dean Court, where someone would walk around the stands with a collection bucket because of the financial issues the club faced. If anyone had suggested at that point that this stadium would one day host Premier League football, nobody would have believed them.
Now, in 2026, Bournemouth are just one point away from qualifying for European football for the first time in their history. Even the Champions League is not completely out of the question.
Bournemouth beat Arsenal 2-1 at the Emirates last month – perhaps they can leave it all on the pitch with Man City on Tuesday?
One of my strongest childhood memories was my stepdad arriving home from work every Saturday during half-time of the 3pm kick-offs. We would spend the second half listening to Jeff Stelling on Soccer Saturday updating us on how our respective teams were doing.
For more than two decades my parents have lived in Greece. You would think being that far away would make it difficult to follow a lower-league football club, but somehow the opposite happened. Every weekend my stepdad would sit following Bournemouth through the club website’s live text commentary.
Football always finds a way to keep people connected.
Shared with family and friends, we still have a small group chat where, much like here on Just Arsenal, we predict scores and debate football every single week.
On Tuesday night I will be praying, keeping everything crossed, probably with tears in my eyes and a knot in my stomach, hoping Manchester City drop points at the Vitality Stadium.
If that happens, I avoid a final-day anxiety that, quite frankly, I am not sure I can cope with.
Two hours ahead in Corfu, my parents will also be celebrating Bournemouth moving closer to European football.
Maybe it is destiny.
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