It’s been the worst kept secret, and now it’s not a secret at all – Wenger has signed up for another three years. If he lasts the distance, that’ll be a mighty 21 years at the helm, a phenomenal achievement in the want-it-now era. It’s a whole generation. Remarkable, in many ways.

I’m happy for him, and I’m glad he’s staying, because we’ve all seen him live the highs and lows in recent years (the lows being increasingly frequent). He’s looked almost ill through the pressure at times this season, so to see him as we saw him above warms the heart.

I suspect he did think of calling it a day, but Arsenal closed the gap on the leaders this year and won the cup. It’s a successful season by any benchmark and the side has matured. He wants to see this team through.

It’s a leaner, hungrier and more talented side than it has been for years, and with Park and Bendtner gone, I can’t think of many players who are at the club by some curious magic rather than thanks to ability. The side is on the right track.

I’d be lying if I didn’t have my reservations though. For all the consistency this season, we were badly shown up, in terms of approach as much as anything else, on three painful occasions. On all three days, we were despairingly slow out the blocks. As a side, without Walcott, we lack pace and more generally, a bit of power. Ozil aside, we’ve had several poor transfer windows.

All these things need to change, but Wenger is in a good place, and on a good platform, to do that. All of them can be addressed.

Whether he does push the boat out, and change, only time will tell. In times past he’s needed to, but hasn’t. History tells us he’s stubborn. All too often he’ll do a shimmy and pull a Kallstrom from the hat.

I hope, as I hope every summer, that this time things will be different, and that we’ll be bold and decisive. These are in all probability the last three years of his reign. Now’s the time to push on.

Over to you, Arsene. Onwards – and hopefully upwards – on the Wenger rollercoaster we go.

Basking

The last two weeks have mostly revolved around basking in cup glory. Just when you think it might all subside, up comes another excellent video and I’m off again, bouncing up and down at Wembley, all wide-eyed and happy.

Not much has happened since. We’ve lost Fabianski to Swansea (a good signing for them – though I thought he might go somewhere like Italy) and Sagna to TBC FC. But we knew both of those things anyway. The transfer wheels are spinning, and if you read what you believe, HMS Southampton is being shelled and torpedoed into submission. Women, children, 32-year-old strikers, left and right-backs into the lifeboats first.

(In all seriousness – I do feel sorry for Southampton. An excellent side that already has the wolves at the door. They won’t all leave, but whoever comes in next to manage them has a job on their hands manning the pumps).

But like I said before, I’m staying detached from this transfer hullabaloo. There’s too much smoke, and too many mirrors. Too much swooping and not enough action, too many come-and-get-me pleas and not enough signing on the dotted line.

We live in a world where footballers who want to leave cite a lack of attention on their birthday.

Swat it aside, folks, and ignore it.