Arsenal: Enthralling Victory at Stamford Bridge Reminds Us Why We Love This Team

Years from now, when you've got your kids gathered around you by the fire after dinner, you'll tell them of the year 2011, when you witnessed Arsenal striker Robin van Persie embark upon what was to become one of the finest-ever years by an Arsenal player.

You'll tell them how even then, as you watched the Dutchman wend his way around defenses like a master contortionist, you were becoming aware that you were witnessing a player morph from the echelon of "very good" into the truly sensational, right before your very eyes.

You'll try to describe, with words that often fall flat when speaking of the truly transcendental, just how empowering it felt to know that the long-dreamed about day had finally arrived, where you were creating the first-hand account of a hero's feats you'd once read about during your youth.

28 goals in 27 EPL matches. 31 goals in 2011, in only 37 matches. Maybe some won't believe you when you rattle off those statistics, chalking up your account to mere hyperbolic adulation.

But that's where you'll stop them.

If only you could have seen him, you'll say. If only you could have watched this man, who oozed brilliance as he navigated his way about the pitch in that wonderfully roundabout way of his, score goals like you'd never seen them scored before.

Doubting Thomas, you'll say, if only you could have seen him.

Perhaps you'll tell of that game at Stamford Bridge against hated Chelsea on Oct. 29, 2011, where van Persie bagged the second hat-trick of his Arsenal career. It wasn't so much about the goals, you'll say, (though they were nice and much-needed) as much as it was about The celebration.

Of course you'll rush to assure them that yes, while the goals may not have been his best, they'll be some of the ones you remember most fervently.

The first goal, mere formality, with van Persie needing only to tap home after an unselfish cut back from Gervinho had erased Petr Cech. Arsenal successfully walking the ball into the net.

The second another sitter after a monstrous slip by John Terry following a wayward Florent Malouda pass allowed a lurking van Persie to snatch up the miscue and barrel toward Petr Cech. What got you wasn't so much the finish as it was the feint. The keen sense of timing to deftly send onrushing keeper Petr Cech sliding unsuccessfully past, leaving van Persie with no other choice but to score.

It was the celebration from that goal, you'll say, that confirmed what you'd begun to cautiously expect: this day was going to be special.

Van Persie scoring in front of the visiting portion of Arsenal fans, whose slow-motion celebrations on the TV replay sent chills down your spine.

The Dutchman preparing for a customary celebration, until he remembered the supporters in close proximity.

He did a 360, and rushed over to the Gooner faithful. Perhaps during those steps he thought about how this 2011-12 season has felt like a lifetime, so eventful that Arsene Wenger has even joked he could "write a book" about its myriad disappointments and seemingly endless run of bad news.

Perhaps those dark days began to creep into his soul in that singular sense one feels that a terrible symphony is reaching its dastardly crescendo.

But Saturday was different. Here van Persie could unleash those painful thoughts in the presence of the truest support group you're ever likely to find.

He reached his chosen spot smack dab in front of those fans. Then you saw him throw up his arms in pure, wondrous, unencumbered catharsis, as if he was unshouldering the months of vitriol and malcontent where they had piled onto his back like irremovable ticks. 

On Saturday, he found the soothing ointment he'd been searching for, and threw them all into the unseasonably warm London weather. Worry dissipating in the afternoon calm.

He looked right at the fans, as if to say "Thank You." He didn't need a T-shirt to tell audiences how he felt; he didn't even need to speak. His face, awash in vindication, said it all.

You'll say how van Persie's final goal in stoppage time, the icing on a wayward 5-3 roller coaster of a cake, was the only way this game really ever could have ended.

The captain sending his side to the realm of deliverance. Eight wins in nine matches.

The game itself was spectacular. Pure attacking football of the end-to-end variety that is inherent in the EPL's most enthralling matches. But it wasn't perfect: and that is why it was unforgettable.

Arsenal's failings, insecurities, and imperfections were on full display, you'll say—the shoddy defending, poor man marking and obsession with this high line of defense all threatening to scupper the thought of victory.

But just like that quirky girl you could never get out of your mind, and who one day floated into the movie theater behind your eyes, and that wonderful sense of realization hit you like an anchor crashing down on the ocean floor as you discovered that it was everything about her that wasn't perfect that made her perfect for you.

Arsenal are like that sometimes. The stumbling, bumbling (and perhaps brilliant) goal by Theo Walcott the perfect encapsulation. The threat of failure eviscerated by a wonderful finish.

The brilliant sense of spirit, cohesion and toughness exhibited by the Arsenal squad on Saturday became unforgettable. The substitutes cheering madly for each goal. Wenger's quiet celebration after that final van Persie strike, the lines on his face lessening somewhat with the onset of a smile as he realized three points were in the bag.

The crass cynics, who say footballers are only about money, who want to see van Persie leave Arsenal for a "better club," should have continued watching after the final whistle, when van Persie called his teammates together and, arm-in-arm, shrugging off 90 minutes of induced exhaustion, they called upon the energy reserves that accompany victory and applauded that traveling band of well-wishing supporters.

The players jumped and hooted as if they'd won a major trophy. The supporters loved every minute of it. One of them even got van Persie's jersey. It didn't seem gauche, didn't even seem presumptuous. If you've followed this team, you understood.

There are days that become reference points in your life, adding to that bulleted list you allude to when people ask you why, in God's name why, you support Arsenal.

You sift through the days blue with misery and pick out the ones laced with gold. Those moments, you tell them, those moments when my faith is rewarded, are why I love this club. It's why I endure the mud.

You may lament that those Strawberry Swing moments come all too infrequently. But then you remember that when they do surface, they proceed to stir your soul as it's never been stirred before.

And what else can you do but thank them for it.