EPL: Arsene Wenger Left to Sift Through the Arsenal Rubble

Arsenal manager Arsene Wenger is a brilliant man.

He can speak five languages, possesses a Master's degree in economics and, upon arriving in North London in 1996, pioneered a footballing revolution. He changed "boring, boring Arsenal" into a side that captivated viewers with its swashbuckling style of passing football.

His squad was a collection of genius. Bergkamp, Henry, Pires, Fabregas. They were players who played, in the words of Eric Cantona, beautifully.

The man built an empire. In his first nine years on the job, he won three Premiership titles (1997-98, 2001-02, 2003-04) and four FA Cups (1998, 2002, 2003, 2005).

His Invincibles of 2003-04, which went the entire season without a loss, remains arguably the most dominant side in English history.

Yet, to quote the Beatles, "Yesterday seems so far away."

That spectacular reign of Wenger's now appears to be a once-brilliant star well on its way to caving in upon itself. "Stars" are leaving the club, frustrated over a dearth of silverware over the past six seasons. Fans are in uproar, accusing the French manager of not investing in the squad.

Wenger has looked increasingly harried during press conferences, where he often seems tempted to engage in total sarcasm, so upset has he become with the current state of affairs.

He seems almost like Martin Landau in Entourage, playing a former Hollywood bigwig who, unable to cope with the kill-or-be-killed nature of the town, decides to leave it forever.

Simply desiring to see his Ramones script made into a movie, Landau's character Bob Ryan instead meets politics at every turn. He's subjected to the major studios, who seem more interested in screwing their competitors rather than actually doing what they profess to do—make movies.

There was no interest in the art. Just the money.

You can see the comparison with Wenger's current predicament. He is a man who loves to see the game of football played beautifully. His teams exemplify that tenet, often providing some of the most sumptuous displays of football seen throughout the world.

But, alas, there's the money issue. Money money money money money money.

Manchester City, fueled by the endless supply of petrodollars from sugar-daddy (er, owner) Sheik Mansour, have snapped up one of Wenger's gems, Samir Nasri, for £25 million, a little over a week after the Frenchman saw his favorite son, Cesc Fabregas, hauled off to Barcelona for £35 million.

Can't live with it, can't live without it, huh.

Chelsea first showed what an infusion of money can do to a middling side, when new owner Roman Abramovich, upon taking charge of the London club in 2003, turned them into a contender overnight with a series of exorbitant transfer coups.

Whether he lacks the necessary funds to do so, or simply refuses out of sense of wounded pride, Wenger has never been one to build a squad by throwing money around.

You almost expect him to enter a press conference one of these days, stare down the attendees with that beady gaze until everyone is painfully uncomfortable, before throwing up his arms in resignation before doing just that—resigning. 

Recent events have transpired to transform the game of football, once so pure and beautiful, into a bizarre mutation. It's become something else entirely; something that Alejandro Gonzales Inarritu would appreciate; the Biutiful Game.

Just as Inarritu showed in that wonderfully poignant film, life ain't "beautiful."

Rather, it's a terrible mutation of that word. All the hardship, loss, and pain so inherent in daily life congeal into some terrible formula. When the experiment has finished, what you get is a chipped, cracked version of the thing; a seeing-glass into the many flaws. Thus, the Biutiful, wearing down it's correctly-spelled brother word, surfaces from the rubble.

Like Jack Burden once said in All the King's Men, an idealist is someone who lives by the principle, "What you don't know can't hurt you."

One could almost see Wenger doing just that; locking himself in an Emirates luxury box, never to reemerge to face the floundering empire he'd created.

The English Premier League top four is a crowded room, and Wenger's thin pockets have been slowly-but-surely butted out by the boisterous, heavy-lined pockets of Mansour.

Heck, even Liverpool owner Kenny Dalglish is splashing his new owners' cash like there's no tomorrow.

It seems there is no room for Wenger in this new space of English football.

At least, not at the top (four).