There are loud title charges and there are quiet ones. Arsenal’s is the quietest in years: nine goals conceded in sixteen league games, a defence that treats its own box like a private members’ club, and a set-piece operation so rehearsed it has effectively become a second striker.

The numbers are stark. A third of their league goals have arrived from dead balls — corners worked short to reload, near-post flicks, the long throw rehabilitated as a siege weapon. Opponents know it is coming. It keeps coming anyway, which is the definition of a weapon.

The Gyökeres effect

The summer signing was supposed to bring chaos; instead he brought gravity. Defenders step toward him and the space behind opens for the runners. Twelve goals tell one story; the shot maps of the players around him tell a better one.

What is missing is also notable: no crisis, no discourse, no month-long injury saga. Just a team four points clear at the winter break, conceding nothing, saying less. Championships have been built on louder foundations and lasted shorter.