Whilst admittedly brilliant for a season, I often thought there was something Bruno-esque about Patrick Vieira’s ‘invincibles’: a tendency to sweep and disdainfully paw away inferior opponents, but an equally alarming habit of freezing when confronted by those of a superior or – on far too many occasions – equal status. An example? Between 2002 and 2004 Manchester United scored five equalisers against Arsenal, with not a single one the other way. Fine on the ascendancy, fragile on the slopes, this was a team that will rightly be remembered for their single season achievements, but there remains a gnawing feeling that it should have been more; three titles in a row and a Champions League victory in that same three year period were there, but they were not taken.

A golden, unique opportunity was presented to this club and it was thrown away – yet we still persist in talking about Campbell’s ‘phantom’ elbow against Solskjaer when, in truth, that is exactly the type of seminal decision to separate great teams from very good ones – a good team remains steady, a great team will close the ranks and redouble their efforts. We remained steady, and that was not enough.

Wenger’s brand of football is beautiful to watch. Bergkamp said it was ‘the closest I have seen to total football’, and he should know. There is a danger, however, that we are mistaking the glister for the gold. If Chelsea win the Premiership and Champions League this season both they, United and Liverpool will share the distinction of three consecutive titles and the European Cup. How much then will Chelsea fans care about Mourinho’s stultifying tactics? How much does the average contemporary fan remember Liverpool boring the continent rigid with a succession of 0-0 and 0-1 away results on the way to their European successes in the 70’s and 80’s? The means fade away; the ends are in the trophy cabinet.

There should be an inscription on every wall at Colney, on every seat at the Emirates that potential without achievement on this scale is nothing. If Arsenal were a boxer they would be the best pound-for-pound fighter in the world but, without the ability or ruthlessness to finish off an opponent clinically and repeatedly, they would be nothing. Yet this lesson remains unlearned.

I hate Chelsea. I absolutely loathe everything they stand for on and off the pitch. However, the argument that they are champions because they ‘bought’ the league is only partially true. Yes, without the plutocratic Abramovich’s plundered billions they would be without Essien, Drogba, Makelele etc but, as Lazio, Inter and Real Madrid have all demonstrated, this is nothing without the staple ingredients of work, industry and graft. Is this edifying to the neutral? No. Is it entertaining? Not really. Are they bringing the game into actual disrepute (the literal, rather than FA, definition)? Yes. Do Chelsea care? Absolutely and categorically not. They are hated and they are despised – but they are winning. As repugnant a truth as that is, it is one which we would do well to recognise and, in some cases, apply.

Arsenal are in danger of becoming the nominal ‘second team’; the team neutrals watch, the team ‘that ex-footballers and managers would pay to see’ as Graeme Sounness said recently. And we bathe in this luxuriant light of praise, basking in the warm glow of adulation after so many decades of being monotonous, dull and dreary ‘boring Arsenal’. Perhaps we need reminding of why this name stuck: Herbert Chapman’s decision to play an extra defender, his team’s ability to ‘soak up’ pressure then break away to score and, perhaps most importantly, The Arsenal’s infuriating habit of winning games they did not truly merit bears a striking resemblance to Chelsea. One suspects Wenger and Chapman would not have got along; Chapman and Mourinho most definitely would.

The modern foundations of this club were built not on style but substance. Chapman and Graham both found the club loose, decadent and modest and left it strong, disciplined (in terms of structure, if not players’ behaviour and off-field ‘bungs) and wealthy. Having built an arguably greater legacy, Wenger is now in danger of becoming an aesthetical dogmatic, ignoring the pragmatic realities of the Premiership in the hope that all his bets come off – from Cesc and Henry remaining injury free, to scoring the first goal at home, to expecting Clichy to replace an international full back, to filling the gap Pires’ goals once occupied, to winning the league with an undermanned defence, midfield and attack.

If all bets come off then, as with 2004, there is no limit to what this team can achieve. But football’s not like that. Injuries, loss of form, and the opponents scoring goals from their only shot of the game all conspire to trip up even the best laid plans. At its best Wenger’s Arsenal is an amalgam of strength, style and execution: a combination of Peter Taylor’s pragmatics and Brian Clough’s principles. At its worst Wenger’s team is a safecracker that is one number away from the combination, but refuses to try anything but those digits already entered.

When Taylor departed Clough was left with a talented team that matched Liverpool in every department but grit. Clough eschewed the agrarian long balls and rough-house tactics, obdurately clinging like a captain to his ship as Forest slowly sunk into a slide which has not yet been fully halted. Arsenal, with the locked in guarantees of the Premiership cash cow, will not likely be relegated in our lifetime. However, a salutary lesson should be learned from Clough: a game, a style is only good enough if it is superior to that of your rivals. Regardless of this team’s potential, it is only when it is able to stand blow for blow with Chelsea in every department, in every context that its fruition will be complete and praise justified. Until then, all talk of promise, potential and prediction are worth precisely nothing. Potential is a word for Charlton and West Ham; it is delivery on which this club should be predicated.

The league is, barring a series of surprises, out of reach. This means there are now nine months until the start of the 2007-08 campaign. Hang the inscription ‘Potential without achievement is nothing’ on the dressing room door, emblazoned on the tiers of the stadium and embedded into the turf, because that countdown starts now.