Arteta is allowed to learn, but time won't wait for him

A minute before halftime, with Arsenal 1-0 down, still a little clogged in midfield but pressing hard, an unseen brass band somewhere behind the press box began playing a jaunty, oddly mocking version of “No, no, no no no no, no no no no no no there's no limits”.

- Barney Ronay

The band had vanished by the time the players trooped off. Did it ever really exist? Was it another passing apparition in a wild, gripping, at times occasionally hallucinogenic game notable for the sight of two of the great control managers slightly losing the run of themselves, like a pair of chess nerds out there having a high-speed, full-contact game of draughts, pieces scattered, formations endlessly rejigged, Pep going full Pulis, Mikel Arteta chucking every attacking weapon into the breach, going after the last column of tanks with a soup ladle.

Fast forward another 45 minutes, with Arsenal still 1-0 down and entering stoppage time with five attackers on the pitch, Arteta could be seen sprinting to retrieve the ball, legs pumping in his tight grey slacks, a tender moment of total abandon that would be rewarded by Gabriel Martinelli's equalising goal.

It was entirely deserved and wonderful standalone moment of skill. Eberechi Eze, a halftime sub, lifted a pass beyond the defensive line. Martinelli, an 80th-minute sub, made a lovely full-throttle run, took the ball on his big toe, then with the same left foot lifted it up and back and over the colossal Gianluigi Donnarumma, the ball hanging deliciously for an extended moment in the evening air like an autumn moon, perfectly calm in the middle of all that fury.

Arsenal's fans, players, managers - possibly even the brass band - writhed and leapt and made strange noises. Maybe there really are no limits.