Arsenal didn't need to worry too much.
Aside from Fabiański playing with fire a couple of times, Arsenal's goal had barely been tested.
Under Luton's high press, Arsenal's players simply cleared the ball when needed. They didn't fuss about building out from the back. Even when Luton recovered possession, their attacks were direct and simple.
Luton's offense lacked the intricacy of Arsenal's build-up. Under manager Ethan, Luton prioritized simplicity — a few quick passes before either trying a direct ball into the box or taking a speculative shot from distance.
Statistically, Luton had actually made more entries into the final third than Arsenal in the first ten minutes. In fact, they had outshot them too. In the sixth minute, Danny Drinkwater had unleashed a long-range effort, following an earlier attempt by Jamie Vardy.
However, Drinkwater's shot had sailed well over the crossbar, never troubling Fabiański.
Still, watching from the stands, it didn't feel like Luton had any real control over the game. Arsenal dominated possession during the opening phase. Despite Luton's energy and constant pressing, they couldn't regain the ball cleanly.
"Arsenal's passing is becoming smoother and smoother..." John said nervously beside Ethan.
Ethan felt the tension too. He had underestimated the calmness and technical quality of Wenger's side.
Compared to the likes of Chelsea or Manchester City, Arsenal were far more comfortable in possession, unfazed by Luton's aggressive pressing.
A few years ago, before Chelsea's rise, Arsenal were still considered among the Premier League's elite — second only to Manchester United in terms of overall wins.
Ethan had hoped his pressing game would force mistakes, but Arsenal had weathered the early storm and were now dictating play with increasing confidence.
With every pass, Arsenal stretched Luton's defensive shape thinner, turning the match into a game of controlled possession.
"Luton's strength is still far behind Arsenal's," Letkinson said from the commentary booth. "Right now, Arsenal look completely at ease. Luton's players are chasing shadows — and you wonder if they can sustain this physically."
As Letkinson spoke, Arsenal launched an incisive attack.
Cesc Fàbregas drifted into space on the left flank. Receiving a pass from Kieran Gibbs, he deftly turned, scanned the pitch, and launched a superb diagonal ball to the opposite wing — picking out Andrey Arshavin.
Arsenal had quickly spotted Luton's weakness: by committing numbers forward to press, Luton had left themselves vulnerable at the back, particularly on the flanks.
A single accurate long ball was enough to bypass their midfield press entirely.
The Russian winger brought the ball under control with ease. Only left-back Sol Davis stood between Arshavin and the goal.
Davis, while hardworking, was no match for Arshavin's technical brilliance. With a drop of the shoulder and a burst of pace, Arshavin ghosted past him effortlessly.
"Arshavin!!"
Letkinson's voice rose in excitement, echoed by the roar of Arsenal's fans in the stands.
Arshavin looked up, preparing to deliver a cross into the box — but just as he was about to swing his foot, N'Golo Kanté came sliding in out of nowhere, cleanly poking the ball away for a corner.
Arshavin glanced down at the tireless midfielder who had executed the challenge.
This was one of the players Wenger had warned about in the pre-match briefing — and now Arshavin could see why.
Kanté's anticipation was outstanding; he had started his move the moment Fàbregas released the diagonal ball, reading the play perfectly.
Luton's fans now had their turn to erupt in cheers. Kanté's intervention had spared them what looked like a certain goal.
Ethan let out a small sigh of relief.
The gulf in quality between the teams was painfully clear, but for now, Luton's tenacity was keeping them in it.
Arsenal's crisp passing had neutralized much of Luton's pressing strategy.
Was it time to abandon the high press and park the bus?
Ethan hesitated.
No — it was too early.
Trying to hold out defensively for eighty-plus minutes was risky, especially against a team as inventive as Arsenal.
Sitting deep would only invite relentless crosses into the box — and with a target man like Emmanuel Adebayor lurking, that was a dangerous game to play.
Adebayor, standing at 193cm, was every bit the aerial threat, comparable to Didier Drogba.
If Arsenal were allowed to pump crosses into the box freely, Luton's center-backs Jeffrey and George Parker would be no match for him.
Ethan trusted Kanté's instincts more than his center-backs' physicality. For now, Luton would continue their pressing game — even if it meant walking a tightrope.
Kanté's wide coverage gave Ethan the confidence to continue pressing high up the pitch.
But now, Luton had to defend an Arsenal corner.
Fabregas stood over the ball.
The main threat was obvious — Adebayor.
George Parker, matching Adebayor for height, stayed glued to him, while Jeffrey was tasked with marking his compatriot, Van Persie.
Fabregas whipped the ball into the box, aiming for Van Persie.
Compared to Adebayor, Van Persie wasn't as physically dominant in the air — heading had never been his strong suit.
Jeffrey timed his jump perfectly, rising above Van Persie and clearing the ball with a solid header.
Luton tried to launch a quick counterattack, but it broke down immediately.
Drinkwater had just received the ball and was turning when Alexander Song crashed into him, sending him sprawling onto the turf.
The referee whistled for a foul but chose not to show a card, much to Ethan's fury.
On the sideline, Ethan mimicked the motion for a yellow card, pointing animatedly at Drinkwater, who sat on the ground clutching his thigh.
"Yellow card! That's a yellow card!" Ethan shouted, but the referee paid him no mind, and the fourth official simply kept an eye on him without intervening — as long as he stayed inside the technical area, they let him rant.
Frustrated, Ethan muttered a few words under his breath and dropped back onto the bench.
Across the way, Wenger had been quietly watching Ethan's animated protests.
Are young coaches always this dramatic nowadays? he thought, shaking his head.
What Wenger didn't know was that within a year or two, even more passionate, hyper-expressive managers would flood the scene like mushrooms after rain.
Meanwhile, on the pitch, Van Persie gave a passing compliment to Jeffrey:
"Good job, kid."
Although meant as praise, it sounded patronizing in Jeffrey's ears — like an adult congratulating a child for solving "one plus one."
He wanted to scoff, but Van Persie was already striding away.
Still, managing to win an aerial duel against a star like Van Persie settled Jeffrey's nerves a little.
Back on the bench, Ethan knew that although Arsenal had just created a threat, the game's rhythm suited Luton.
Ten minutes had passed, and neither side had seriously tested the goalkeeper.
If things stayed this cagey, the first half would end quietly — exactly what Ethan wanted.
But Wenger had other ideas.
Standing by the touchline, he called Fabregas over for some quick instructions.
Arsenal needed to up the tempo.
Soon, the pattern of the match shifted.
Fabregas drifted wide, orchestrating play down the flanks.
Arsenal started stretching Luton's defense, moving the ball quickly along the wing.
Arshavin found space, darted inside, and whipped in a sharp cross!
"Adebayor!!!" shouted the commentator.
Adebayor muscled past George Parker and powered a header toward goal!
Ethan leapt to his feet in shock.
But Claude Rondo pulled off an unbelievable save!
Reacting purely on instinct, he flung himself to the left, getting just enough on the ball to deflect it away.
Right-back Mitchell Piran was first to react, hacking the ball out for a throw-in.
"Claude Rondo!! What an incredible save!!" cried commentator Letkinson, practically shouting into the microphone. "Arsenal were inches away from scoring!"
Ethan felt his heart hammering in his chest until he saw the ball safely cleared. Only then could he breathe again.
That was too close...
He instinctively pulled up the football card system.
Save success rate +8%...
Without that little boost, the ball might have been in the back of the net.
Good luck today — for me, and for Luton, Ethan thought grimly.
But he knew better than to rely on luck for ninety minutes.