“90+1’ Seven added minutes. 1-0”

I’m keeping my live blog simple. There will be just two more sentences posted before I declare that Arsenal Women have won the Champions League. 

It’s a situation that briefly crossed my mind as soon as the final whistle went in Lyon: covering the team you support becoming European champions. Luckily, the idea of tempting fate, and good old English pessimism, kept that thought at the back of my mind, until the thing I had tried not to picture out of fear of cursing it, actually happened.

From the early stages at the Estadio Jose Alvalade in Lisbon, I knew that Arsenal could beat Barcelona. The first ten minutes will tell us a lot about the Gunners’ chances, I remember telling somebody earlier in the day, and the opening exchanges proved that Arsenal weren’t there just to collect silver medals, and us all to applaud the plucky underdogs’ run to the final.

I still haven’t watched the game back, either out of being busy or simply wanting my memories to stay exactly as they are. It’s like reading a book and not going to watch the film out of fear it just won’t be the same. But my recollections from the game just over two weeks on are strong- Arsenal’s physicality frustrating Barcelona and their fans, knowing straight away that VAR would not only intervene but disallow Irene Paredes’ early own goal.

What struck me most was the chances created by Renée Slegers’ side. On a hot, energy-sapping day, her side’s ability to progress up the pitch and carry the ball was vital, allowing vital time to release the pressure on the Arsenal defence, and remind Barça that this would not all be one way traffic.

Caitlin Foord headed wide, Chloe Kelly volleyed over and Cata Coll had to be alert to save a piledriver from Frida Maanum. Arsenal had double the number of shots after 30 minutes, whilst the likes of Leah Williamson and Steph Catley had begun locking down Barcelona’s plethora of talent upfront.

I recall at half-time in Lyon being adamant that Joe Montemurro’s French champions could only improve and hit back at Arsenal, only for the Gunners to race into a 4-1 lead on the night, and that feeling was there again in the Portuguese capital. Barcelona have so many different ways of scoring goals, so many different ways to win games. But this was different.

Arsenal’s back four were nothing short of immense. Most impressive were the recovery tackles- there’s no shame in being beaten by Aitana Bonmati or Claudia Pina, but the ability to bounce back and win the second battle, then the third, proved that even the world’s finest can be met by sheer will and determination.

It also helps when Leah Williamson shows once again why she is one of the finest defenders around. She just loves the big stage, doesn’t she?

And then on come Beth Mead, and Stina Blackstenius. The Swede’s crowning moment arguably should have come four minutes earlier, when her low shot was saved by Cata Coll, but not to worry. Put the moment aside, and appreciate this substitution. 

Alessia Russo had worked tirelessly up top but this was not a game that suited her, whereas Blackstenius’ ability to go direct and run in behind added a completely different dynamic. A Champions League-winning one, it would turn out.

I’ve written about the importance of professionalism when it comes to staying calm in a press box, and this was the ultimate test. I think I passed, luckily, myself and Isobel Gilligan grabbing each other momentarily before getting back to work: picture, Tweet, live blog post. Of course it was Stina, one of us says to the other. Of course.

I could only think of the composure- Mead’s clever ball in behind, catching the defence off guard, was just trademark Beth Mead, and Blackstenius writing her name alongside Alex Scott’s in Arsenal folklore. A player who was Slegers’ teammate at Linkoping once upon a time.

From then on, I really don’t remember much. Lina Hurtig and Lotte Wubben-Moy came on, a good amount of Arsenal fans thought the whistle for a free-kick was actually that of full-time, and Kim Little, probably the smallest player on the pitch, headed clear a corner.

And then, jubilation, joy, unfathomable scenes, whatever you want to call it. Looking at the thousands of sun-drenched Arsenal fans lucky enough to be in Lisbon, and knowing just what it would mean to them, and the millions around the world. 

Hugging Izzy, who I had only known a few months but was now, like me, covering the biggest game of her career, both of us childhood Arsenal fans. 

Hugging everyone, really, for the rest of the weekend. Texting people who I needed to text. My phone, for that matter, went mad with messages. Other journalists were kindly congratulating me, as if I had been out there in red and white myself kicking every ball.

Frantic conversations, more hugs and handshakes, still in disbelief, and then the trophy lift. ‘Take it all in,’ I kept thinking, shutting my laptop for two minutes at one point to do exactly that. 

Writing for the Gooner helps me to straddle being a fan and a journalist perfectly- the scales can be tipped one way or another at my discretion. And looking back, I was able to be both in Lisbon. I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

Going to take a while to process this- from writing match reports on my secondary school’s football teams to covering Arsenal Women the Champions League, alongside some of my best mates. Could not be more grateful ??Hope you all enjoyed our coverage tonight and this season ?? pic.twitter.com/Oh4yQrXuN4

— Freddie Cardy (@CardyFreddie) May 24, 2025