BY SEAN MARLAND / @SeanMarland
Watching Arsenal defend a lead can be stressful at the best of times, but when a Champions League spot and the club's future are hanging by a thread, the whole experience descends towards the sheer agony suffered by those unfortunate enough to be hungover on the morning of their root canal procedure.
We've all lived through a couple of these inglorious struggles in recent years, but if you cast your mind back to the one before last, you might remember a stomach-churning moment in injury time when some West Brom attacker breached our ramshackle defence (for at this time they still played in the figurative and literal shadow of Andre Santos) and looked like scuppering us as we shambled our way towards fourth place.*
A bleak future flashed before our eyes. Meaningless Thursday nights spent playing Romanian pub teams. The shame of being forced to shop in the Darren Bent aisle during transfer windows. The prospect of having yet more players prised away by the league's petro-fuelled bastard clubs.