Emirates Stadium, North London.
The Emirates was glowing under the floodlights, every corner bathed in that crisp, almost glassy shimmer that only a big European night can produce. The midweek chill was in the air, but you wouldn't know it from the sound. The place was roaring, trembling with anticipation, as if the stands themselves were leaning in to watch.
Champions League football always seemed to hit differently in the evenings. It wasn't just a match; it was theatre under the lights, something that fans would rush from work or school to witness. And on this night, Arsenal supporters had turned up in force, filling the stadium with a sea of red and white.
Despite being a weeknight, the atmosphere was electric. Every attack, every forward run, was met with a wall of sound. The Gunners had started brightly, hurling themselves at Dortmund with wave after wave of pressure, and their supporters responded in kind.
"Arsenal have come out with real intent," remarked Andy Gray from the Sky Sports gantry. "They've made it clear they want to set the tone, and you can feel the energy inside this stadium. They're not just here to play, they're here to win."
Martin Taylor, sitting alongside him, added: "It's been twenty minutes of breathless football. Four shots already from Arsenal — that's almost one every five minutes. They're forcing Dortmund onto the back foot, but it's not easy to break through that defense, especially with Mats Hummels organising things in the middle."
Indeed, Dortmund looked composed, resilient. No matter how many red shirts swarmed forward, the German side stood tall, absorbing the pressure with remarkable calm.
Kai, positioned deeper in midfield, was constantly scanning, receiving the ball, and recycling it quickly to Arteta or Cazorla. He wasn't lingering; he didn't dare. Dortmund's pressing was relentless, like a pack of wolves scenting weakness. Hold onto it for even two seconds, and you'd find yourself swarmed, bodies closing in from every angle.
Kai had improved a great deal in possession over the past year, but against this kind of pressing, there was no time to be elaborate. The only solution was to keep the ball moving. And so Arsenal's passing carousel whirred, supported by Cazorla's sharp feet, Arteta's composure, and Wilshere's clever positioning out wide. Wenger had clearly chosen his midfield carefully for exactly this reason — to sustain Arsenal's passing rhythm under pressure.
Still, there was a problem. The pace of the game was increasing, dictated not by Arsenal but by Dortmund. Instead of controlling the tempo, the Gunners were being dragged into a frantic chase.
And then, in the 23rd minute, it all went wrong.
Cazorla, rushed by a yellow shirt snapping at his heels, underhit a pass. Dortmund pounced immediately. Nuri Şahin read it perfectly, nicking the ball away and laying it off to Mkhitaryan, who worked a quick combination before releasing Reus.
In a flash, Arsenal hearts were in their throats.
"Dortmund have stolen it in midfield!" Martin Taylor's voice rose over the din. "Reus on the ball, Lewandowski's peeling off to his left—this could be dangerous!"
Reus accelerated, looking to spring the counter. But before he could gather momentum, a figure loomed in front of him.
"Kai! Brilliant positioning!" Alan Smith exclaimed. "He's stepped right across Reus's path!"
The Emirates roared its approval. The panic that had gripped the stands just seconds earlier gave way to a surge of relief.
Dortmund might have been solid at the back, but Arsenal had their own anchor in midfield. Kai tracked Reus with sharp eyes, adjusting his body, forcing the German to hesitate. The crowd could see Reus weighing up his options — a quick pass into Lewandowski, or trying to take it on himself. But Kai was cutting off the angles, closing the space, and making life awkward to pass.
"Reus is in two minds here," Martin Taylor observed. "Lewandowski's not really in a great position, and look at Kai — he's reading him perfectly, shutting down the passing lane."
Reus muttered something under his breath, irritation flashing across his face. Left with little choice, he tried to twist away, pulling the ball back in an effort to outmanoeuvre his marker.
But Kai was already there.
Like a sprinter bursting from the blocks, he lunged forward with perfect timing, his right boot snapping onto the ball. A clean tackle, the ball cannoning away and rolling out for a throw.
The Emirates erupted, applause cascading down from all four stands.
"That's outstanding defensive play," said Alan Smith, chiming in from the commentary box. "Kai didn't just stop Reus — he anticipated him, forced him into a decision, and then tackled the ball away. You can't teach that sort of composure in the middle of the pitch. That's instinct."
"Exactly," Martin agreed. "And look at the numbers — Kai's defensive stats this season are off the charts. He's hardly been dribbled past, he covers an enormous amount of ground, and time and again, he's proving to be the foundation of Arsenal's midfield. Fans call him the wall, and you can see why."
On the pitch, Kai straightened up, pointing urgently for his teammates to track back. His shout cut through the noise, reminding everyone that Dortmund wasn't to be underestimated.
But the Emirates crowd didn't care — they were on their feet, clapping and chanting his name. They knew how vital he was, how much more secure they felt with him patrolling the midfield.
Dortmund was strong, yes. Ruthless, dangerous, full of talent.
But Arsenal were no pushovers. Not tonight. Not under the lights.
They were the Gunners.
They were Arsenal.
…
The match ticked on, both sides probing, testing, yet neither able to fully assert themselves. Arsenal pressed, Dortmund countered, but again and again it was the defensive titans who stood tallest.
At one end, Mats Hummels was a wall of composure, intercepting crosses and timing every tackle with precision. At the other end, Arsenal's Kai was a force of nature — intercepting, pressing, snapping into duels, and covering every blade of grass in midfield.
It felt, at times, as though the strikers were there only as background decoration, overshadowed by the two men marshalling their teams from deeper positions.
But Arsenal wasn't content with a stalemate. Not under the lights. Not at the Emirates.
As the clock ticked past the half-hour mark, Kai pushed forward out of his own half, no longer satisfied with merely shielding the back four. Thirty minutes of cautious exchanges had brought no reward; something had to change, and he was determined to be that change.
Stepping higher into Dortmund's territory, he became the spearhead of Arsenal's pressing unit, waving his arms, barking orders, and urging his teammates to follow.
"Push on!"
"Keep them penned in!"
"Don't let them breathe!"
With Kai leading the charge, Arsenal's front six closed ranks, swarming Dortmund's backline. Cazorla, Suarez, Walcott, Wilshere, Arteta — all snapping, shifting, cutting off every option.
On the touchline, Arsène Wenger allowed himself the faintest smile. He glanced across to the opposite dugout, where Jürgen Klopp prowled his technical area. The message was clear: you don't have a monopoly on high pressing.
For a spell, Dortmund couldn't escape. Every backward pass, every hesitant touch, was met with red shirts converging. The Germans were forced deeper and deeper, their possession reduced to desperate exchanges between Shaheen and Bender, both harried into mistakes.
Marco Reus dropped in to help, receiving the ball under pressure. He barely had time to look up before a shadow loomed over his shoulder. Kai again. Reus released it quickly, only to see Suarez snap at Şahin's heels.
The tempo quickened. Dortmund was rattled. Then came the moment.
Şahin rushed and clipped a pass back toward Reus, but the weight was poor. The ball slowed between them, rolling into no man's land.
Reus braced himself to collect it — and suddenly, a blur of red and white thundered past.
Kai launched himself into a perfectly-timed sliding tackle, stretching every sinew. He met the ball cleanly, hooking it away from Reus's reach and poking it forward into the path of Cazorla.
"Kai! He's won it high up the pitch!" Martin Taylor's voice burst through on Sky Sports. "That's magnificent pressing from Arsenal!"
The Emirates rose as one, sensing danger — not for their side, but for Dortmund. Their neat defensive shape was shattered, scrambling to recover.
Cazorla wasted no time. Collecting the loose ball, he drifted past two scrambling midfielders, carrying it towards the edge of the penalty area. Suarez darted inside, Walcott peeled wide, dragging defenders into awkward positions.
Hummels, the ever-composed captain at the back, held his ground. He stepped out, cutting across Cazorla's path, deliberately leaving the flank open. It was a trap: tempting Cazorla into the harder option.
But the Spaniard was too clever for that. He feinted, stopped dead, and shifted the ball three yards sideways with the deftest of touches.
From nowhere, Kai arrived again — this time surging onto the layoff.
"Kai! He's lining it up!" Martin Taylor's voice cracked with excitement.
The Arsenal faithful were already on their feet; eyes fixed on the goal. From the edge of the box, with defenders drawn out of position, Kai struck through the ball with the outside of his boot.
It swerved, wickedly, unnaturally, bending back toward the goal. Weidenfeller flung himself desperately, fingertips straining — but the ball crashed off the post with a metallic clang.
Groans filled the Emirates, Kai clutching his head in frustration.
But the danger wasn't over. The rebound fell awkwardly, Subotic flailing at it, his clearance mistimed. The ball spun free, rolling harmlessly across the box.
And there, arriving at just the right moment, was Suarez.
He steadied himself, spine straight, eyes fixed, and swept the ball into the unguarded net.
The Emirates erupted. Noise thundered down, a roar that seemed to shake the ground itself.
"Goal for Arsenal!" Martin Taylor bellowed over the chaos. "It's Suarez who applies the finish. The Uruguayan continues his rich run of form in the Champions League."
Alan Smith chimed in, his voice rising with delight: "That's exactly what Arsenal needed. It's brave pressing, coordinated, and then the quality to capitalize. You've got to admire Kai there — winning it high, feeding Cazorla, and then nearly scoring himself. Dortmund couldn't cope!"
In the 34th minute, the Emirates had its release. Arsenal had their breakthrough.
And Dortmund, for the first time this night, looked shaken.