Shaped by struggle, sealed in gold
Oftentimes, women's sports become victims of their own success. A team emerges that feels untouchable, steamrolling opposition in an endless crusade for silverware. The victories mount, but so does the predictability. That was the trajectory of Barcelona women's dominance—until Arsenal decided to write their own conclusion.
Over 50,000 gathered in Estádio José Alvalade beneath the searing Lisbon sun, draped in either blaugrana or red and white. Two teams with the most passionate followings, meeting on the grandest stage of European football. Barcelona entered as the undisputed créme de la créme, having demolished the undefeated English champions with an 8-2 aggregate score. Arsenal, by contract, were far from flawless—a team punctured by moments of absurdity, confusion, but also flashes of outrageous brilliance. To call it Goliath versus David was almost an understatement.
For all latest news, follow The Daily Star's Google News channel. To truly appreciate the magnitude of Arsenal's triumph, one must honour their journey—a journey that began from the humblest of beginnings: the qualifying rounds. No team had ever reached the semi-final starting from that position. Arsenal scraped through the second qualifying round, only to be thrashed by Bayern Munich in their opening group stage fixture. It was never a question of if Arsenal would falter but rather how deeply they might fall. Jonas Eidevall, then the club's manager, was dismissed amid a cascade of poor results. Arsenal was a club adrift, lacking cohesion, drained off goals, and defensively shattered.
But there is profound growth in defeat, in suffering, in building character. And that character galvanised every player and staff member to steer the ship to calmer waters. To replace Eidevall, Arsenal scoured far and wide, yet the answer lay quietly within their own ranks. Renée Josina Anna Slegers, the 36-year-old Dutchwoman and former Arsenal youth player, stepped forward, becoming the vital heartbeat of the club's revival.
Slegers's presence dispelled the heavy cloud that had engulfed this once-great institution, the pioneering force of women's football in England. Chelsea had seized the initiative, bolstered by Sonia Bompastor, a serial Champions League winner, dominating domestically and chasing a sixth WSL title. Meanwhile, Arsenal seemed trapped by its glorious past and crushing weight of expectation, aggravated by a growing fan base. Slegers not only understood the burden—she embraced her player's individuality, crafting a style that coaxed their very best.
It's not just Sleger's renaissance that becomes a script in itself, but also the individual stories of each player that takes on a life of its own. Leah Williamson and Lotte Wubben-Moy have known nothing but Arsenal. Kim Little, who moved to Arsenal a year after they won the Champions League title for the first time, never managed to make it to the final. Only months ago, Chloe Kelly wrestled with doubts, contemplating a break from football at Manchester City. Alessia Russo made the bold and infamous move from the north to London in search of Champions League glory, only to see Arsenal miss out qualifying in her first season. Beth Mead and Stina Blackstenius spent much of the campaign under intense scrutiny. Yet, when it truly mattered, each of these players rose above their doubts, rewriting their stories with belief, resilience and sacrifice.
Perhaps the boldest risk was taken by Mariona Caldentey. To leave Barcelona's constellation of stars for a struggling Arsenal was an act of faith and courage. Often overlooked behind giants like Alexia Putellas and Aitana Bonmati, Caldantey embraced discomfort and uncertainty. To walk onto the pitch and lift the Champions League trophy in front of the very teammates she once played alongside proved that her gamble had been richly rewarded, her quiet brilliance finally shining in full.
Even after sealing their place in the final, Arsenal suffered stunning defeats: 5-2 to Villa, 4-2 to Brighton. The team appeared bewildered, drained, playing a game only they understood. In hindsight, those moments were Slegers's masterclass in instilling the resolve Arsenal would need to face Barcelona.
On that final day, Arsenal arrived ready, fighting every blow that was hurled their way. They stood tall, solemn in the belief that, at some point, their miracle would come. And miracles do not arrive by accident. They demand to be chased, scraped for, clawed into existence—every ball, every pass, every tackle. And every single Arsenal player poked, pressed, and persisted until that miracle became real.
The final and the most important push came from those who never touched the pitch but carried the team through every corner. Arsenal's fans, growing in number and volume, have long borne the weight of expectation, their love often burdened with disappointment. But in Lisbon, there was no bitterness, no anxiety—only joy. For once, they weren't asking for a miracle; they were simply watching their team stand where it belonged.
This victory was not born in a boardroom or bank account. It came from belief, stuck together through heartbreaks, near-misses, and quiet perseverance. Arsenal's triumph is not just a reminder to never count them out from the pinnacle; it is proof that continental glory does not have to come with a million-pound price tag. After all, Russo and Caldantey cost Arsenal zero Great British Pounds.
Turns out, belief, when shared by 11 players and thousands more, is priceless.
Raiyan Binte Rafiq is a sports columnist for The Daily Star. She works in Sports Media in the UK and manages recruitment at Next Level Sports Management.
Views expressed in this article are the author's own.
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