Growing up Monday mornings were either a delight or a dread depending on which football — what a minority of the world calls soccer — team you supported. If your team had lost over the weekend, you were in for much kuchongolewa at school. The early 2000s English Premier League seasons were, as we would say in Nairobi, moto-moto. Alex Ferguson was at the height of his game but so was Arsène Wenger. Every weekend each ascended to either Old Trafford or Highbury with a fresh bag of tricks.
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