It’s a wonderful life Xmas time, mistletoe and whine. Not this year, though ... for once let’s celebrate the beauty of the beautiful game

HERE is an idea. Radical, for sure. Only a one-off. But it’s almost Christmas, so let’s give it a go. Season of goodwill and all that. Let’s just enjoy Manchester City playing football against Arsenal.

Let’s just enjoy the meeting of two managerial idealists, two purists, two romantics, two coaches whose teams play the beautiful game the way the beautiful game should be played. With the ball at their feet. Let’s enjoy David Silva dabbing his artistry on the contest’s canvas but tackling with all the ferocity of a gentle breeze.

Let’s enjoy Mesut Ozil bringing Butch Cassidy’s line to footballing life –boy, I got vision, and the rest of the world wears bifocals – and then tracking back with all the enthusiasm of a nipper asked to eat a plate of broccoli.

Let’s enjoy John Stones, should he play, Cruyff-turning in his own penalty area.

Let’s enjoy Alexis Sanchez stepping over his own stepovers.

Let’s enjoy Kevin De Bruyne craving possession like an actor craves the limelight.

Let’s enjoy the inability to do the mundane correctly, the fallibility at the everyday chore of defending set- pieces, the steadfast refusal to choose safety, to put a ball into the depressing sanctuary of the stands.

Let’s enjoy Pep Guardiola and Arsene Wenger, City and Arsenal. One might lose. So what? One definitely will not win the Premier League title. So what?

Both wi l l have enriched our football-watching lives. Wenger has done it for two decades, Pep will do it for as long as he decides to stay.

Of course, forensic analysis, dispassionate criticism, harsh judgements are part of what makes this great sport go round.

It’s why Gary Neville, Jamie Carragher and countless others are paid handsomely. It’s what makes my business go round. It’s the oxygen of sporting social media, it’s the bread and butter of those dining enthusiastically at punditry’s groaning table. It’s a necessary check and balance. It’s certainly what you are entitled to if you have an emotional investment in those playing.

But occasionally – and only occasionally – maybe there’s a time when a shrug is better than a shellacking.

When it’s better to chuckle at Ozil’s foppishness than chastise it.

When it’s better to raise a smile rather than a sigh at Stones making another rick.

The meeting of Pep and Arsene, City and Arsenal is one such time.

Yes, there is beauty in finding any way to win a football match.

Beauty in how Leicester City wilfully conceded possession, but managed to thump City.

Beauty in how Everton bullied Arsenal’s selfie-specialists. But me? I’d rather see a team with an Ozil, a Silva, a Sanchez, a De Bruyne, players who are only happy with the ball at their beck and call.

I’d rather see a team enjoying itself, expressing itself, not just haring around like hunt dogs desperate to clamp prey in their teeth.

And you know what the great thing is? If one team loses at the Etihad, it won’t alter the fundamental mindset of Guardiola or Wenger.

Because, sure, they feel the pressure. They recognise the importance of winning. After all, they have won plenty.

But deep down, even when mania strikes in the technical area, they still share one common belief. Football is a thing of beauty. With apologies to the younger readers, let’s return to Butch.

He goes back to case a bank that he and the Sundance Kid raided several times.

He finds it armour-plated, heavily guarded, impenetrable.

He asks a guard: “Hey. What happened to the old bank? It was beautiful.” Guard: “People kept robbing it.” Butch: “Small price to pay for beauty.” City and Arsenal are the old banks. People keep robbing them. But it’s a small price to pay for beauty.

Let’s enjoy.