Arsene had to go – but I still shed a tear By Tim Stillman

Shortly before 10 o’clock yesterday, my phone began to light up like a Christmas tree. The day had finally come. Much like the Queen dying, you know it will happen one day, but the inevitable still arrives shrouded in shock.

The King is dead. Long live the King. In 2014, I wanted Arsene to leave with the FA Cup. I wanted him to leave on a high, for his sake. By 2017, I wanted him to leave with the FA Cup, to leave on a high, for his and for Arsenal’s sake. The announcement of his departure is correct and overdue, but it still feels like a punch in the guts.

In the hours since the announcement, the division, the resentment, the in-fighting among Arsenal fans has been washed away in a tidal wave of sentiment. Pictures of his greatest triumphs are being shared on social media; his most philosophical musings uploaded with the hashtag #Merciarsene.

As the shock is processed, the memory begins to whirr: of Henry and Pires sashaying through another helpless defence; of Tony Adams lashing a left-footed volley into the top corner in front of an adoring North Bank; of Arsene reluctantly walking out to face the away fans to soak up our applause at White Hart Lane 14 years ago; of his face wrinkling in delight as we swept to a 13th FA Cup victory last May. Arsene’s time has long since come, but I was not the only Arsenal fan who was blinking back tears at my desk on Friday morning.

Arsene is one of the most impressive authority figures I have ever known – almost like a distant father to me. Each Arsenal fan, in his or her own way, will be coming to terms with an Arsene-shaped hole inside.

But there is hope on this day, not just because his departure is right for Arsenal, but because the response has been virtually unanimous: that this is a gentleman who gave every ounce of his being to Arsenal.