He could go out, but he didn't want to immerse himself in that tense atmosphere again.
Whether they made it to the finals or not, it would bring back some bad memories for him.
Like seven years without a trophy, like last year's English League Cup final where Birmingham relegated them with a last-minute goal...
At this age, he had already let go of many things, remaining calm and unaffected by past painful experiences.
But when the team got close to the finals again, close to breaking the trophy curse, his mind would always conjure up some bad thoughts, as if years of failure made him subconsciously expect something unexpected to happen.
"Tap, tap, tap..."
Footsteps sounded as Wenger walked towards the equipment room near the field, intending to listen to the match calmly from there.
The equipment room was cramped, mostly filled with things, and had a smell of plastic and mold.
"Click." He didn't mind, sat down at the table in the middle, and lit a cigarette.
