The final game of the Premier League season

 The final game of the Premier League season.

This Sunday afternoon marks the conclusion of this year's Premier League football season. It also sees the final, exciting end to a season that, for once, has literally gone to the wire, two teams battling it out for the right to lift the Premier League trophy and there's nothing between either Manchester City or Arsenal. What might have seemed a formality over a month ago has now become a thrilling race to the line. The season could be defined by one singular incident, a fatal lapse in concentration, that last minute distraction where either City or Arsenal take their eye off the ball.

For the last three seasons, of course, Manchester City have monopolised the Premier League in a way that their Scottish counterparts Celtic have walked away with the Scottish Premier League on numerous occasions. Sadly any comparison with Celtic may be totally irrelevant since City play in one of the most competitive Leagues in Europe and sadly only Rangers can provide Celtic with anything like the credible opposition that renders the argument pointless.

But on Sunday, the curtain goes down on another Premier League season of wildly fluctuating fortunes at times. Then there is a sudden realisation that the outcome was so predictable that you could have thrown a blanket over both the Premier League winners and those who have been relegated and still come up with the same permutations.

This is not to imply that any Premier League season could ever be described as somehow inevitable but when Manchester City walk out on Sunday to face West Ham we could be in deja vu territory. There are no certainties in football and we have been here before. Remember City's last game of the season under Manuel Pelligrini when City had to beat Queens Park Rangers at the Etihad when everybody thought the home side had blown it. City's charismatic striker Sergio Aguero was in the right place and time to score the decisive goal that secured City their first trophy for decades. The Premier League was theirs.

Of course, the familiar finger nails will be bitten anxiously and nervously, radios may not be quite in evidence to the same degree as they used to be since now we find our football results on different devices these days. But, vast crowds will gather at the Etihad because they always do and always have done so. Some of their more devoted, lifelong supporters will recall that now distant and far off day when City beat Gillingham in a third tier play off at Wembley just to prove the club still existed. Football basements can get pretty dark and dank when the game just forgets who you once were.

The sad reality was that Manchester City were once a basket case, a fallen giant slumbering in the lower Leagues of football's daunting pyramid. And yet fast forward a couple of decades or so and now City find themselves in the remarkably wealthy environment of Arab billionaires who just love to throw their pots of cash about, both freely and brazenly. It hardly seems possible now but City are living the dream, a side so well equipped for the future that world domination may not be that far away.

Gone are the days when City were led by the dynamic duo of Malcolm Allison and Joe Mercer. One was a fedora hatted, cigar smoking extrovert while the other was a lovable, avuncular figure who smiled for the cameras and then just retreated into the background. Malcolm Allison always gave you the impression that he'd be much more comfortable in a nightclub or late night bar surrounded by alcohol and excess.  Mercer was the complete opposite, a private, quietly spoken figure who just wanted to escape from all the noise, commotion and rumpus with a pint of bitter in the corner of a pub.

Allison was a jolly, gregarious opportunist who took enormous pleasure in flaunting the latest fashions and disregarding convention. Mercer just rushed home from City's old Maine Road like one of those men who can't wait to get home to see their family and settle down with a bottle of stout and a plate of egg and chips. Sadly in later years City would experience some of the darkest seasons they'd ever experienced. During the late 1990s, their fall from grace was so shocking that even their most hardened fans simply gave up on them. Crowds of 30,000 though would still follow them loyally down in the lower divisions and all was not quite lost.

This Sunday though, City sit on the verge of history and greatness, a unique achievement so stupendous that even now we could be witnessing one of the most sensational of all spectacles. No team has ever won the Premier League or the old First Division over four consecutive seasons. City's fourth successive Premier League title may be a couple of days away but Arsenal still keep hounding and pestering them with exemplary persistence.

For much of the season, Arsenal looked as if they were racing away with the Premier League and simply in a class of their own. Their football has been immaculate, beautifully executed, precise, hugely intelligent, symmetrical and poetic at times. Their passing has been reminiscent of the the Brazilians at the height of their 1970s powers. Some purists cite the example of France, Germany and Spain in their pomp but then we are talking about different generations. Arsenal though have been accused of over elaboration at times during the season but then that has to be forgivable since football has always been a collective team effort rather than a game played in mid air.

For Arsenal though, it does look as if they might miss out agonisingly on the Premier League title again and just fall short. Miracles do happen and if their London neighbours West Ham have anything to do with it, Arsenal may well acclaim West Ham as the ultimate in benevolent humanitarians. Football is often decided by the thickness of a post or crossbar. Fate though could still deal Arsenal a generous hand and West Ham have now been drawn into another enthralling battle royale.

In 1992, West Ham met Manchester United at their old Upton Park ground and probably wished they hadn't in retrospect. The sight of Sir Alex Ferguson furiously chewing on his fifteenth packet of chewing gum will live long in the memory. At times Ferguson looked like a volcano ready to erupt with molten lava. United were about to win their first domestic Premier League trophy since those halcyon days of the First Division championship when a bar of a chocolate would set you back a princely sum of shillings. So the fans settled down and the managers sat on the edge of their respective dug outs. United could only manage a draw when a win had to be the only requirement of the day. Blackburn Rovers lifted the Premier League trophy and Kenny Dalglish could barely control his joy.

And so we come to the present day and Arsenal are back in the land of 1989. With one game left and all to play for, Arsenal will be re-creating that famous night at Anfield. George Graham's Arsenal only needed two clear goals to clinch their first League Championship in the old First Division for over 25 years. Some of the Highbury patrons must have thought the whole moment of that Shangri La parade had been snatched from the grasp from the team who had hitherto been so outstandingly dominant with almost 20 titles to their credit. But Liverpool were to be denied quite dramatically with minutes to go.

Alan Smith had opened the scoring for Arsenal with a typical poacher's goal, heading home when the Kop thought they must have been imagining things. Then as if destiny had suddenly called, David Seaman, Arsenal and England's superb goalkeeper, threw the ball out to the flanks where Nigel Winterburn and Lee Dixon continued the pincer movement. The ball was eventually floated into Liverpool's penalty box and ultimately threaded into the path of Michael Thomas, who, trapping the ball adroitly and smartly, latched onto the through ball and then dabbed the ball with his foot, chipping it over Bruce Grobelaar, the helpless Liverpool goalkeeper. Arsenal had won the League or the old League Championship again but how late had they left it.

These are the crucial facts and figures. If Arsenal beat Everton which they did on the last day of another season in recent times and Manchester City are beaten or draw with West Ham, Arsenal will be Premier League champions and the whole of North London will be festooned with white and red while an open top bus parade meanders through the back streets of the old Highbury site and City will quietly leave the building with their tails between their legs.

It is too close to call and only a betting man could tell you the result with any kind of accuracy. The pundits and former professionals will insist that City will rack up a sack of goals against West Ham and therefore win the Premier League title with something to spare. But emotional Arsenal fans will be hoping that their East London neighbours have got something special tucked up their sleeve. This could well prove to be a Super Sunday that lives up to its name. But don't tell Rupert Murdoch because he'll probably delay it to Magical Monday live on Sky Sports. There's no way of telling.