By JOSEPH DELPHEY

The fifth week of the Premier League has always been a critical point of the season. For much of the history of English football, league tables were not published until week five’s results were in. Today, standings and states are easily accessible through countless online methods, but when print journalism was the easiest way to view results, the release of the table after matchday five proved a major event in churning the season forward. From week five on, the table will be printed every week, and things begin to really matter.

The gravity of week five was reflected in the ten games that proceeded on the weekend of the 20th and 21st, where new seasonal narratives were fully christened in fervent and outrageous games that challenged viewers of any allegiance.

Sports are rarely viewed objectively, and I would argue there is little reason to make an effort to do so. They are a wrought emotional affair, and as a result I believe the Premier League table, as well as most other sports standings, are at times best divided via sentiment, adjusting position for expectation. After a week of pure football, I believe the emotional league stands as follows.

Sometimes, life is just good: Liverpool, Bournemouth

For about five or so years this sentiment has often been present for Liverpool supporters. Riding the warm, tropical wave of a championship last season and an astonishing summer transfer window, they have started impeccably, five wins in five. They capped their opening fixtures off with a victory over their city rivals, Everton, in the Merseyside derby, impressing so much in the first half they were unconcerned with their failure to adjust to Everton’s improvements in the second. Accusations of excess luck have resurfaced after narrow wins over Arsenal, Burnley, and Newcastle, but good teams put themselves in places to get lucky more often. As a result, they haven’t lost, and about the games being close, who cares? Right now, not Liverpool.

Bournemouth have had a much quieter start to the season, scurrying their way into an impressive fourth place. They have impressed in recent years under the widely admired management of Andoni Iraola, and although they could only muster a draw against Newcastle in the sole tedious fixture of the weekend, the trust in Bournemouth’s system has rarely been firmer.

Comfortable… just: Arsenal, Tottenham, Fulham, Everton, Leeds, Sunderland

Each of these teams has placed themselves within the bubble of their expectations. Some are below where they would have hoped, others have been unpredictably stumbled their way into a scaly positivity. Teams such as Arsenal and Everton, both facing rivals this week, Arsenal scraping a draw from a curling half-volley in stoppage time, feel they are more or less where they ought to be, taking in performances of years past, summer signings, the semimagical reality that pulls the strings of football (as well as a sampling of traditional English negativity).

This negativity is why this category and those below are so populated compared to the previous. There’s always a sense things can crumble at any moment: a losing streak, a fired manager, a downward spiral of ownership could burn holes in your billowing sails. However, here in the land of adequacy, things seem to be on the up, or at least aren’t on the uncomfortable, and there are no tangible accounts of any of these incidents… yet. The only problem is the pervasive “yet.”

Even in this land of sufficiency, there are warmongers, and mediocrity is relative. Leeds and Sunderland, two of the promoted teams, have something concrete to fight for. Over the past two years, the promoted teams have been sloughed right back to the second tier. Promoted teams will give everything, playing however is necessary to scrape out results and win precious points. These two have, unlike those in the two years before them, placed emphasis on optimistic unpredictability over skittish uncertainty.

Bitterness: Burnley, Brentford, Brighton, Chelsea, Crystal Palace, Manchester City, Newcastle Nottingham Forest

Although these teams all share the category characterized by dissatisfaction, this aggrievement arises from two very distinct places. Most of this category is occupied by those disappointed by their first five results, sitting conspicuously outside their expectational bubbles, whereas others have carried resentment from occurrences of last season and the summer. Crystal Palace, despite sitting on a first-rate nine points, are writhing off a battle with UEFA over their inclusion (or not) in the Europa League, despite the positive of winning the club’s first ever trophy, and Forest are reeling off an internal controversy, of which few details are known, that saw their starboy stay at the club and key managerial talent depart.

Here, the desire and expectation to improve performances has fully hooked itself into the ways these teams think and approach each game. Contests are either won or lost, and each outcome has drastic impacts on seasons, and arguably something more vital in opening fixtures: mentality. Last ditch efforts become key and actions become more and more emphatic, resulting in fouls, as well as dramatically lost and regained leads. Burnley, for example, has lost games in heartbreaking fashion, but still can stand by the fact that, among the promoted teams, they have only been the least explosive of a feisty bunch. Here, reasoning, although desperate, still guides game plans. There is careful strategy applied to each encounter with a team, or duel with a player, something nearly lost in the following category.

Panic: Aston Villa, Manchester United, West Ham United, Wolverhampton Wanderers

Within the panic zone, teams enter every game knowing loss is not an option. This is the domain of the amygdala, where the saying “The thrill of victory and the agony of defeat” is felt more viscerally than anywhere in the league. Failure to meet positive expectations fuels this panic, as has been the case for Aston Villa, who were unable to score until week five despite their recent years of managerial and playing brilliance, but meeting low expectations incites kindred fear. For Man United, West Ham, and Wolves, this season was anticipated to be perilous, touch-and-go with hope, and watching these low expectations become reality sets in a fight or flight just as powerful as the one affecting Villa. 

For Man United, fan expectations have been lowering for over a decade as the club’s bright moments are quickly consumed by dizziness year after year. Their “Naval Skirmish,” as described by Roger Bennett, saw them find a nervy victory in a 10-a-side tussle against Chelsea in oppressing rain, dragging themselves over the final whistle with white, chilly knuckles. Wolves have lost five of five, fans trusting their manager, but finding their defense all too porous. Things are similar for West Ham, although with less managerial confidence (Graham Potter was fired and replaced with Nuno Espírito Santo, the former Forest manager, on Sept. 27), one impressive win over Forest being the only shim to separate them from Wolves. With West Ham, most clearly are the supernatural elements of the game visible. Despite the talent in their squad, all other than Jarrod Bowen, to whom all roads rather inexplicably lead, seem to face paranormal inconsistency.

What happens in the panic zone reveals to us the true nature of football, that everything is up to perception. We know there are no supernatural forces acting on football games, as much as we would love to see it this way. In reality, there are only ninety minute battles, to which narratives are ruthlessly affixed. These clashes are only defined by our expectations, and each provides the opportunity to twist a narrative completely, upending villains and restoring proper order, but only at the expense of someone who feels the reverse. Now that narratives have been fully nailed into place, simply by the passage of “week five,” to stay comfortable the best we can do is remember that we engineer the storytelling ourselves, and must first let go and allow players and managers ninety minutes a week to sort out the dirty work with which we paint pictures.

Featured image: BBC