The fourth Gunner on top of the world!

George Eastham, England (1966); Emmanuel Petit, France (1998); Patrick Vieira, France (1998).

A highly exclusive list, this.

Indeed, this is a list that one can only yearn to watch grow steadily on a quadrennial basis, pained with the knowledge that lesser lights like Uruguayan champions Peñarol, Italian lower league side Triestina, now-defunct German club SpVgg Fürth and several others can currently boast more names to their respective lists than Arsenal FC. I am talking, of course, about individuals who graced the phrase "world champions", representing their club sides en route to claiming World Cup glory for their countries.

At least on Sunday night, we can be rest assured that our reasonably meagre World Cup Gold Club will have one more name drafted in, where the Netherlands' Robin van Persie and Spain's Cesc Fàbregas will become foes for the evening, going head-to-head to secure their respective nation's first ever world crown.

Now, I'll be honest with you, as I am one all for prestige and pomp, the very fact that we will definitely boast a World Cup winner come the end of Sunday's showpiece was the only crumb of comfort I could take out of Spain's comprehensively dizzying 1-0 victory over poor old (or poor young) Germany the other night. That, despite niggling doubts over Fàbregas' exact whereabouts following the conclusion of South Africa 2010 anyway, and handsomely ignoring the fact that his much-maligned stalkers, sorry, I mean suitors, Barcelona, will in fact parade no less than seven world champions should favourites Spain get the better of the Dutch in Johannesburg. By all accounts, the man has travelled with the La Roja party as an Arsenal player, has fought out this campaign as an Arsenal player, and whether or not he is back with us for 2010-2011, he will very much go down in history as an Arsenal World Cup 2010 finalist, so that really takes care of any doubt in that respect.

I have already spectacled various reasons why I shall personally be going out all Dutch on Sunday evening, backing Robin and the lads to do what their masters Cruyff, Krol, Haan, van Basten, Rijkaard, Bergkamp and co simply couldn't. It will be a tall order for Holland, of that there is no question, especially given the command and strength-in-depth that the Spaniards highlighted in their semi-final victory over the Germans. But it is not undoable by any stretch of the imagination.

Of course, this is the Dutch's biggest test of this World Cup finals and of manager Bert van Marwijk's 25-match unbeaten run. A bigger test than Brazil, no less. However, this is also Spain's first ever final, and the nerves and unfavourable burden of history will put them on a near-equal footing with Oranje.

So why am I rooting for Holland on Sunday's final?

Well, firstly, they were my outside tip for champions right from the off, as you can see here from this article dated on 12th June: [http://arsenal-mania.com/articles/3108692/Something-about-Robin.html].

It seemed logical at the time, and now that they have made it this far, I will stick my guns right to the last, in the distant hope that I can kick-start a career in punditry. And judging by the wayward "predictions" the likes of Alan Hansen and Kevin Keegan have forecast over this tournament, as well as the assorted tosh that we were subjected to from others including Edgar Davids and Emmanuel Adebayor, I would be reasonably confident of more than holding my own in such a field: a verdict more reflective of the state of football analysis on TV than it is of any aspiring blogger's credentials, I hasten to add.

More pertinently, you have the unsavoury soap opera regarding Barcelona's desperately foolish, and in fact, almost illegal ploys to attempt to land our skipper. It was a disgustingly boring game instigated by their outgoing mobster that is Joan Laporta, developed by incumbent snob Sandro Rossell, and carried on by half the Barcelona squad with a breathtaking insolence. Half the Barcelona squad who also happen to be Vicente Del Bosque's charges at the World Cup.

So, in that sense, it really is no surprise that we find so many of us cheering van Persie and Holland on come Sunday, willing a man on whose Arsenal future is in no doubt and whose teammates have not afforded our Club such a filthy disrespect.

We can also identify more with van Persie's role in that Netherlands side, having started all their matches, and improved game-by-game. For me, RVP was subjected to much unwarranted stick at the start of the tournament by sections of the Dutch media and his Club supporters. Here is a man who has returned from a long-term injury, spearheading the attack of one of the World Cup's favourites, whose team's unit defending and reliance on individual brilliance meant it was always going to be difficult for Robin to perfect such a role. Nevertheless, he has grown, particularly in their semi-final win over Uruguay, and for all his good link-up play and positioning, I have my suspicions on whether the likes of Wesley Sneijder and Arjen Robben deliberately avoid passing the ball to him, despite taking up some promising positions time and again.

Cesc, on the other hand, has only played ninety-three minutes in South Africa thus far, and, as far as things go, it would be perfectly reasonable to bet your house that he will not be starting the final on Sunday. It has been a difficult tournament for our Captain. And, although I have (somewhat cruelly) derived pleasure from his inability to get the nod ahead of many of his teammates who he apparently so craves to link up with over in Catalonia, I find it baffling that one of the Premier League's top two midfielders cannot play a more major role for his country at these finals.

So, there you have it. Spain, for all their aversion around these parts, are surely favourites, what with their striking, almost tiresome tika-taka control of matches (what the hell is that for a system, by the way?), and an ability to hurt you from any area of the pitch. They are up against an obdurate and spirited Netherlands side, hoping to make it third time lucky.

My score? Sticking with Holland to the death, me. So let's say 2-1, with Robin van Persie smashing in a left-footed stunner for the winner.

Oh and a bawling Cesc Fàbregas to announce his never-ending love and commitment to Arsenal FC and vowing never to talk to Xavi Hernandez again.

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