Silva’s Scheduling Complaints: The Hypocrisy of City’s Victimhood Complex

There it was. Emirates Stadium, Sunday late afternoon. A late dagger from Gabriel Martinelli in stoppage time, the North Bank erupting, Manchester City deflated. A 1-1 draw that felt like a lifeline rescued.

And then came the words. Bernardo Silva, weary-eyed, speaking of unfairness, of disadvantage, of legs that had been asked too much in too little time. Sixty-six hours, he reminded us, between Thursday’s win over Napoli and this Premier League showdown. Pep Guardiola, ever the arch-defender of his flock, echoed the sentiment: “We were incredibly tired.”

On the face of it, a reasonable protest. Dig a little deeper, though, and the tune feels off-key.

Let’s be honest. The first instinct when hearing Manchester City talk about “fairness” is not to nod solemnly. It’s to scoff. To roll the eyes. To mutter something unrepeatable under the breath. This, after all, is the club staring down 115 financial charges. The club whose resources dwarf almost every rival. The club for whom luxury is standard.

And so when Silva laments a scheduling injustice, the gut reaction of most fans – not just Arsenal’s – is simple: stop moaning, get on with it.

But Let’s Be Fair: Is There a Point?

Strip away the tribalism and the sarcasm, and yes – Silva’s complaint isn’t plucked from thin air.

Elite athletes are not machines. Sixty-six hours between fixtures at the highest level, with the physical and emotional toll that comes with it, is tight. Other leagues – Spain, Germany, Italy – offer their continental warriors a more sympathetic calendar. England, driven by television contracts and tradition, does not.

It is legitimate to argue that the Premier League could show more common sense when slotting a title-shaping clash just two and a half days after a Champions League night.

The Hypocrisy Check

And yet… context matters. This is Manchester City.

No club in England has deeper pockets. No squad is stocked with such £100,000-a-week luxury. Rotation options drip with quality that most clubs would die for. If any team is built to withstand a tight turnaround, it is City.

 

Arsenal faced precisely this scenario last season – albeit away on Thursday in Europe, then Sunday at the Etihad. Liverpool, this very weekend, had even less rest. Silence from Slot’s players. Countless examples where others have walked the same path – sometimes worse – without public grievance.

City’s argument might have merit in theory. In practice, they stand alone in broadcasting it.

And hanging above it all, the elephant in the room. Competitive advantage, financial breaches, the question of “fairness” in its grandest sense. For City to position themselves as victims in such a context is tone-deaf at best, laughable at worst.

 

Perhaps the bigger revelation is psychological. When the machine does not purr, when victory is not routine, when the margins tighten – excuses seep through. City, under Guardiola, have long chased perfection. Anything less invites rationalisation. The schedule, the referee, the conditions.

Contrast this with Arsenal’s stoic silence last season, or Liverpool’s shrug this weekend. The difference in mentality is telling. One club leans into adversity, the other protests its existence.

The Scheduling Reality

Yes, English football’s calendar is brutal. Yes, television rules the roost. And yes, it is an issue worth discussing at league level. But it is not an issue unique to Manchester City. Over the course of a season, the swings and roundabouts even out. That is why squads are assembled, why depth is valued, why resources are marshalled.

City’s complaints sound less like a call for reform, more like a refusal to accept that sometimes – just sometimes – the odds tilt against them.

Arsenal know this feeling. We lived it last season. But you never heard Bukayo Saka stand at a microphone and say: “It’s not fair.” Instead, they played. They competed. They absorbed the blows and moved on.

It may seem a small thing, but in football, mentality is culture. The difference between stoicism and sulking can be decisive.

Bernardo Silva may be right in principle. But City are the wrong messengers. With every advantage money can buy, with resources the envy of the sport, their claims of unfairness ring hollow.

When a club accused of bending the rules cries foul over 66 hours of recovery time, fans are entitled to roll their eyes.

Because ultimately, this is football at the top. It is relentless. It is demanding. It is unforgiving. If you want the glory of competing on all fronts, you must embrace the grind.

So a final thought if you want to play with the big boys, if you want the trophies and the riches and the acclaim, then yes – sometimes you’ll play twice in four days. That’s why you have a squad. That’s what being at the top means.

Victoria Concordia Crescit