Gabriel’s footballing journey: From a shy homesick Brazilian boy to Arsenal’s defensive heartbeat along with William Saliba

Gabriel, the good old hatchback to the SUV that is William Saliba, is the stone-cold face of Gunners' defence. (Reuters Photo)

Behind his steel at the heart of Arsenal’s backline, with the bravado to punch the intruders who tried to steal his cars to pulp, was once a homesick boy who returned home a week after joining his first club. Gabriel, the good old hatchback to the SUV that is William Saliba, is the stone-cold face of Gunners’ defence, but once he was a shy boy from the working-class district of Pirituba in São Paulo.

All he did was play football in the parched and crowded parks of his neighbourhood. He was quick, intense and possessed good control, forged of fire than flair that his country fetishes. His father did not have the means to enrol at an academy, but he somehow knew his son’s football was the route out of poverty. But hurdles abound. He failed the trials in the storied clubs of the city. He was weak and skinny, feeble to strong challenges. “I had a weak header and often lost the ball,” he would tell O’Globo, Brazil’s leading media house.

The only club that welcomed him was Avaí FC, 500 miles from his hometown. “I cried every day, I just wanted to go home, perhaps quit football. I was feeling terrible and I left the place after a week,” he added. His parents patiently listened to him and did not persuade him to return. But a day later, his father Marcelo took him for a walk that changed Gabriel’s life. “Back then I was struggling to meet the end. I just had a small truck and I worked almost the entire day. So I told him that I am tired and can’t keep doing this forever. He was 16 and needed to take responsibility, A footballer’s life is like this – if you want it, you will have to deal with the distance from us and suffer a bit. You need to have a goal and pursue it,” his father told The Tribuna.

The son just listened. A week later, he took the bus to Avai. His mind was clear. He wanted to become a footballer, end his father’s gruelling shifts, and give his parents a better life. But the academy days were difficult. He was technically good, composed in presence and read the game beautifully, but he did not have the physique to prosper professionally. So he cooled his heels on the substitute’s bench for most of his first year, before the first choice centre-back was dropped because he bunked school. Gabriel too hated going to school, so much so that his godmother was summoned from Pirituba to inject sense into him. He listened, then found a father figure in Niltinho, his first coach. The primary emphasis was on building his physique, improving his strength on tackles and finessing his passes. The upgrades, honed in different clubs and cities, from Lille and Troyes to Zagreb and London, and polished by diverse managers, from Marcelo Bielsa to Christopher Gaultier, have made him what he is.

He is now an imposing presence, uses his frame well to intimidate the forwards, is difficult to dispossess and has a delightful range of passing. Combined with improved aerial prowess, he offers a considerable goal-scoring threat too. He has already netted 20 goals in six EPL seasons (12th in the list of goal-scoring defenders). He nods in not only the staple headers from corners but also thunderbolts from afar. Like the one he thundered against Bournemouth.

The goals have been as important to Arsenal’s title ambition as the alliance he has forged with Saliba. It’s presumptuous to compare them with legendary pairings like Rio Ferdinand and Nemanja Vidic, or John Terry and Ricardo Carvalho or Arsenal’s own Tony Adams and Martin Keown, but they have the makings to inhabit the rarefied space.

They are a throwback union, seamless in their ability to regain possession as much as the modern fixation of being able to play the ball. Their understanding is telepathic, based on a supreme understanding of each other’s space and style. Gabriel often retreats more when defending, because Saliba is the better passer. But when attacking, Gabriel ventures forward, because he presents a greater goal-scoring threat. They could switch roles and their dynamism is essential to Arsenal’s press. They will drop off at the right time together; they know who will go for which header or block. “He’s like a brother to me. As I always tell him, it’s as if he were French too, he has the same facial expressions as a French person because he was at Lille for a long time,” Saliba would say.

They weave a citadel of impregnability around the goalmouth. Arsenal win eight per cent more games, concede substantially fewer goals (.85 to 1.15) and lose 10 per cent fewer games when they start. Their chemistry is unquantifiable, says Mikel Arteta. “Building a relationship and chemistry, there isn’t a company with the stats that can give you that information. It’s impossible to measure. But there is something there. It’s not tangible but it’s very, very important in certain positions and those two certainly have that,” he once said. They form the most fundamental component to Arteta’s title dreams.

Homesickness, though, would haunt in North London too, especially in the early days when he struggled for game-time. “It was hard, and I even thought about going back to Brazil,” he would tell Tribuna. And then he would remember the old chat and walk with his father.