Many years ago, I owned a Bruce Springsteen CD of Born to Run. I played the thing so many times that the word "run" in the lyric "baby, we were born to run" just disappeared. That didn't deter me. I kept playing it until one day my daughter presented me with a new disc and begged me to toss the old one.

As we head into the new Arsenal season, which feels very much like the old Arsenal season (and the 10 before that), I'm finally beginning to sense that there are a few too many scratches on Arsene Wenger's 20-year record to keep playing it on an endless loop of doom.

Yes, I know that according to the most reliable rumormongers in the English tabloids, Arsenal is this close (yet again) to making a statement, season-defining signing. Acquiring the reigning Premier League Player of the Year, Riyad Mahrez, from defending champion Leicester (oh, how I love writing those last three words) would be Wenger's biggest transfer coup since he convinced Alexis Sanchez to bring his magnificent all-action menace to the Emirates two years ago.

But before you rush out to buy your red and white Mahrez jersey, I have two words for you: Luis Suarez.

I'm also aware that after pursuing Gonzalo Higuain since the Clinton Administration as the answer to Arsenal's striking woes, Wenger is willing to settle for the French marksman Alexandre Lacazette, if only he could get Lyon management to agree. (The French side did just reject a €35 million bid.) Throw in their earlier prize catch, the Swiss hard man Granit Xhaka, and the club could end up spending a mustache-curling $145 million this summer to upgrade the team and appease a fan base clamoring for reinforcements.

Yet after years of sitting on that well-worn Wenger In/Wenger Out fence, I am ready to jump off and plant my feet squarely on the adieu side of this existential debate. So it is with nary a stutter that I implore the greatest manager in Arsenal history to abdicate his kingdom at the end of the upcoming season, which happens to be the last year of his current contract.