As Premier League weekends go, it was one for the ages. I'd like to dip the past 48 hours in Lucite and place them on my mantelpiece next to my daughter's graduation photo and my signed pair of (slightly used) Thierry Henry compression shorts. Simply put, it was more fun than an Arsenal fan is allowed to have.

And I'm not just referring to those 179 seconds of pure Gooner ecstasy that resulted in a 3-0 thrashing of Aston Villa. The Claret and Blue started the day in second place before being struck down by the combination of a virus and the sick play of Mesut Ozil and Danny Welbeck, who were both in danger of being quarantined after their toxic performances against Dortmund in the Champions League.

It was that rarest of Arsenal games: a blowout by halftime that allowed its supporters to relax instead of drinking themselves into a coma. But that's not all. Somehow the fixture list defied the law of mathematics and conspired to have everyone who might cause Arsenal some concern drop points.

A three-goal first half and five rivals failing to pick up three points? What a weekend for the Gunners.

The Gunners picked up ground on Chelsea, Manchester City, Manchester United, Liverpool and that other team in North London -- the first time the big four (plus Tottenham) had all failed to win on the same Prem weekend since November 2010. As I like to say, it isn't enough for your team to succeed; your enemies must also crash and burn.

And boy, did they, starting with Manchester United -- a side that believed it had rediscovered its mojo after last week's morale-boosting 4-0 demolition job of mighty QPR at Old Trafford.

Who knew that handily beating Harry Redknapp's shambles of a team is not the ultimate gauge of Premier League supremacy? No, the true test is whether you can do it at King Power Stadium on a Sunday morning against a Leicester City team that only just returned to the top tier this season after a 10-year hiatus.

At first, the Foxes seemed like more newly promoted roadkill for Louis van Gaal's revitalized "galacticos." Three scintillating goals, including a wondrous chip from the edge of the penalty area by Angel Di Maria, had Leicester fans fearing the worst, especially when Radamel Falcao's volley crashed against the crossbar early in the second half.

"I thought if that had gone in, we'd get blown away 6-1," said Jordan Becker, who along with his twin, Jason, and their friend Matt Cadden comprised the entire Leicester cheering section amid the usual array of smug United supporters at New York's Football Factory. "But we've been waiting a decade to play United, and we weren't about to just lie down and let them steamroll over us without a fight."

Arsenal's weekend delight continued when Louis van Gaal's side flopped again, this time at Leicester.

If it were a fight, the referee would have stopped it in the 83rd minute when Leicester scored their fifth. Instead, the second half illustrated what happens when one team forgets to field a proper defense. Marcos Rojo, Jonny Evans, Chris Smalling, Tyler Blackett and Rafael Da Silva don't exactly conjure up memories of Gary Neville, Rio Ferdinand, Nemanja Vidic and Patrice Evra. And now that Howard Webb has been booted upstairs, even the referees are piling on.

It is doubtful, for example, that Webb would have waved play on as Mark Clattenburg did when Jamie Vardy barged Rafael to the ground before haring into the penalty area, only to tumble under a bare whisper of a challenge from the Brazilian defender.

Once David Nugent's penalty kick made it 3-2, Leicester brought down the house with three goals in 19 minutes, winning 5-3. "This is the greatest day of my life," understated Cadden, who hasn't missed a Foxes game in four years. "You've got to understand that we haven't had this big a win since we beat Tranmere in the final of the 2000 League Cup. And Tranmere didn't have any players on 300,000 pounds per week."

Jamie Vardy led the charge as the promoted Foxes ran riot over Radamel Falcao & Co. on Sunday.

Oh, to be a fly on the wall of the United dressing room after they conceded four unanswered goals to a Leicester side that now sits six places above them in the table. "Can you imagine the chairs and boots that would have been flying around the locker room if this happened on Sir Alex's watch?" asked Jack Keane, the lifelong United fan who runs the Football Factory. "I hope Van Gaal at least broke a few teacups."

Actually, the Dutchman just broke the Premier League transfer record instead, and clearly, when you are on the wrong end of a 5-3 scoreline, the key is to go out and buy more attacking midfielders.

Over in London, another challenger to Arsenal's fourth-place trophy was continuing to feel the pain of being toothless in front of goal, as Liverpool suffered their own 3-1 humiliation at the hands of West Ham. It must have been a surreal experience for Reds fans to have spent a zillion dollars on new players only to see them all outperformed by Liverpool reject Stewart Downing.

Mario Balotelli stood up to West Ham but the Reds as a team didn't in their 3-1 defeat at Upton Park.

The only thing that could have hurt worse would have been if Andy Carroll snuck out of the Hammers' infirmary and scored. On the bright side, the Reds are still a point ahead of United in the standings, sitting comfortably in 11th place.

Speaking of dispassionate rivalries, did I mention that Spurs warmed up for next week's North London derby by losing 1-0 at home to West Brom, who had started the day anchoring the Premier League table? Does Mauricio Pochettino know that St Totteringham's Day usually comes toward the end of the season?

All of this delicious mayhem served as an entertaining undercard to the much-anticipated heavyweight bout that, according to the British tabloids, would decide the league championship after five games.

I may not be the biggest Chelsea fan, but both Roman Abramovich and I have enjoyed watching them play this season. That's because the Blues have taken off the risk-averse straitjacket that Mourinho has traditionally wrapped them in, replacing it with a free-flowing tunic. But even with 14 goals in four games going into Sunday's "Oil Firm Derby," Jose Mourinho didn't stuff the trophy cabinet by letting his players unleash their inner Brazil '70 in high-stakes matches; facing the defending Prem champions on their own ground certainly qualified.

Pablo Zabaleta's dismissal gave Chelsea the edge they needed at the Etihad. But the Blues didn't capitalize.

So it was no surprise that the first half at the Etihad was a cagey, physical affair that quickly morphed into a slugfest featuring six yellow cards and no goals. The second half was a red card waiting to happen and sure enough, Pablo Zabaleta, already carrying a booking, obliged in the 66th minute, getting sent off for a reckless challenge on Diego Costa.

Five minutes later with City now down to 10 men, Chelsea broke with scorching speed from midfield and Eden Hazard's inch-perfect cross found Andre Schurrle at the far post for a tap-in.

Surely, the Blues would now try to kill the game off by relentlessly attacking City's undermanned defense. Instead, Mourinho was content to have Chelsea sit back and play on the counter, a strategy that ultimately bit the Special One in the ego while making for an ending so clichéd and predictable that if you had pitched it before the game, no movie studio would have green-lit it.

On the face of it, Manuel Pellegrini's substitution in the 76th minute was a strange one given that City were chasing the game and you don't normally bring on a slow-footed 36-year-old midfielder for those purposes. But the Chilean, who had steadfastly defended the controversial loan of Chelsea legend Frank Lampard from Man City's American cousin NYC FC, got it spectacularly right.

Seven minutes after he entered the game, Lampard did what he had done for Chelsea on hundreds of occasions -- he made a late run into the box to decide the game. In this case, he waited until the excellent James Milner had squared the ball and then met it on the volley, lashing it past a diving Thibaut Courtois. The Etihad erupted, with seemingly everyone dressed in pale blue giddily celebrating the equalizer except for one man -- the goal scorer. Lampard accepted David Silva's embrace but his hands remained by his side and if there was a hint of a smile, it was apologetic.

Leave it to Lampard in an ending at the Etihad that even Hollywood couldn't possibly script.

Clearly, Chelsea's all-time leading scorer was conflicted about what he had just done, but I, for one, wasn't. For the first time in my life, I celebrated a Frank Lampard goal (OK, there were one or two at West Ham that I enjoyed), and when I realized that it was John Terry who had hurled himself in front of his former teammate in a desperate attempt to block the shot, I laughed so hard I nearly aspirated my Stella.

For a moment, the Football Factory went eerily quiet as the hundreds of Chelsea fans tried to process what had happened. But once they did, they burst into an old familiar chant.

"Suuuuuper, Suuuuuper Frank," they roared. "Suuuuuuper Frankie Lampard."

Why do I think that if that had been, say, Emmanuel Adebayor scoring against Arsenal, I might not have reacted with such respect and class?

David Hirshey is an ESPN FC columnist. He has been covering soccer for more than 30 years and written about it for The New York Times and Deadspin.