Perhaps the most painful part about following the Premier League in the United States is having to wake up as early as 7:30 a.m. to watch your team play. Having grown up in India, where due to the time difference all Champions League games start by 1:30 a.m, I felt that my already fallacious sleep schedule would be able to adapt. How wrong I was. The North London derby was going to start early Saturday morning, and so Friday afternoon itself, I set my alarms on my phone to ensure I’d be up. But, alas, once again, I fell prey to my social life, which is becoming a mild hindrance to my fandom. The game kicked off at 7:30 a.m. — I woke up at 1 p.m. Darn pre-spring break parties. After what seemed like a Herculean effort, I pushed myself out of bed and made myself comfortable on the couch in the living room. Tired, dehydrated and nursing a throbbing headache, I read the BBC match report on the Arsenal-Spurs game on my phone as I made myself some cereal. I read about how Arsenal had been tactically sound, about how Aaron Ramsey’s goal was well taken, but I…