The King Of Arsenal

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Satisfied with his plan, Francesco closed his eyes, letting the hum of the night settle around him. The match was still two days away, but his heart was already with his team, imagining every pass, tackle, and goal. For now, rest was his priority. But when the whistle blew at Upton Park, Francesco Lee would be watching, cheering for the red and white with everything he had.

The day of the match between Arsenal and West Ham had finally arrived, and Francesco was already feeling much better. The fever that had sidelined him seemed to be on its last legs. His body no longer felt as heavy, and the throbbing ache in his head had subsided to a dull whisper. Still, he wasn't foolish enough to push himself too hard; recovery was a process, and he knew better than to rush it.

Instead, Francesco found solace in the fact that he could watch the game from home with his parents. The living room had been prepped for the occasion—cushions fluffed, snacks ready on the coffee table, and the television set to the sports channel. Sarah, his mom, was bustling around, ensuring everything was perfect, while Mike, his dad, already had his Arsenal scarf draped around his neck, despite being indoors.

Francesco settled onto the couch, a warm blanket draped over his legs. His mom handed him a mug of tea before sitting down beside him. "Are you sure you're up for this, sweetheart?" she asked, her eyes scanning him for any signs of fatigue.

"I'm fine, Mom," he reassured her with a smile. "I wouldn't miss this for the world."

The television screen flickered to life, the pre-match analysis already in full swing. The commentators were dissecting every aspect of the upcoming clash—Arsenal's form, West Ham's home advantage, the key battles on the pitch. Francesco leaned forward slightly, his interest piqued as they began discussing Arsenal's lineup.

"And here come the players out of the tunnel!" one of the commentators announced, his voice full of excitement. The camera panned to the teams as they emerged onto the pitch, the iconic roar of the West Ham faithful filling the air. The claret and blue of the home side contrasted sharply with Arsenal's sleek red and white kits, and the intensity in the stadium was palpable, even through the screen.

The commentators began breaking down the formations. "Arsène Wenger has opted for his preferred 4-2-3-1 formation today," one of them said. "Wojciech Szczęsny as the goalkeeper, in defense, from left to right, it's Nacho Monreal, Laurent Koscielny, Per Mertesacker—the captain—and Mathieu Debuchy. Francis Coquelin and Mathieu Flamini will anchor the midfield, providing defensive stability, while Santi Cazorla takes up the central midfield role. On the wings, we have Danny Welbeck on the left and Alex Oxlade-Chamberlain on the right, with Alexis Sánchez leading the line as the lone striker."

Francesco nodded to himself. It was a solid setup, one that balanced Arsenal's attacking flair with defensive grit. He wasn't surprised to see Theo Walcott on the bench; Wenger likely wanted to keep him as an impact substitute for the second half.

"For the substitutes," the commentator continued, "Arsenal have David Ospina, Calum Chambers, Kieran Gibbs, Joel Campbell, Theo Walcott, Chuba Akpom, and Lukas Podolski. A strong bench with plenty of attacking options if needed."

Then the focus shifted to West Ham's lineup. "Sam Allardyce has gone for a 4-3-2-1 formation, commonly known as the Christmas tree. Adrian as the goalkeeper, with the backline consists of Cresswell, Reid, Tomkins, and O'Brien. In midfield, it's Kouyaté, Alex Song, and Amalfitano, with Downing playing as a central attacking midfielder. Up front, it's Sakho and Andy Carroll leading the charge."

Francesco's dad, Mike, let out a low whistle. "Allardyce is definitely aiming for physical dominance. Look at Carroll up front—they'll be bombing long balls to him all game."

"Don't forget Alex Song," Francesco added, sipping his tea. "He's got the vision to pick those passes and the strength to boss the midfield. Flamini and Coquelin will need to be sharp."

"For West Ham's bench," the commentator went on, "we have Jussi Jääskeläinen, James Collins, Guy Demel, Mark Noble, Kevin Nolan, Carlton Cole, and Enner Valencia."

As the players lined up for the kickoff, Francesco's mom leaned closer. "Which team do you think will win, darling?"

"Arsenal," Francesco replied without hesitation, a confident smile on his face. "But it won't be easy. West Ham's a tough team, especially at home."

The referee blew the whistle, and the game was underway. Arsenal started on the front foot, with Sánchez pressing high and forcing West Ham's defenders into hurried clearances. Welbeck and Oxlade-Chamberlain hugged the touchlines, stretching the pitch and creating space for Cazorla to operate in the middle.

Francesco watched intently, analyzing every movement. Even though he wasn't on the field, his mind was still in the game, anticipating plays before they happened. "Good," he muttered as Coquelin intercepted a pass and quickly fed it to Flamini. "That's what we need—quick transitions."

As the minutes ticked by, West Ham began to grow into the game. Carroll's aerial presence caused problems for Arsenal's backline, and Sakho's pace kept Monreal and Debuchy on their toes. Francesco's dad grumbled every time Carroll won a header. "He's like a bloody giraffe. Someone needs to stick tighter to him."

"Mertesacker's got the height, but he's not as mobile," Francesco pointed out. "They need to double up on Carroll and cut off the supply from the wings."

The first half was tense, and Francesco could feel his heart rate pick up with every minute. Arsenal were holding their ground, but West Ham were relentless, using their physicality to disrupt the flow of the game. Carroll was winning almost every aerial duel, forcing Arsenal's defenders to scramble for second balls. Francesco sat forward, his eyes glued to the screen, as Flamini and Coquelin worked tirelessly to plug the gaps in midfield.

Then, in the 40th minute, a breakthrough. Cazorla, dancing around the edge of the penalty area, deftly controlled a pass from Sánchez and drove into the box. Reid, caught off guard by Cazorla's quick movement, lunged in clumsily. The contact was clear—Cazorla tumbled to the ground, and the referee didn't hesitate to blow his whistle. Francesco shot up from the couch, his blanket falling to the floor.

"Penalty!" the commentator exclaimed, his voice rising with excitement.

Francesco's dad, Mike, punched the air triumphantly. "About time! That was a stone-cold foul."

On the screen, Reid stood with his hands on his hips, shaking his head as the referee reached for his pocket and brandished a yellow card. Cazorla picked himself up, dusting off his jersey as he prepared to take the penalty. The crowd at Upton Park roared, trying to unnerve him, but Francesco could see the calm determination in the Spaniard's eyes.

"Come on, Santi," Francesco murmured under his breath, his fists clenched tightly.

Cazorla stepped up, his run-up measured and deliberate. Adrian, West Ham's goalkeeper, dived to his right, but the ball was already curling in the opposite direction, nestling into the bottom left corner of the net.

"Goal!" the commentator shouted as the Arsenal fans erupted in celebration. "Santi Cazorla makes no mistake from the spot! Arsenal take the lead at Upton Park!"

Francesco let out a loud cheer, his fever forgotten in the moment. "That's my guy!" he exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear. His mom chuckled at his enthusiasm, while his dad clapped loudly, his voice booming as he shouted, "Well done, Arsenal!"

The camera panned to Cazorla, who was smiling as he high-fived his teammates. Despite the noise from the home crowd, Arsenal had silenced West Ham, at least for the moment.

With the score now 1-0, the game resumed, but Arsenal seemed to grow in confidence. The midfield trio of Flamini, Coquelin, and Cazorla began to dictate the tempo, stringing together quick passes that kept West Ham chasing shadows. Sánchez was a constant thorn in the side of the defense, his energy and movement opening up spaces for his teammates.

Then, just as the first half was drawing to a close, Arsenal struck again. In the 44th minute, Oxlade-Chamberlain, who had been relatively quiet up until then, picked up the ball on the right flank. Spotting a gap in West Ham's defense, he surged forward, his pace leaving Cresswell trailing behind. As he approached the edge of the box, Chamberlain lifted his head and saw Welbeck making a perfectly timed run into space.

"Brilliant vision," Francesco muttered, leaning forward.

With precision, Chamberlain threaded a through ball between the defenders, splitting them apart like a knife through butter. Welbeck latched onto the pass, his first touch taking him into a one-on-one situation with Adrian. For a brief moment, time seemed to slow as Welbeck steadied himself. Then, with his left foot, he slotted the ball past the advancing keeper and into the back of the net.

"Danny Welbeck doubles Arsenal's lead!" the commentator roared as the away section erupted in cheers. "What a finish, and what a pass from Oxlade-Chamberlain to set it up!"

Francesco jumped to his feet again, his blanket forgotten on the floor. "Yes! That's how you do it!" he shouted, his voice a mixture of joy and relief.

Mike was clapping furiously, his face lit up with pride. "That's teamwork right there. Beautiful play from start to finish."

Even Sarah, who usually watched the games more for her family's sake than her own interest, was smiling. "They're doing so well," she said, patting Francesco's shoulder. "It's a shame you're not out there with them, sweetheart."

Francesco shrugged, his grin never fading. "They're doing great without me. I couldn't be prouder."

The first half ended shortly after, with Arsenal heading into the break with a comfortable 2-0 lead. As the players made their way down the tunnel, the commentators praised Arsenal's performance. "Wenger's side have been clinical," one of them said. "Cazorla's composure on the penalty and Welbeck's tidy finish have put them in the driver's seat. West Ham will need something special in the second half if they want to turn this around."

Francesco used the halftime break to stretch his legs and grab a quick snack from the kitchen. His mom followed him, fussing over whether he needed another cup of tea. "I'm fine, Mom," he assured her, though he accepted the tea anyway. He couldn't help but feel a surge of pride as he thought about how well the team was doing. Even though he wasn't on the pitch, he felt connected to their efforts. They were his teammates, his family in a way, and seeing them succeed brought him immense joy.

As the second half approached, Francesco returned to the couch, ready for more action. He knew West Ham wouldn't go down without a fight, and Arsenal would need to stay sharp to maintain their lead.

The second half kicked off with both sides showing renewed intensity. West Ham, fueled by the home crowd's vocal support, came out swinging. Their physicality was as unrelenting as ever, with Carroll continuing to dominate aerial battles and Downing finding pockets of space to deliver dangerous crosses. Arsenal, on the other hand, focused on maintaining their lead, their midfield working tirelessly to disrupt West Ham's rhythm.

Francesco leaned back into the couch, his tea untouched as he watched the game unfold. "They're going to throw everything at us now," he murmured. His dad nodded in agreement, his arms crossed tightly over his chest.

Arsenal's backline, led by the towering Mertesacker and the agile Koscielny, held firm under the increasing pressure. Szczęsny made a couple of crucial saves, diving low to his left to palm away a shot from Carroll and then rising quickly to catch a looping ball from Downing's cross.

By the 60th minute, Arsène Wenger decided it was time to shore up the defense. The camera zoomed in on the touchline as Wenger signaled for a double substitution. Off came Danny Welbeck and Alex Oxlade-Chamberlain, who had both worked tirelessly to stretch West Ham's defense in the first half. In their place, Kieran Gibbs and Calum Chambers entered the fray.

Francesco understood the tactical change immediately. "He's going for a more defensive setup," he explained to his mom, who looked curious. "Gibbs will add more cover on the left, and Chambers can help deal with Carroll's aerial threat."

Meanwhile, Sam Allardyce also made changes to inject new life into his team. Diafra Sakho, who had been fairly quiet, was replaced by the pacey Enner Valencia, while Joey O'Brien made way for Guy Demel to provide fresh legs on the right. Finally, Cheikhou Kouyaté, who had battled hard in midfield, was substituted for Kevin Nolan, adding more attacking impetus to West Ham's setup.

The substitutions brought immediate energy to the game. Arsenal sat deeper, inviting West Ham to come at them, while relying on quick counterattacks through Sánchez and Cazorla. West Ham, however, kept knocking on the door, their relentless attacks forcing Arsenal's defenders into frantic clearances.

Then, in the 67th minute, West Ham found their breakthrough. A corner was awarded after Szczęsny parried a fierce shot from Nolan out of bounds. Stewart Downing stepped up to take the set piece, his delivery perfect as the ball arced towards the penalty spot.

Francesco's heart sank as he watched Carroll rise above everyone else, his timing impeccable. Mertesacker tried to contest, but Carroll's sheer strength and leap gave him the edge. The ball thundered off Carroll's head, rocketing past Szczęsny and into the back of the net.

"Goal for West Ham!" the commentator bellowed, his voice barely audible over the roaring home crowd. "Andy Carroll with a textbook header from a corner! West Ham are back in it!"

Francesco slumped back into the couch, groaning. "That's the one thing we couldn't afford to let happen," he said, his tone frustrated. His dad shook his head, muttering, "That's why you can't let them have so many set pieces. Carroll's always a threat in the air."

On the screen, Carroll celebrated with his teammates, pumping his fists as the home fans roared their approval. Wenger, on the touchline, could be seen urging his players to stay calm and refocus.

The goal gave West Ham a renewed sense of belief, and they pressed even harder, bombarding Arsenal's box with crosses and long balls. Gibbs and Chambers were immediately put to the test, and both stepped up admirably, intercepting passes and clearing dangerous balls under immense pressure.

Francesco could feel the tension in the room rising as the clock ticked on. His mom placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, but he barely noticed, his eyes glued to the screen. "Come on, boys, hold the line," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

Arsenal, for their part, managed to weather the storm. Sánchez and Cazorla provided brief moments of respite with their clever ball control, drawing fouls and buying valuable time. Flamini and Coquelin were like terriers in midfield, snapping at West Ham's heels and breaking up their rhythm whenever possible.

As the minutes ticked by, West Ham threw everything they had into finding an equalizer. Nolan and Valencia both came close, with Szczęsny making a brilliant diving save to deny Nolan's long-range effort in the 78th minute. Koscielny made a crucial block in the 85th, throwing himself in front of a goal-bound shot from Valencia.

Francesco was on the edge of his seat now, his hands clasped together tightly as he willed Arsenal to hold on. His dad was pacing the room, muttering under his breath, while his mom tried to keep the atmosphere light with occasional comments about the players' hairstyles.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the fourth official held up the board indicating four minutes of added time. Francesco groaned. "Four minutes? Where did they get four minutes from?"

But Arsenal held firm, their defense resolute as they repelled wave after wave of West Ham's attacks. When the final whistle blew, the sound was like music to Francesco's ears.

"Arsenal win!" the commentator announced, his tone jubilant. "It's a hard-fought victory for Wenger's side, who hold on to take all three points at Upton Park. Goals from Cazorla and Welbeck were enough to see off a spirited West Ham side, despite Carroll's second-half header."

Francesco let out a deep breath, a grin spreading across his face. "We did it," he said, his voice filled with relief. His dad clapped him on the back, his own grin just as wide. "Well done, Arsenal. That was a gutsy performance."

His mom smiled, clearly happy to see her boys so ecstatic. "They earned it," she said, handing Francesco a fresh cup of tea. "Now, you need to rest. Don't think I didn't notice you yelling like you were on the pitch."

Francesco laughed, his earlier frustration forgotten. "I couldn't help it, Mom. That was too intense."

As the post-match analysis began, Francesco allowed himself to relax, basking in the glow of victory. Arsenal had done what they needed to do, and even though he hadn't been on the field, he felt every bit a part of the win. It was moments like these that reminded him why he loved football so much—the passion, the drama, the unyielding determination to fight until the very end.

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Name : Francesco Lee

Age : 16 (2014)

Birthplace : London, England

Football Club : Arsenal First Team

Championship History : None

Match Played: 3

Goal: 8

Assist: 2

MOTM: 3