The King Of Arsenal

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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.

The next morning, Francesco woke up feeling much better. The fever that had weighed him down the day before seemed to have broken overnight. He stretched in bed, a smile creeping onto his face as he remembered Arsenal's hard-fought victory against West Ham. He could still hear the commentators' voices and the roar of the fans echoing in his mind.

"Back to work today," he murmured to himself, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

The warm water from the shower helped ease the stiffness in his muscles, leaving him refreshed and energized. After drying off, Francesco made his way downstairs, dressed in a casual sweater and joggers. The aroma of fresh toast and coffee greeted him as he entered the kitchen, where his mom was plating up scrambled eggs.

"Morning, sweetheart," she said, smiling as she saw him. "How are you feeling?"

"Much better," Francesco replied, leaning over to kiss her on the cheek. "No fever, no chills. I think I'm good to go."

His dad, Mike, looked up from the newspaper he was reading. "That's great to hear, son. But make sure to get checked by the team doctor when you get to the training center. Just to be safe."

Francesco nodded as he sat down at the table. "I will, Dad. Don't worry."

Breakfast was a relaxed affair, with the family chatting about Arsenal's game and the highlights of the match. His mom couldn't stop teasing him about how animated he had been during the penalty and West Ham's late push for an equalizer. Francesco just laughed, his appetite restored as he cleaned his plate.

After breakfast, he headed upstairs to grab his gear. It was a cold winter morning, so he pulled on a thick jacket, wrapping a scarf around his neck before stepping out into the crisp air. His bicycle was waiting for him by the front gate, its frame glinting in the weak sunlight.

Francesco loved riding his bike to the Arsenal Training Centre. It gave him a sense of freedom, a chance to clear his mind and prepare himself mentally for the day ahead. The streets were quiet as he pedaled through the neighborhoods, the cold biting at his cheeks but doing little to dampen his spirits.

After about twenty minutes, the familiar sight of the training ground came into view. The expansive facility, with its state-of-the-art pitches and sleek buildings, always gave Francesco a sense of pride. This was where the magic happened, where he and his teammates pushed themselves to the limit to become better players.

As he approached the entrance, Francesco slowed down, hopping off his bike and wheeling it to the designated parking area. A row of cars, ranging from modest sedans to flashy sports models, was already lined up. He spotted a few of his teammates stepping out of their vehicles, their breaths visible in the chilly air.

"Francesco!" a voice called out. He turned to see Héctor Bellerín, a broad grin on his face as he walked over. "Hey, man, good to see you. How're you feeling? We missed you yesterday."

Francesco smiled, appreciating the concern. "Much better, thanks. I'm here to get checked by the doctor first, though. Want to make sure I'm fit before jumping back into training."

"That's smart," Héctor said, clapping him on the shoulder. "But seriously, you looked like you were ready to jump onto the pitch during the game last night. I saw your Instagram story."

Francesco chuckled, shaking his head. "Couldn't help it. You guys played your hearts out."

As more teammates arrived, they greeted Francesco warmly, each of them asking about his health. There was a camaraderie among the players that always made him feel at home, a bond forged through shared goals and countless hours spent training together.

"Hey, Francesco!" shouted Alex Oxlade-Chamberlain, jogging over with a beanie pulled low over his ears. "Good to have you back, mate. You missed a tough one yesterday. How's the fever?"

"Gone, thankfully," Francesco replied. "I'll let the doc have the final say, though."

After exchanging a few more greetings, Francesco made his way inside, heading straight for the medical wing of the facility. The familiar scent of antiseptic greeted him as he pushed open the door. The team's head doctor, Dr. Taylor, was already waiting, clipboard in hand.

"Good morning, Francesco," Dr. Taylor said, gesturing for him to take a seat on the examination table. "Heard you've been under the weather."

"Yeah," Francesco admitted, sitting down and unzipping his jacket. "Had a fever yesterday, but it's gone now. Just want to make sure I'm good to go."

Dr. Taylor nodded, checking Francesco's temperature, blood pressure, and overall condition. "Well, everything looks normal," he said after a thorough examination. "Your temperature's fine, and there are no signs of lingering illness. But let's ease you back into training, just to be cautious. Sound good?"

"Sounds perfect," Francesco replied, relieved.

With the green light from the doctor, Francesco changed into his training kit and headed out to join the rest of the squad on the pitch. The cold air hit him again as he stepped outside, but the sight of his teammates warming up quickly brought a smile to his face.

The session began with light drills, a mix of passing exercises and agility work to get everyone loosened up. Francesco felt a rush of energy as he moved through the drills, the ball at his feet feeling like an extension of himself. The joy of playing football, of being part of something bigger than himself, was something he never took for granted.

Mikel Arteta, noticed Francesco's enthusiasm and called out, "Good to have you back, Francesco! Don't push too hard, though—we need you fresh for the weekend."

Francesco nodded, his grin widening. "Got it, coach."

As the session progressed, the team worked on tactical drills, focusing on ball retention and counter-pressing. Francesco paired up with Cazorla for one exercise, the two of them combining effortlessly as they navigated through a line of defenders.

"Still sharp as ever," Cazorla said, giving Francesco a thumbs-up.

"Only because I'm trying to keep up with you," Francesco replied, earning a laugh from the veteran midfielder.

By the end of the session, Francesco felt a satisfying mix of exhaustion and accomplishment.

After the tactical drills concluded, Mikel Arteta gathered the team around for a quick discussion. Standing with his hands on his hips, he addressed the group, his voice firm yet encouraging.

"Well done, lads. The focus today has been excellent," he began, nodding in approval. "Now, Wenger has asked us to finish strong with some shooting and dribbling drills. Let's get sharp in front of goal and work on those tight spaces."

The players dispersed across the pitch as the coaches began setting up cones and positioning the goalkeepers. Francesco felt a twinge of excitement. Shooting drills were one of his favorite parts of training. Not only were they challenging, but they also provided a perfect opportunity to showcase precision and creativity.

The first drill was straightforward. Each player had to receive a pass, take two touches to control and set up, and then shoot from the edge of the box. The goalkeepers—Szczęsny, Ospina, and Martinez—rotated between the posts, ready to deny their teammates.

Francesco joined the line and watched as Olivier Giroud stepped up first. The Frenchman's effort was clinical, a powerful strike that kissed the inside of the post before nestling in the back of the net. The group let out an appreciative cheer, and Giroud flashed a grin.

When it was Francesco's turn, he jogged to his starting position, the ball placed a few feet in front of him. A sharp pass came in from the coach, and Francesco controlled it deftly with his left foot. His second touch set the ball perfectly in front of him. With his eyes locked on the goal, he struck it cleanly with his right foot.

The ball soared past Ospina, who dived but had no chance. It hit the top corner with a satisfying thud.

"Boom! That's how it's done!" Theo Walcott called out, grinning.

Francesco laughed and jogged back to the group, bumping fists with Alex Oxlade-Chamberlain along the way. "Lucky strike," he joked, though he couldn't hide his satisfaction.

The drill continued, each player taking their turn. Sánchez, as always, displayed his characteristic flair, adding a cheeky chip to his shot. Meanwhile, Héctor Bellerín focused on accuracy, his low-driven attempts forcing the keepers to stretch.

The next shooting drill added more complexity. The players were now required to dribble past a row of cones before firing at goal. This tested their close control as much as their finishing.

Francesco loved the challenge. He weaved through the cones with quick, precise touches, his eyes flicking between the ball and the goal. As he reached the final cone, he shifted his body to fake a shot, wrong-footing Martinez, and calmly slotted the ball into the opposite corner.

"Alright, Francesco! I see you!" shouted Kieran Gibbs, who clapped as Francesco jogged back to the line.

When it was Sánchez's turn, he upped the ante with his trademark intensity. The Chilean's movements were rapid, almost ferocious, as he danced through the cones and unleashed a thunderbolt that left Szczęsny rooted to the spot. The team erupted in cheers, some of them shaking their heads in admiration.

"Typical Alexis," said Aaron Ramsey, grinning. "Always setting the bar too high."

The session flowed seamlessly into a series of one-on-one drills. Wenger had emphasized the importance of dribbling in tight spaces, so the players were tasked with beating a defender before taking a shot. Francesco found himself paired against Mathieu Debuchy, a seasoned fullback known for his no-nonsense defending.

As the whistle blew, Francesco received the ball and faced Debuchy. He feinted to his left before quickly dragging the ball to his right, accelerating past the defender with a burst of speed. Approaching the goal, he curled his shot toward the far corner, but Szczęsny anticipated it and made a stunning save.

"Unlucky, Francesco!" Cazorla called out. "But that was a great move!"

Francesco nodded, a bit frustrated but determined to do better on his next attempt. When his turn came again, he faced Per Mertesacker. The towering defender was less mobile but used his long reach effectively. Francesco decided to rely on quick footwork, nutmegging the big German before slotting the ball into the net.

"Oi, Francesco, save that for the game!" shouted Mertesacker, shaking his head but smiling nonetheless.

The banter kept the mood light even as the intensity of the drills pushed everyone to their limits. Wenger and Arteta watched from the sidelines, occasionally offering tips or feedback.

"Good, Francesco! That's the composure we need in the final third," Wenger called out after one particularly clinical finish.

The session concluded with a competitive shooting game. The players were divided into two teams, and the objective was to score as many goals as possible within a limited time. The atmosphere became electric, with everyone cheering, shouting, and celebrating each goal as if it were a cup final.

Francesco's team, captained by Giroud, worked seamlessly together. Ramsey orchestrated from midfield, while Francesco and Sánchez alternated between scoring and creating chances. The highlight of the game came when Francesco and Sánchez combined for a beautiful one-two pass, with Francesco finishing it off with a powerful volley.

"Goal of the day!" shouted Flamini, who ran over to ruffle Francesco's hair in celebration.

When the whistle blew to signal the end of the session, both teams were exhausted but exhilarated. Wenger gathered the players for a final debrief, praising their effort and focus.

"Excellent work today," he said, his tone full of pride. "Remember, it's the hard work here on the training ground that translates to success on match day. Keep it up."

As the players began cooling down, Francesco found himself chatting with Cazorla and Ramsey. The older players offered him advice on positioning and decision-making, insights he absorbed like a sponge.

Before leaving the training center, Francesco made a quick stop by the medical wing to ensure he hadn't overexerted himself. Dr. Taylor gave him a thumbs-up, confirming he was fit and ready for the week ahead.

Francesco couldn't help but feel a deep sense of gratitude as he pedaled home that evening. Football wasn't just a game to him—it was a passion, a lifestyle, and a dream he was fortunate enough to live every day. And with each session, each match, he felt himself growing stronger, more confident, and more determined to succeed.

As he rode through the winter streets, his thoughts drifted to the weekend's fixture. Another game, another chance to prove himself and help his team. With the memories of today's training fueling him, Francesco knew he was ready for whatever challenges lay ahead.

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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