The King Of Arsenal

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...

The new season was already beginning to write its opening chapters.

The football coverage continued for a while, but eventually Francesco switched the television off.

The living room became quiet again.

He sat back into the sofa, looking toward the window as sunlight spread farther across the room. Cheddar was still asleep on the rug, completely uninterested in the transfer market, while Leah remained beside Francesco with her legs tucked beneath her.

For a few seconds, neither of them spoke.

Then Leah smiled.

"So, are you going to spend the rest of the week watching Sky Sports?"

Francesco looked at her.

"No."

"You hesitated."

"I was thinking."

"That's usually dangerous."

He laughed.

"I'll watch some football."

"Some."

"Some."

Leah nodded approvingly.

"Good."

And, for the next several days, that was more or less how life settled.

Not dramatically.

Not with any sudden return to the intensity of the season.

Just gradually.

Francesco found himself waking early each morning.

The first morning had been the hardest.

By the third, it felt natural again.

He would get dressed quietly while Leah was still asleep, head downstairs and find Cheddar occasionally waiting for him with sleepy eyes.

"Morning, mate."

The corgi would wag his tail.

Sometimes Francesco would give him a quick scratch before heading outside.

Then came the run.

He never treated it like a race.

He varied the pace depending on how his body felt, allowing himself enough time to warm up before increasing the intensity. Some mornings he ran steadily around the residential complex, while on others he introduced short bursts of faster running before settling back into an easier rhythm.

He paid attention to his breathing.

His legs.

His recovery.

There was no point arriving at pre-season already exhausted.

The objective was simple.

Build.

Recover.

Build again.

By the fourth morning, he noticed the difference.

The stiffness that had been sitting in his legs after the holiday was disappearing.

His breathing felt easier.

His stride felt more natural.

His body was remembering.

After each run, he returned to the mansion and cooled down properly before heading inside.

Sometimes Leah would still be asleep.

Sometimes she would already be awake, sitting at the kitchen counter with a cup of tea.

"You're back."

Francesco would smile.

"Yeah."

"How was it?"

"Good."

"Still alive?"

"Barely."

She would laugh.

Then he would disappear upstairs for a shower before returning to the gym.

The private gym quickly became familiar again.

Cardio first.

Then strength.

Then conditioning.

He worked through exercises designed to rebuild the qualities he relied upon on a football pitch rather than simply chasing numbers.

Controlled squats.

Pressing movements.

Pulling exercises.

Core stability.

Single-leg work.

Short explosive movements.

Intervals that forced him to accelerate and recover repeatedly.

Some sessions were harder than others.

Francesco learned to recognize when his body needed another minute of recovery.

He didn't ignore it.

He wasn't trying to impress anyone.

There was no coach standing nearby with a stopwatch.

He was preparing himself because he wanted to be ready.

That distinction mattered.

After each demanding session, he made sure to slow everything down properly.

He walked.

Stretched.

Drank plenty of water.

Let his heart rate settle.

Then came another shower.

And, more often than not, breakfast.

Francesco had somehow turned cooking into another part of his morning routine.

Eggs.

Fresh fruit.

Yogurt.

Toast.

Vegetables.

Occasionally porridge.

Whatever gave them enough energy without leaving them feeling heavy.

Leah eventually became accustomed to finding him in the kitchen after his training.

One morning she walked downstairs and found him preparing breakfast while Cheddar sat hopefully beside him.

She looked at the dog.

"You've trained him well."

Francesco glanced down.

"I haven't given him anything."

"He's staring at you like you're about to."

"I know."

Cheddar's tail moved.

Francesco pointed at him.

"Don't encourage him."

Leah laughed.

"I haven't said anything."

"You don't have to."

Their mornings became comfortable.

Sometimes they talked about football.

Sometimes they didn't.

Sometimes Leah would ask what Francesco had done in the gym and he'd give her a deliberately vague answer because he knew she would tease him about it.

Other times they would simply eat together while Cheddar slept nearby.

The contrast with the season was enormous.

There were no team meetings.

No flights.

No match-day preparations.

No pressure to perform.

Yet Francesco could feel his body changing.

His stamina returned.

His legs became stronger.

His movements felt quicker.

His recovery improved.

The sharpness he'd lost during the holiday was gradually returning.

He also continued checking the football news from time to time.

The transfer window kept moving.

New developments appeared almost every day.

Liverpool's work on Alisson Becker and Fabinho continued to attract attention, while Chelsea's plans under Maurizio Sarri remained a regular subject of discussion.

Francesco followed it all with interest.

But he never allowed the television to take over his day.

If Leah suggested going out for lunch, he went.

If they spent an afternoon at home with Cheddar, he enjoyed it.

If she wanted to watch a film, he watched it with her.

He had no intention of turning his holiday recovery into another football camp.

The balance was important.

Then, several days later, the message finally arrived.

Francesco was sitting in the living room when his phone vibrated.

He picked it up.

The Arsenal players' group chat had become active.

At the top of the conversation was a message from Wenger.

Training begins on Monday. Players to report at London Colney at the scheduled time. Please arrive ready for the opening session and bring all required training equipment.

Francesco read it twice.

Then another message followed.

Wenger reminded the players that those who had been involved deep into the World Cup had been granted additional time away from the club.

Francesco was specifically included.

He wasn't required to report on the first day.

Wenger's reasoning was simple.

The players who had reached the World Cup final had only recently completed one of the most demanding tournaments in international football.

They needed proper recovery.

They needed time away from football.

They had earned it.

Francesco understood completely.

In fact, he appreciated it.

He also knew immediately what he wanted to do.

He looked toward Leah.

She was reading on the other side of the room.

"I'm going in Monday."

She looked up.

"You're supposed to have extra time."

"I know."

"Then why are you going?"

Francesco smiled.

"Because I feel ready."

Leah studied him.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

He put the phone down.

"I've had enough rest. I've been training every morning. I'm not trying to prove anything. I just want to start with everyone else."

Leah smiled.

"That's very you."

Francesco laughed.

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"It is."

He sent a short message into the group chat confirming that he'd be there.

Almost immediately, a couple of teammates reacted.

One sent a laughing emoji.

Another joked that Francesco apparently couldn't stay away from training for more than a week.

Francesco smiled at the screen.

He knew Wenger's decision had been thoughtful.

He wasn't ignoring the extra rest.

He was simply choosing differently.

By Monday morning, the decision felt even more natural.

The mansion was quiet when Francesco woke.

He didn't need an alarm.

His body had already adjusted to the earlier mornings.

He dressed in Arsenal training clothes and checked his bag carefully.

Boots.

Training gear.

Water bottle.

Everything he needed.

Downstairs, Cheddar was waiting.

The corgi looked up as Francesco approached.

"Morning, mate."

Cheddar wagged his tail.

Leah appeared moments later.

She looked at Francesco for a few seconds.

"So this is really happening."

He smiled.

"Yeah."

She walked over and straightened the collar of his jacket.

"Ready?"

"Yeah."

She kissed him.

"Have a good first day."

"Thanks."

Francesco crouched beside Cheddar.

"Look after her while I'm gone."

Cheddar stared at him.

Leah laughed.

"He'll probably sleep."

"Still. Important job."

Francesco scratched behind his ears.

"I'll see you later, mate."

Cheddar gave his tail a quick wag.

Then Francesco stood.

He looked at Leah one last time.

"I'll be back later."

"I know."

He left the mansion.

The drive toward London Colney felt strangely familiar.

He had made that journey countless times before.

But this morning it felt different.

The World Cup had changed something.

Not necessarily in the way people outside the club would understand.

Francesco had returned as a World Cup winner.

England's captain.

One of the tournament's most talked-about young players.

Yet as the familiar roads carried him toward the training ground, he didn't feel like someone returning as a celebrity.

He felt like a footballer going back to work.

That was what mattered.

When the entrance to London Colney finally came into view, Francesco felt a quiet smile appear on his face.

He was back.

The training ground was already alive.

Staff members moved between buildings.

Equipment was being prepared.

Training balls were being arranged.

Cones and poles were being positioned around the pitches.

The grounds staff were working carefully across the immaculate playing surfaces, making sure everything was ready for the returning squad.

There was a particular energy to the place.

Not the intensity of a match day.

Something quieter.

A beginning.

A fresh season waiting to be written.

Francesco stepped out of the car.

Almost immediately, one of the Arsenal staff members noticed him.

"Francesco!"

He turned.

"Morning."

The staff member smiled broadly.

"Welcome back."

"Good to see you."

They shook hands.

"Congratulations again. World Cup winner."

Francesco smiled modestly.

"Thank you."

"And captain as well. Incredible tournament."

"Thanks. I appreciate it."

Another member of staff approached.

"Good to have you back."

"Good to be back."

More congratulations followed as Francesco made his way inside.

Nothing felt exaggerated.

There were no speeches.

No ceremony.

Just genuine warmth.

People were pleased to see him.

They were proud of what he had achieved.

And Francesco was grateful.

He thanked each person before continuing toward the dressing room.

When he opened the door, the sound hit him immediately.

Voices.

Laughter.

Music playing quietly somewhere.

Boots being moved around.

Bags dropping onto benches.

The ordinary noise of footballers returning to work.

Olivier Giroud was already there.

He looked up.

"Well, look who's decided to come back."

Francesco smiled.

"Morning, Oli."

Giroud stood and embraced him.

"World champion."

Francesco laughed.

"Still getting used to hearing that."

"You'd better get used to it."

Across the room, Virgil van Dijk looked over.

"There he is."

Francesco walked toward him.

"Virgil."

They shook hands before Virgil pulled him into a quick hug.

"Congratulations, mate."

"Thanks."

"Captain as well."

Francesco shook his head.

"It's good to be back."

Mesut Özil was sitting nearby.

He stood when Francesco approached.

"Welcome back."

"Good to see you."

They embraced briefly.

Özil smiled.

"So, did you actually relax?"

Francesco laughed.

"For once."

"Good."

Alexis Sánchez called from across the room.

"Francesco!"

He turned.

Alexis grinned.

"You look too happy."

"I've had a good summer."

"You won the World Cup."

"That helped."

Everyone laughed.

The conversation naturally moved toward the tournament.

Questions about the final.

The celebrations.

The experience of captaining England.

Francesco answered without turning the conversation into a performance.

He talked about how strange it had been returning to normal life afterward.

Giroud shook his head.

"You went straight to Santorini?"

"Yeah."

"Very smart."

"It was exactly what I needed."

Van Dijk smiled.

"And now you're here early."

Francesco nodded.

"Wenger gave me extra time."

"You should've taken it."

"I've had enough rest."

Alexis laughed.

"He says that now."

Francesco smiled.

"I've been training at home."

Giroud looked at him.

"Of course you have."

"Nothing crazy."

"Still."

Francesco shrugged.

"I just wanted to arrive ready."

There was a brief pause.

Then Van Dijk nodded.

"I understand."

Wenger had given them the option because he'd understood what the World Cup had demanded from them.

Francesco hadn't rejected that kindness.

He had simply decided that his recovery was complete enough to return.

The dressing room slowly filled.

Players changed into Arsenal's training kit.

Boots were pulled from bags.

Water bottles were placed beside benches.

Personal belongings were tucked away.

Francesco changed quietly, pulling on the familiar Arsenal shirt and training shorts.

For a moment, he looked down at the crest.

There it was.

The club.

The new season.

The next chapter.

He tied his boots carefully.

Around him, his teammates continued talking.

Someone made a joke.

Giroud laughed.

Alexis responded with another.

Özil checked something on his phone.

Van Dijk adjusted his training top.

The room felt exactly as it should.

Familiar.

Comfortable.

Alive.

Francesco stood and picked up his bottle.

The difference between this morning and those peaceful mornings at home was impossible to miss.

There had been no quiet residential roads.

No slow breakfast.

No television playing softly in the background.

Here, everything had a purpose.

Every minute mattered.

Yet Francesco didn't feel overwhelmed by it.

He felt ready.

He had rested.

He had trained.

He had spent time with Leah.

He had been reunited with Cheddar.

He had allowed himself to enjoy the freedom he'd earned.

Now he wanted football again.

Giroud walked past him.

"Ready?"

Francesco smiled.

"Yeah."

Van Dijk picked up his bottle.

"Let's go."

The conversation began to quiet as the players gathered their things.

Francesco took one final look around the dressing room.

The holiday was over.

The World Cup was behind him.

Santorini was now a collection of photographs and memories waiting safely inside his phone.

Ahead was Arsenal.

Training.

The new campaign.

The work required to turn preparation into performance.

Francesco adjusted his shirt and joined his teammates near the doorway.

The door opened.

Morning light spilled across the corridor.

One by one, the players began walking toward the training area.

Francesco followed them.

The sound of their boots faded along the corridor as Francesco walked with the rest of the Arsenal squad toward the training area.

The morning air became cooler as they stepped outside.

London Colney had fully come alive now.

Staff moved between the buildings carrying equipment. Coaches stood near the edge of the pitches, speaking quietly to one another while the groundsmen made their final checks. Training balls were already arranged in neat groups, and rows of cones marked out several areas across the grass.

Nothing had started yet.

But everyone could feel that it was about to.

Francesco walked beside Virgil van Dijk, carrying his bottle in one hand.

Van Dijk glanced across at him.

"Feels strange, doesn't it?"

"What?"

"First day back."

Francesco nodded.

"Yeah."

Giroud, walking just ahead of them, turned around.

"You know what feels strange?"

Francesco smiled.

"What?"

"You coming back from a World Cup final and looking like you actually want to run."

Alexis laughed from behind them.

"He is a strange man."

Francesco shook his head.

"I'm standing here. I can hear you."

"That's the problem," Alexis replied.

Özil smiled quietly.

"Give him ten minutes."

Francesco laughed.

"Very supportive."

They reached the pitch.

The players spread out naturally, finding their places while the coaching staff prepared the opening exercises. There was no music, no crowd, no cameras waiting for a spectacle.

Just footballers returning to work.

Some looked completely relaxed.

Others were already stretching their calves or rolling their shoulders.

A few players stood around talking about their holidays, while others seemed content simply to enjoy being outside again.

Francesco looked across the pitch.

He recognized the feeling immediately.

This was different from training during the season.

There was no match waiting at the end of the week.

No tactical problem to solve.

No immediate pressure.

But there was still purpose.

A new season was beginning.

Wenger eventually walked toward the group.

The conversations gradually disappeared.

The players gathered around him.

Wenger looked across the squad before speaking.

"Good morning, everyone."

"Morning, boss," several players answered.

Wenger smiled.

"It is good to see you all again."

He paused.

"I hope everyone has enjoyed the summer and had an opportunity to recover properly. We begin today without any need to rush."

That earned a few knowing looks.

Wenger continued.

"The first days are about understanding where we are physically. We will rebuild fitness gradually. We will assess your condition, your movement, your stamina and your recovery. There is no reason to behave as though we are already in the middle of the season."

A small smile appeared on his face.

"I do not want anyone trying to win pre-season on the first morning."

A few players laughed.

Francesco glanced toward Alexis.

Alexis pointed at him.

"Not you."

Francesco laughed.

"I wasn't planning to."

Wenger continued.

"As we progress, the intensity will increase. We will introduce more football-specific work, then tactical work, and eventually we will prepare for competitive matches. But today, we are interested in information."

His eyes moved across the players.

"I want to know where each of you stands."

Then Wenger's expression softened slightly.

"And before we begin, there is one particular player I would like to congratulate."

Francesco immediately knew.

Wenger looked directly at him.

"Francesco."

Several teammates turned toward him.

"Congratulations on winning the World Cup with England."

A few players applauded.

Francesco smiled and lowered his head slightly.

"Thank you."

Wenger continued.

"To win the World Cup is extraordinary. To do so as captain at such a young age, and to perform at the level you did throughout the tournament, is an achievement you should be very proud of."

More applause followed.

Francesco looked slightly embarrassed by the attention.

"Thank you, boss. I appreciate it."

Wenger nodded.

"You have earned the recognition."

Then his tone became more practical.

"Of course, Francesco and the other players who reached the final were given additional holiday. That was deliberate."

The manager looked around the group.

"A World Cup final is not a small event. Physically and mentally, it demands an enormous amount from a player. We wanted those players to have proper time away from the club."

Francesco listened carefully.

"So, Francesco, you were not expected here today."

A few teammates looked at him.

Wenger smiled.

"But he has chosen to come."

Giroud immediately whispered loudly enough for everyone nearby to hear.

"Madness."

Laughter moved through the group.

Francesco smiled.

Wenger raised a hand.

"That is his decision. He is not being asked to compensate for anything. He has simply decided that he is ready."

Francesco nodded.

"Thank you, boss."

Wenger gave him a brief look.

"Very well. Now we train."

The group broke apart.

The first exercise was deliberately simple.

The players began with mobility work, moving through controlled stretches while the coaching staff watched.

Ankles.

Hips.

Hamstrings.

Shoulders.

The movements were slow and deliberate.

Nobody was being asked to produce anything spectacular.

The objective was to wake the body up.

Francesco could feel the difference immediately.

The work he had done at home meant his muscles weren't shocked by the movement.

There was still some heaviness.

That was normal.

But his body felt responsive.

Beside him, Giroud rolled his shoulders.

"Oof."

Francesco glanced across.

"Bad?"

"I've discovered muscles I forgot existed."

Francesco laughed.

"You've been on holiday."

"So have you."

"Yeah, but I trained."

Giroud stared at him.

"You trained on holiday?"

"Not in Santorini."

"Good answer."

The warm-up moved into light running.

The players jogged in a large group around the designated area.

The pace was comfortable.

Francesco settled naturally into his rhythm.

He didn't move ahead.

He didn't try to make a point.

He simply ran.

Wenger stood with two members of the coaching staff, watching.

One of them said something quietly.

Wenger nodded.

His eyes remained on the players.

After several minutes, the group began moving through controlled conditioning exercises.

Short runs.

Changes of direction.

Brief periods of faster movement followed by recovery.

The intensity remained manageable.

But the holiday rust was beginning to reveal itself.

One player shook his legs during a recovery period.

Another bent forward with his hands on his knees.

Someone behind Francesco muttered,

"I definitely ate too much."

Alexis laughed.

"You and everyone else."

Francesco smiled.

The next drill required short accelerations.

The players stood in lines.

One after another, they accelerated across a marked distance before slowing down and walking back.

Francesco approached his turn.

He crouched slightly.

Waited.

Then went.

His first few steps were sharp.

Not explosive enough to turn the exercise into a sprint, but clean.

His feet moved quickly beneath him.

He reached the end and slowed naturally.

Then walked back.

Nothing dramatic.

But Wenger noticed.

The next repetition came.

Francesco repeated it.

Then another.

Each time, his acceleration remained crisp.

His breathing increased, but when he returned to the starting point, it settled surprisingly quickly.

Wenger looked at the fitness coach.

The coach gave him a brief glance.

Wenger said nothing.

The exercises continued.

The players moved into repeated running intervals.

A short effort.

Recovery.

Another effort.

Recovery.

Then a slightly longer run.

Francesco maintained the same controlled approach.

He could have pushed harder.

He knew that.

But there was no reason to.

This was an assessment.

Not a test he needed to win.

He focused on maintaining good mechanics.

Relaxed shoulders.

Controlled breathing.

Smooth stride.

When the next recovery period arrived, Francesco walked slowly and took a drink.

Wenger approached.

"How are you feeling?"

Francesco looked at him.

"Good."

"Any stiffness?"

"Not much."

Wenger studied him for a moment.

"You are recovering very quickly."

Francesco smiled.

"I feel good."

"I can see that."

Wenger looked toward the rest of the group before returning his attention to Francesco.

"What did you do while you were away?"

Francesco chuckled.

"I had a holiday first."

"I know."

"I spent the week in Santorini with Leah. We relaxed. Swam. Walked around. Ate too much."

Wenger smiled.

"Good."

"Then when we came home, I started running in the mornings."

"How often?"

"Every morning."

Wenger raised an eyebrow.

"Running?"

"Nothing crazy. Around the residential complex. Steady pace. A few faster sections sometimes."

"And after?"

"My gym."

Francesco took another drink.

"Cardio. Strength work. Conditioning. Some explosive movements. Then I cooled down properly and stretched."

Wenger listened.

"Every day?"

"Mostly. But I didn't push hard every day."

That answer seemed to interest Wenger.

Francesco continued.

"I wanted to enjoy the holiday. I wasn't going to spend Santorini worrying about fitness. Once I got home, though, I figured I had enough time to get moving again without overdoing it."

Wenger nodded slowly.

"And recovery?"

"Plenty of water. Good food. Sleep. Stretching."

"You have been sensible."

"I tried to be."

Wenger gave him a small smile.

"It appears you have found the correct balance."

Francesco nodded.

"I just wanted to be ready."

"I understand."

Wenger glanced toward the pitch.

"But do not allow good fitness on the first day to convince you that you must train twice as hard as everyone else."

Francesco smiled.

"I won't."

"I mean it."

"I know."

"You have nothing to prove."

Francesco's expression became more serious.

"I know, boss."

Wenger nodded.

"Good."

He moved away.

Francesco watched him for a second before returning to the group.

Giroud immediately looked over.

"What did he say?"

Francesco shrugged.

"Asked what I've been doing."

"Obviously."

Alexis joined in.

"Did you tell him you secretly trained all summer?"

Francesco laughed.

"No."

"What did you say?"

"That I spent a week in Santorini, then started running and training when I got home."

Giroud stared at him.

"So you came back from a holiday fitter than me."

Francesco grinned.

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't need to."

Van Dijk laughed.

"It's irritating."

Özil smiled.

"You look fresh."

"I feel fresh."

Alexis shook his head.

"Some of us spent the summer recovering."

"So did I."

"Apparently not enough."

Francesco laughed.

"I wasn't trying to show anyone up."

Giroud pointed toward him.

"That's exactly what someone showing everyone up would say."

The group laughed again.

The next conditioning block began before the conversation could continue.

This time, the work was more demanding.

The players moved through sequences combining running, changes of direction and short bursts of acceleration.

There was more repetition.

Less time to recover.

Francesco felt his heart rate climb.

Sweat began running down his back.

The familiar sensation returned.

The body working.

The lungs demanding more air.

The legs becoming heavier.

But he also noticed something reassuring.

His recovery was there.

After each effort, his breathing settled quickly.

His legs didn't feel unstable.

His movements remained coordinated.

The weeks of preparation he had done at home had not magically restored match fitness.

They hadn't needed to.

They had simply prevented him from starting from zero.

Across the pitch, Wenger continued watching.

He noticed when Francesco finished one repetition and recovered faster than expected.

He noticed the smoothness of his next run.

He noticed that the player wasn't forcing anything.

That mattered.

Good conditioning wasn't only about how hard someone could push.

It was about how well they could repeat an effort.

Francesco was showing exactly that.

During another break, Van Dijk walked over.

"You're annoyingly fit."

Francesco laughed.

"Sorry."

"No, you're not."

"Not really."

Van Dijk smiled.

Giroud called from behind them.

"Someone needs to make him run extra laps."

Francesco turned.

"Why?"

"To bring him down to our level."

Alexis laughed.

"Too late."

Francesco shook his head.

"You lot are ridiculous."

The final part of the initial assessment involved controlled endurance running.

The group moved together at a steady pace.

This time Francesco didn't even think about the holiday.

His body had settled into the work.

His stride was automatic.

The pitch stretched ahead of him beneath the morning sun.

The sound of breathing and boots against grass filled the air.

Wenger stood at the side.

The coaching staff recorded times and watched the players' recovery.

One by one, the squad began slowing after the final effort.

Some players bent over.

Others walked with their hands on their hips.

A few immediately reached for water bottles.

Francesco slowed to a walk.

He breathed deeply.

His chest rose and fell.

He was tired.

Of course he was.

But it was a good kind of tired.

The kind that told him his body had remembered what it was built to do.

Wenger approached the group.

"All right."

The players listened while catching their breath.

"That is enough for this block."

There was visible relief.

"Take your water. Walk around. Recover properly."

Francesco moved toward his bottle.

He took several long drinks.

Giroud dropped onto the grass.

"I'm officially alive."

Alexis laughed.

"Barely."

Van Dijk sat nearby.

"I thought the first day was supposed to be easy."

"It was," Francesco said.

Giroud looked at him.

"Don't say that."

Francesco laughed.

Wenger watched the players recover.

He now had a much clearer picture.

Some had returned in excellent condition.

Some needed more time.

Some were stiff.

Some had clearly enjoyed their holidays a little too much.

That was exactly why the first session had been designed this way.

No assumptions.

No judgment.

Just information.

And Francesco had given him something unexpected.

The World Cup final had been less than a month behind him.

He had then taken a full week away.

Yet he had returned remarkably prepared.

Wenger looked toward him once more.

Francesco was standing with Van Dijk, talking quietly while drinking water.

He didn't look exhausted.

He looked ready.

Wenger smiled faintly.

The boy had managed his return better than expected.

But the manager also knew that pre-season was only beginning.

Fitness could disappear just as quickly if a player became careless.

There would be more work.

More intensity.

More football.

More tactical preparation.

For now, however, the first assessment had accomplished exactly what Wenger wanted.

He knew where Francesco stood.

He knew where the squad stood.

And he knew what needed to happen next.

Francesco wiped his forehead with his sleeve.

The familiar demands of Arsenal training were beginning to settle into his muscles again.

The quiet mornings at home were already feeling slightly distant.

He looked across the pitch.

The cones were still arranged.

The balls waited nearby.

The coaching staff were preparing the next area.

This was only the beginning.

Francesco took another drink and smiled.

He was back.

And this time, there was no holiday waiting around the corner.

__________________________________________________

Name : Francesco Lee

Age : 19 (2017)

Birthplace : London, England

Football Club : Arsenal First Team

Championship History : 2014/2015 Premier League, 2014/2015 FA Cup, 2015/2016 Community Shield, 2016/2017 Premier League, 2015/2016 Champions League, Euro 2016, Premier League Champion 2016/2017, FA Cup 2016/2017, 2016/2017 Champions League, 2017/2018 Carabao Cup, Premier League 2017/2018, FA Cup 2017/2018, Champions League 2017/2018, and 2018 World Cup.

Season 17/18 stats:

Arsenal:

Match: 59

Goal: 76

Assist: 6

MOTM: 7

POTM: 0

England:

Match: 11

Goal: 14

Assist: 1

MOTM: 7

Season 16/17 stats:

Arsenal:

Match: 55

Goal: 87

Assist: 5

MOTM: 14

POTM: 1

England:

Match: 1

Goal: 1

Assist: 0

MOTM: 0

Season 15/16 stats:

Arsenal:

Match Played: 60

Goal: 82

Assist: 10

MOTM: 9

POTM: 1

England:

Match Played: 2

Goal: 4

Assist: 0

Euro 2016

Match Played: 6

Goal: 13

Assist: 4

MOTM: 6

Season 14/15 stats:

Match Played: 35

Goal: 45

Assist: 12

MOTM: 9