The King Of Arsenal

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

Then the first session did not end there.

Once the players had recovered from the opening conditioning block, Wenger allowed them a few more minutes before calling them back together. The atmosphere had changed slightly. The initial nerves of returning had disappeared, replaced by the familiar tiredness that came from actually working.

The players were no longer simply talking about their holidays.

They were talking about football again.

The next phase brought them closer to the ball.

Passing exercises came first, short and controlled, with the coaching staff emphasizing movement and clean touches rather than speed. The ball moved quickly between the players, and little by little the rhythm of Arsenal training returned.

Francesco noticed it in himself.

His first touches weren't perfect.

One pass arrived slightly behind him, forcing him to adjust.

Another bounced awkwardly off his boot.

Nothing serious.

Nothing that worried him.

But it reminded him that fitness was only one part of being ready.

Match sharpness was different.

That had to be rebuilt with the ball.

Over the following days, Wenger and his staff gradually increased the workload.

The second morning brought longer running intervals mixed with technical exercises. The third introduced more changes of direction and short-sided possession games. By the fourth day, the sessions were beginning to resemble actual football training again.

The difference could be felt across London Colney.

The first morning had been about waking the squad up.

Now they were beginning to compete.

Not fully.

Not yet.

But enough for the old instincts to return.

Francesco found himself pressing harder for loose balls.

Giroud began using his strength to protect possession.

Alexis was already turning simple exercises into little competitions.

Van Dijk became increasingly vocal whenever the defensive shape broke down.

Özil moved between spaces with the same effortless awareness that had made him so difficult to track.

Wenger watched everything.

He rarely needed to shout.

A brief instruction.

A raised hand.

A quiet conversation with one of the coaches.

That was often enough.

The squad was rebuilding itself.

And then, as the week progressed, more familiar faces began appearing.

One morning Francesco walked onto the training pitch and immediately noticed someone approaching from the entrance.

Kyle Walker.

Francesco's face brightened.

"Kyle!"

Walker looked over.

"Francesco!"

They met halfway and shook hands before Walker pulled him into a quick embrace.

"Good to see you, mate."

"You too."

Walker laughed.

"You've already been training?"

"For a few days."

"Of course you have."

Francesco smiled.

"You're late."

"Very funny."

Walker looked across the pitch.

"It feels good to be back."

"It does."

They walked toward the rest of the squad together.

Several players greeted Walker as soon as they saw him.

Giroud gave him a hug.

Alexis shouted something from across the pitch.

Van Dijk shook his hand.

Özil smiled and welcomed him back.

The mood was noticeably different from the beginning of the week.

The group was becoming complete.

The conversations were louder.

The jokes came more naturally.

There were fewer unfamiliar gaps around the training ground.

Wenger had wanted the players to return gradually, and now the squad was beginning to resemble the team that would eventually prepare for the new campaign.

Walker quickly settled into the rhythm.

The first few minutes of his return were difficult.

He admitted it himself after one of the conditioning exercises.

"My legs hate me."

Francesco laughed.

"They'll remember."

"I hope so."

"They will."

Walker looked at him.

"You've been here all week. You're supposed to help me."

"I am helping."

"How?"

"By making you feel better about being tired."

Walker laughed.

"Brilliant."

The workload increased again.

The coaching staff introduced more football-specific conditioning, combining acceleration with passing and movement.

Players sprinted into space, received the ball, played a quick pass and recovered before repeating the sequence.

Francesco began to feel something returning.

His first step was becoming sharper.

His timing was improving.

He was getting better at judging when to make a run rather than simply making one.

And most importantly, the ball felt natural again.

By the fifth day, Wenger began introducing more competitive exercises.

Small-sided games.

Pressing drills.

Transitions.

Finishing.

The atmosphere changed whenever a goal was involved.

Even during pre-season, nobody liked conceding.

A misplaced pass suddenly became important.

A missed chance earned groans.

A good finish produced cheers.

Francesco enjoyed that part.

He had missed it.

One afternoon, after a finishing drill, Giroud walked past him.

"You're getting better."

Francesco looked at him.

"Was I bad?"

"First day?"

Giroud shrugged.

"Not bad. Just rusty."

Francesco smiled.

"Thanks."

"Don't thank me yet."

The following morning proved why.

The squad was split into teams for a more lively training scrimmage.

The pitch had been shortened slightly, creating less space and forcing quicker decisions.

The goalkeepers rotated.

David Raya took one end while Petr Čech occupied the other.

Francesco started quietly.

He wasn't dominating.

He didn't need to.

For the first few minutes, he concentrated on his movement.

Dropping deeper.

Dragging a defender away.

Making a run behind.

Then changing direction.

The first opportunity came when Özil received the ball between two players.

Francesco immediately moved.

Özil saw him.

The pass arrived.

Francesco took one touch and shot.

Raya saved.

"Good," Wenger called.

Francesco nodded and jogged away.

The next attack came from the opposite side.

Walker carried the ball forward before finding Alexis.

Alexis turned and played it into Francesco's path.

This time Čech stepped forward and blocked the effort.

Francesco laughed.

"Still got it."

Čech grinned.

"Always."

Giroud shouted from nearby.

"He's not getting past you."

Francesco pointed at him.

"Don't encourage him."

The game continued.

Francesco was becoming more involved.

He was finding little spaces.

His acceleration was returning.

His timing was becoming cleaner.

He still made mistakes.

A pass went astray.

One run was mistimed.

Another shot went over.

But each attempt looked a little sharper than the last.

Then came the moment everyone remembered.

Arsenal recovered possession near midfield.

Van Dijk moved the ball quickly to Özil.

Özil took one touch.

Francesco had already started moving.

He slipped between two defenders, received the pass and controlled it while still running.

For a second, there was space ahead of him.

He took it.

One touch.

Then another.

A defender moved across.

Francesco shifted the ball onto his stronger foot.

Čech prepared himself.

Raya was watching from the other goal.

Francesco struck.

The shot flew through the air with pace and curl, rising beyond the goalkeeper's reach before dropping sharply into the upper corner.

For half a second, nobody reacted.

Then the net moved.

"YES!"

Alexis shouted.

Giroud threw his arms up.

Van Dijk laughed.

Özil simply smiled.

Francesco stood still for a moment, almost surprised by how cleanly he'd caught it.

Čech turned around and stared at the ball in the net.

Raya looked across from the other end.

Both goalkeepers seemed personally offended.

Čech pointed at Francesco.

"No."

Francesco laughed.

"What?"

"That was unnecessary."

Raya walked toward him.

"You couldn't just score normally?"

Francesco backed away.

"I thought it was a good goal."

"It was," Raya replied. "That's why I'm annoyed."

Francesco laughed and began walking backward.

Čech started after him.

"Come here."

Francesco's eyes widened.

"No."

Raya joined Čech.

"Get him."

Francesco immediately turned and ran.

The two goalkeepers followed.

The rest of the squad erupted in laughter.

Giroud was doubled over.

Alexis was laughing so hard he had to put his hands on his knees.

Van Dijk shouted,

"Run, Francesco!"

Walker was laughing as he watched the three of them cross the edge of the pitch.

"That's what you get!"

Francesco glanced over his shoulder.

"Why are you helping them?"

"I'm not!"

"You're laughing!"

"That's different!"

Čech finally slowed, shaking his head.

"You're lucky."

Raya laughed.

"Very lucky."

Francesco returned toward the group, still laughing.

"I scored one goal."

"One very annoying goal," Čech replied.

Wenger had watched the entire thing from the sideline.

His expression remained mostly composed, but the small smile at the corner of his mouth gave him away.

He waited until the laughter began to settle.

"All right."

The players gradually turned back toward him.

Wenger gestured toward the centre of the pitch.

"Enough."

Francesco walked over, still smiling.

Wenger looked at him.

"Good finish."

"Thank you."

"Now do it again."

Francesco grinned.

"I'll try."

"Without being chased by the goalkeepers afterward."

The squad laughed again.

Raya pointed at Francesco.

"No promises."

Wenger shook his head.

"Back to work."

The scrimmage resumed.

The moment had been silly, but it meant something.

The squad was beginning to feel like itself again.

The competitiveness was returning.

So was the friendship.

So were the little arguments and jokes that made training feel less like a collection of individuals and more like a team.

Away from the pitch, however, the squad was changing in another way.

During one lunch break, Francesco was sitting with Giroud, Van Dijk and Walker when Giroud glanced at his phone.

"Have you seen the news?"

Francesco looked over.

"What news?"

Giroud turned the screen toward them.

"Lucas Pérez."

Francesco's expression changed.

"Leaving?"

Giroud nodded.

"West Ham."

Walker leaned over.

"For seven million?"

"That's what they're reporting."

Francesco read the announcement.

Lucas Pérez was officially leaving Arsenal for West Ham United in a deal reported at £7 million.

Francesco sat back.

"Wow."

Van Dijk nodded.

"That's football."

There was a brief silence.

Pérez had been part of the squad, but doesn't play much.

Now he would be wearing another shirt.

It was one of those reminders that pre-season wasn't only about players returning.

It was also about departures.

The squad they had finished the previous campaign with would not necessarily be the squad they started the new one with.

Francesco glanced at the phone again.

Then another piece of news caught his attention.

"Stephy too."

Giroud looked over.

"Mavididi?"

Francesco nodded.

The young forward was departing for Juventus for a reported £3.7 million.

Walker whistled softly.

"That's a move."

Francesco nodded.

"Yeah."

There was no bitterness in the conversation.

Just recognition.

Young players needed opportunities.

Clubs needed to make decisions.

Careers moved in different directions.

Francesco wondered briefly where Mavididi's path would take him.

"I hope it works out for him," he said.

Giroud nodded.

"Me too."

Van Dijk looked around the table.

"It's strange seeing the squad change."

Francesco agreed.

"Especially at the beginning of pre-season."

The club announcements continued appearing around the training ground over the next few days.

Players discussed them between exercises.

Staff members moved about with their usual businesslike efficiency.

There were no dramatic reactions.

Everyone understood that this was part of professional football.

People arrived.

People left.

Teams changed.

The season moved forward.

And the closer Arsenal came to the start of the campaign, the more important every training session became.

By the end of the week, Francesco could feel the difference in his own body.

The first morning had been about rediscovering his fitness.

Now he was beginning to rediscover his football.

His acceleration felt more natural.

His legs responded faster when he changed direction.

His finishing was becoming cleaner.

His stamina was improving.

Most importantly, he no longer had to think about being back.

He simply was.

During one afternoon session, Wenger watched Francesco finish another series of attacking drills.

The manager approached him afterward.

"Better."

Francesco nodded.

"Feels better."

"You are moving more naturally now."

"Yeah."

Wenger smiled.

"But remember what I told you."

"Don't overdo it."

"Exactly."

Francesco laughed.

"I remember."

Wenger looked toward the pitch.

"You made a sensible decision coming back early."

Francesco glanced at his teammates.

"I just wanted to be here."

"I know."

"And I feel good."

"I can see that."

Wenger paused.

"But the season is long."

Francesco nodded.

"I know."

"That is why we build gradually."

"Understood."

Wenger gave him a small nod before returning to the coaching staff.

Francesco watched the squad continue training.

Walker was chasing Alexis during a pressing exercise.

Giroud was arguing jokingly with Van Dijk about a missed pass.

Özil was calmly moving the ball between players.

The goalkeepers were still occasionally exchanging complaints about the earlier scrimmage.

Everything felt familiar again.

The week had changed the atmosphere completely.

The opening morning had felt like a reunion.

Now it felt like preparation.

Arsenal were becoming a team again.

Not finished.

Not yet.

There was still plenty of work ahead.

More fitness.

More tactical sessions.

More competitive games.

More decisions to make before the season began.

But the foundations were being laid.

Francesco looked toward the training ground buildings.

His holiday already seemed distant.

Not because he regretted it.

Quite the opposite.

He was glad he had taken the time.

The difference was that now his body had caught up with his mind.

He was ready to work.

The players began moving toward the next exercise as Wenger called them over.

Francesco picked up his bottle.

Walker walked alongside him.

"So," Walker said, "you planning on scoring another ridiculous goal today?"

Francesco smiled.

"Maybe."

"Please don't."

"Why?"

"The goalkeepers are still angry."

Francesco laughed.

Behind them, Čech shouted,

"We can hear you!"

The players burst into laughter again.

Francesco shook his head.

"See?"

Walker grinned.

"Worth it."

They joined the rest of the squad.

The next drill was already being arranged.

Cones were moved.

Balls were placed.

The coaching staff took their positions.

Wenger stood at the centre of the pitch, ready to begin.

The squad gathered around him.

The laughter slowly faded.

Francesco took his place among them.

The new season was still several weeks away, but the shape of it was becoming clearer every day.

Then the following morning, London Colney felt different.

As there's players arriving through the gates, staff moving between buildings, coaches carrying folders and equipment, and the familiar sounds of boots against concrete as the squad made its way toward the training ground.

But there was a sense of movement in the air.

This time, they were not simply arriving for another session.

They were leaving.

The first stage of pre-season at home had come to an end, and Arsenal were about to take their preparations overseas.

Francesco stepped out of his car with his travel bag over one shoulder and looked across the familiar entrance.

Only a week had passed since he had first returned.

Yet it felt considerably longer.

The difference was in his body.

There was no heaviness in his legs now. No slight hesitation when changing direction. No need to think about whether his first touch would be clean or whether his lungs would keep up with the pace of an exercise.

Football had stopped feeling like something he was getting back to.

It simply felt natural again.

He walked toward the collection area where several members of the staff were already organizing the travelling equipment.

Large cases were being checked and loaded.

Training kits had been packed.

Medical equipment was being carefully stored.

Boxes containing boots, footballs, recovery equipment and other essentials were being moved toward the vehicles waiting nearby.

Players stood around with smaller bags, some drinking coffee, others checking their phones while waiting for instructions.

"Morning."

Francesco turned.

Kyle Walker was standing behind him with a backpack over one shoulder.

"Morning."

Walker looked at him.

"You sleep?"

"Enough."

"Liar."

Francesco laughed.

"You?"

"Barely."

"Why?"

"I was packing."

"You had all night."

"I know."

Francesco shook his head.

Walker pointed at him.

"Don't judge me."

"I didn't say anything."

"Your face did."

They walked together toward the bus.

Around them, the rest of the squad was gradually assembling.

Giroud arrived carrying a travel bag and immediately started complaining about how much luggage he had.

Alexis had his headphones around his neck and was already talking animatedly with one of the staff members.

Van Dijk stood nearby checking something on his phone while Özil spoke quietly with another teammate.

The atmosphere was relaxed, but there was a little more energy than usual.

A tour meant something different.

There was still work to be done, but there was also the feeling of going somewhere together.

A new environment.

New surroundings.

And eventually, a match.

Francesco climbed aboard the team bus and found a seat before Walker dropped into the one nearby.

Players continued filing through the doors.

Someone had music playing quietly from the back.

A few teammates were already exchanging jokes.

Others immediately put their headphones on.

The bus slowly filled with the familiar sounds of a team preparing to travel: bags being lifted into overhead compartments, phone notifications, conversations crossing between seats and occasional bursts of laughter.

Francesco settled back.

Through the window, he watched London Colney pass slowly outside.

For a moment, he thought about how quickly the previous week had disappeared.

The first day had felt like a return.

Then came the gradual increase in workload.

The sharper exercises.

The competitive games.

The finishing.

The little mistakes disappearing one by one.

Now he was sitting on the Arsenal bus with his teammates, heading toward an airport and a plane that would take them halfway around the world.

He smiled to himself.

Football moved quickly.

One minute you were recovering from a World Cup final.

The next, you were preparing to play Atlético Madrid.

The bus pulled away from London Colney.

Conversation continued around him.

Walker was talking about something that had happened during training.

Giroud was laughing from several rows behind.

Alexis occasionally joined in from his seat.

Francesco listened, occasionally adding something to the conversation, while the city gradually disappeared behind them.

There was excitement, but nobody was behaving as though they were going on holiday.

They knew what the tour was for.

Pre-season had entered another phase.

The conditioning work at home had given them a foundation.

Now they would have to take that foundation onto the pitch against opposition.

And Atlético Madrid would not make anything easy.

Francesco looked down at his phone.

A message from Leah was waiting.

He smiled before opening it.

The bus continued toward the airport.

By the time Arsenal's travelling party reached the terminal, the players were moving with the efficiency that came from having done this many times before.

Staff guided everyone through the process.

Bags were accounted for.

Equipment was checked.

Passports were produced.

Players gathered in small groups while waiting for the final instructions.

Francesco stayed close to his teammates, occasionally exchanging a few words with Wenger and members of the coaching staff.

Eventually, the group made its way toward the aircraft.

The Arsenal Emirates aircraft waited for them on the tarmac.

Seeing the plane brought a small change in the mood.

The journey was real now.

They were going to Singapore.

Francesco climbed the steps with his bag and entered the aircraft.

Inside, the travelling party began settling into their seats.

Players took their places.

Coaches checked their schedules.

Medical staff organized what they needed for the journey.

Other members of the delegation moved through the cabin, making sure everything was in order before departure.

Francesco found his seat and placed his bag away before sitting down.

Walker appeared nearby.

"You got everything?"

"I think so."

"You think?"

Francesco looked at him.

"You're the one who forgot half your stuff yesterday."

Walker laughed.

"Fair."

One by one, the players settled.

The doors eventually closed.

The familiar hum of the aircraft filled the cabin.

Francesco looked through the window as the plane began moving.

London stretched beyond the glass.

Then the aircraft accelerated.

The runway disappeared beneath them.

And Arsenal were airborne.

For the first hour or so, the cabin remained relatively lively.

Players talked across the seats.

Some watched films.

Others listened to music.

A few were already asleep, heads resting against pillows as the long journey began.

There were phones in hands, tablets open on seats, headphones covering ears and the occasional quiet laugh from one part of the cabin.

Francesco spent some time watching a film before eventually checking his phone again.

Leah had replied.

He opened their conversation.

Leah: Just arrived at Colney.

Francesco smiled.

He typed back.

Francesco: You're at my training ground now.

A few seconds passed.

Leah: Our training ground.

He laughed quietly.

Francesco: Fair enough. How's everything?

Her response arrived soon.

Leah: Good. We've got training ahead. Should be a busy session.

Francesco looked around the aircraft before replying.

Francesco: Same here, except I'm currently flying away from London.

Leah: Show-off.

Francesco: Says the person who gets to stay home.

Leah: Stay home? I'm training.

Francesco: Then going out afterward.

There was a pause.

Then.

Leah: Maybe.

Francesco smiled.

Francesco: That's what I heard.

Leah: Girls' night out after training.

Francesco: Ah.

Leah: What?

Francesco: Nothing.

Leah: Francesco.

Francesco: I'm just disappointed.

Leah: Why?

Francesco: I thought you'd miss me.

The reply came quickly.

Leah: I do.

His smile softened.

Then another message appeared.

Leah: But I'm still going out.

Francesco laughed under his breath.

Francesco: Good. You should.

Leah: Exactly.

Francesco: Have fun.

Leah: I will.

She sent another message.

Leah: You enjoy Singapore.

Francesco: I will.

Leah: And don't work yourself into the ground.

Francesco looked at the message for a moment.

Francesco: I won't.

Leah: Promise?

Francesco: Promise.

Leah: Good.

Then:

Leah: Have a good flight, captain.

Francesco smiled.

Francesco: Have a good session.

Leah: I will. Go sleep.

Francesco: You're not my manager.

Leah: Someone has to manage you.

He laughed.

Francesco: Enjoy your girls' night.

Leah: Enjoy your very glamorous plane ride.

Francesco glanced around the cabin.

Walker was asleep.

Giroud was watching something on his tablet.

Alexis was talking quietly with another player.

Özil had his headphones on.

Francesco typed one final message.

Francesco: I'd still rather be with you.

There was a longer pause this time.

Then.

Leah: Me too. ❤️

Francesco put the phone down.

For a few moments, he simply sat there.

Outside the window, there was nothing but sky.

He thought about her arriving at London Colney, walking into the same environment he had spent the past week in, preparing for her own training session.

Their careers were moving in parallel.

Different schedules.

But both of them were beginning another demanding season.

Francesco leaned back and closed his eyes.

The aircraft had settled into its long cruise.

Around him, the squad had become quieter.

Some players were sleeping deeply now.

Others were still watching films or listening to music.

A couple of conversations continued in low voices.

The energy of the departure had faded into the calm rhythm of a long flight.

Francesco thought back to the previous week.

He had arrived at Colney still carrying some of the fatigue of the summer.

Now he could feel the difference.

His legs responded immediately.

His movements were cleaner.

His timing was returning.

There was still work ahead, but he no longer felt like he was searching for his game.

It was coming back naturally.

And now there would be a new challenge.

Atlético Madrid.

The thought made him open his eyes.

That was what made this trip different.

The sessions at London Colney had been important, but they had been controlled.

They had been about building the players up.

The tour would demand something more.

They would play in front of supporters again.

They would face another professional side.

There would be tackles, pressure, mistakes, moments when decisions had to be made quickly.

Even though it was pre-season, Francesco knew the competitive instinct would return the moment the referee blew the whistle.

He looked around the cabin.

His teammates were spread throughout the aircraft.

Giroud asleep now.

Van Dijk reading.

Walker still resting.

Alexis scrolling through his phone.

Özil quietly watching something on his screen.

Wenger and the coaching staff were further ahead, speaking occasionally about the schedule.

It struck Francesco that this was the first time since the World Cup that the entire rhythm of football had truly returned, with the Arsenal team that would have to become stronger with every session and every match.

The aircraft continued eastward.

Hours passed.

Meals were served.

The lights were adjusted.

The cabin grew darker as more players slept.

Francesco eventually put his headphones on and listened to music, watching the faint reflection of his own face in the window.

__________________________________________________

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