The King Of Arsenal

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Francesco nodded, absorbing the encouragement. The night had been unforgettable—a comeback win, Man of the Match, and his first post-match press conference. Walking back down the tunnel with Arsène, Per, and Alexis, he felt a renewed sense of purpose. He was part of something bigger now, a journey that had only just begun. And he couldn't wait to see where it would take him.

As Francesco made his way back to the locker room with Arsène, Per, and Alexis, he could still feel the exhilaration of the post-match conference lingering in his veins. The spotlight, the questions, the flashes of cameras—it had all been overwhelming yet incredibly rewarding. He felt as though he'd taken an important step, one that solidified his place within the team and showed that he could handle the pressures that came with it.

When they reentered the locker room, the other players greeted them with smiles and nods of approval, some giving Francesco an extra pat on the back.

"Survived your first press conference, I see," Theo Walcott grinned. "You'll get used to it."

Francesco chuckled, feeling the camaraderie that was quickly becoming one of his favorite parts of being on this team. "Thanks, Theo. It wasn't as terrifying as I thought it'd be."

He made his way over to his locker to gather his belongings. He tossed his boots into his bag, carefully packed his jersey, and then pulled out his phone to send a quick message to his parents, letting them know about the match and that he'd be heading back to London soon. As he slung his bag over his shoulder, he glanced around at his teammates, all equally worn out and exhilarated from the night's events.

Once everyone had gathered their gear, the players gradually filed out of the locker room, heading toward the team bus parked outside the stadium. The bus would take them to the airport, where they'd board a charter flight back to London. Francesco followed along, finding a seat near the back, where he could quietly reflect on the game, the press conference, and everything that had happened.

As the bus started moving, there was a contented hum of conversation. Some players were recounting their favorite moments from the match, others were already joking about how they'd spend their day off tomorrow. Francesco leaned back, watching as the city lights of Stoke passed by, his mind drifting back to his goals and the atmosphere in the stadium when they'd pulled off that incredible comeback. He still couldn't quite believe it—how he'd been part of such an intense match, how his goals had helped spark the team's recovery.

Alexis leaned over from his seat across the aisle, breaking into Francesco's thoughts. "How does it feel, being part of a comeback like that? Not a bad start for you, eh?"

Francesco smiled, feeling a surge of pride. "It feels… amazing, honestly. I didn't expect to be in that position, but once we started fighting back, it was like everything just clicked."

Per, sitting in the seat in front of them, turned around and gave Francesco a nod. "That's the spirit. Keep that hunger, and don't get too comfortable. The moment you think you've made it is the moment you stop growing."

Francesco nodded, taking Per's words to heart. He could see how players like Per and Alexis had reached their level—not just through talent, but through constant dedication and a refusal to settle for less than their best. It was inspiring and reminded him of the kind of player he wanted to become.

The bus ride was calm, punctuated by quiet laughter and a few tired yawns. The players were exhausted but in high spirits, their minds already on the journey back home. Francesco leaned his head against the window, closing his eyes for a moment as he listened to the murmur of his teammates. The reality of his life had shifted in such a profound way that he couldn't help but feel grateful.

When they arrived at the airport, they were escorted through a private entrance to the waiting charter plane. The team moved efficiently, everyone accustomed to the routine. Francesco followed along, taking his seat next to Alex Oxlade-Chamberlain, who was busy scrolling through his phone.

"Seen the highlights yet?" Alex asked, giving him a grin. "They're already showing clips of your goals."

Francesco's eyes widened. "Already? I didn't realize they'd be up so fast."

"It's Arsenal, mate. Fans can't get enough, especially after a match like that," Alex replied, showing Francesco a clip of his second goal. The screen lit up with the roar of the crowd as the ball hit the back of the net, and Francesco felt that rush all over again, his heart beating a little faster.

The flight back to London was relaxed. Some players fell asleep almost immediately, others talked quietly, and a few—like Francesco—spent the time replaying the match highlights on their phones, unable to let go of the adrenaline just yet. He noticed Arsène in the front of the cabin, reviewing some notes. Even after such an intense game, the manager was focused, constantly planning and preparing. It was that dedication that had earned him the players' respect, and Francesco was starting to understand why.

As they neared London, Francesco's excitement began to settle into a peaceful satisfaction. The adrenaline of the night was fading, but the feeling of achievement lingered, filling him with a quiet confidence. He knew this was only the beginning, that he'd need to keep pushing himself, learning from every experience, and never taking any moment for granted.

When they finally landed in London and stepped off the plane, the crisp night air greeted them. The team's travel bus was waiting on the tarmac, ready to take them to the training ground where most of them had parked their cars. Francesco, tired but happy, climbed aboard, taking one of the front seats this time.

As the bus rolled through the quiet streets, Francesco thought about the journey ahead. This was his dream, his new life. The challenges would be countless, the expectations high, but he felt ready. Tonight had proven to him that he could handle the pressures, face down doubts, and rise to the occasion.

When they reached the training ground, the players gathered their things, giving each other one last round of farewells. As Francesco stepped off the bus and looked up at the London sky, he couldn't help but smile.

Francesco said his goodbyes to his teammates, exchanging a few last jokes and congratulations before heading toward the bike rack. While most of the players drove home in their cars, Francesco preferred the feel of riding his bicycle through the quiet London streets. There was something calming about the routine; it let him unwind after a long match.

As he pedaled through the city, the night air cool against his face, Francesco took in the familiar sights. The adrenaline from the game was still there, humming beneath his skin, but the ride home gave him time to process everything. He thought of the goals, the crowd's roar, and the press conference that had capped off the night. It was an evening he knew he'd remember forever, one that had reminded him why he loved the game.

Before long, he reached his family's modest home. He parked his bike by the front steps and quietly entered, trying not to make too much noise in case his parents were already asleep. But as he stepped inside, he saw his mother, Sarah, and father, Mike, still at the dining table, finishing their dinner. Their eyes lit up when they saw him.

"Francesco!" his mom said, her face breaking into a wide smile. "We watched the match. I can't believe it—two goals!"

His dad stood up, clapping him on the back with a proud grin. "Unbelievable performance, son. You had us glued to the screen. We were cheering like crazy!"

Francesco laughed, feeling a mix of pride and warmth. "Thanks, Mom. Thanks, Dad. I still can't believe it myself."

He took a seat with them, and his mom quickly served him a plate of pasta. Though he'd had some snacks on the flight, the hunger from such an intense game hit him all at once. He dug in as his parents continued to talk about the game, their voices filled with excitement.

"We saw that second goal, and I thought, 'That's my boy out there!'" his dad said, his face beaming. "And then they showed you at the press conference! You handled yourself well."

"Yeah," his mom added, pride shining in her eyes. "You looked so calm up there. I can't imagine how nerve-wracking it must've been."

Francesco smiled between bites, humbled by their praise. "Honestly, I was pretty nervous, but once I got started, it felt easier. Per and Alexis were there too, so that helped."

They talked more about the game, his parents asking about the atmosphere, the comeback, and what it was like in the locker room after. Francesco described the excitement, the cheers, and how the team rallied together after halftime. He could see how happy his parents were, and it made the night feel even more special.

After finishing his meal, Francesco leaned back in his chair, feeling the exhaustion start to weigh on him. "Thanks, Mom. I didn't realize how hungry I was until I sat down."

She smiled and patted his shoulder. "You've earned it, Francesco. We're so proud of you."

His dad nodded in agreement. "You've got a long road ahead, but nights like these make it all worth it. Keep working hard."

Francesco nodded, feeling their words sink in. The support of his family meant everything to him, especially on nights like this. He pushed back his chair and stood up, stretching.

"I think I'm gonna take a quick shower and head to bed," he said, stifling a yawn. "It's been a long day."

His parents nodded, both of them still smiling. "Goodnight, Francesco," his mom said. "Rest well."

He made his way upstairs, grateful for his family's unwavering support. In the bathroom, he washed away the remnants of the game, feeling the warmth of the water relax his tired muscles. The thrill of the night was finally fading, replaced by a calm contentment.

After his shower, he changed into his pajamas and sank into bed. The quiet of his room wrapped around him, and as he lay there, with a peaceful smile, Francesco closed his eyes, letting the exhaustion pull him into a deep, restful sleep.

The morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow across Francesco's room. He stirred as his phone began to buzz insistently on the bedside table, rousing him from the deep, contented sleep that had claimed him after the exhilarating events of the night before. His hand fumbled for the phone, and as he glanced at the caller ID, he blinked in surprise—Jorge Mendes.

Francesco's heart skipped a beat. It wasn't every day that his agent, one of the most influential figures in football, called him early in the morning. Sitting up and quickly clearing his throat, he answered, doing his best to sound alert. "What's up, Jorge?"

On the other end, Jorge's familiar voice came through, full of energy. "Good morning, superstar! That was quite the performance yesterday. I watched the whole game, and I have to say, you left everyone talking."

Francesco felt a surge of pride. Praise from his parents was always deeply meaningful, but hearing it from someone like Jorge, a man who worked with the best players in the world, made it feel even more real. "Thanks, Jorge. I still can't believe it happened like that," he replied, a smile tugging at his lips as he remembered the rush of scoring those goals.

"Well, believe it," Jorge said, chuckling. "And here's the best part—Arsenal called me this morning. They were absolutely thrilled with what you did out there. You've made a big impression, and they want to offer you a senior player contract."

Francesco's eyes widened as the words sank in. A senior contract. That meant he'd no longer be considered just a promising youth player in the reserves—he'd be an official member of Arsenal's first team. He'd fought hard for this, and now it was within his grasp.

"A senior contract…" he echoed, almost in disbelief. "So, I'll be staying with the first team? Officially?"

Jorge's voice held a note of pride. "Yes, officially. This means you're a full member of Arsenal's squad now, Francesco. This is a big step in your career, and I couldn't be happier for you."

Francesco felt a rush of emotion—excitement, pride, and a hint of nervousness. He'd dreamt of this moment, but now that it was here, the reality was even more exhilarating. "Thank you, Jorge. I… I don't know what to say. This is all happening so fast."

"Well, let me give you some advice, then," Jorge said, his tone turning serious. "This is just the beginning. Getting the contract is one thing; living up to it is another. The eyes of the football world are on you now. Arsenal sees potential in you, and they're investing in your future. They want you to become a core player, someone they can rely on in crucial moments."

"I understand," Francesco replied, feeling the weight of Jorge's words. This was no longer just about his passion for the game—he had a responsibility now, to his club and his teammates.

"Good. Now, you have a meeting at the Arsenal Training Center later today," Jorge continued. "Arsène Wenger and Ivan Gazidis will be there to go over the contract details. They're looking forward to talking to you about your future with the club. I'll be there, of course, but remember, this is your moment. Let them see how committed you are to Arsenal."

Francesco took a deep breath, letting it all sink in. "I won't let them down, Jorge."

"Good to hear. I'll see you there," Jorge said, his voice warm with encouragement. "Enjoy this, Francesco. You've earned it."

As the call ended, Francesco sat on the edge of his bed, his heart racing. A senior contract with Arsenal—it felt surreal. He quickly sent a message to his parents, letting them know about the call and the meeting, knowing they'd be thrilled for him. Then, he glanced at the clock. He had a few hours until the meeting, so he decided to get a quick workout in to clear his mind and prepare for the day ahead.

After getting ready, he headed downstairs, where he found his mom and dad in the kitchen. His mom looked up with a warm smile. "Morning, Francesco. How did you sleep?"

"Really well, actually," he replied, still processing the news from Jorge. He took a seat and added, "Jorge called me this morning. Arsenal wants to give me a senior contract."

His mom's hand flew to her mouth, her eyes widening. "A senior contract? Francesco, that's incredible!"

His dad clapped him on the shoulder, a proud smile spreading across his face. "I always knew you had it in you, son. You're making history with this."

They ate breakfast together, talking excitedly about the upcoming meeting, with his parents offering words of support and advice. Francesco felt their pride and encouragement fueling his resolve, helping him feel ready for what lay ahead.

When it was time to leave, he kissed his mom on the cheek and gave his dad a quick hug. "Wish me luck."

"You don't need it," his dad replied with a grin. "Just be yourself."

At the Arsenal Training Center, Francesco arrived with a mix of excitement and nerves. He was greeted by the familiar sight of his teammates coming and going, as well as some of the staff members who'd been with him since he joined the youth team. They gave him nods of recognition and encouragement as he made his way to the meeting room.

Jorge was already there, waiting by the door. He gave Francesco a reassuring smile. "You ready?"

Francesco took a steadying breath. "Yeah, I'm ready."

Together, they entered the meeting room, where Arsène Wenger and Ivan Gazidis were seated. Wenger rose to his feet, extending a hand to Francesco with a warm smile. "Good to see you, Francesco. You've been quite the revelation for us."

Francesco shook his hand, feeling a surge of gratitude toward the man who had believed in him. "Thank you, sir. It's been an honor to play for the team."

Ivan Gazidis gestured for him to take a seat. "We've been following your progress closely, Francesco. Last night's performance was exceptional, but more than that, we see a strong potential in you—both on and off the pitch."

Francesco nodded, listening intently as Ivan and Wenger explained what the senior contract entailed. They discussed the responsibilities that came with being a member of the first team, the expectations, and the dedication required to maintain his position. Francesco was struck by how seriously they regarded him, treating him not as a young prospect, but as a core part of the team's future.

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Name : Francesco Lee

Age : 16 (2014)

Birthplace : London, England

Football Club : Arsenal First Team

Championship History : None