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But by defeating one of Europe's strongest teams home and away with intelligence, discipline and fearless football as the Gunners had booked their place in the UEFA Champions League semi-finals.
The celebrations continued for several more minutes.
The Arsenal supporters refused to leave.
Neither did the players.
Together, they remained in front of the away end, applauding one another beneath the Etihad floodlights.
Every player took a moment to soak it in.
Champions League nights like these were rare.
Victories like this were even rarer.
Francesco stood at the centre of the line beside Wenger, clapping towards the travelling supporters before raising both hands in appreciation.
Thousands of scarves answered him.
Camera flashes sparkled throughout the away section.
Walker leaned towards Robertson.
"I could stay here all night."
Robertson laughed.
"The boss definitely won't let you."
"You're probably right."
Eventually, one of UEFA's match coordinators approached Wenger.
The Frenchman nodded before turning back towards his players.
"Come on, gentlemen."
"We've earned a warm shower."
That finally persuaded everyone to leave.
The players applauded the supporters one final time before disappearing back through the tunnel.
The corridor leading towards the dressing rooms buzzed with activity.
Television crews hurried in every direction.
UEFA officials exchanged paperwork.
Ground staff rolled equipment back toward storage rooms.
As Arsenal walked inside, applause unexpectedly echoed from one side of the hallway.
Manchester City's stadium staff.
Stewards.
Security personnel.
Several of them quietly applauded Arsenal's performance.
Simply out of respect.
Francesco noticed it immediately.
He slowed for a moment.
"Thank you."
One elderly steward smiled.
"You played brilliant football tonight."
Francesco extended his hand.
"Appreciate that."
Little moments like those often meant more than headlines.
Inside the away dressing room, the atmosphere exploded.
The door had barely closed before Walker shouted.
"We're in the semi-finals!"
A chorus of cheers immediately followed.
Giroud launched a towel into the air like it was a trophy.
Cazorla laughed so hard he nearly dropped his boots.
Even Wenger couldn't prevent himself from smiling.
The Frenchman rarely celebrated wildly.
Tonight was different.
He applauded every single player.
"Excellent."
"Every one of you."
"You respected the game."
"You respected the opponent."
"And when your moments came…"
"…you played football."
There was genuine pride in his voice.
Not relief.
Pride.
Francesco looked around the room.
Nobody was pretending they had won the competition.
They all knew bigger challenges still awaited.
But reaching the Champions League semi-finals after eliminating Pep Guardiola's Manchester City by a 7-1 aggregate score was something worth celebrating.
Čech sat quietly removing the tape from his wrists.
Walker walked over and placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Made about six saves."
Čech shrugged.
"That's my job."
Walker looked offended.
"Can't you just accept compliments?"
"I did."
"You shrugged."
"That's how I accept them."
The room burst into laughter.
Giroud, still buzzing from his goal, walked straight towards Iwobi.
"I told you I'd score."
Iwobi grinned.
"You've reminded me five times already."
"Six."
"See?"
"I like accurate statistics."
Cazorla shook his head.
"I think we've made a mistake."
"What mistake?"
"Giving Olivier another goal."
Everyone laughed again.
Even Giroud.
"I deserve this."
The celebrations lasted another ten minutes before reality slowly returned.
Recovery drinks appeared.
Ice towels were distributed.
The medical staff immediately began checking players for knocks.
Physiotherapist Colin Lewin walked towards Francesco.
"Everything okay?"
Francesco flexed both legs.
"A few bruises."
"Nothing unusual."
"We'll get some treatment at the hotel."
"No problem."
Meanwhile, UEFA officials entered carrying clipboards.
One approached Wenger.
Another walked directly towards Francesco.
"Captain."
Francesco turned.
"Yes?"
"The broadcasters would like you for the flash interview."
Walker immediately interrupted.
"Ooo…"
"Don't forget us when you're famous."
Francesco rolled his eyes.
"I'll try."
Giroud pointed dramatically.
"If they ask about my goal…"
"I won't mention you."
"You are a cruel captain."
The room laughed once more.
The UEFA official smiled politely.
"We'll need him now."
Francesco grabbed a fresh training jacket before following the official through the corridor.
The walk to the flash interview area was surprisingly quiet.
Most supporters had already remained inside the stands celebrating or applauding both teams.
Only the muffled sounds of chanting filtered through the concrete walls.
Television staff hurried around carrying cameras and lighting equipment.
Commentators prepared for their closing broadcasts.
A production assistant greeted Francesco as he approached.
"This way."
She pointed towards a brightly lit backdrop covered in Champions League sponsors.
Several cameras were already waiting.
Large television lights illuminated the small interview area.
Microphones from multiple broadcasters rested on a narrow stand.
The UEFA media officer smiled warmly.
"Just a couple of minutes."
"We'll begin shortly."
Francesco nodded.
"No problem."
He took a deep breath.
This had quickly become another part of modern football.
Performing on the pitch.
Then immediately explaining it afterwards.
Across the room, he could see Kevin De Bruyne finishing an interview of his own.
The Belgian looked understandably disappointed but still answered every question respectfully before walking away.
As De Bruyne passed, he stopped briefly beside Francesco.
"Congratulations."
"Thanks."
"You were clinical again."
Francesco offered a respectful smile.
"You'll be back."
De Bruyne nodded.
"We always are."
There was no bitterness.
Only mutual respect between two competitors.
Then the producer counted down with his fingers.
"Three…"
"Two…"
"One…"
A small red light appeared on the camera.
The presenter smiled towards viewers around Europe.
"We're joined now by Arsenal captain Francesco following an outstanding 3-1 victory away at Manchester City, securing a remarkable 7-1 aggregate win and a place in the UEFA Champions League semi-finals."
She turned towards him.
"Congratulations."
"Thank you very much."
"You've just eliminated one of Europe's strongest sides over two legs."
"How proud are you of this performance?"
Francesco smiled briefly before answering.
"Very proud."
"But more than proud, I'm happy for the whole team."
"When people see seven-one on aggregate, they might think it was easy."
He shook his head.
"It wasn't."
"Manchester City pushed us in both matches."
"They're an unbelievable team with unbelievable players."
"We had to defend together."
"We had to stay disciplined."
"And when our opportunities arrived, we had to be ruthless."
"I think everyone did their job tonight."
The presenter nodded.
"In the first half, City scored early."
"For a moment the stadium really came alive."
"What was going through your mind after Gabriel Jesus made it one-nil?"
Francesco answered without hesitation.
"Stay calm."
"That was honestly the only thought."
"We knew they would come out flying."
"If we had panicked, maybe they score another."
"So we stayed together."
"N'Golo kept talking."
"Virgil kept talking."
"Peter kept talking."
"I tried to keep everyone focused."
"We trusted the plan."
"And eventually the spaces appeared."
The presenter smiled.
"Speaking of spaces…"
"Your goal was beautifully timed."
"Mesut Özil's pass looked almost telepathic."
Francesco laughed softly.
"That's Mesut."
"You don't have to ask for the ball."
"He already knows where you're running."
"He waited for exactly the right second."
"The pass made my job much easier."
"I just had to stay composed."
She smiled.
"You make it sound simple."
Francesco chuckled.
"I promise you it doesn't feel simple when Ederson is running at you."
Several members of the television crew laughed quietly behind the cameras.
The presenter continued.
"You were substituted in the second half to a standing ovation from the Arsenal supporters."
"What did that moment mean?"
For the first time, Francesco paused for a second before answering.
"It means a lot."
"Honestly."
"When you play football, you always want your supporters to feel proud."
"They travelled all the way from London."
"They never stopped singing."
"Even when City scored first."
"You hear them."
"Sometimes people think players don't notice."
"We notice everything."
"So hearing them tonight…"
"…that was special."
The interviewer nodded.
"Arsenal are now into the Champions League semi-finals."
"You'll face one of Europe's elite once again."
"Do you have a preference?"
Francesco immediately smiled.
"No."
"At this stage, every opponent is world class."
"If you want to win this competition, eventually you have to beat the best."
"So we'll wait for the draw."
"We'll prepare."
"And whoever we get…"
"…we'll be ready."
A final question remained.
"One last thing."
"You're captain of one of Europe's strongest squads."
"What message does this result send to the rest of the continent?"
Francesco thought carefully.
Then answered in the same calm voice he had used throughout the interview.
"I don't think tonight is about sending messages."
"It's about proving something to ourselves."
"We've worked extremely hard all season."
"The manager has trusted every player."
"The experienced lads have guided the younger ones."
"The younger players have brought energy."
"We're becoming a real team."
"And I think that's the biggest reason we're here."
He smiled.
"But reaching the semi-finals isn't our final objective."
"We're happy tonight."
"Tomorrow, we start thinking about the next challenge."
The presenter extended her hand.
"Congratulations again."
"Best of luck in the semi-finals."
"Thank you."
The red recording light disappeared.
"Cut."
Immediately, several crew members applauded quietly.
The presenter smiled warmly.
"That was excellent."
Francesco thanked everyone before stepping away from the interview area.
As he walked back through the corridor toward Arsenal's dressing room, he could already hear the familiar sound of laughter echoing from behind the closed door.
Walker was undoubtedly telling another story.
Giroud was almost certainly taking credit for something.
Francesco stood outside the dressing room door for only a moment.
The distant sound of the stadium still lingered somewhere beyond the concrete walls, but the noise was fading now. One by one, television crews packed away their equipment. UEFA officials disappeared down different corridors. Ground staff wheeled advertising boards back into storage.
The match was over.
The celebrations belonged to the supporters now.
For the players, the night was already beginning to move on.
He pushed open the dressing room door.
Most of the squad had already showered and changed into their club travel suits. Boots had been packed away, recovery shakes sat half-finished beside lockers, and physiotherapists were applying the last bits of treatment before the journey home.
Wenger stood near the centre of the room.
"We leave in ten minutes."
"Get something to eat on the plane."
"Hydrate."
"And tomorrow…"
He smiled slightly.
"…sleep."
That earned several tired smiles.
No speeches.
No dramatic finale.
The manager understood something every experienced coach eventually learned, as professional football never stopped.
A few minutes later the Arsenal squad filed quietly back through the service corridors beneath the Etihad.
The stadium felt completely different now.
Only an hour earlier every hallway had been overflowing with tension.
Now they were almost empty.
Cleaning crews had already begun their work.
Security staff nodded respectfully as the players passed.
Outside, the cool Manchester night greeted them.
The team coach waited beneath the floodlights, engine already running.
Equipment staff loaded the final bags before everyone climbed aboard.
This time, nobody hurried to find conversation.
The adrenaline had finally left their bodies.
Fatigue took its place.
Francesco settled into his usual seat beside the window.
As the coach pulled away from the Etihad, he looked back one final time.
The stadium slowly disappeared into the darkness.
Another chapter completed.
The journey to Manchester Airport was peaceful.
Some players placed headphones over their ears.
Others simply leaned back with their eyes closed.
Čech spent most of the journey reading through post-match performance data on his tablet.
Kanté rested quietly against the window.
Walker, unusually, remained silent almost the entire trip.
Robertson glanced across the aisle.
"You alright?"
Walker opened one eye.
"I'm too tired to be funny."
Robertson laughed softly.
"I never thought I'd see the day."
"I'm saving my energy."
"For what?"
"The next match."
That was all.
Even Walker didn't have much left in the tank.
Then they arrive at the airport, as the airport staff welcomed Arsenal before escorting the travelling party through security with practiced efficiency.
Outside on the tarmac, their charter aircraft waited beneath bright floodlights.
The night air carried a slight chill.
One by one the players climbed the steps.
Inside the cabin, lights had been dimmed.
Dinner had already been prepared.
Nothing extravagant.
Grilled chicken.
Rice.
Vegetables.
Fresh fruit.
Recovery came before celebration.
The nutrition staff made sure of it.
Francesco ate beside Van Dijk and Xhaka.
Conversation remained minimal.
Not because anyone was unhappy.
Simply because exhaustion had settled over everyone.
Eventually Xhaka looked up.
"Long week."
Francesco nodded.
"And it's not over."
Van Dijk smiled.
"It never is."
The aircraft began taxiing.
Moments later the engines roared into life.
Manchester's lights gradually disappeared beneath the wings as Arsenal headed south towards London.
Within twenty minutes, much of the cabin had fallen asleep.
Training jackets became makeshift blankets.
Music stopped playing.
Tablets were switched off.
Even the cabin crew moved quietly through the aisles, careful not to disturb anyone.
Francesco rested his head against the window.
The reflection staring back at him looked older than it had a few months earlier.
Not because of age.
Because of responsibility.
Captain.
League leaders.
Champions League semi-finalists.
Every achievement carried another expectation.
He closed his eyes.
Sleep arrived quickly.
The aircraft touched down in London well after midnight.
No speeches greeted them.
No waiting supporters.
Just club staff ensuring every player reached home safely.
The squad exchanged quiet goodbyes before disappearing into waiting cars.
Francesco drove through the peaceful streets of Richmond beneath empty skies.
London felt almost asleep.
When he finally pulled into the driveway of his home, only a single light remained on inside.
Leah had waited.
She opened the front door before he even reached it.
"Tired?"
Francesco smiled.
"Very."
She hugged him without saying another word.
Behind her, Cheddar waddled enthusiastically across the hallway, tail wagging furiously despite the late hour.
The little corgi circled Francesco's legs several times before finally settling down.
"I think someone missed you," Leah laughed.
"I missed him too."
It had been a very long day.
As morning arrived slowly.
For the first time in several days, there was no immediate rush to board a bus or catch another flight.
Sunlight streamed through the living room windows while Cheddar occupied his favourite place on the rug.
Leah carried two mugs of coffee into the room.
The television was already tuned to a sports channel.
Every bulletin carried the same headline.
ARSENAL THROUGH TO CHAMPIONS LEAGUE SEMI-FINALS.
The highlights rolled once again.
Jesus' opener.
Francesco's equaliser.
Alexis restoring the lead.
Giroud's late header.
Then came the analysis.
One former England international praised Arsenal's tactical discipline.
"They defended when they needed to defend."
"They attacked when they needed to attack."
"That's the sign of a mature European team."
Another pundit highlighted Wenger's adjustments at half-time.
"The manager deserves enormous credit."
"They didn't simply protect a lead."
"They controlled the tie."
Across Europe the praise sounded remarkably similar.
Italian broadcasters discussed Arsenal's growing confidence ahead of the semi-finals.
Spanish newspapers described them as one of the tournament's most balanced teams.
German analysts praised the midfield partnership of Kanté and Xhaka.
French television admired Wenger's calm authority throughout both legs.
Leah smiled as another replay showed Francesco's goal.
"I suppose they'll keep showing that all day."
"They probably will."
"You'll watch it?"
Francesco smiled.
"Maybe once."
She laughed.
"Only once?"
"Maybe twice."
Cheddar looked up briefly before deciding the conversation wasn't particularly interesting.
Within seconds he was asleep again.
Francesco watched the television quietly.
The achievement felt satisfying.
But strangely...
Not overwhelming.
Perhaps because there wasn't time.
The Premier League awaited.
Then another Champions League challenge.
Football moved too quickly to spend long admiring what had already happened.
He switched the television off.
Leah looked at him.
"Already?"
He nodded.
"Time to think about Newcastle."
She smiled knowingly.
"I had a feeling you'd say that."
The next day, London Colney welcomed the squad back the following afternoon.
Recovery dominated the schedule.
Ice baths.
Light jogging.
Massage treatment.
Stretching.
The coaching staff carefully managed workloads after another demanding European night.
Those who had played the full ninety completed only light work outdoors.
The substitutes trained at greater intensity.
Wenger gathered everyone briefly afterwards.
"Excellent work in Manchester."
He allowed himself one final acknowledgment.
"Now we leave it behind."
He pointed towards the fixture board.
Newcastle United.
West Ham United.
AS Roma.
"Everything ahead of us matters more than everything behind us."
Nobody argued.
Professional football rarely allowed time for nostalgia.
The days passed quickly.
Recovery became preparation.
Preparation became another match.
Soon Arsenal travelled north once again.
This time there were no Champions League banners.
No anthem.
Just the unmistakable atmosphere of St James' Park.
Newcastle United made life extremely difficult from the opening whistle.
Their intensity unsettled Arsenal throughout the afternoon.
Every second ball seemed to fall kindly for the home side.
The crowd created a relentless atmosphere.
Despite taking control of possession, Arsenal struggled to create clear opportunities.
Newcastle struck first midway through the opening half.
The home supporters erupted.
Francesco responded shortly after the interval.
Collecting a pass from Özil just outside the penalty area, he shifted the ball onto his right foot before curling a superb effort beyond the goalkeeper into the far corner.
One-one.
For a moment Arsenal looked capable of turning the match around.
Instead Newcastle found another goal from a swift counterattack with less than twenty minutes remaining.
Arsenal searched desperately for another equaliser.
Giroud headed narrowly wide.
Alexis forced an excellent save.
Francesco saw a late effort blocked inside a crowded penalty area.
The final whistle confirmed a disappointing afternoon.
Newcastle United 2.
Arsenal 1.
The dressing room afterwards was noticeably quieter than usual.
Nobody needed reminding that the title race remained demanding.
Wenger's message was simple.
"We lose together."
"We respond together."
Then the response arrived only a few days later.
The Emirates Stadium welcomed West Ham United under bright spring sunshine.
From the opening whistle Arsenal looked sharper.
Hungrier.
More determined.
The disappointment at Newcastle had clearly left its mark.
Nacho Monreal opened the scoring during the first half, arriving perfectly to convert a low cross inside the six-yard box.
The Emirates erupted.
West Ham briefly threatened an equaliser before Arsenal doubled their advantage.
This time Giroud rose highest from a corner to power home another trademark header.
Two-nil.
The French striker celebrated with considerably less theatrics than he had in Manchester.
Perhaps even he recognised there was still work to do.
After the interval, Wenger decided to manage minutes.
Giroud left the pitch to warm applause.
Francesco replaced him.
The change altered Arsenal's attack immediately.
With fresh legs leading the line, spaces began opening behind West Ham's defence.
Just after the hour mark, Özil slipped another perfectly weighted through ball into the penalty area.
Francesco timed his run to perfection before calmly finishing past the advancing goalkeeper.
Three-one after West Ham had briefly pulled one back.
The Emirates sensed another goal.
It arrived fifteen minutes later.
Alexis burst down the left before cutting possession back towards the edge of the area.
Francesco met it first time.
His low strike flew through a crowd of players before nestling inside the bottom corner.
Four-one.
The match was over.
The supporters rose together to applaud another convincing home victory.
Two goals from the captain.
Another important three points.
More importantly, confidence had returned immediately after the Newcastle defeat.
Back at London Colney, the atmosphere shifted once again.
Premier League conversations disappeared.
Television screens inside the analysis room displayed a different badge.
AS Roma.
Italian footage replaced English highlights.
The Champions League logo appeared once more.
Players took their seats.
Notebooks opened.
Wenger stood quietly at the front of the room while Steve Bould prepared the first tactical clips.
As spring sunshine covered the training pitches, every thought was already fixed on one destination.
The Emirates Stadium.
A Champions League semi-final, another ninety minutes from another European dream.
______________________________________________
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, 2016/2017 Champions League, and 2017/2018 Carabao Cup.
Season 17/18 stats:
Arsenal:
Match: 51
Goal: 64
Assist: 6
MOTM: 6
POTM: 0
England:
Match: 4
Goal: 4
Assist: 1
MOTM: 2
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