The King Of Arsenal

If you want to read 20 Chapters ahead and more, be sure to check out my Patreon!!!

Go to https://www.patreon.com/Tang12

___________________________

Liverpool countered immediately, the break spearheaded by the tireless Sterling. The young winger sprinted down the left, weaving through Arsenal's retreating defenders. As Sterling reached the edge of the box, he cut the ball back toward Lallana, who was charging in unmarked. The Kop rose to its feet, sensing a third goal, but Flamini slid in at the last second, blocking Lallana's shot with a perfectly timed tackle. The traveling Arsenal supporters erupted into cheers, their belief undiminished.

Then, suddenly, in the 87th minute, the magic moment came. Arsenal, still pressing with relentless energy, found themselves deep in Liverpool's half. Debuchy, patrolling the right flank, intercepted a clearance and quickly scanned his options. Spotting Cazorla in space near the edge of the center circle, he threaded a crisp pass to the Spanish midfielder.

Cazorla controlled the ball expertly, swiveling on the spot to evade the onrushing Lallana. Ahead of him, Francesco darted between Škrtel and Gerrard, signaling with a quick flick of his hand for a through ball. His movements were sharp and deliberate, exploiting the slight gap in Liverpool's defensive line.

Cazorla didn't hesitate. With a deft touch and a flash of brilliance, he slid the ball between the two Liverpool stalwarts. Gerrard lunged, stretching his leg in a desperate attempt to intercept, but the ball was just out of his reach. Škrtel spun to chase as Francesco latched onto the pass, his acceleration leaving both men scrambling.

The Anfield crowd held its breath as Francesco surged forward, his eyes locked on the goal. Škrtel, determined not to let the young winger escape, bore down on him like a freight train. As the Slovakian defender lunged in for a sliding tackle, Francesco executed a perfect Marseille turn, pirouetting away from the challenge with stunning grace. Škrtel slid harmlessly past him, leaving Francesco one-on-one with Brad Jones.

Francesco didn't falter. His touch was controlled, his stride composed as he bore down on the Liverpool goalkeeper. With a quick glance up, he assessed Jones's position before unleashing a powerful strike with his favored foot. The ball flew past Jones, brushing the underside of the crossbar as it nestled into the back of the net.

The Arsenal supporters erupted in ecstasy, their cheers piercing through the tense air at Anfield. It was 2-2, and Francesco had delivered the equalizer in the dying moments of the game. The young winger barely celebrated; instead, he sprinted toward the goal, scooped up the ball, and waved frantically for his teammates to hurry back.

"Come on! Back to the half!" Francesco shouted, his voice cutting through the cacophony. His determination was infectious, and his teammates responded, racing to their positions with renewed urgency. Arsenal wasn't content with a draw—they smelled blood and wanted to push for a winner.

As Liverpool readied for the restart, the home crowd roared in an attempt to rouse their players. Gerrard clapped his hands together, barking orders to regroup, his frustration visible but his leadership unyielding. Meanwhile, Škrtel pounded the turf in frustration before rising to his feet, his face a mixture of anger and disbelief.

The match restarted with Liverpool trying to regain control, but Arsenal's energy was unstoppable. Ramsey and Flamini pressed high, forcing hurried passes from the Liverpool midfield. Francesco, now buoyed by his goal, seemed to be everywhere—darting between defenders, pressing aggressively, and creating space for his teammates.

In the 89th minute, Arsenal nearly found the winner. Francesco, once again tormenting Moreno on the right wing, whipped in a dangerous cross that curled toward the far post. Giroud rose high, outjumping Lovren, and directed a powerful header toward goal. Brad Jones, however, reacted with lightning reflexes, diving to his right and parrying the ball away.

The rebound fell to Alexis, who controlled it with his chest and fired a volley toward the bottom corner. But Gerrard, with the instincts of a captain unwilling to concede, threw himself into the shot, blocking it with his body and clearing the danger. The Liverpool fans roared their approval, the tension rising to unbearable levels.

The fourth official raised his board, signaling seven additional minutes of stoppage time. The announcement drew a collective gasp from the crowd at Anfield. Seven minutes—an eternity for both teams as the stakes reached a fever pitch. Arsenal and Liverpool were tied at 2-2, and every player on the pitch knew this was their moment to seize.

Both Arsène Wenger and Brendan Rodgers stood on the sidelines, shouting instructions to their teams. Wenger urged his players to stay composed and strike with precision. Rodgers, equally animated, barked orders for defensive discipline while encouraging his team to push for the decisive goal. The managers' voices mingled with the deafening roars of the crowd, creating a cauldron of tension and expectation.

Liverpool, buoyed by their home crowd, pushed forward relentlessly. In the 96th minute, they earned a corner after Sterling's cross was deflected out by Koscielny. Lallana jogged over to take it as players from both sides crowded Arsenal's penalty area. Even Brad Jones, Liverpool's goalkeeper, joined the fray, his towering figure adding an extra layer of chaos.

Lallana whipped the corner into the box with precision, the ball spinning dangerously toward the crowd of bodies. Mertesacker rose highest, his towering frame giving him the advantage, and he powered a header clear of the box. The ball sailed beyond the melee, landing perfectly at the feet of Francesco, who had stationed himself near the edge of the penalty area.

Time seemed to slow as Francesco controlled the ball with one deft touch. Anfield fell silent for a moment, the realization dawning on the crowd. Francesco had acres of space ahead of him, and only Liverpool players desperate to recover could stop him.

With a burst of speed, Francesco took off, sprinting down the field like a man possessed. Liverpool fans gasped in unison, their hearts sinking as they saw their goalkeeper stranded far up the pitch. Arsenal supporters, on the other hand, erupted in frantic cheers, willing their young star forward.

Every Liverpool player who realized the danger began to chase Francesco, running with everything they had. Gerrard, Henderson, Lovren, and even Brad Jones sprinted back, their legs moving with desperation and regret. Meanwhile, Arsenal players—Ramsey, Alexis, and Giroud—raced forward to support Francesco, turning defense into an electrifying counterattack.

Francesco reached the halfway line, the ball glued to his feet as he glanced over his shoulder. Gerrard and Henderson were closing in, but he had a yard of space, and he knew that was all he needed. With a sudden shift in direction, he cut toward the right flank, forcing Gerrard to alter his angle and giving himself another precious second.

Arsenal fans were on their feet, screaming encouragement as Francesco entered Liverpool's half. The chasing defenders were closing in, but Francesco had momentum and confidence. Brad Jones, sprinting back to his goal, was visibly panicked, waving frantically for his teammates to stop the break.

As Francesco approached the edge of the penalty area, he was aware of Lovren lunging in from his left. With a perfectly timed touch, he nudged the ball past the Croatian defender, leaving him sprawling on the turf. Gerrard, ever the fighter, launched a desperate sliding tackle just as Francesco entered the box. Francesco, sensing the incoming challenge, flicked the ball up and over Gerrard's outstretched leg, skipping past him with breathtaking composure.

It was now Francesco and the goal. Brad Jones, still scrambling back, was yards out of position. Francesco steadied himself, took one final touch to set up his shot, and unleashed a low, powerful drive toward the bottom corner.

The ball zipped past Jones, who could only watch as it struck the inside of the post and ricocheted into the net. For a moment, there was silence, as if the entire stadium needed time to process what had just happened. Then came the eruption—a deafening roar from the Arsenal fans, their voices shaking the very foundations of Anfield.

Francesco wheeled away in celebration, his arms outstretched as his teammates caught up with him, mobbing him in a frenzy of joy. The young winger had done the unthinkable, turning a desperate defensive clearance into a moment of brilliance. It was now 3-2 to Arsenal, deep into stoppage time.

On the touchline, Wenger punched the air, his usually composed demeanor giving way to unrestrained jubilation. Brendan Rodgers stood frozen, his hands on his head, disbelief etched across his face. The Liverpool players sank to the turf, their exhaustion and heartbreak palpable. Brad Jones, still lying near the edge of his box, buried his face in his hands, knowing his decision to join the attack had been a fatal mistake.

As the game restarted, Arsenal players regrouped, determined to see out the final moments. Liverpool, deflated but still pushing, launched one last desperate attack. Sterling darted down the wing, sending in a hopeful cross, but Szczęsny claimed it confidently, falling to the ground to waste precious seconds.

The referee glanced at his watch and blew the final whistle. It was over. Arsenal had snatched victory in one of the most dramatic finishes Anfield had ever witnessed. Francesco, the hero of the night, was hoisted onto the shoulders of his teammates as the Arsenal fans chanted his name with pride.

The final whistle echoed through Anfield, and for a moment, it felt like time stopped. Then came the eruption—Arsenal players sprinted toward Francesco, their faces alight with jubilation. The young winger, breathless but smiling, was mobbed by his teammates in a whirlwind of hugs and congratulations. The Arsenal fans, packed in the away section, sang his name in unison, their voices rising above the stunned silence of the Liverpool faithful.

Francesco had delivered the moment of magic that Arsenal so desperately needed, and the impact of his goal reverberated beyond the match itself. With that dramatic late winner, Arsenal climbed to 32 points in the Premier League standings, securing third place for now. Manchester City sat second with 39 points, and Chelsea, the league leaders, had 42. The gap was still significant, but this victory was more than just three points—it was a statement of intent, proof that Arsenal could fight and win against the odds.

As the Arsenal players celebrated on the pitch, Arsène Wenger stepped onto the grass, his face beaming with pride. One by one, he embraced his players, offering words of encouragement and congratulations. When he reached Francesco, he lingered a moment longer, wrapping the young winger in a heartfelt hug.

"Well done, Francesco. You were magnificent out there," Wenger said, his voice steady but full of emotion. "That goal—it will be remembered for a long time."

Francesco nodded, still catching his breath. "Thank you, boss. I just wanted to help the team."

"And you did," Wenger replied, his smile widening. "Now, let's get back to the locker room. The team deserves to enjoy this."

The players made their way off the pitch, waving to the traveling Arsenal fans who were still cheering wildly. The tunnel was filled with a buzz of excitement as they entered the locker room, the atmosphere electric. High-fives, pats on the back, and laughter echoed in the cramped space as the players relived the match's most dramatic moments.

Francesco was in the middle of removing his boots when a knock came at the door. A Premier League staff member stepped in, clipboard in hand, and called out, "Francesco Lee?"

Francesco turned, slightly surprised. "Yes, that's me."

"Congratulations! You've been named Man of the Match," the staff member announced with a smile. "We'll need you for an interview outside. It won't take long."

The locker room erupted in cheers and playful banter. Ramsey clapped Francesco on the shoulder. "Man of the Match! Well deserved, mate."

"Don't forget to mention us," Alexis added with a grin. "We'll be watching."

Francesco laughed, grabbing his jacket as he followed the staff member out of the room. The corridor was quieter, but the distant hum of fans leaving the stadium still filled the air. Francesco's heart was still pounding, a mixture of adrenaline and the sheer magnitude of what he'd just accomplished.

He was led to a small setup near the players' entrance, where a Premier League backdrop had been erected. A microphone and camera were waiting. The interviewer, a well-dressed woman with a warm smile, greeted him.

"Francesco, congratulations on your performance tonight," she began as the camera started rolling. "What a game! That winning goal in stoppage time—it was breathtaking. How are you feeling right now?"

Francesco smiled, his cheeks still flushed from the exertion. "Thank you. Honestly, it's hard to put into words. I'm just so happy we could get the win. It was a tough game, and Liverpool is a great team. I'm proud of the way we fought until the very end."

"Talk us through that last goal," the interviewer prompted. "From the moment you got the ball to the finish, it was an incredible solo effort."

"Well," Francesco began, pausing to gather his thoughts. "When Mertesacker cleared the ball, I saw the space ahead of me and just started running. At that moment, it was all about staying calm and making the right decisions. I knew Liverpool's defenders would try to catch me, so I tried to use my speed and keep control of the ball. When I got into the box, it was all about picking my spot and executing the shot. Thankfully, it went in."

The interviewer nodded, clearly impressed. "You've made quite an impact since your debut for Arsenal. How are you finding life in the Premier League?"

"It's been amazing," Francesco replied. "The intensity, the fans, the level of competition—it's everything I dreamed of and more. I'm learning a lot from my teammates and the coaching staff. I just want to keep improving and helping the team."

"Arsenal is now third in the league with 32 points," the interviewer noted. "Do you think this result gives you momentum to challenge Manchester City and Chelsea at the top?"

Francesco's expression grew serious. "It's definitely a boost for us. We know there's still a lot of work to do, and the season is long. But nights like this show what we're capable of. We'll keep fighting and see where we end up."

The interviewer smiled. "One last question before we let you go—your celebration was very subdued compared to the rest of your team. What was going through your mind after that goal?"

Francesco chuckled softly. "Honestly, I wasn't thinking about celebrating. I just wanted to get back and finish the game. It wasn't over until the final whistle, and I didn't want to lose focus."

"Well, Francesco, congratulations again on a phenomenal performance and your Man of the Match award. Best of luck for the rest of the season."

"Thank you," Francesco said, shaking her hand.

As the interview ended, Francesco turned back toward the locker room, the weight of the evening's events finally beginning to sink in. He could hear the laughter and chatter of his teammates as he approached, the warmth of their camaraderie pulling him in.

When he stepped back inside, the room erupted once more. Ramsey handed him a bottle of water, while Alexis raised his arms in mock reverence. "Our savior returns!"

"Don't let it get to your head, Francesco," Giroud teased with a grin. "We need you grounded for the next game."

Francesco laughed, taking it all in stride. "Don't worry, I'm focused. But tonight… tonight feels special."

Wenger appeared at the doorway, his expression calm but proud. "Enjoy this moment, boys. You've earned it. But remember, this is just one game. We have more battles ahead."

The players nodded, their spirits still high but already turning their thoughts to the future. For Francesco, the night was a milestone—a reminder of why he had worked so hard to reach this level. But it was also just the beginning. The Premier League was a marathon, and there was still a long road ahead. For now, though, he allowed himself a moment to savor the victory, knowing that moments like these were what made football truly beautiful.

________________________________________________

Name : Francesco Lee

Age : 16 (2014)

Birthplace : London, England

Football Club : Arsenal First Team

Championship History : None

Match Played: 3

Goal: 6

Assist: 1

MOTM: 2