The King Of Arsenal

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As he rode through the winter streets, his thoughts drifted to the weekend's fixture. Another game, another chance to prove himself and help his team. With the memories of today's training fueling him, Francesco knew he was ready for whatever challenges lay ahead.

The day passed in a blur of routine and satisfaction. Training had been intense, but Francesco cherished every moment spent with his teammates. By the time he got home, the sky was already dark, and the winter chill had intensified. He ate dinner with his family, engaged in lighthearted conversations, and retired early, knowing that the coming days would bring new challenges.

When morning came, it wasn't just any day—it was December 31, the last day of 2014. Francesco woke up to the pale glow of sunlight filtering through his curtains. The festive energy of New Year's Eve lingered in the air, even in the quiet of his room. He stretched lazily, his body still sore from the previous day's drills, but it was a good kind of sore, a reminder of the effort he'd put in.

After sitting on the edge of his bed for a moment, Francesco decided to start the day on a relaxing note. He stepped into the bathroom, letting the hot water of the shower cascade over him. The warmth eased the stiffness in his muscles, and he found himself humming a tune as steam filled the room. By the time he finished, he felt refreshed and ready to take on the day.

Dressed in a casual sweater and jeans, Francesco headed downstairs. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and sizzling bacon greeted him as he entered the kitchen. His mom, Sarah, was at the stove, flipping pancakes with a practiced ease, while his dad, Mike, sat at the table, reading the sports section of the morning newspaper.

"Morning, Mom. Morning, Dad," Francesco greeted, his voice cheerful.

Sarah turned around, her face lighting up at the sight of her son. "Good morning, sweetheart. You're up early for a day off!"

Mike looked up from the paper, his brow raised in curiosity. "Day off? No training today?"

Francesco smiled as he poured himself a glass of orange juice. "I just got a message from Wenger. No training today—we've got a break for New Year's."

Mike leaned back in his chair, a grin spreading across his face. "Well, that's rare. Wenger doesn't strike me as the type to hand out vacations easily."

Sarah chimed in, placing a stack of pancakes on the table. "It's good he gave you all some rest. You've been working so hard lately, Francesco. You deserve a little downtime."

Francesco took a seat, his appetite already building. "Thanks, Mom. It does feel nice to have a day to recharge."

Breakfast was a lively affair, filled with conversations about football, upcoming plans, and a bit of playful teasing from Mike about Francesco's "celebrity status." Sarah reminded them that they'd be hosting a small New Year's Eve gathering later that evening.

"Just family and close friends," she said, pouring coffee into Mike's mug. "Nothing too big. But you'll be here, right, Francesco?"

"Of course," Francesco replied, reaching for another pancake. "I wouldn't miss it."

After breakfast, Francesco helped clear the table, enjoying the easy rhythm of domestic life. With no training to rush off to, he had the whole day to himself. He decided to spend the morning in his room, catching up on a book he'd been meaning to finish. The quiet of the house was a welcome change from the constant buzz of the training ground.

By midday, Francesco found himself itching to get outside. The crisp winter air called to him, and he decided to go for a bike ride around the neighborhood. Bundling up in a jacket, scarf, and gloves, he set off, the familiar streets of London rolling past as he pedaled leisurely. The city was alive with the anticipation of New Year's Eve—shops were bustling, decorations hung in windows, and people greeted each other with smiles and warm wishes.

Francesco's ride eventually brought him to a park, where he stopped to rest and take in the serene beauty of the frost-covered grass and bare trees. He pulled out his phone, snapping a few pictures of the scenery before sitting on a bench to scroll through his messages. His teammates had been active in the group chat, sharing plans for the evening and exchanging jokes.

Héctor Bellerín had sent a photo of himself in a ridiculous New Year's hat, earning a string of laughing emojis. Giroud, ever the fashion icon, shared a picture of his outfit for the night, captioned "Ready to ring in the new year in style." Francesco chuckled, feeling a pang of affection for his team.

As the afternoon wore on, Francesco made his way back home. The house was already buzzing with activity as Sarah prepared for the evening's gathering. He offered to help, setting up decorations and arranging chairs in the living room. By the time evening rolled around, the house was warm and inviting, the scent of baked goods mingling with the faint tang of pine from the Christmas tree still standing in the corner.

Family members and close friends began to arrive, their laughter and chatter filling the space. Francesco greeted everyone warmly, happy to see familiar faces. His cousins, always eager to hear about his life as a footballer, bombarded him with questions about training, matches, and his favorite players.

"Do you think Arsenal will win the league this year?" one of them asked, his eyes wide with hope.

Francesco grinned, ruffling the boy's hair. "We'll do our best. But it's a tough competition."

The warmth of the gathering was infectious. As laughter echoed through the house and conversations swirled, Francesco excused himself momentarily and made his way upstairs to his room. There, in its usual spot on his desk, was his trusty PS4. He knew his cousins would love it—they always begged him to bring it out during family events.

He gathered the console, the controllers, and a small stack of games before heading back downstairs, careful not to trip on the staircase in his excitement. Entering the living room, he announced with a grin, "Alright, who's ready for some gaming?"

His younger cousins erupted in cheers, their faces lighting up with excitement. Even a few of the adults in the room chuckled at the enthusiasm. Francesco placed the console on the TV stand and began connecting it to the large flat-screen TV. The wires snapped into place easily, and within minutes, the familiar blue PlayStation logo illuminated the screen.

"What are we playing first?" asked Luca, his youngest cousin, who was practically bouncing on the couch.

Francesco smirked as he scrolled through the library of games. "How about FIFA to start? Let's see who's got the skills."

The suggestion was met with unanimous approval, and Francesco handed out controllers. He teamed up with Luca while his older cousins, Matteo and Nico, took the opposing side. The first match was Arsenal versus Barcelona—an obvious choice for Francesco, who took the opportunity to play as himself on the virtual pitch.

"Let's see if Francesco can score as many goals here as he does in real life," Matteo teased, nudging him.

The game began, and the room erupted with shouts and laughter as the cousins battled it out. Francesco's fingers danced over the controller with ease, guiding his in-game counterpart through the midfield with slick dribbles and precise passes. Luca, though less experienced, held his own and even managed to score a goal with a cheeky tap-in.

"That's teamwork!" Francesco cheered, ruffling Luca's hair.

On the other side, Matteo and Nico were determined to even the score. They launched wave after wave of attacks, forcing Francesco to defend fiercely. The tension reached its peak when Nico's virtual Messi broke through the defense and unleashed a thunderous shot toward the top corner. Francesco's goalkeeper dove—and saved it.

"Not today!" Francesco yelled triumphantly, earning groans of frustration from Matteo and Nico.

The match ended 3–2 in favor of Francesco and Luca, and the room filled with applause and playful banter. Before long, more cousins joined in, and the games rotated between FIFA, Rocket League, and even a round of Mario Kart for a change of pace. The competitive spirit was alive, but so was the camaraderie. Even those who weren't playing gathered around to watch, offering commentary and cheering on their favorite players.

At one point, Francesco's dad, Mike, wandered into the living room with a drink in hand. He watched for a moment before saying, "Alright, let me have a go. Let's see if these old hands can still compete."

The room erupted into laughter, but Francesco handed his dad a controller, grinning. "Alright, Dad, show us what you've got."

Mike teamed up with Nico for a game of FIFA against Francesco and Matteo. Though his moves were far from polished, Mike managed to score a lucky goal, prompting cheers and good-natured ribbing from everyone in the room.

"You've still got it, Dad," Francesco said, laughing.

As the evening wore on, the atmosphere in the house grew even livelier. Sarah brought out trays of snacks—crispy spring rolls, mini quiches, and bowls of chips and dip—while the adults gathered around the dining table to chat. The younger crowd stayed glued to the PS4, rotating players and games until the console became the center of the gathering.

When the clock neared 11:30 PM, Francesco turned off the PS4, much to the groans of his cousins. "Come on, guys. It's almost time for the countdown. Let's head outside and get ready for the fireworks."

The family gathered in the backyard, where a small bonfire crackled, its warmth cutting through the cold night air. Blankets and chairs were spread out, and sparklers were handed around for the kids to light. Francesco stood with his parents, sipping hot chocolate as they watched the sky.

"Feels good to have everyone together," Mike said, his arm around Sarah. "It's been a busy year, but moments like these make it all worth it."

Francesco nodded, his heart swelling with gratitude. "Yeah, it's been an incredible year. I've learned so much, both on and off the pitch. And I'm really thankful for all of you."

Sarah smiled, reaching up to squeeze his shoulder. "We're proud of you, Francesco. Not just for what you've achieved, but for the person you've become."

As the final minutes of the year ticked by, the family huddled together, their faces lit by the glow of the bonfire. Someone turned on the TV to watch the countdown in Trafalgar Square, the excitement in the air palpable.

When the clock struck midnight, the sky exploded with color as fireworks lit up the horizon. Cheers erupted from the group, and everyone exchanged hugs and wishes for the new year. Francesco found himself smiling as he embraced his parents, his cousins, and even his uncles and aunts.

"Happy New Year, everyone," he said, his voice heartfelt. "Let's make it a great one."

The festivities continued into the early hours of the morning. The younger cousins resumed their gaming marathon, while the adults shared stories and laughter over drinks. Francesco alternated between the two groups, savoring every moment of the celebration.

As the night deepened and the festivities gradually began to wind down, Francesco found himself sitting on the living room couch, watching his younger cousins engrossed in yet another heated match of FIFA. Their energy seemed boundless, despite the late hour. Laughter and playful jabs filled the air, but Francesco's mind was already shifting to the responsibilities of the coming day.

He stretched his arms and let out a soft yawn before addressing the room. "Alright, everyone," he said, his voice warm but firm, "it's been an amazing day, but I've got to call it. Big game today—away match against Southampton."

A collective groan rose from his cousins, their disappointment palpable.

"Ah, come on, Francesco!" Luca pleaded, clutching a controller. "Just one more game? We'll make it quick, I promise!"

Francesco chuckled, shaking his head. "Nice try, Luca, but you know how important this game is. Southampton's no joke, and I need to be at my best."

His older cousin Matteo, always the voice of reason, nudged Luca gently. "Let him go, Luca. You'll see him on TV today. And who knows? Maybe he'll score a goal just for you."

Luca pouted for a moment but then brightened. "Okay, but if you score, you've got to do a special celebration for me!"

Francesco grinned, reaching over to ruffle Luca's hair. "Deal. But only if you promise to behave yourself and give me a cheer when you see it."

"Deal!" Luca beamed.

Francesco stood up, stretching again as he bid farewell to the rest of the family. He made the rounds, hugging his aunts and uncles, who wished him good luck for the game. His parents, still chatting by the fireplace, paused to give him encouraging smiles.

"Rest up, son," Mike said, patting him on the back. "We'll be watching, as always."

"And don't skip breakfast," Sarah added, her motherly instincts kicking in. "You'll need the energy."

"I won't," Francesco promised, kissing her cheek. "Goodnight, everyone."

As he ascended the stairs to his room, the faint hum of conversations and laughter lingered behind him, a comforting backdrop to the quiet of the house. Once inside his room, Francesco closed the door softly and let out a deep breath. The day had been perfect—a rare blend of family, relaxation, and celebration—but now it was time to refocus.

He moved around the room with practiced ease, setting his alarm for an early wake-up and laying out his travel bag for today. His mind wandered briefly to the match ahead. Southampton was known for their strong defensive play and physicality, and Francesco knew he'd need to be sharp to make an impact.

After brushing his teeth and slipping into his comfortable sleepwear, he climbed into bed, pulling the covers up to his chest. The warmth of the blanket, combined with the faint exhaustion from the day's activities, began to lull him into a peaceful state.

His thoughts flickered between the joyful moments of the evening and the challenges. He pictured himself on the pitch, weaving past defenders, his teammates by his side, and the roar of the crowd urging them forward. A smile played on his lips as he imagined scoring a goal and dedicating the celebration to Luca.

As the house grew quieter, the sounds of the outside world fading into stillness, Francesco whispered softly to himself, "Today's a new day, a new challenge. Let's make it count."

With that, he closed his eyes, his mind settling into a state of calm determination. Within moments, he was asleep, the echoes of family laughter and the anticipation of the match blending into dreams of success and joy.

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Name : Francesco Lee

Age : 16 (2014)

Birthplace : London, England

Football Club : Arsenal First Team

Championship History : None

Match Played: 3

Goal: 8

Assist: 2

MOTM: 3