The King Of Arsenal

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Francesco clapped his hands, signaling his teammates to stay sharp. They were close to securing all three points—now was not the time to lose focus.

As the clock ticked past the 75th minute, Arsenal sensed an opportunity. QPR had thrown everything at them in the second half, pressing high, fighting for every ball, and forcing Arsenal to defend deep. But after twenty minutes of relentless pressure, the home side was finally running out of steam.

And Arsenal knew how to capitalize.

Francesco had been dropping deeper to help control possession, but now, he saw space opening up ahead. With one sharp turn, he shrugged off Sandro and carried the ball forward. He glanced up and saw Cazorla drifting into space between the lines.

With a quick flick of his boot, Francesco found Cazorla, who instantly turned and drove toward the edge of the box. Giroud, sensing the play unfolding, made a run between Caulker and Onuoha, positioning himself for the cross.

Cazorla didn't hesitate.

With his trademark precision, he whipped a low, driven cross into the area, curling it just beyond the reach of Onuoha and straight into Giroud's path.

The Frenchman, as composed as ever, adjusted his body and struck the ball first-time with his left foot. The shot was clinical, rifling into the bottom corner past a helpless Robert Green.

GOAL!

Arsenal 3-0 QPR!

The away section erupted in celebration. The game had been tough, but Arsenal had absorbed the pressure and hit back with ruthless efficiency.

Giroud ran towards the corner flag, arms outstretched in celebration, before being swarmed by his teammates. Cazorla grinned, patting Giroud on the back while Francesco jogged over, shaking his head with a smile.

"That was some finish," Francesco said.

Giroud, still catching his breath, chuckled. "Couldn't let you have all the glory tonight, could I?"

As the Arsenal players celebrated, QPR's players looked dejected. They had thrown everything at Arsenal in the second half, but now, with less than fifteen minutes left, their fate was sealed.

Arsenal Seize Control of the Game

With a comfortable 3-0 lead, Arsenal didn't need to take unnecessary risks. Wenger, recognizing this, made his first substitution of the night.

In the 78th minute, he called over Mathieu Flamini to replace Francis Coquelin. The French midfielder brought fresh legs and additional stability to the midfield, ensuring that Arsenal could see out the game without any lapses in concentration.

Francesco, despite his attacking instincts, remained disciplined. He dropped deeper alongside Flamini, making sure QPR had no easy route through midfield. Özil, always intelligent in possession, helped slow the game down, playing simple passes and frustrating the QPR press.

QPR, now looking deflated, struggled to create meaningful chances. Their earlier intensity had faded, and Arsenal were in complete control.

In the 82nd minute, Wenger made another change. With the game all but secured, he took off Francesco Lew, giving the englishmen a well-earned rest. In his place came Theo Walcott, who immediately added fresh energy to Arsenal's attack.

With Francesco subbed off to a well-deserved ovation from the traveling Arsenal fans, the Gunners were now in complete control. The young midfielder had played a crucial role in dictating the tempo and setting the foundation for Arsenal's dominance. As he took his seat on the bench, he exhaled, feeling the satisfaction of a job well done. But his teammates weren't finished yet.

Despite being 3-0 up, Arsenal continued to play with intent, showing their professionalism and hunger to put the game beyond any doubt. QPR, drained from their relentless pressing earlier in the second half, were now struggling to keep up. Their midfield had lost its bite, their defense looked shaky, and their attack lacked conviction. Arsenal, on the other hand, smelled blood.

With five minutes of normal time remaining, Arsenal struck again, and this time, it was their star man Alexis Sanchez who got on the scoresheet.

It all started with Mathieu Flamini, who had slotted seamlessly into the midfield after replacing Coquelin. The Frenchman, known more for his defensive work, showcased his underrated passing ability with a pinpoint long ball from deep in Arsenal's half.

Spotting Alexis making a darting run in behind QPR's tired backline, Flamini lifted a beautifully weighted pass over the top. The Chilean controlled it superbly with his chest, taking the ball in stride as he burst into the penalty area.

With only Robert Green to beat, Sanchez didn't hesitate. As the keeper rushed out, he calmly slotted the ball into the bottom corner with his right foot, sending the Arsenal fans into a frenzy.

GOAL!

QPR 0-4 Arsenal!

Alexis pumped his fist in celebration before pointing to Flamini in acknowledgment of the assist. His teammates swarmed him, knowing that the goal was the final nail in QPR's coffin.

On the bench, Francesco smiled, clapping his hands as he watched Alexis work his magic. Even after being subbed off, he still felt fully engaged in the game. Wenger, standing on the touchline, gave a small nod of approval. His team had executed their game plan to perfection.

With the game all but decided, Arsenal eased off the intensity, focusing on keeping possession and seeing out the remaining minutes. QPR, to their credit, didn't completely give up. They still had pride to play for, and in the 88th minute, they mustered one final attempt at a consolation goal.

Matt Phillips, who had been one of QPR's brighter sparks throughout the match, found space on the right wing and whipped in a dangerous cross toward the far post. Charlie Austin rose to meet it, but his header lacked power and was easily gathered by David Ospina.

It was a moment that summed up QPR's night—plenty of effort, but ultimately not enough quality to trouble Arsenal's well-drilled defense.

Arsenal, in contrast, played with maturity. They moved the ball around with ease, frustrating QPR as they saw out the final moments of the match.

In the 90th minute, Wenger made his final substitution of the night, bringing on Kieran Gibbs for Nacho Monreal. It was a simple move to freshen up the left side of the defense, ensuring there were no lapses in concentration in the dying minutes.

The fourth official's board went up—three minutes of added time.

By now, even the QPR fans had resigned themselves to the inevitable. Some had already started making their way toward the exits, knowing that there would be no late miracle.

On the pitch, Arsenal continued to pass the ball around with confidence. Flamini, Cazorla, and Özil exchanged neat passes in midfield, ensuring QPR barely got a touch in stoppage time.

Then, in the 92nd minute, Theo Walcott had one final chance to add a fifth goal.

After receiving a clever flick from Giroud just outside the box, Walcott sprinted past Onuoha and found himself one-on-one with Green. He opted for power, drilling a shot toward the bottom corner, but Green produced a fantastic save, diving low to push the ball away.

It was the last meaningful action of the match.

When the referee finally blew the whistle, Arsenal's players exchanged high-fives and congratulated each other. It was a dominant performance, a clinical display away from home, and a statement win as they continued their push for the Premier League title.

The traveling Arsenal supporters erupted into chants of "We love you Arsenal, we do!" Their team had delivered a performance worthy of their support.

As Francesco walked onto the pitch to join the post-match handshakes, he felt a deep sense of satisfaction. He had played a crucial role, scoring a brilliant solo goal and controlling the midfield with composure beyond his years.

Wenger approached him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Well played, Frankie," the manager said. "You're proving to be an important player for us."

Francesco smiled. "Thanks, boss. Just doing my part."

As he turned toward the away section, he spotted some fans chanting his name. It was a surreal feeling, knowing that he was becoming a key figure in an Arsenal team fighting for silverware.

As Francesco soaked in the moment, he clapped along with the Arsenal fans, his name echoing from the away section. It was a feeling unlike any other—he was still young, still new to this level, but already he could sense the expectations growing around him. He wasn't just another promising player in Arsenal's midfield; he was becoming the player. The kind of player who didn't just participate in matches but dictated them. And tonight, he had done exactly that.

Walking toward the tunnel with his teammates, Francesco felt the energy among the squad—smiles, handshakes, and playful jabs about Alexis' finishing or Theo's missed chance at the end. The team spirit was high. Everyone knew they had delivered a performance worthy of champions.

As they stepped into the dressing room, the atmosphere turned celebratory. The sound of boots clattering against the floor, jerseys being swapped for warm-down gear, and bottles of water being handed around filled the space. Per Mertesacker, the team's vocal leader, gave an approving nod to Francesco before clapping his hands to get everyone's attention.

"That's how we do it, boys!" Mertesacker boomed. "Away game, tough opponent, and we controlled it from start to finish. That is a statement win!"

A few cheers and applause followed, with some of the players exchanging playful banter. Olivier Giroud leaned over to Theo Walcott, smirking. "Mate, how do you not score that? You had Green beat!"

Theo rolled his eyes. "At least I got a shot off. You spent most of the second half flicking the ball around like you were playing futsal."

The room burst into laughter. Even Wenger, who had just stepped in, allowed himself a small smile. He loved seeing his players in good spirits, especially after a dominant performance like that.

Wenger clapped his hands to get their attention. "Alright, well done, everyone. That was exactly the kind of performance I wanted to see—controlled, disciplined, and ruthless when it mattered." He then turned his gaze toward Francesco and Mertesacker. "Frankie, Per, with me for the press conference. Quick shower, and let's go."

Francesco nodded, knowing this was another opportunity to make a statement—not just on the pitch, but in front of the media. He had already made waves with his performances, but his attitude, his confidence, his swagger—that was what would set him apart from the rest. He had to keep pushing that narrative.

As he made his way toward the showers, he passed by Alexis, who gave him a quick pat on the back. "Good game, hermano," the Chilean said, his expression one of mutual respect.

"You too, Alexis," Francesco replied with a smirk. "But next time, let me have that last goal. Gotta keep my stats up."

Alexis chuckled. "Ah, so that's how it is, huh? The kid wants all the glory."

Francesco shrugged, grinning. "Can you blame me?"

A few minutes later, after a quick rinse, he threw on a fresh Arsenal tracksuit and joined Mertesacker and Wenger outside the dressing room. As they walked toward the press room, Francesco could already hear the hum of reporters and cameras being set up.

"You ready for this?" Mertesacker asked, giving Francesco a sideways glance.

Francesco exhaled, running a hand through his still-damp hair. "Yeah. Let's give them a show."

They entered the press room, and immediately, the cameras started flashing. Reporters scrambled to get their questions in, eager to hear from Wenger and his players after such a commanding performance.

The press officer began the session. "We'll start with a few words from Arsène, and then we'll take questions."

Wenger, ever composed, leaned slightly toward the microphone. "I am very pleased with the team's performance tonight. We showed control, discipline, and quality throughout the match. The players executed the game plan well, and I am particularly happy with how we managed the intensity of the game."

A journalist from Sky Sports jumped in. "Arsène, what did you make of Francesco's performance tonight? He scored a brilliant goal and seemed to dictate the tempo with a level of confidence beyond his years."

Wenger smiled slightly before glancing toward Francesco. "I think Francesco showed again why he is an important player for us. He has the ability to control the game, to dictate the rhythm, and he is not afraid to take responsibility on the pitch. That is a rare quality, especially for someone his age."

Francesco leaned forward slightly, adjusting the microphone in front of him. He knew this was his moment to reinforce the image he wanted to build—arrogant, confident, but undeniably talented.

"Look, I know what I bring to the team," he said, his tone casual but firm. "I'm here to win. I don't play just to participate—I play to dominate. That's what I try to do every time I step on the pitch."

A few murmurs went through the press room. It wasn't often that a young player spoke with such self-assurance, but Francesco wasn't just any young player.

Another reporter, from The Guardian, raised a hand. "Francesco, some have compared your playing style to a mix of prime Thierry Henry and Zinedine Zidane. How do you feel about those comparisons?"

Francesco smirked. "They're good players. Great players, even. But I'm not here to be the next Henry or Zidane. I'm here to be the first Francesco Lee."

Mertesacker chuckled beside him, shaking his head slightly. The kid had confidence, no doubt about it.

The questions continued, touching on Arsenal's title aspirations, the competition for spots in midfield, and how Francesco was adapting to the physicality of the Premier League.

When the session wrapped up, Wenger gave Francesco a subtle nod of approval before they exited the room. As they walked back toward the team bus, Mertesacker nudged him with his elbow.

"You know, that kind of confidence? It's going to put a target on your back," the German said, half amused, half serious.

Francesco grinned. "Good. Let them come for me. I'll just keep proving them wrong."

Mertesacker laughed. "I like that. Just make sure you back it up every week."

Francesco looked ahead, feeling the cool London night air as they stepped outside. He knew the spotlight was on him now more than ever. Every game, every interview, every moment—it all mattered.

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Name : Francesco Lee

Age : 16 (2014)

Birthplace : London, England

Football Club : Arsenal First Team

Championship History : None

Match Played: 18

Goal: 23

Assist: 12

MOTM: 7