Every player's head swung left in unison.
Sure enough, from the corner of the hall, Mikel Arteta himself was walking in, sharp as ever in his usual all-black, expression unreadable.
"Ehhh no wayyy," Nketiah whispered, his voice cracking from laughter.
"Coach is actually here?!" Lewis-Skelly clutched Nwaneri's arm.
The room broke into chaos—players shouting, cheering, some chanting "MI-KEL! MI-KEL!" as Arteta made his way toward the ring.
Arteta tried to keep his poker face as he entered the ring.
For a second, he managed to look like the picture of calm authority.
And then he lost it after Saka's accolades.
He broke into laughter, shaking his head as he stepped inside the corner that had been designated for him, while Saka continued.
