The handlers, together with the players, had already lined up the dogs in a loose semi-circle.
A whistle hung from one of the handlers' necks, and beside her, five players crouched in position like kids before a school race.
The first batch went off at the sharp tweet of the whistle and immediately, five dogs bolted down the grass, leaping over tiny hurdles, weaving between cones.
The crowd cheered when Saka's golden retriever missed a turn, looped back, then finished the course anyway, tail wagging proudly.
The Arsenal players clapped and hollered, teasing each other like they were in training again.
Izan stood a few steps behind, his Samoyed sitting beside him with the kind of calm that felt deceptive, like it was acting for the lights.
Miko's tongue lolled out, its white fur practically glowing under the morning sun.
Izan glanced down at it, tugged lightly on the leash, then back toward the handler waiting to signal the next round.
