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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
...
Just teammates enjoying each other's company before the demands of international football resumed.
The remainder of England's day off disappeared far more quickly than anyone expected.
By late afternoon, the recreation room had become increasingly competitive.
Walker eventually persuaded almost everyone that he deserved one final table tennis rematch against Lingard.
He lost again.
This time by an even wider margin.
"You cheated."
Lingard blinked innocently.
"How?"
"You kept scoring."
"I think that's normally the objective."
The room erupted into another round of laughter.
Even Southgate, walking past the open doorway on his way to another meeting, paused for a second as he heard the commotion.
He looked inside to find Walker standing with a paddle in one hand, trying to convince Rashford that at least three of Lingard's points shouldn't have counted.
Southgate shook his head with an amused smile.
"I said no unnecessary competitions."
Walker looked over.
"This is recovery, boss."
"It doesn't sound like recovery."
"It is mentally stimulating."
Lingard folded his arms.
"It's mentally stimulating because he's trying to work out how he keeps losing."
Even Southgate laughed before continuing down the corridor.
The relaxed atmosphere lingered throughout the evening.
Some players watched films together.
Others spent time in the recovery pool or gym.
Francesco eventually returned to his room feeling refreshed in a way that had nothing to do with football.
Sometimes, a day away from tactics and training did as much for a team as another session on the pitch.
The following morning, St. George's Park returned to its familiar rhythm.
Alarms sounded.
The breakfast restaurant filled before sunrise.
GPS vests reappeared.
Whiteboards filled once again with tactical diagrams.
The day off was over.
Preparation had begun for England's final friendly of the international break.
Italy.
Unlike the Netherlands, Italy represented a completely different challenge.
Southgate addressed the squad after breakfast.
"We've looked after ourselves."
"We've recovered well."
"Now we prepare for another excellent side."
Behind him, analysts projected clips from recent Italian matches.
Defensive organisation.
Midfield rotations.
Counter-attacking patterns.
Every detail mattered.
Steve Holland stepped forward with a remote control.
"They'll defend differently from the Dutch."
"They're happy to stay compact."
"They'll invite pressure."
"And when you lose concentration…"
He clicked to another video.
"…they'll break very quickly."
Francesco watched Lorenzo Insigne drift inside from the left before combining with Ciro Immobile in one flowing move.
Another clip followed.
Jorginho calmly dictated possession from deep.
Bonucci stepped confidently into midfield to begin attacks.
Italy remained Italy.
Patient.
Disciplined.
Clinical whenever opportunities appeared.
Southgate folded his arms.
"We don't become frustrated."
"If they sit deep…"
"…we keep moving the ball."
"If they counter…"
"…our rest defence has to be perfect."
Every player scribbled notes.
There was a different feeling compared with the Dutch preparations.
Against the Netherlands, England had expected an open contest.
Against Italy…
Patience would become the most important weapon.
The days passed steadily.
Every session added another piece to England's preparation.
The first morning focused almost entirely on attacking against a low defensive block.
Passing drills became increasingly intricate.
Francesco, Kane and Sterling repeatedly exchanged positions across the front line.
Sometimes Kane dropped deep.
Sometimes Francesco drifted toward the left wing.
Sterling constantly stretched the pitch with his pace.
Steve Holland stopped play.
"Again."
"Move the defence first."
"Don't attack space that isn't there."
The exercise restarted.
This time Henderson switched possession quickly from one flank to the other.
Walker overlapped.
Sterling darted inside.
Francesco delayed his movement before arriving between Bonucci's imaginary position and Rugani's.
Exactly the timing they wanted.
Southgate nodded quietly.
"Better."
The following day became even more tactical.
Half the training pitch was marked with cones representing Italy's defensive shape.
The analysts acted almost like Italian midfielders, moving magnetic poles to recreate different pressing triggers.
Walker looked across at Francesco during one drinks break.
"I've never seen so many cones."
"I don't think they're cones anymore."
"What are they?"
"Italy."
Walker stared for a second.
"I preferred them as cones."
Francesco laughed.
"You'll understand when the match starts."
"I hope so."
Southgate overheard.
"You will."
"If we move them enough."
The manager smiled before walking away.
By the final training session before matchday, everything had become sharper.
Possession circulated faster.
Communication grew louder.
Mistakes became fewer.
England looked comfortable.
Confident.
The understanding developed during the week in Amsterdam hadn't disappeared.
If anything…
It had grown stronger.
During one eleven-versus-eleven exercise, Lingard slipped possession into Dele Alli.
Without looking, Dele flicked the ball around the corner.
Francesco burst through before calmly finishing beyond Pickford.
Southgate clapped once.
"Exactly."
"Recognise those moments tomorrow."
Matchday arrived beneath grey London skies.
Unlike Amsterdam, there was no travelling required beyond the short journey across England.
The familiarity somehow made the occasion feel even bigger.
Wembley Stadium waited.
Home.
After lunch and several hours of quiet rest at St. George's Park, the England squad gathered in the lobby.
Southgate looked around.
"Lads."
"You know the routine."
"Let's enjoy playing at home."
Outside, the Three Lions team coach rolled away from St. George's Park before heading south toward London.
The atmosphere onboard remained relaxed.
Several players listened to music.
Others quietly reviewed tactical notes.
Walker glanced toward Francesco.
"Captain again tonight."
Francesco smiled.
"I suppose so."
"You'll get used to it."
"I don't think anyone ever does."
Walker nodded.
"Probably not."
As the coach approached Wembley Stadium, the famous arch gradually appeared against the evening sky.
Even players who had competed there dozens of times still found themselves looking out of the windows.
No matter how often they visited…
Wembley never lost its magic.
Thousands of supporters already surrounded the stadium.
England shirts mixed with blue Italian jerseys.
Flags waved from every direction.
The coach slowly entered the secure underground arrival area before coming to a stop.
Southgate stood.
"Right."
"Let's get ready."
The players climbed off together before walking through the familiar corridors.
England's dressing room waited exactly as they had left it after previous internationals.
Every locker had been prepared meticulously.
White match shirts hung neatly above each seat.
Training kits had been folded underneath.
Boots stood polished on the floor.
Francesco walked toward his place.
Once again…
The captain's armband rested beside his shirt.
He picked it up briefly before placing it carefully inside his locker.
Walker arrived beside him.
"Looks familiar."
"It does."
"Still suits you."
Francesco smiled.
"We haven't even played yet."
"Doesn't matter."
A member of the support staff entered.
"Warm-up in fifteen minutes."
Immediately the room came alive.
Match shirts stayed on their hangers for now.
Instead, everyone changed into England's navy training tops for the warm-up.
GPS vests were fitted beneath the fabric.
Tape wrapped around ankles.
Boots tightened.
The familiar pre-match routine unfolded almost automatically.
Kane stretched beside Francesco.
"You ready?"
"Always."
"You?"
"Can't wait."
The tunnel steward appeared.
"England."
"Let's go."
The noise hit them the instant they stepped onto the Wembley pitch.
Nearly ninety thousand supporters filled the stands.
White dominated one end.
Blue occupied another.
Floodlights illuminated the immaculate playing surface.
Francesco looked around slowly.
Every time he played here, the stadium seemed even bigger than he remembered.
The warm-up followed England's established routine.
Short passing.
Dynamic stretches.
Acceleration runs.
Crossing drills.
Pickford worked separately with the goalkeeping coaches.
At one end of the pitch, Francesco and Kane practised finishing from quick combinations while Sterling repeatedly attacked crosses delivered by Walker.
Southgate observed quietly.
Every movement appeared sharp.
Every touch carried confidence.
Walker jogged over after another successful passing sequence.
"Still awake?"
"Barely."
"Good."
"That means you'll surprise Italy."
Walker laughed.
"I'll take that."
Twenty-five minutes later, the referee instructed both teams to clear the pitch.
England applauded the supporters before disappearing back down the tunnel.
Inside the dressing room, the atmosphere shifted immediately.
Training tops came off.
White England match shirts replaced them.
Blue shorts.
White socks.
The room fell noticeably quieter.
Southgate walked toward the tactics board.
"Lads."
Conversations stopped instantly.
He arranged the magnets carefully.
"The starting eleven remains unchanged."
Jordan Pickford.
Danny Rose.
John Stones.
Joe Gomez.
Kyle Walker.
Jordan Henderson.
Jesse Lingard.
Dele Alli.
Raheem Sterling.
Harry Kane.
Francesco—captain once again.
He looked around the room.
"You earned the right to continue after Amsterdam."
Several players nodded.
Southgate turned another magnetic board around.
"This is Italy."
He placed each name carefully.
"Gianluigi Donnarumma in goal."
"Mattia De Sciglio."
"Leonardo Bonucci."
"Daniele Rugani."
"Davide Zappacosta."
"Jorginho."
"Lorenzo Pellegrini."
"Marco Parolo."
"Lorenzo Insigne."
"Ciro Immobile."
"Antonio Candreva."
He stepped back.
"Luigi Di Biagio is using an attacking 4-3-3."
"But don't let that fool you."
"They'll still defend like Italy."
Steve Holland pointed toward Bonucci and Rugani.
"They'll stay compact."
"The distances between defenders will be very small."
He tapped another magnet.
"Jorginho controls everything."
"If he settles…"
"…Italy settle."
Southgate nodded.
"We don't become impatient."
"Move them."
"Stretch them."
"The spaces will appear."
His eyes moved toward the front three.
"Francesco."
"Harry."
"Raheem."
"Keep rotating."
"Don't let Bonucci become comfortable."
Francesco answered simply.
"We won't."
Southgate smiled.
"Good."
A knock sounded at the door.
"Two minutes."
The room became silent.
One final deep breath.
One final glance around.
Francesco adjusted the captain's armband.
"Ready?"
Walker smiled.
"Let's put on another show."
The tunnel beneath Wembley buzzed with anticipation.
Italian players lined up opposite England.
Bonucci exchanged a respectful nod with Kane.
Donnarumma bounced lightly on his heels.
Francesco shook hands with Bonucci before walking toward the front beside the mascots.
The stadium announcer's voice echoed around Wembley.
Both teams emerged together.
The roar from nearly ninety thousand supporters rolled across the pitch.
First came the Italian national anthem.
The Azzurri sang proudly.
Blue scarves rose into the London night.
When it ended, respectful applause followed.
Then came "God Save the Queen."
England stood shoulder to shoulder.
Francesco sang every word.
So did Walker.
Kane.
Henderson.
Sterling.
The sound from Wembley became deafening.
For a few moments…
Nothing else existed.
Only England.
The referee checked both assistants before blowing the whistle.
The match began.
England immediately controlled possession exactly as Southgate had planned.
Stones and Gomez patiently circulated the ball across the back.
Henderson dictated the rhythm from midfield.
Lingard drifted cleverly into spaces between Italy's midfield and defence.
But Italy looked exactly as everyone expected.
Disciplined.
Compact.
Whenever England pushed forward, blue shirts immediately dropped behind the ball.
Bonucci organised the defensive line with constant instructions.
Jorginho calmly screened the centre.
The moment possession changed hands, everything changed.
Italy counter-attacked with remarkable speed.
Insigne drifted inside looking for Immobile's runs.
Candreva accelerated down the right whenever space appeared.
Walker had to remain alert.
Rose rarely ventured too far forward.
The opening twenty minutes became a fascinating tactical battle.
England enjoyed almost seventy percent of the possession.
Italy looked dangerous every time they broke.
Neither goalkeeper had much to do.
Southgate remained calm.
"Keep moving it."
"Be patient."
The breakthrough finally arrived in the thirty-first minute.
It began with Lingard winning possession high up the pitch.
He immediately found Henderson, who calmly switched play toward Walker.
Walker drove forward before slipping the ball inside to Dele Alli.
Instead of turning immediately, Dele waited.
Just long enough.
Francesco recognised the moment.
He darted between Bonucci and Rugani.
Dele lifted a perfectly weighted pass into the gap.
Francesco met it in stride.
One controlled touch.
Donnarumma rushed forward.
Without panic, Francesco guided a composed right-footed finish across the goalkeeper and into the far corner.
Goal.
England.
Wembley exploded.
Francesco spread his arms before being swallowed by teammates.
"Great ball!" he shouted toward Dele.
The midfielder grinned.
"I knew you'd get there."
Walker arrived laughing.
"Captain does it again!"
Southgate applauded briefly.
Then immediately pointed forward.
"Stay switched on!"
Italy, true to their reputation, refused to panic.
They continued defending patiently before waiting for opportunities to counter.
Gradually, Insigne began finding more room drifting inside from the left.
Immobile occupied both England centre-backs.
Jorginho increased the tempo of Italy's passing.
Then, two minutes before half-time, Italy struck.
A quick turnover in midfield allowed Jorginho to release Insigne into space.
The Napoli forward carried the ball toward the edge of the penalty area before curling a beautiful right-footed effort beyond Pickford's outstretched hand.
The ball nestled perfectly inside the far corner.
1-1.
The travelling Italian supporters erupted.
Insigne sprinted toward the corner flag, arms spread wide.
England's players gathered together immediately.
"Forget it," Henderson called.
"Next one."
Francesco nodded.
"We start again."
The final minutes passed fiercely.
England searched for another breakthrough.
Italy defended stubbornly.
When the referee finally blew for half-time, the score remained level.
England 1.
Italy 1.
The players walked steadily back toward the dressing room.
Nobody spoke very much.
They knew they had controlled large periods of the half.
Yet the scoreline remained balanced.
Inside the dressing room, Southgate waited until everyone had taken their seats.
He walked calmly toward the tactics board.
"Good football."
He looked around the room.
"We've controlled possession."
"We've created chances."
He tapped the magnetic board once.
"But one lapse…"
"…and Italy punished us."
Nobody argued.
Southgate folded his arms.
"I don't want us changing our approach."
His voice remained composed.
"We keep attacking."
"We keep moving them."
"We stay patient."
Steve Holland stepped forward.
"The spaces are appearing."
"Especially when Bonucci steps out."
He pointed toward the front three.
"Keep rotating."
"They're beginning to struggle with it."
Southgate looked directly at every player.
"I want exactly the same intent in the second half."
"We continue attacking."
"The chances will come."
Silence settled over the dressing room.
Forty-five minutes remained.
The match was perfectly balanced.
Then the silence inside England's dressing room lingered for a few moments after Gareth Southgate finished speaking.
Nobody felt the need to say much.
There was no panic.
No frustration.
The scoreline might have been level, but the performance itself had given everyone confidence.
England had controlled possession.
They had dictated the tempo.
They had created the clearer opportunities.
Italy had simply reminded everyone why they remained one of international football's most dangerous teams.
One lapse.
One moment.
One finish.
That was often all they needed.
Southgate looked around the room one final time before clapping his hands together.
"Right."
"The performance is there."
"Now let's get the result."
The players rose together.
Water bottles were emptied.
Fresh tape was wrapped around tired wrists and ankles.
A few final stretches loosened muscles that had already covered countless kilometres during the opening forty-five minutes.
Francesco adjusted the captain's armband once more before standing beside Harry Kane near the dressing-room exit.
Kane nudged him lightly.
"We're getting chances."
Francesco nodded.
"We keep making the same runs."
"They'll break eventually."
Walker overheard as he walked past with a grin.
"I'd quite like that to happen sooner rather than later."
Sterling laughed.
"I thought patience was the plan."
"It is."
Walker shrugged.
"I'm just impatient."
The dressing room shared a final smile before the tunnel steward appeared.
"England."
"Time."
The players emerged back into the Wembley night to another thunderous roar.
The supporters had barely sat down during the interval.
Flags continued to wave from every corner of the stadium.
The famous arch glowed above the stands while floodlights illuminated the immaculate pitch below.
Francesco glanced briefly toward the England supporters behind one of the goals.
Thousands of white shirts greeted the team with another huge ovation.
He clapped above his head in appreciation before jogging into position.
Bonucci walked past him with his usual calm expression.
"Ninety minutes is a long time."
Francesco smiled politely.
"It is."
"Let's enjoy the second half."
The referee checked both captains before raising his whistle.
One sharp blast.
The second half began.
Immediately, England resumed exactly where they had left off.
There was no hesitation.
No fear after conceding the equaliser.
Stones calmly recycled possession across the back line while Henderson demanded the ball almost every time England built from deep.
Italy retreated into their familiar defensive shape.
Banks of blue shirts moved together with remarkable discipline.
Every passing lane seemed crowded.
Every forward run carefully tracked.
Yet England looked even more patient than before.
Southgate stood with folded arms near the edge of his technical area.
He watched quietly as his players moved the ball from one side of the pitch to the other.
Walker overlapped repeatedly down the right.
Rose offered width on the opposite flank.
Lingard and Dele drifted intelligently into spaces between Italy's midfield and defence.
The movement never stopped.
Francesco rarely occupied the same position for more than a few seconds.
Sometimes he drifted toward the left touchline.
Sometimes he dropped alongside Henderson to help circulate possession.
Moments later he would sprint beyond Bonucci's shoulder looking for another through ball.
Harry Kane mirrored those movements beautifully.
Whenever Francesco came short, Kane attacked the penalty area.
Whenever Kane dropped deep, Francesco darted into the space he had left behind.
Sterling remained the constant outlet.
His pace forced De Sciglio to stay cautious whenever England attacked.
Italy continued defending superbly.
Bonucci organised everyone around him.
"Step."
"Hold."
"Stay together."
Jorginho screened the defence tirelessly.
Parolo and Pellegrini worked relentlessly to close passing lanes.
Despite England's dominance of possession, Donnarumma remained largely untested during the opening fifteen minutes of the second half.
Walker eventually received another switch of play before driving forward.
He spotted Francesco making another diagonal run.
The pass arrived perfectly.
Francesco cushioned it first time before flicking possession into Kane's path.
The Tottenham striker struck early from twenty yards.
Bonucci threw himself in front of the effort, deflecting it behind for a corner.
The Wembley crowd applauded the move anyway.
England were beginning to build momentum.
From the resulting corner, Henderson curled the ball toward the near post.
Stones climbed highest.
His header flashed narrowly wide.
Southgate clapped his hands.
"That's it."
"Keep asking questions."
Italy were being forced deeper and deeper.
Di Biagio stood outside his technical area, repeatedly encouraging his players to remain compact.
"Don't lose shape."
"Stay organised."
The pressure continued.
Sterling skipped beyond Zappacosta before cutting possession back toward Dele.
The midfielder cleverly allowed the ball to run across his body before slipping it toward Francesco.
One quick turn.
One powerful shot.
Donnarumma reacted brilliantly, pushing the effort over the crossbar with both hands.
The England supporters rose to applaud.
The breakthrough felt increasingly close.
Walker jogged over toward the corner flag.
"They're wobbling now."
Francesco nodded.
"We've got to keep going."
The opportunity finally arrived in the sixty-first minute.
The move began deep inside England's own half.
Pickford calmly rolled possession toward Gomez instead of launching it long.
Gomez found Henderson.
One touch.
The England captain immediately switched play toward Walker.
Walker advanced confidently before feeding Sterling out on the right wing.
Sterling slowed for just a moment.
De Sciglio squared himself, expecting the winger to attack down the outside.
Instead, Sterling burst inside with a sharp change of direction.
Parolo stepped across.
Too late.
Sterling threaded a perfectly weighted pass through the gap.
Harry Kane had already anticipated it.
The striker timed his run superbly between Bonucci and Rugani before meeting the pass inside the penalty area.
Donnarumma rushed from his line.
Kane stayed wonderfully composed.
With one precise touch, he guided the ball low beyond the goalkeeper and into the far corner.
Goal.
England.
2-1.
Wembley erupted.
The roar rolled around the stadium like thunder.
Kane sprinted toward the corner flag, punching the air before turning back toward Sterling.
"What a ball!"
Sterling caught him first, laughing as they embraced.
"I knew you'd be there."
Francesco arrived moments later, wrapping an arm around both teammates.
"There it is."
Walker joined the celebrations seconds later.
"I was beginning to think Italy had built another wall."
Lingard grinned.
"We've finally broken it."
The substitutes rose from the bench applauding loudly.
Southgate allowed himself a brief smile before immediately pointing back toward the halfway line.
"Focus!"
"Nothing changes."
Italy restarted quickly.
Predictably, they became more adventurous.
Jorginho began pushing higher alongside Pellegrini.
Bonucci stepped further into midfield to help build attacks.
Insigne drifted constantly, searching for pockets of space between Walker and Stones.
England welcomed the challenge.
The extra space left behind suited their front line perfectly.
Francesco almost created a third goal moments later.
He intercepted a loose pass from Rugani before sliding Kane through once again.
This time Donnarumma reacted brilliantly, spreading himself to make an outstanding save.
Kane applauded the goalkeeper.
"So close."
The Italian keeper simply nodded.
Outstanding recognised outstanding.
As the match entered its final twenty minutes, Southgate glanced toward his bench.
The heavy schedule remained in his thoughts.
Another international fixture still lay ahead.
Fresh legs would be important.
He called four players over.
"Marcus."
"Jamie."
"Danny."
"Lewis."
The substitutes stood immediately.
Instructions were delivered quickly.
The fourth official prepared the electronic board.
In the seventieth minute, the numbers appeared.
Francesco.
Harry Kane.
Raheem Sterling.
Jesse Lingard.
Off.
Marcus Rashford.
Jamie Vardy.
Danny Welbeck.
Lewis Cook.
On.
The Wembley crowd applauded warmly.
Francesco looked briefly around the stadium before jogging toward the touchline.
He removed the captain's armband and handed it respectfully to Jordan Henderson.
"Finish it."
Henderson nodded.
"We will."
Southgate greeted each departing player individually.
He shook Francesco's hand firmly.
"Excellent work."
Francesco smiled.
"Thank you, boss."
"You caused them problems all night."
Nearby, Kane exchanged a quick handshake with Vardy.
"Keep stretching them."
Vardy grinned.
"Always."
Sterling embraced Rashford before jogging toward the bench.
"Go enjoy yourself."
"I'll try."
Lingard slapped Lewis Cook lightly on the shoulder.
"Keep the ball moving."
"You've got it."
Across the field, Luigi Di Biagio responded with changes of his own.
Antonio Candreva walked off first, applauded warmly by the travelling Italian supporters.
Federico Chiesa entered in his place, bringing fresh pace down the flank.
Moments later, Ciro Immobile made way for Andrea Belotti, whose physical presence offered Italy a different option in attack.
Finally, Lorenzo Pellegrini left the field, replaced by Roberto Gagliardini to add fresh energy in midfield.
The changes immediately altered the rhythm of the match.
Italy committed more bodies forward.
Chiesa attacked Ashley Young—who had shifted slightly after England's reshuffle—with fearless confidence.
Belotti battled aggressively with Stones and Gomez's replacement, Maguire having stayed on the bench because Gomez remained? No—Gomez had not been substituted in this match, so Stones and Gomez continued together at the heart of England's defence, dealing confidently with Belotti's aerial presence.
Walker remained alert throughout.
Twice he recovered brilliantly to deny Chiesa space behind the defence.
Pickford punched clear from a dangerous corner before shouting encouragement toward his defenders.
"Well done!"
"Stay organised!"
England, despite making four attacking substitutions, never abandoned their structure.
Henderson continued dictating possession.
Lewis Cook settled quickly into midfield, offering simple passing options whenever pressure increased.
Welbeck worked tirelessly across the front line, helping defensively before breaking forward whenever England regained possession.
Vardy immediately gave Bonucci and Rugani something different to think about.
His relentless runs in behind prevented Italy from committing too many players forward.
Rashford twice accelerated into open grass, forcing Zappacosta to retreat instead of joining attacks.
The match settled into a fascinating final phase.
Italy enjoyed more of the ball than they had all evening.
England looked dangerous whenever opportunities appeared to counter.
Di Biagio stood almost permanently at the edge of his technical area.
"Forward!"
"Keep believing!"
Southgate remained noticeably calmer.
Every few minutes he applauded another successful defensive shape.
"Excellent."
"Stay compact."
"Don't force it."
The clock continued moving.
Seventy-eight minutes.
Eighty-two.
Eighty-six.
The Wembley crowd sensed victory drawing closer.
England supporters began singing again.
"Three Lions on a shirt…"
The players on the bench joined the applause.
Francesco sat beside Kane, both still breathing a little heavily after their shifts.
Walker looked across from the pitch during a brief stoppage before pointing toward them.
"Enjoying yourselves?"
Kane laughed.
"A little less running."
"I knew you'd say that."
Francesco simply smiled.
"Finish the job first."
Italy produced one final opportunity in the closing minutes.
Chiesa burst down the right before delivering an inviting cross toward Belotti.
The striker rose well.
His header flashed narrowly over Pickford's crossbar.
The Italian supporters groaned.
England's defenders immediately encouraged one another.
"Stay focused."
"Nearly there."
The fourth official raised the electronic board.
Four minutes of added time.
Southgate folded his arms.
"No silly mistakes."
England managed the closing moments intelligently.
Henderson slowed the tempo whenever possible.
Lewis Cook retained possession confidently under pressure.
Rashford won a valuable free-kick deep inside Italy's half after another driving run.
The seconds disappeared.
Finally…
The referee placed the whistle to his lips.
Full-time.
England 2.
Italy 1.
The roar around Wembley was immediate.
England's players embraced across the pitch.
Henderson hugged Pickford.
Walker wrapped an arm around Stones before applauding every section of the stadium.
Rashford exchanged shirts with Chiesa near the halfway line.
Francesco and Kane walked back onto the pitch from the bench to congratulate every teammate individually.
Southgate shook hands with Luigi Di Biagio before turning toward his squad with a proud smile.
Another disciplined performance.
Another victory.
England had overcome one of Europe's most organised sides through patience, intelligent movement and persistence.
The preparations at St. George's Park had paid off once again.
As the players gathered in front of the Wembley crowd to thank the supporters, applause echoed around England's national stadium.
Two friendlies.
Two impressive victories against top European opposition.
Confidence inside Gareth Southgate's young squad continued to grow.
The international break was becoming exactly the kind of foundation they had hoped to build before the bigger challenges waiting later in this year.
______________________________________________
Name : Francesco Lee
Age : 19 (2017)
Birthplace : London, England
Football Club : Arsenal First Team
Championship History : 2014/2015 Premier League, 2014/2015 FA Cup, 2015/2016 Community Shield, 2016/2017 Premier League, 2015/2016 Champions League, Euro 2016, Premier League Champion 2016/2017, 2016/2017 Champions League, and 2017/2018 Carabao Cup.
Season 17/18 stats:
Arsenal:
Match: 45
Goal: 56
Assist: 6
MOTM: 6
POTM: 0
England:
Match: 4
Goal: 4
Assist: 1
MOTM: 2
Season 16/17 stats:
Arsenal:
Match: 55
Goal: 87
Assist: 5
MOTM: 14
POTM: 1
England:
Match: 1
Goal: 1
Assist: 0
MOTM: 0
Season 15/16 stats:
Arsenal:
Match Played: 60
Goal: 82
Assist: 10
MOTM: 9
POTM: 1
England:
Match Played: 2
Goal: 4
Assist: 0
Euro 2016
Match Played: 6
Goal: 13
Assist: 4
MOTM: 6
Season 14/15 stats:
Match Played: 35
Goal: 45
Assist: 12
MOTM: 9