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As the players climbed into their cars and gradually left London Colney behind, the training ground settled into its familiar evening silence.
The day for the match finally arrive, as journey to Wembley began beneath a bright London sky that seemed almost tailor made for football.
Unlike European nights, which carried an air of mystery beneath floodlights, FA Cup semi finals possessed a different kind of magic.
They belonged to English football.
To history.
To generations of supporters who had grown up dreaming of Wembley.
Arsenal's coach rolled out of London Colney shortly after midday.
The atmosphere inside was relaxed without ever becoming careless.
Most of the players knew exactly why.
A place in the FA Cup Final awaited the winners.
For some, it was another major occasion.
For others, especially those who had carried Arsenal through every round of the competition, it was the biggest afternoon of their season.
Francesco settled into a seat near the middle of the coach beside Van Dijk.
Across the aisle, Giroud quietly listened to music through one earbud while occasionally glancing out of the window.
Bukayo Saka sat several rows ahead, trying not to look too excited.
He had done an admirable job pretending this was just another match.
Nobody believed him.
Ramsey leaned over.
"Nervous?"
Saka smiled sheepishly.
"A little."
"Good."
The Welsh midfielder nodded.
"It means you care."
Cazorla turned around from the seat in front.
"The nerves disappear after the first touch."
Giroud removed one earbud.
"Unless your first touch is terrible."
That drew laughter throughout the nearby rows.
Saka pointed at him.
"That's not helping."
Giroud grinned.
"It'll be fine."
"You've earned today."
Francesco watched the exchange with a quiet smile.
This was exactly why Wenger trusted the squad so completely.
There was competition.
There was ambition.
But there was never envy.
Everyone wanted the same outcome.
Another trophy.
As the coach approached Wembley, traffic slowed dramatically.
The famous arch appeared above the surrounding buildings, shining brilliantly against the afternoon sky.
Even players who had visited dozens of times still found themselves looking up.
It never became ordinary.
Outside, thousands of supporters streamed toward the stadium from every direction.
Red and white shirts mixed with Southampton colours.
Families posed for photographs beneath the arch.
Street musicians played football songs while vendors sold scarves and programmes.
The closer Arsenal's coach moved toward the stadium, the louder the atmosphere became.
Supporters spotted the team through the windows.
Cheers followed immediately.
Scarves were raised.
Children ran alongside the barriers, waving enthusiastically.
Walker looked outside.
"I'll never get tired of that."
Robertson nodded.
"Wembley's different."
"It always is."
The coach finally turned beneath the stadium, where security staff guided it toward the players' entrance.
Once it came to a stop, the familiar routine took over.
Equipment staff unloaded kit bags.
Club officials greeted the squad.
The players stepped off one after another, acknowledging the supporters gathered behind the barriers before disappearing into the stadium.
Inside, Wembley felt enormous.
The corridors seemed to stretch forever beneath the stands.
Photographs celebrating famous FA Cup moments decorated the walls, a quiet reminder of the competition's remarkable history.
Eventually Arsenal reached their dressing room.
Everything had already been prepared.
Training shirts rested neatly at every locker.
Boots had been cleaned and arranged.
Fresh towels hung above each seat.
The match shirts waited separately, untouched for now.
Wenger allowed the players a few minutes to settle naturally.
No speeches.
Not yet.
Francesco changed into his training gear before helping Ramsey adjust the strap on his GPS vest.
Across the room, Raya was fastening his gloves with deliberate care.
Bellerín tightened his boots before standing up and stretching.
Holding bounced lightly from foot to foot, burning away the last traces of nervous energy.
Giroud caught Francesco looking across the room.
"They're ready."
Francesco nodded.
"They've been ready all week."
Steve Bould stepped inside.
"Warm-up in three."
Immediately the dressing room became busier.
Water bottles were collected.
Training tops zipped up.
Conversations faded.
Players formed naturally into small groups before making their way toward the tunnel.
The first glimpse of Wembley always stole a moment from everyone.
As Arsenal emerged into the afternoon sunlight, more than eighty thousand supporters greeted them with an enormous roar.
The vast bowl of the stadium seemed alive.
Red and white flags rippled throughout Arsenal's end.
Southampton supporters answered with songs of their own.
The atmosphere carried the unmistakable anticipation of knockout football.
There would be no second chance.
The warm-up began without delay.
Passing drills spread across one half of the pitch.
Goalkeepers worked separately under the guidance of the coaching staff.
Raya threw himself into low saves before springing quickly back to his feet.
Every catch looked clean.
Every movement looked sharp.
At the opposite end, Giroud, Iwobi, Saka and Ramsey rehearsed finishing patterns.
Cazorla's passing was as precise as ever.
One disguised through ball released Saka, whose finish nestled inside the far corner.
The Arsenal supporters applauded enthusiastically.
Giroud immediately pointed toward the teenager.
"Again."
Saka smiled.
"I was hoping you'd say that."
Another sequence followed.
This time Iwobi slipped Giroud through.
The French striker finished first time.
Then Ramsey.
Then Saka again.
Everything flowed naturally.
Nearby, the substitutes completed their own technical exercises.
Francesco exchanged quick one-touch passes with Alexis and Özil before curling a finish beyond the reserve goalkeeper.
Walker immediately applauded sarcastically.
"Show-off."
"It doesn't count."
"It looked like it counted."
"It definitely doesn't."
The laughter eased any remaining tension.
After around twenty-five minutes, the fourth official gestured toward both teams.
Time to head back inside.
The walk back to the dressing room felt noticeably quieter.
The warm-up was over.
The next time they stepped onto the pitch, the match would have begun.
Players showered quickly before changing into their match kits.
The famous red shirts replaced the training tops.
Boots were laced carefully.
Tape secured around ankles and wrists.
One by one everyone became match-ready.
Francesco pulled on his substitute's jacket before taking his usual place near the back of the room.
He knew his role today.
Support first.
Influence later if needed.
Wenger stepped into the centre.
The conversations disappeared immediately.
He looked around the room before speaking.
"I made a decision several days ago."
His voice remained calm.
"And I have not changed it."
His eyes moved toward the players who had carried Arsenal through the earlier rounds.
"You brought us to this stage."
"You deserve the opportunity to finish the journey."
He lifted the tactics board.
"David."
He placed Raya's magnet in goal.
"Héctor."
"Mustafi."
"Holding."
"Monreal."
The defensive line appeared.
Then the midfield.
"Aaron."
"Jack."
"Santi."
Finally the attack.
"Alex."
"Bukayo."
"Olivier."
The formation settled into Arsenal's familiar shape.
Wenger then turned toward the substitutes.
"Francesco."
"Mesut."
"Alexis."
"N'Golo."
"Virgil."
"Laurent."
"Kyle."
"And the rest of you."
"You begin on the bench."
He paused.
"That changes nothing."
"You must be mentally ready."
"The match may ask something of you."
"If it does…"
"…be prepared to change it."
Every substitute nodded.
Not one complaint appeared anywhere in the room.
Wenger turned the board around once more.
Now Southampton's magnets appeared.
"They'll play with three central defenders."
He positioned them carefully.
"Alex McCarthy."
"Wesley Hoedt."
"Jan Bednarek."
"Maya Yoshida."
Along the flanks came Ryan Bertrand and Cédric Soares.
The midfield followed.
"Oriol Romeu."
"Mario Lemina."
"Pierre-Emile Højbjerg."
Then the forwards.
"Charlie Austin."
"Shane Long."
He stepped back.
"Mark Hughes wants a physical match."
"They'll compete for every second ball."
"They're organised."
"They're disciplined."
"And if we become careless…"
He tapped the spaces behind Arsenal's midfield.
"They transition quickly."
Another magnet moved.
"Long runs the channels."
"Austin attacks crosses."
"Højbjerg drives forward."
"Romeu protects the defence."
"They'll ask questions."
"Our answers remain the same."
He looked around the room.
"Move the ball quickly."
"Keep your distances."
"Press together."
"When possession is lost…"
Everyone answered instinctively.
"Win it back."
A faint smile crossed Wenger's face.
"Exactly."
He pointed toward the Wembley tunnel.
"Play with courage."
"Play with intelligence."
"And enjoy the occasion."
"You've earned it."
Silence followed for a heartbeat.
Then everyone stood.
Giroud clapped his hands once.
"Let's go."
The substitutes followed the starting eleven through the tunnel.
As Francesco emerged from the dressing room, he caught Saka's eye.
The teenager looked determined.
Francesco reached out and squeezed his shoulder.
"Play your game."
Saka nodded.
"I will."
The teams walked onto the pitch beneath another tremendous roar.
After the pre-match formalities, Francesco and the other substitutes settled onto the Arsenal bench.
Blankets lay folded across the seats in case the afternoon breeze became cooler later in the match.
Wenger remained standing throughout the opening moments.
The referee checked both captains.
One sharp whistle.
The semi-final was underway.
Southampton began aggressively.
Austin challenged every aerial ball.
Long chased relentlessly across the front line.
For the opening few minutes, Arsenal were forced to match the visitors physically before finding their rhythm.
Gradually, however, the balance shifted.
Wilshere began receiving possession in tighter spaces.
Cazorla dictated the tempo with effortless composure.
Ramsey surged beyond midfield whenever opportunities appeared.
Iwobi drifted intelligently between the lines.
Saka stretched Southampton's defence with his pace, repeatedly forcing Bertrand to retreat.
From the bench, Francesco watched with quiet satisfaction.
"They're moving them everywhere."
Özil nodded beside him.
"Santi's finding space."
Each passing sequence grew longer.
Southampton spent increasing amounts of time chasing shadows.
The Arsenal supporters responded to every flowing move with growing belief.
Still, Southampton remained dangerous.
Austin headed narrowly wide from a Bertrand cross.
Moments later Raya produced an excellent save to deny Long after a quick counterattack.
The goalkeeper immediately sprang back to his feet.
"Well done!" Holding shouted.
Raya responded with a thumbs-up.
Arsenal refused to panic.
They simply resumed playing.
In the twenty-seventh minute, their patience finally paid off.
The move began deep inside their own half.
Mustafi calmly played into Wilshere.
Wilshere found Ramsey.
One touch carried the ball toward Cazorla.
The Spaniard drifted into the pocket just outside Southampton's midfield.
No defender stepped out quickly enough.
Giroud recognised the opening immediately.
He curved his run between Yoshida and Bednarek.
Cazorla waited.
Then released a perfectly weighted pass that split the defensive line.
Giroud collected it without breaking stride.
McCarthy rushed forward.
The French striker stayed composed.
With a measured finish, he guided the ball beyond the goalkeeper and into the bottom corner.
One-nil.
The Arsenal end exploded.
Giroud spread his arms before being engulfed by Ramsey, Saka and Iwobi.
From the bench, Walker leapt to his feet.
"I told him to score."
Robertson laughed.
"He finally listened."
Francesco applauded enthusiastically.
"Brilliant movement."
Wenger simply nodded once.
There was satisfaction.
Nothing more.
The match restarted.
Southampton attempted to respond immediately.
Lemina drove through midfield with purpose.
Romeu broke up play whenever possible.
Hoedt stepped aggressively into midfield.
Yet Arsenal's rotated side continued playing with confidence.
Holding and Mustafi looked increasingly assured.
Bellerín's overlapping runs pinned Bertrand deeper than Southampton wanted.
Monreal tucked inside intelligently whenever possession changed hands.
The minutes ticked by.
Saka continued tormenting defenders with fearless running.
One curling effort drifted narrowly beyond the far post.
Another cross flashed dangerously through the six-yard box.
"He'll get one," Alexis said quietly.
Francesco nodded.
"You can feel it."
The second goal arrived three minutes before half-time.
Again, Saka played a decisive role.
Collecting possession near the touchline, he squared up against Bertrand before accelerating past him with a burst of pace.
Instead of shooting from a tight angle, he lifted his head.
Ramsey had timed his run perfectly.
The cut-back arrived with precision.
The Welsh midfielder met it first time, calmly steering his finish beyond McCarthy.
Two-nil.
Wembley erupted once more.
Ramsey pointed immediately toward Saka.
The teenager smiled from ear to ear as his teammates surrounded him.
"Great ball," Ramsey said.
"Great finish," Saka replied.
On the Arsenal bench, applause echoed all the way along the line.
Giroud clapped toward the young winger.
Francesco caught Saka's eye for a brief moment.
The youngster grinned proudly.
Southampton refused to disappear from the contest.
Before the interval, Austin forced another save from Raya with a powerful header.
Højbjerg drove one effort narrowly wide from distance.
A dangerous free-kick into Arsenal's area was cleared bravely by Holding.
The rotated side answered every challenge with calm discipline.
As stoppage time approached, Arsenal nearly added a third when Iwobi curled a shot inches beyond the far post.
The supporters applauded the move regardless.
Moments later, the referee glanced at his watch.
A final whistle echoed around Wembley.
Half-time.
Arsenal 2.
Southampton 0.
The players exchanged quick words of encouragement before making their way toward the tunnel.
From the bench, Francesco stood alongside the other substitutes, applauding the starting eleven as they returned inside.
"They've been excellent," Van Dijk said quietly.
"They have," Wenger agreed.
Once everyone had gathered in the dressing room, the manager waited until the players had taken a drink before speaking.
His expression showed quiet satisfaction.
"That," he said, looking around the room, "is an excellent first half."
His eyes settled briefly on Giroud.
"You've taken your chance."
Then Saka.
"Be brave."
"Keep asking questions."
The teenager nodded immediately.
Wenger continued.
"We've controlled the ball."
"We've pressed well."
"We've moved them."
"That is why we're leading."
He let the words settle before his tone became firmer.
"But listen carefully."
He pointed toward the tactics board.
"The final is not won."
"Not yet."
"Southampton will come after us."
"They have nothing to lose."
"They'll commit more players forward."
"They'll become more aggressive."
His gaze swept across the room.
"So don't retreat."
"Keep pressing."
"Keep attacking."
"Move the ball with confidence."
"And whatever you do…"
"…do not become complacent."
Around the dressing room, every player nodded.
There was no excitement about a two-goal lead.
Only determination.
The dressing room remained completely still after Wenger finished speaking.
No music.
No last-minute jokes.
No unnecessary conversations.
The message had been delivered exactly as intended.
Two goals ahead.
Forty-five minutes from another final.
Nothing had been won yet.
Francesco leaned forward from the substitutes' bench inside the dressing room and looked toward the players preparing to walk back out.
"You've controlled the match," he said calmly.
"Now finish it."
Giroud smiled.
"That's the plan."
Saka tightened the tape around his wrist before looking up.
"We keep going."
"We keep going," Ramsey echoed.
A knock sounded on the dressing-room door.
The referee's assistant.
"Two minutes, gentlemen."
Players stood almost simultaneously.
Water bottles were emptied.
Shirts were pulled straight.
Captain's armbands, socks and shin pads received one final check.
The substitutes followed behind the starting eleven as Arsenal made their way through Wembley's wide concrete tunnel.
The noise waiting outside steadily grew louder.
Southampton's players emerged from the opposite dressing room with noticeably greater urgency than before the interval.
Mark Hughes walked alongside them for several steps, speaking quickly and pointing toward different areas of the pitch.
They had no option except to attack.
Another forty-five minutes without a response would end their FA Cup journey.
As the teams stepped back into the afternoon sunshine, Wembley welcomed them with another tremendous roar.
The Arsenal supporters sensed the opportunity.
One more composed half.
One more professional performance.
The referee glanced toward both assistant officials before checking his watch.
A sharp blast of the whistle.
The second half began.
Rather than dropping into a defensive shell, Arsenal immediately followed Wenger's instructions.
Ramsey pressed high alongside Giroud.
Iwobi closed passing lanes toward Romeu.
Saka chased every loose ball with tireless enthusiasm.
Behind them, Wilshere and Cazorla dictated the rhythm with quick, intelligent passing that continually shifted Southampton from one side of the pitch to the other.
Francesco watched from the bench beside Özil.
"They're not letting them breathe."
The German nodded.
"They're forcing Southampton to defend instead of attack."
Every successful press drew applause from the Arsenal supporters.
Whenever Southampton attempted to build patiently, another red shirt appeared.
Mustafi stepped aggressively into midfield to intercept a pass intended for Austin.
Holding immediately recycled possession to Wilshere.
Wilshere found Cazorla with one effortless touch.
Within seconds Arsenal were back around Southampton's penalty area.
The pressure became relentless.
Bertrand and Cédric found themselves pinned deeper than they wanted.
Romeu spent more time chasing midfield runners than protecting the defence.
Hoedt repeatedly looked over his shoulder as Saka drifted into dangerous spaces.
The movement never stopped.
Quick combinations.
One-touch football.
Constant rotation.
Southampton remained disciplined, but every passing minute demanded more concentration.
Eventually, the cracks began to appear.
The breakthrough in the second half arrived in the fifty-sixth minute.
It started innocently enough.
Monreal recovered possession near the halfway line before feeding Cazorla.
The Spaniard played a simple pass into Wilshere.
Wilshere immediately switched the play toward the right flank.
Saka collected it with room to accelerate.
Hoedt stepped out confidently.
The young winger slowed for just a heartbeat.
One quick drop of the shoulder.
The defender shifted his weight.
Too late.
Saka burst beyond him with breathtaking acceleration.
Bertrand rushed across to cover.
Again Saka refused to panic.
His close control kept the ball glued to his left foot as he slipped between the two Southampton defenders with remarkable balance.
The Wembley crowd rose instinctively.
Inside the penalty area, McCarthy advanced from his line.
Saka looked up once.
Then calmly swept a left-footed finish beyond the goalkeeper into the far corner.
Three-nil.
For a split second the teenager simply stood there, almost surprised by what he had done.
Then reality caught up with him.
The Arsenal supporters exploded.
His teammates sprinted toward him from every direction.
Ramsey reached him first, wrapping both arms around the young winger.
"You deserved that!"
Giroud arrived laughing.
"I told you the first touch would settle the nerves."
Saka laughed breathlessly.
"I think they disappeared."
On the Arsenal bench, every substitute was already on their feet.
Francesco applauded enthusiastically.
"Brilliant, Bukayo!"
Walker whistled loudly.
"What a goal!"
Even Wenger allowed himself a broad smile before applauding quietly toward the youngster.
It was not simply the finish.
It was the confidence.
The courage to attack experienced defenders one against one on one of English football's biggest stages.
Southampton attempted to answer immediately.
Mark Hughes urged his players forward from the touchline, encouraging them to increase the tempo.
Austin battled tirelessly against Holding and Mustafi.
Lemina drove forward whenever space appeared.
Bertrand delivered several dangerous crosses into the penalty area.
Yet Arsenal never lost their composure.
Raya continued making sensible decisions with the ball at his feet.
Holding won another important header.
Monreal intercepted a dangerous pass intended for Long before calmly finding Wilshere.
Instead of becoming stretched, Arsenal simply resumed controlling possession.
Every completed passing sequence frustrated Southampton a little more.
Every accurate switch of play forced another exhausting sprint.
The rhythm belonged entirely to Wenger's side.
The fourth goal arrived in the sixty-seventh minute.
Again, it came through patience rather than desperation.
Ramsey received possession near the centre circle before laying it off to Wilshere.
The midfielder looked up only once.
Giroud had already begun his run between Yoshida and Hoedt.
Wilshere's through ball split the defensive line perfectly.
The weight of the pass could not have been better.
Giroud met it in stride.
McCarthy hesitated.
The French striker needed no second invitation.
With one composed touch, he guided the ball beyond the goalkeeper and into the bottom corner.
Four-nil.
Giroud clenched both fists before pointing immediately toward Wilshere.
"What a pass!"
Wilshere jogged over smiling.
"You still had plenty to finish."
The Arsenal supporters responded with another deafening ovation.
From the bench, Francesco laughed softly.
"Olivier's enjoying himself."
Alexis nodded.
"He earned this start."
Wenger looked toward Steve Bould.
The assistant coach already understood.
Fresh legs.
Reward the squad.
Protect key players.
Five minutes later, the fourth official raised the electronic board.
Number nine.
Olivier Giroud.
Number nineteen.
Santi Cazorla.
Number seventeen.
Alex Iwobi.
The Wembley crowd applauded warmly as each player made his way toward the touchline.
Replacing them came Eddie Nketiah.
Emile Smith Rowe.
And Francesco.
The substitutes embraced each departing teammate.
Giroud hugged Nketiah.
"Enjoy every second."
"I will."
Cazorla smiled at Smith Rowe.
"Play without fear."
The academy graduate nodded eagerly.
Then Francesco shook Iwobi's hand before jogging toward the pitch.
"Great game."
"You finish it," Iwobi replied.
At the same moment Southampton introduced fresh legs of their own.
Dušan Tadić replaced Pierre-Emile Højbjerg.
Nathan Redmond came on for Shane Long.
Manolo Gabbiadini entered in place of Jan Bednarek as Mark Hughes reshaped his side for one final attempt to salvage something from the afternoon.
The substitutions altered the match without changing its direction.
Nketiah immediately pressed McCarthy into a hurried clearance.
Smith Rowe drifted intelligently into spaces between Southampton's midfield and defence, demanding possession with impressive confidence.
Francesco led the front line, constantly talking to both academy graduates.
"Good position, Emile."
"Eddie, stay high."
"Excellent."
The encouragement never stopped.
Smith Rowe responded brilliantly.
His movement complemented Wilshere almost instinctively.
Nketiah chased every loose ball as though the score remained goalless.
The senior players recognised their enthusiasm immediately.
Ramsey clapped after one determined recovery run.
"That's it, Eddie!"
Francesco smiled.
"Keep asking questions."
The youngster grinned back.
"They're getting tired."
"They are."
"So keep making them work."
Southampton continued competing honestly despite the scoreline.
Tadić tested Raya with a curling effort from outside the area.
Gabbiadini flashed one dangerous cross through the six-yard box.
Redmond's pace briefly troubled Bellerín before Mustafi recovered with an excellent tackle.
Arsenal remained organised.
Professional.
Focused.
Then came one final moment worthy of the occasion.
The stadium clock showed eighty-one minutes.
Holding calmly intercepted another Southampton attack before finding Ramsey.
Ramsey immediately released Smith Rowe between the lines.
The academy midfielder turned gracefully away from Lemina.
He lifted his head.
Francesco had already begun his run beyond Hoedt.
Without hesitation, Smith Rowe threaded a perfectly weighted pass into the penalty area.
The timing was exquisite.
Francesco controlled it effortlessly.
McCarthy advanced.
Just as he had done countless times before, Arsenal's captain remained completely composed.
One gentle touch opened the angle.
Then he slid the ball low beyond the goalkeeper and into the far corner.
Five-nil.
The Arsenal supporters celebrated once more.
Francesco raised one hand toward Smith Rowe before the youngster reached him.
"That pass was outstanding."
Smith Rowe smiled broadly.
"My easiest assist."
Francesco laughed.
"I'll happily take it."
Nketiah joined them seconds later.
"I nearly got there first."
"You'll get the next one," Francesco replied, patting him on the shoulder.
The celebration remained modest.
There was no dramatic sprint toward the corner flag.
No exaggerated emotion.
Only smiles shared between senior professionals and academy graduates enjoying a special Wembley afternoon together.
The remaining minutes unfolded exactly as Wenger wanted.
Arsenal continued keeping possession intelligently.
They attacked whenever opportunities presented themselves but never forced the game unnecessarily.
Southampton refused to stop competing.
Tadić continued searching for openings.
Gabbiadini forced Raya into another comfortable save.
Austin battled until his final touch before being replaced late on.
Every Arsenal player continued working.
Francesco tracked back to help defensively.
Smith Rowe recovered possession twice in midfield.
Nketiah pressed tirelessly until the very end.
From the technical area, Wenger folded his arms with quiet satisfaction.
It had never been about individual brilliance.
It had been about the entire squad.
The experienced professionals.
The trusted cup starters.
The emerging academy talents.
All contributing together.
As the match entered stoppage time, the Arsenal supporters began singing louder than ever.
Scarves rose above thousands of heads.
The dream of another FA Cup Final had become reality.
The referee checked his watch.
One final Southampton attack broke down when Holding headed clear.
Ramsey calmly retained possession.
A few seconds later, the whistle echoed around Wembley.
Full-time.
Arsenal 5.
Southampton 0.
Players embraced across the pitch.
There were smiles everywhere, but the celebrations remained measured.
Giroud congratulated Nketiah warmly.
"Good debut at Wembley."
The youngster beamed.
"Thank you."
Francesco wrapped an arm around Smith Rowe.
"You'll remember that assist for a long time."
"I don't think I'll ever forget it."
Nearby, Raya exchanged shirts with McCarthy while Bellerín applauded the travelling Arsenal supporters.
Wenger slowly walked onto the pitch, shaking hands with one player after another.
He stopped beside Saka first.
"Outstanding."
Then Giroud.
"You rewarded my trust."
Finally he reached the three substitutes who had changed the second half.
"Nketiah."
"Excellent energy."
"Emile."
"Wonderful composure."
Then he looked at Francesco.
"And thank you for helping the young players."
Francesco smiled.
"They made it easy."
Together, the entire squad walked toward the Arsenal end.
Starters.
Substitutes.
Academy graduates.
Coaches.
Staff.
They stood shoulder to shoulder, applauding the supporters who had filled Wembley with red and white throughout the afternoon.
______________________________________________
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: 53
Goal: 67
Assist: 6
MOTM: 7
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