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Francesco eventually put his headphones on and listened to music, watching the faint reflection of his own face in the window.
The long flight eventually gave way to the first signs of dawn, and somewhere beneath them, Asia was beginning to emerge.
Thirteen hours after leaving London, the aircraft finally began its descent toward Singapore.
Francesco had slept for several hours, though not particularly deeply. The strange rhythm of the flight had made time difficult to judge. At one point he had woken and had no idea whether it was morning or evening. He had looked through the window, seen nothing but darkness, and simply gone back to sleep.
Now, as the cabin lights slowly brightened, players began stirring around him.
Walker lifted his head from the seat.
"How long?"
Francesco checked the screen in front of him.
"Not long."
Walker rubbed his face.
"Thank God."
Across the aisle, Giroud was stretching his arms above his head.
Alexis had already found his phone.
Van Dijk looked out through the window as the first lights of Singapore became visible below.
The city appeared gradually through the darkness.
Clusters of buildings.
Roads illuminated by lines of traffic.
Bright towers rising against the night.
And beyond them, an enormous spread of lights stretching toward the horizon.
Francesco leaned toward the window.
Singapore.
After thirteen hours in the air, the sight of land felt strangely satisfying.
The aircraft descended lower.
The players became more alert as the wheels eventually touched the runway.
There was a soft rumble beneath them.
A few tired claps came from somewhere toward the back of the cabin.
Francesco smiled.
They had made it.
The aircraft taxied toward its assigned position, and almost immediately the quiet cabin became active again.
Seat belts were released.
Phones came out.
Headphones were removed.
Players began collecting bags and jackets from around their seats.
Nobody looked completely awake.
But there was a sense of relief.
They had arrived.
Francesco stood and stretched, feeling his back crack slightly after the long hours sitting down.
Walker noticed.
"Everything still attached?"
"I think so."
"Good."
"You?"
Walker rolled his shoulders.
"Ask me tomorrow."
Francesco laughed.
The doors opened.
Warm air immediately flowed into the aircraft.
It was the first thing Francesco noticed.
The temperature was completely different from London.
There was warmth in the air, along with a noticeable humidity that seemed to cling to his skin almost immediately.
He stepped down from the aircraft with the rest of the squad.
Around them, members of the travelling party moved efficiently toward the terminal.
Players walked in small groups, some talking quietly, others looking around with obvious curiosity.
The tiredness from the flight was still there, but nobody seemed unhappy.
They had arrived in a new country together.
That alone gave the group a little lift.
Inside the airport, the scale and brightness of the terminal immediately caught Francesco's attention.
He looked around while walking beside Walker.
"Nice place."
Walker nodded.
"Very nice."
Giroud, walking behind them, looked at his phone.
"I'm already hungry."
Alexis laughed.
"You just ate."
"That was on the plane."
"You ate twice."
Giroud shrugged.
"Long journey."
The group continued through the airport.
Staff kept everyone moving together, making sure bags and equipment reached the right collection points.
There was no rush.
The schedule had been deliberately arranged to allow the players to settle after the flight.
Once outside, the Arsenal team bus was waiting.
The players climbed aboard one after another.
Francesco took a seat near the window.
Walker sat nearby again, and soon the bus was full.
As the doors closed, the players looked out at the unfamiliar surroundings.
Singapore at night seemed almost impossibly clean and organized.
Roads stretched beneath bright streetlights.
Modern buildings rose on either side.
Traffic moved steadily through intersections.
Large signs and illuminated storefronts passed outside the windows.
Every so often, one of the players pointed something out.
"Look at that."
"That's huge."
"Is that the hotel?"
"No."
"Thought it was."
Francesco laughed quietly.
He wasn't taking pictures of everything, but he found himself repeatedly looking through the glass.
The city felt completely different from London.
There was a sense of density without the same old-world character.
Glass towers stood beside carefully maintained roads, while trees and greenery appeared everywhere between the buildings.
It was late, and the players were tired, so there was little appetite for conversation.
Most simply watched.
Some returned to their phones.
Others leaned against the seats and closed their eyes.
Francesco rested his head against the window for a moment.
The journey had finally become real.
They weren't simply travelling anymore.
They were here.
The bus eventually pulled into the hotel.
Staff had already arranged the check-in process, so the players were able to collect their room information and keys without too much delay.
Francesco took his key card and headed upstairs.
His room was quiet and comfortable.
He placed his luggage down, opened the curtains and looked out over Singapore.
The city was still alive below.
Lights stretched in every direction.
Cars moved along the roads.
Buildings stood illuminated against the night.
He stood there for a few seconds before his phone buzzed.
A message from Leah.
Leah: Landed?
He smiled.
Francesco: Just got to the hotel.
Leah: How was the flight?
Francesco: Long.
Leah: I warned you.
Francesco: You did.
He put the phone down when another message arrived.
A few minutes later, the players were asked to gather.
Wenger stood waiting in one of the hotel's meeting areas.
The squad slowly assembled.
Some players were still visibly exhausted.
Others were drinking water or quietly talking.
Wenger waited until everyone was present.
"First of all," he said calmly, "we are here."
A few smiles appeared.
"But tomorrow is not a training day."
That earned a more noticeable reaction.
Several players exchanged relieved looks.
Wenger continued.
"You have just completed a thirteen-hour journey. Your bodies have travelled through several time zones, and we need to allow you to adjust properly."
He paused.
"There is no reason to rush."
Francesco listened carefully.
"Recovery is part of preparation. Sleep. Eat properly. Hydrate. Adjust to the time difference."
The manager looked around the group.
"We have work to do here. But we will do it at the right time."
A few players nodded.
Giroud whispered something to Walker, who immediately smiled.
Wenger noticed.
"You may laugh."
The room chuckled.
"But I am serious."
The laughter faded.
"We have a match coming. We need to be ready for Atlético Madrid. That means we do not waste energy trying to prove something on the first day."
Francesco appreciated the approach.
There was no need to turn tomorrow into another training session.
They had done enough simply getting there.
Once Wenger finished, the players dispersed.
Some went straight upstairs.
Others made plans to eat together.
A few discussed using the hotel facilities.
Francesco returned to his room, showered, changed into comfortable clothes and eventually fell asleep far earlier than he expected.
The following day passed quietly.
Jet lag made sure of that.
Francesco woke at an odd hour, looked at the clock and realized his body had absolutely no idea what time it was.
He eventually managed breakfast, then returned upstairs.
The hotel became the centre of Arsenal's world for the day.
Players slept.
Some watched television.
Others played games in their rooms.
A few gathered in small groups and talked.
Phones were constantly in use as players caught up with family and friends back home.
The hotel facilities also became popular.
Some players spent time in the gym, others used the pool or simply found somewhere quiet to relax.
There was no formal football work.
The staff wanted the players' bodies to adjust.
By the afternoon, a small group decided to leave the hotel for a brief look around Singapore.
Francesco went along with several teammates.
They didn't turn it into a sightseeing expedition.
Nobody wanted to spend hours walking around after the flight.
Instead, they took in the city at a relaxed pace, stopping occasionally to look at the architecture, streets and surrounding greenery.
Walker looked around.
"This place is impressive."
Francesco nodded.
"Yeah."
They eventually returned to the hotel.
The next morning, things changed.
The relaxed period was over.
Arsenal's first Singapore training session was scheduled at Singapore American School.
The bus carried the squad toward the training ground as players gradually became more focused.
The conversations were different now.
Less about travel.
More about football.
When they stepped onto the pitch, the heat immediately made itself known.
Francesco could feel the difference within minutes.
The humidity made every movement require slightly more effort.
Wenger understood that.
The opening session was carefully managed.
The coaching staff wanted the players moving, but there was no attempt to push them to maximum intensity.
Football returned gradually.
Passing.
Movement.
Ball circulation.
Positioning.
Then more demanding work as the session progressed.
Francesco found himself adjusting his tempo.
In London, he had become accustomed to the rhythm of the sessions.
Here, the climate demanded another consideration.
He wiped sweat from his forehead after one sequence.
Walker looked at him.
"You all right?"
"Yeah."
"You're sweating more than usual."
"So are you."
Walker looked down at himself.
"Fair."
The following day brought more intensity.
The players were sharper with the ball.
Possession exercises became quicker.
Pressing patterns demanded faster reactions.
Attacking movements were repeated with more pressure from defenders.
Wenger began introducing more tactical detail, stopping play occasionally to correct positioning.
"Again."
The ball was restarted.
"Better."
Again.
The squad listened.
There was a seriousness now.
They knew the first match of the tour was approaching.
Atlético Madrid.
Nobody was treating the game as a meaningless kickabout.
It was still pre-season, but it would provide information that training could not.
The third day at Singapore American School pushed things further.
Finishing became more demanding.
Players worked through attacking combinations before facing defenders.
Transitions became quicker.
Possession games became more competitive.
The goalkeepers were tested repeatedly.
Čech made one particularly strong save from Francesco during a finishing sequence.
Francesco stared at him.
"You're enjoying this."
Čech smiled.
"Very much."
Raya laughed from nearby.
"He's still angry about your goal."
Francesco shook his head.
"That was days ago."
"Not for him."
Čech pointed toward Raya.
"Don't speak for me."
The players laughed.
But once the ball moved again, the jokes stopped.
Francesco was finding his rhythm.
Not perfectly.
There were still moments when he took an extra touch or arrived slightly late to a movement.
But his instincts were increasingly automatic.
He began recognizing openings sooner.
His runs were sharper.
His finishing required less adjustment.
And his understanding with Özil began showing itself again.
One pass from Özil arrived into a narrow channel.
Francesco barely needed to look.
He knew where the ball would go.
He moved.
Özil played it.
Francesco finished.
The sequence was simple.
That was what made it satisfying.
Wenger watched from the side and gave a small nod.
The squad was progressing.
By the end of the third day, the players had become much more comfortable with Singapore.
The weather no longer felt quite as unfamiliar.
The training environment had begun to feel like another Arsenal workplace.
And then came the fourth day.
Singapore National Stadium.
This time, the players knew there would be supporters.
The difference was obvious before they even stepped onto the pitch.
The stadium had a completely different energy.
Fans had begun arriving.
Arsenal shirts appeared throughout the stands.
Flags were raised.
Scarves were held up.
The noise grew steadily as the players prepared to enter.
Francesco stood with his teammates near the tunnel.
Walker looked toward the stands.
"That's a lot of people."
Giroud smiled.
"They came for you."
Francesco laughed.
"Obviously."
Alexis shook his head.
"Look at him."
Francesco grinned.
"I didn't say anything."
The team walked onto the pitch.
The reaction was immediate.
Cheers rolled around the stadium.
Players waved.
Some applauded the supporters.
Francesco raised his hand toward the stands, smiling as the noise grew louder.
For him, the moment carried a different feeling.
They were thousands of miles from London.
Yet Arsenal supporters had still come to see them.
That mattered.
The open session began.
Wenger and his staff kept the structure professional, but there was an awareness that people were watching.
Passing drills flowed into attacking movement.
Players worked through combinations.
Finishing exercises produced cheers whenever someone found the net.
The crowd reacted to every good sequence.
Alexis seemed to enjoy the attention, smiling whenever the supporters responded to him.
Giroud acknowledged the stands after scoring during a finishing exercise.
Van Dijk clapped toward the fans after a strong defensive sequence.
Özil remained composed, but even he occasionally looked toward the supporters.
Francesco received one particularly loud cheer when he finished a quick attacking move.
He turned toward the stands and raised a hand.
The response grew louder.
He smiled before jogging back into position.
The competitive side of training eventually returned.
Small-sided football became faster.
Players pressed harder.
The ball moved quickly between them.
There were tackles, interceptions and challenges, all within the controlled limits Wenger wanted.
The manager occasionally paused the session to make adjustments.
"Move earlier."
"Stay compact."
"Quicker."
Then the play resumed.
Francesco felt sweat running down his face as he moved across the pitch.
The heat was intense.
But the football felt good.
Three days of work had prepared them for this moment.
The open session wasn't a match, but it had brought something the closed training sessions couldn't provide.
Noise.
Expectation.
The feeling of performing in front of people again.
When the session finally began winding down, the players gathered near the edge of the pitch.
They applauded the supporters.
The supporters applauded back.
Francesco stood beside Walker, looking around the stadium.
A few days earlier, they had been exhausted passengers stepping off a thirteen-hour flight.
Now they were standing on a pitch in Singapore with thousands of Arsenal supporters watching them train.
The transformation had been gradual.
Recovery.
Adjustment.
Work.
Football.
One stage after another.
And now only the match remained.
Atlético Madrid.
Francesco looked toward the pitch as staff began collecting equipment.
His body felt good.
His legs felt alive.
His football was coming back.
But he knew the next test would tell them much more.
Wenger gathered the squad before they left the field.
The players listened quietly.
The manager didn't need to say much.
The work in Singapore had begun.
The next step would be the first pre-season match.
As the squad walked back toward the tunnel, the cheers continued around them.
Francesco turned once more toward the stands and lifted his hand.
Then he followed his teammates inside.
The tour had properly begun.
Then two days pass and the next morning arrived with a different kind of anticipation.
There was no uncertainty about what the day would bring.
Arsenal were playing.
Their first pre-season match in Singapore had finally arrived, and when the team bus left the hotel, the mood inside it was noticeably quieter than it had been during the journey from London.
There were still conversations.
Still music playing through headphones.
Still the occasional joke between teammates.
But football had taken over.
Francesco sat by the window, dressed in the club tracksuit, watching Singapore pass outside. He had spent the previous days adapting to the heat, working through training and gradually finding his rhythm again.
Now there was an opponent waiting.
Atlético Madrid.
He looked across the bus.
Kanté was sitting quietly, headphones on.
Ramsey was talking with Bellerín.
Alexis was scrolling through his phone.
Saka sat nearby, looking relaxed but clearly focused.
Francesco smiled at him.
"Nervous?"
Saka looked over.
"No."
"Good answer."
Saka grinned.
"You?"
"Not yet."
"Not yet?"
"It'll come when we get there."
Saka laughed softly.
The bus continued toward Singapore National Stadium.
As the stadium came into view, the atmosphere changed again.
Supporters were already gathering around the venue.
Arsenal shirts could be seen everywhere.
The noise outside grew as the bus approached the entrance reserved for the teams.
Francesco looked through the window.
This was different from the open training session.
That had been about preparation.
Today was football.
Even if it was pre-season, the feeling was unmistakable.
The bus entered the stadium complex, and the players stepped down one by one.
There were fewer smiles now.
The joking had almost disappeared.
They walked inside together and made their way toward the Arsenal dressing room.
Once inside, everyone settled into his own space.
Boot bags were opened.
Shirts and shorts were laid out.
Water bottles were placed beside seats.
Players moved through the familiar process of preparing themselves, each following his own little routine.
Francesco sat down and began organizing his boots.
Across the room, Koscielny was already changing.
Bellerín adjusted the tape around his wrist.
Kanté quietly checked his boots before putting them down again.
Saka looked around the dressing room for a moment, taking everything in.
Francesco noticed.
"You good?"
Saka nodded.
"Yeah."
"Enjoy it."
Saka smiled.
"I will."
The players eventually changed into their designated training attire and headed outside.
The stadium was beginning to fill.
The noise from the stands drifted down toward the pitch as the Arsenal players emerged.
The warm-up began calmly.
Stretching came first.
Then movement work.
Short passing patterns followed, with players circulating the ball between small groups.
The tempo gradually increased.
Francesco moved through the exercises alongside Alexis and Saka, exchanging quick passes.
Cazorla joined the group, his touches as precise as ever.
Ramsey and Kanté worked nearby.
At the other end, Raya was already preparing himself.
The goalkeeping coaches put him through a series of movements, low saves, crosses and reactions.
Raya shouted instructions as he worked.
"Again!"
A shot came toward him.
He pushed it away.
Another followed.
He gathered it cleanly.
The stadium continued filling.
Francesco eventually joined the finishing work.
One shot went narrowly wide.
Another forced Raya into a save.
Then Francesco accelerated toward a pass, controlled it and finished into the corner.
Alexis applauded.
"Better."
Francesco looked at him.
"You're supposed to be supporting me."
"I am."
"That didn't sound like support."
Alexis laughed.
The warm-up continued until the coaching staff called the players back.
The squad returned inside.
The atmosphere in the dressing room was now much quieter.
The training clothes came off.
The Arsenal match shirts were pulled on.
Red and white replaced the tracksuits.
Francesco fastened his boots and stood.
Around him, conversations had almost disappeared.
Everyone was preparing mentally.
Wenger entered the room.
The players gathered their attention.
The manager held his team sheet.
"We approach this seriously," he said. "Not because the result is the most important thing today, but because the match gives us information that training cannot."
He looked around.
"Communicate. Stay compact. Move the ball quickly. When we lose possession, react together."
Then he began announcing the team.
"David Raya."
Raya nodded.
"Nacho Monreal. Laurent Koscielny. Shkodran Mustafi. Héctor Bellerín."
The defenders listened.
"N'Golo Kanté. Aaron Ramsey."
Kanté and Ramsey exchanged a brief glance.
"Santi Cazorla."
Cazorla smiled.
"Alexis Sánchez. Bukayo Saka."
Saka's expression tightened with concentration.
"And Francesco."
Francesco nodded.
Wenger continued.
"This is an opportunity for everyone. We have young players involved, experienced players involved. Use the game properly."
His eyes settled briefly on Saka.
"Play your football."
Saka nodded.
Wenger then looked around the entire room.
"Do not chase the match. Let the match come to you. We have worked for this."
He paused.
"Now we see where we are."
The players rose.
One by one, they moved toward the tunnel.
Atlético Madrid were already waiting nearby.
The noise from the stadium became louder as both teams emerged.
Arsenal walked onto the pitch.
The supporters responded immediately.
Francesco raised his hand toward the stands.
Thousands of voices followed him.
Across the pitch, Atlético's players lined up.
The teams exchanged handshakes with the officials before the players greeted their opponents.
Francesco shook hands with Atlético's captain.
Then came the photographs.
Both teams stood together while photographers captured the moment.
Afterward, the captains moved toward the officials for the coin toss.
Francesco stood beside the referee.
The coin went into the air.
A decision was made.
The players separated.
Arsenal moved into their positions.
Francesco stood near the halfway line.
He looked toward the stands one last time.
Then the whistle sounded.
Atlético immediately showed why they had been chosen as the first serious opponent of the tour.
They pressed aggressively.
Their midfield closed down Cazorla and Ramsey, while their forwards tried to prevent Arsenal from building comfortably from the back.
Raya was forced to play quickly.
"Man on!"
Koscielny shouted.
Raya moved the ball toward Monreal.
Arsenal worked their way forward.
Kanté won the next challenge and immediately found Ramsey.
Ramsey carried the ball forward.
Saka moved inside.
Alexis pulled wide.
Francesco dropped slightly, drawing a defender with him before turning and accelerating into the space behind.
Ramsey saw it.
The pass came.
Francesco reached it and crossed toward Alexis, but Atlético cleared.
The first warning had been delivered.
Atlético responded with an attack of their own.
A quick move through the middle forced Raya into a save.
He gathered the ball and immediately shouted at his defenders.
"Wake up!"
Arsenal listened.
The match settled into a fierce rhythm.
Neither side dominated.
Arsenal's passing became more confident.
Cazorla began finding pockets of space.
Kanté broke up Atlético attacks before they could develop.
Bellerín pushed forward whenever the opportunity appeared.
Then, midway through the half, Arsenal found the opening.
Kanté intercepted a loose pass and fed Cazorla.
Cazorla turned.
Francesco had already begun his run.
A defender followed him.
Saka moved the opposite direction, taking another defender with him.
Cazorla waited.
Then he slipped the ball between them.
Francesco ran onto it.
One touch.
He entered the area.
The goalkeeper came forward.
Francesco kept his composure and placed the ball beyond him.
The net moved.
For a moment, Francesco simply stood there.
Then Alexis reached him first.
"Yes!"
Francesco laughed as the rest of the players joined.
Saka grabbed him from behind.
"That's one!"
Francesco smiled.
"Keep going."
Atlético restarted quickly.
They refused to let Arsenal settle.
The pressure continued.
But Arsenal were beginning to find spaces.
Late in the first half, Francesco dropped into midfield and combined with Cazorla.
Cazorla returned the ball.
Francesco turned and released Saka down the right.
Saka drove forward before cutting the ball across the area.
An Atlético defender managed to intercept, but only partially.
The ball fell to Alexis.
He struck it first time.
Low.
Hard.
Into the corner.
2–0.
Alexis wheeled away with both arms out.
Francesco chased him.
Saka joined them.
Arsenal had their second.
Atlético continued attacking until the interval, but Raya and the defensive line held firm.
The whistle finally sounded for half-time.
Inside the dressing room, Wenger allowed the players a few moments to breathe.
They were sweating heavily.
The heat had made the match physically demanding.
Wenger stood in front of them.
"Good first half."
Nobody celebrated excessively.
He continued.
"But this is exactly why we play these matches. The second half is for testing more players and giving more minutes."
His eyes moved around the room.
"Stay disciplined. Keep the ball moving. Continue communicating."
Francesco listened.
He knew his own evening was about to change.
Wenger soon confirmed the substitutions.
Francesco would come off.
Alexis would come off.
Cazorla would come off.
Ramsey would also make way.
Olivier Giroud, Alex Iwobi, Mesut Özil and Emile Smith Rowe prepared to enter.
Francesco removed his boots and settled onto the bench.
Giroud walked past.
"Good job."
"Thanks."
"You owe me one."
Francesco looked at him.
"For what?"
"For leaving me to do the running."
Francesco laughed.
The second half began.
With Francesco and Alexis gone, Arsenal's attack changed.
Giroud offered a different presence up front.
Iwobi brought direct running.
Özil immediately began searching for spaces between the lines.
Smith Rowe played with youthful energy.
Atlético sensed the change.
They pushed higher.
Within minutes, they pulled one goal back.
2–1.
Arsenal responded.
Özil found Iwobi, who crossed toward Giroud.
The striker rose above the defender.
2–2.
Francesco watched from the bench, clapping.
"Come on!"
The game became increasingly open.
Atlético scored again.
3–2.
Arsenal answered through Smith Rowe.
3–3.
The final stages became frantic.
Both sides attacked.
Arsenal regained the lead through a late attacking move finished by Giroud.
4–3.
The stadium erupted.
Francesco stood with the substitutes, applauding.
But Atlético were not finished.
They pushed forward again.
Raya made another important save.
Koscielny threw himself into a challenge.
Mustafi cleared a dangerous cross.
Finally, the referee blew for the end of normal play.
Arsenal had won 4–3.
But the teams had agreed before the match that the shoot-out would still take place, giving both squads another competitive exercise.
The players gathered near halfway.
Francesco stood alongside his teammates, still wearing his substitute's bib.
The penalty shoot-out began.
One by one, the players stepped forward.
The pressure was surprisingly real for a friendly.
The supporters were roaring after every kick.
Raya saved one.
Atlético's goalkeeper saved another.
Francesco watched with his hands clasped together.
"Come on," he whispered.
Arsenal kept scoring.
The shoot-out reached its final attempts.
The pressure rose.
Raya stood on his line.
The Atlético player stepped forward.
He struck the ball.
Raya went the right way.
Save.
Arsenal had won the shoot-out 5–4.
The players erupted.
Francesco ran onto the pitch and embraced Raya.
"You saved it!"
Raya laughed.
"Of course."
Giroud grabbed him from behind.
Walker was shouting.
Saka was smiling from ear to ear.
Özil congratulated the penalty takers one by one.
Wenger stood nearby, allowing the players their moment.
Francesco looked around Singapore National Stadium.
The scoreboard showed the chaotic story of the evening:
Arsenal 4–3 Atlético Madrid
And beneath the result was the shoot-out victory:
Arsenal win 5–4 on penalties.
It had been messy.
It had been entertaining.
It had been far from perfect.
But that was precisely why Wenger had wanted the match.
They had experienced pressure.
They had been challenged.
They had conceded goals and responded.
Players had received valuable minutes.
Young players had experienced a different level of competition.
And Francesco had scored before watching the rest of the team finish the job.
He looked toward the Arsenal supporters.
They were still singing.
He applauded them alongside his teammates.
The first serious test of the tour was over.
Arsenal had survived it.
Not perfectly.
Not comfortably.
But together.
Francesco smiled as Walker came over and bumped his shoulder.
"Good goal."
"Thanks."
"Still annoyed about that one in training, though."
Francesco laughed.
"Give it a rest."
Walker grinned.
The players continued celebrating around them.
For Francesco, there was something satisfying about standing there after everything that had happened over the previous weeks.
The World Cup.
The holiday.
The summer had finally turned into football again.
And, perhaps most importantly, another night spent learning what this new Arsenal side could become.
__________________________________________________
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, FA Cup 2016/2017, 2016/2017 Champions League, 2017/2018 Carabao Cup, Premier League 2017/2018, FA Cup 2017/2018, Champions League 2017/2018, and 2018 World Cup.
Season 17/18 stats:
Arsenal:
Match: 59
Goal: 76
Assist: 6
MOTM: 7
POTM: 0
England:
Match: 11
Goal: 14
Assist: 1
MOTM: 7
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