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...
And Arsenal would have to prove, from the first minute onward, that being champions had not made them comfortable.
Then the days has pass and in the following morning, Arsenal returned to London Colney with a different kind of silence around them.
It wasn't the quiet of a day off.
It was the quiet that existed before something mattered.
The Community Shield had been won.
The celebrations were over.
The photographs had been taken, the medals collected, the trophy returned to the club, and the headlines had already moved on to the next question.
Now there were points to play for.
And this time, Manchester City were not simply another opponent in a pre-season exercise.
They were Arsenal's first Premier League opponent.
At the Emirates.
The team bus rolled through the gates of London Colney shortly after the morning traffic had begun to build across the surrounding roads.
Francesco sat near the window, looking out at the familiar buildings and training pitches.
Around him, conversations were quieter than they had been after Wembley.
Giroud was talking to Koscielny.
Xhaka was scrolling through his phone.
Alexis had his headphones on.
Saka and Gnabry were discussing something on the opposite side of the bus.
Nobody looked nervous.
But nobody looked completely relaxed either.
Francesco noticed that.
The previous day's session had stayed with him.
He had gone home afterward still thinking about the small changes he'd seen.
Today, however, there was something else.
Purpose.
The Premier League had arrived.
When the bus stopped outside the training building, the players stepped down one after another.
Staff were already waiting.
There were schedules on clipboards, equipment being moved between rooms and members of the medical team speaking quietly with coaches.
Nobody needed to explain what was coming.
The first league match was close enough to feel.
Francesco walked inside with Van Dijk.
"You slept well?" the defender asked.
"Eventually."
Van Dijk smiled.
"Still thinking about yesterday?"
"A little."
"Good."
Francesco looked at him.
Van Dijk shrugged.
"Means you care."
They entered the dressing room.
The atmosphere was different from the morning before.
Players moved with more purpose.
Boot bags opened.
Tape was pulled from rolls.
Training tops were taken from lockers.
Bellerín was already stretching while talking to Ramsey.
Kanté quietly arranged his things before sitting down.
Özil entered, nodded to a few teammates and began preparing without saying much.
Francesco watched them for a moment.
There was still a little of yesterday's looseness.
But less.
Maybe Wenger's decision had worked.
Or perhaps the knowledge of an actual league match was enough to sharpen everyone.
Either way, Francesco didn't comment.
He simply began changing.
The squad eventually emerged onto the training pitch.
The morning air was cool enough to make the first few breaths comfortable.
Staff had arranged the session carefully.
There was no unnecessary work.
Everything was built around rhythm, positioning and readiness.
Passing patterns were crisp.
Movement was more deliberate.
When a ball went out of play, someone immediately retrieved it.
When a player made a mistake, the correction came faster.
Francesco noticed Saka demanding the ball more often.
Gnabry was aggressive in his movements.
Ramsey repeatedly checked his shoulder before receiving.
Xhaka was talking constantly.
Kanté covered ground with his usual quiet efficiency.
The edge was returning.
Not completely.
But enough.
The session finished without incident.
Afterward, the players returned inside, showered and changed.
Francesco remained behind for a few minutes, speaking with Wenger about the upcoming fixture.
"Tomorrow," Wenger said, "everything becomes real."
Francesco nodded.
"City will be ready."
"They will."
"And they'll come after us."
Wenger looked at him.
"They should."
There was no fear in the manager's voice.
Only respect.
That was how it should be.
The following day arrived with the weight of matchday already hanging over the club.
The team bus left London Colney under a sky that was brighter than Francesco expected.
As they travelled toward north London, the city gradually became busier.
Cars filled the roads.
Arsenal shirts appeared among pedestrians.
Scarves were visible through windows.
Fans stood outside pubs and near transport stops.
The closer they got to the Emirates, the more obvious it became.
This wasn't Wembley.
There was no neutral setting.
No one-off occasion.
This was home.
This was the beginning of their Premier League title defence.
And there were three points waiting for whoever could take them.
Francesco looked through the bus window as the stadium finally appeared.
The Emirates seemed enormous even from the road.
Supporters were already gathering outside.
Some held signs.
Some wore last season's shirts.
Others carried new ones.
There was excitement in the air, but also expectation.
Arsenal were the champions.
Three consecutive league titles.
A quadruple.
And now everyone expected them to start another campaign by proving that none of it had been a one-season miracle.
The bus entered the stadium complex.
Security guided them through.
The noise outside became muffled as the vehicle moved underground.
The players stepped off.
Staff directed them toward the dressing room.
Francesco walked through the familiar corridors, hearing the distant rumble of supporters through the concrete.
People moved quickly around him.
Kit staff.
Coaches.
Medical staff.
Photographers.
Everyone had somewhere to be.
He entered the dressing room and immediately felt the difference.
Nobody was celebrating anymore.
There were no jokes about Wembley.
No trophy in sight.
Just shirts hanging in place.
Boots.
Tape.
Water bottles.
And twenty-five players preparing for ninety minutes that could begin the season with either momentum or disappointment.
Francesco sat down and began wrapping his ankles.
Giroud looked across.
"You ready?"
Francesco smiled.
"Always."
Giroud nodded.
"Good answer."
The squad eventually made its way outside.
The Emirates was filling quickly.
They stepped onto the pitch for the warm-up.
The noise immediately rose.
Thousands of supporters had already taken their seats.
Arsenal flags moved across the stands.
Music played over the speakers.
The players began jogging.
Stretching.
Passing.
Short combinations.
Shots from the edge of the area.
Goalkeepers worked separately.
Čech moved between the posts, catching crosses and directing the defenders in front of him.
Francesco joined the passing drills.
"One touch," he called.
The ball moved.
Özil received.
Cazorla returned it.
Saka shifted wide.
Francesco moved between two imaginary defenders.
Everything felt sharper.
Every few minutes, the noise increased as more supporters entered.
Francesco looked toward the stands.
He could feel the expectation now.
The Community Shield had been satisfying.
But this was different.
A league table would exist after today.
Points would be gained or lost.
Every result would eventually matter.
When the warm-up ended, the players walked back inside.
They cooled down briefly, drank water and sat quietly.
Then the final preparations began.
Training tops came off.
Match shirts went on.
Arsenal red.
White sleeves.
The familiar crest.
Francesco adjusted his shirt and looked down at the captain's armband waiting beside him.
He picked it up.
For a moment, he simply held it.
Then he wrapped it around his arm.
Around the dressing room, boots were being tightened.
Shin pads were adjusted.
Laces were double-knotted.
Players stood and stretched their legs.
The noise outside was becoming louder.
Wenger entered.
The room settled.
He held the team sheet.
"Our starting eleven remains unchanged from Wembley."
There were nods around the room.
"Petr."
Čech looked up.
"Robertson. Virgil. Laurent. Kyle."
Walker nodded.
"N'Golo. Granit."
Kanté and Xhaka exchanged a glance.
"Mesut behind Alexis, Serge and Francesco."
Francesco looked around.
The same group.
The same core.
But this time there was no trophy waiting at the end.
Wenger continued.
"Manchester City have made one change."
He turned the sheet slightly.
"Sterling comes out. Agüero comes in."
The players listened.
"Bravo. Zinchenko. Otamendi. Stones. Danilo. David Silva captain. Rodri. De Bruyne. Sané. Bernardo Silva. Agüero."
Koscielny leaned forward slightly.
Wenger continued.
"They will be motivated after Wembley. They will want a response."
He looked at every player.
"But understand the difference."
His voice remained calm.
"This is not pre-season."
Nobody moved.
"This is not about preparation. This is the Premier League."
Wenger paused.
"We are defending our title."
The words carried more weight than any motivational speech could have.
"Manchester City will not be impressed by what we achieved last season. They will not give us anything because we won three consecutive championships. They will not care about the quadruple. They will not care about the Community Shield."
His eyes moved toward Francesco.
"They will come here believing they can take three points."
Francesco nodded.
Wenger looked back toward the squad.
"Then we make them work for every metre."
The players stood.
Francesco briefly caught Xhaka's eye.
"You heard him."
Xhaka nodded.
"Let's go."
The door opened.
The squad moved into the tunnel.
The sound hit them immediately.
The Emirates was roaring.
Francesco could feel the vibration beneath his boots.
Ahead, the referees stood waiting.
Manchester City emerged from the opposite side.
David Silva walked at the front.
Agüero was beside him.
The players formed their lines.
The referee checked the teams.
The captains shook hands.
Francesco moved down the line.
One by one.
City players.
Arsenal players.
Respectful handshakes.
Brief nods.
No unnecessary words.
Then both teams moved onto the pitch.
The anthem and stadium announcements rolled across the ground.
Cameras tracked the players.
Supporters raised scarves.
The starting elevens gathered for the official photographs.
Francesco stood among his teammates, expression focused.
Then came the captains' meeting.
David Silva stood beside him.
The referee held the coin.
"Call it."
Francesco glanced at the coin.
"Heads."
The referee flipped it.
It landed.
Francesco's side.
He nodded.
David Silva smiled politely.
"Good luck."
"You too."
They walked away.
The players took their positions.
Francesco stood near the halfway line.
He looked toward the City defence.
Stones.
Otamendi.
Behind them, Bravo.
Ahead, De Bruyne and David Silva were already communicating.
Agüero waited centrally.
The noise rose.
The referee checked his watch.
Then blew the whistle.
The new Premier League season had begun.
Arsenal immediately tried to establish control.
Özil dropped into space.
Kanté offered himself between the lines.
Xhaka shifted the ball from side to side.
Alexis moved inside.
Gnabry stayed wider.
Francesco constantly changed his position between Stones and Otamendi.
City responded intelligently.
They didn't simply sit back.
De Bruyne pressed.
Rodri stepped forward.
David Silva looked for spaces behind Kanté.
Sané threatened the left side.
Bernardo drifted inward.
Agüero moved constantly, dragging Koscielny and Van Dijk into decisions.
The first ten minutes passed at an uncomfortable speed.
Neither team wanted to give the other control.
Arsenal created the first half-chance.
Francesco dropped toward the ball, received from Özil and laid it into Alexis's path.
Alexis carried forward.
Gnabry sprinted beyond him.
The pass came.
Danilo recovered quickly enough to block the cross.
Corner.
The Emirates responded with a roar.
City answered immediately.
De Bruyne received between Xhaka and Kanté and switched play toward Sané.
Walker recovered.
He forced Sané wide.
The cross came anyway.
Van Dijk rose above Agüero and headed clear.
"Good!" Čech shouted.
The match settled into a rhythm that was anything but comfortable.
Every attack required concentration.
Every lost ball brought danger.
Francesco could feel the intensity in every duel.
Then, in the twenty-first minute, City found the opening.
It began with Rodri winning a second ball in midfield.
David Silva received.
He moved the ball quickly.
De Bruyne was already accelerating into space.
Xhaka tried to close him.
Too late.
De Bruyne took the ball forward and waited until the exact moment Agüero began his run.
The pass came.
Perfectly weighted.
Agüero slipped between Koscielny and Van Dijk.
Čech rushed forward.
Agüero stayed composed.
One touch.
Then he finished beyond the goalkeeper.
The net moved.
For a moment, the Emirates fell silent.
City's players celebrated near the corner.
Francesco stood near the centre circle, hands resting briefly on his hips.
He looked at his teammates.
Nobody needed to be told what had happened.
City had earned it.
They had moved the ball quickly, found the gap and punished Arsenal with the quality everyone knew they possessed.
Francesco clapped his hands.
"Come on."
Alexis looked toward him.
"Still plenty."
"Exactly."
Francesco pointed toward the halfway line.
"We go again."
The players reset.
There was no panic.
Arsenal began pushing forward with greater purpose.
Özil started finding pockets.
Cazorla's influence grew whenever he received the ball.
Kanté began stepping higher.
Xhaka moved the ball faster.
Alexis started attacking Zinchenko more directly.
Gnabry stretched Danilo.
Francesco stopped waiting between the centre-backs and began drifting into the spaces around them.
City were being forced backward.
Twenty-five minutes.
Twenty-seven.
Twenty-nine.
Arsenal were close.
Then came the thirty-second minute.
Alexis received the ball near the left side.
He drove toward the penalty area.
Danilo stepped across.
Alexis didn't try to force the shot.
Instead, he waited.
Francesco had started his run behind Stones.
Alexis saw him.
The pass came low and quick into the area.
Francesco met it before the defender could recover.
One touch.
He opened his body.
Then struck.
The ball flew beyond Bravo and into the far corner.
The Emirates exploded.
Francesco barely heard himself shouting.
Alexis was already running toward him.
They collided.
"Yes!"
"That's it!"
Gnabry arrived next.
Özil raised both arms.
Francesco pointed toward Alexis.
"Your ball!"
Alexis grinned.
"Your finish."
Francesco laughed.
For several seconds, they celebrated.
Then Francesco turned.
"Back."
He pointed toward halfway.
"Come on."
The players moved.
1–1.
The match had been reset.
But neither side looked satisfied.
City immediately resumed attacking.
Sané forced Walker into a recovery run.
De Bruyne tested Čech from distance.
Agüero nearly connected with a low cross.
Arsenal responded through Alexis, who forced Bravo into a save.
Gnabry had a shot blocked.
Francesco headed a Cazorla delivery over the bar.
The final minutes of the half became frantic.
Koscielny threw himself in front of a Bernardo Silva effort.
Van Dijk intercepted a pass intended for Agüero.
Kanté won a crucial challenge.
Xhaka tried another long-range effort but missed.
Özil nearly released Francesco through the centre, only for Stones to recover.
Neither team could break the deadlock again.
When the referee finally blew for half-time, the scoreboard showed:
Arsenal 1–1 Manchester City.
Francesco walked toward the tunnel breathing heavily.
His shirt clung to his back.
Alexis was beside him.
"Fast game."
"Very."
"We can get them."
Francesco nodded.
"We need to be patient."
Inside the dressing room, players immediately reached for water.
Some sat.
Others remained standing.
The room was filled with heavy breathing and short conversations.
Koscielny discussed Agüero's movement with Van Dijk.
Walker spoke quietly with Robertson.
Xhaka and Kanté talked about De Bruyne's positioning.
Özil listened while Wenger reviewed the first half.
Eventually the manager stood.
"We are in the match."
Everyone looked at him.
"They have hurt us with quality. We have hurt them when we move the ball quickly."
He pointed toward the board.
"But the second half cannot become a race."
Francesco listened closely.
"Keep attacking," Wenger said. "We need the next goal. Do not become passive simply because we have equalized."
He paused.
"When we take the lead, then we change."
The room became quieter.
"We lower the tempo slightly. We remain compact. We allow them to come."
Wenger moved a marker across the board.
"City will commit players forward because they must find a way back into the game. That creates space."
He looked around.
"And that space is where we hurt them."
Francesco understood immediately.
"Counter-attacks."
"Exactly."
Wenger nodded.
"We do not chase unnecessarily once we are ahead. We control the rhythm. We make them run. When they lose their shape, we attack the spaces they leave."
Kanté nodded.
Xhaka leaned forward.
Cazorla was listening carefully.
Wenger continued.
"But first, we must earn that advantage."
His eyes moved around the room.
"Attack with purpose. Be patient with the ball. Be aggressive when the opportunity comes."
Francesco stood.
He looked around at his teammates.
"He's right."
Nobody spoke.
"We don't need to force everything. But when we get the chance, we go."
Alexis nodded.
"Yes."
Van Dijk slapped his hands together.
"Come on."
Francesco looked toward Saka and Gnabry.
"Keep stretching them."
Both nodded.
Then he looked at Özil.
"Find us."
Özil smiled faintly.
"I will."
Francesco finally glanced at Wenger.
The manager gave him a small nod.
The players began preparing again.
Boots were tightened.
Shin pads checked.
Shirts pulled straight.
Water bottles emptied.
The noise from outside began filtering through the walls once more.
The Emirates was waiting.
Francesco stood near the doorway, his captain's armband secure around his arm.
The scoreboard still read 1–1.
The first half had shown that Manchester City could hurt them.
It had also shown that Arsenal could hurt City.
But Wenger's plan demanded something more.
They had to find the next goal first.
Only then could they change the shape of the match.
Only then could patience become a weapon.
Francesco took one final breath.
Then he stepped into the tunnel with the rest of the squad.
The noise grew louder with every step.
Ahead waited another forty-five minutes.
Then the second half began, as the referee slowly raised his whistle.
For one brief moment, the entire stadium seemed to hold its breath.
Then came the sound.
A sharp blast cut through the noise, and the second half began.
Arsenal moved immediately.
There was no cautious period of feeling their way back into the match. Wenger's instructions were still fresh in their minds, and the players carried them onto the pitch with intent.
Francesco sprinted toward Stones before the City defender could settle on the ball.
"Go!"
Alexis followed from the left.
Gnabry closed the passing lane toward Danilo while Kanté stepped forward behind them, ready to attack the second ball.
Stones was forced to play backward.
Otamendi received.
Francesco changed direction instantly, cutting across his path and forcing Bravo to become involved.
The City goalkeeper cleared long.
Van Dijk won the header.
Xhaka collected the loose ball.
And Arsenal came again.
The Emirates responded.
The noise was different now that not simply encouragement, but anticipation. Every time Arsenal recovered possession, supporters rose from their seats expecting another attack.
Özil found space just outside the City midfield.
He took one touch.
Then another.
Kanté moved beyond him.
Alexis drifted inside.
Gnabry held the right flank.
Francesco moved away from the centre-backs, dragging Stones with him before suddenly turning and accelerating into the space behind.
Özil saw the movement.
The pass came.
Francesco reached it just inside the penalty area, but Otamendi had read the danger. The defender recovered quickly and threw himself across the passing lane.
The ball struck his leg and bounced away.
"Again!" Francesco shouted.
Arsenal recovered it.
Xhaka switched play toward Robertson.
The left-back advanced before finding Alexis.
Alexis took on Danilo.
One step.
Another.
He cut inside.
A low shot followed.
Bravo dropped quickly and pushed it away.
The rebound fell toward Gnabry, but Zinchenko arrived first and cleared.
City survived.
But only just.
Guardiola stood near his technical area, arms folded, watching his team being pushed farther and farther backward.
For several minutes, Arsenal dominated territory.
City struggled to build through the first line of pressure because Arsenal were refusing to give them time.
Whenever Rodri received the ball, Kanté was close.
Whenever De Bruyne dropped deeper, Xhaka tracked him.
When Bernardo Silva tried to drift inside, Robertson and Kanté narrowed the available space.
And whenever Stones or Otamendi looked toward Agüero, Francesco was already positioning himself to make the next pass difficult.
It wasn't frantic.
It was organized aggression.
The kind of pressure Wenger had wanted.
City, however, were too good to remain trapped forever.
In the fifty-second minute, De Bruyne finally escaped.
He collected the ball from Rodri and turned before Kanté could close him.
One touch carried him beyond the first challenge.
Another opened the right side.
Bernardo Silva immediately sprinted into the channel.
De Bruyne played him through.
Bernardo reached the edge of the box and cut the ball across goal.
Agüero attacked it.
Van Dijk got there first.
The Dutchman stretched out a boot and diverted the ball behind.
"Good defending!" Francesco shouted.
Agüero glanced back at Van Dijk with a frustrated shake of his head.
The corner came to nothing.
Arsenal were under pressure for perhaps thirty seconds.
Then they were attacking again.
That was the character of the match.
Neither side could maintain control for long.
The pace kept changing.
Arsenal's next opportunity came through a rapid combination between Alexis and Francesco. Alexis received near the touchline, drew two defenders toward him and slipped the ball inside.
Francesco returned it first time.
Alexis accelerated.
Francesco continued his run.
The Chilean's second pass was perfectly weighted into the area.
Francesco reached it before Stones, but his first touch took him slightly wider than he wanted.
Bravo came off his line.
Francesco tried to lift the ball over him.
The goalkeeper got a hand to it.
The Emirates groaned.
Bravo immediately rose, holding the ball tightly against his chest.
Francesco smiled despite himself.
"Good save."
Bravo nodded.
"Thank you."
Then he launched the ball toward midfield.
The game continued.
The hour mark approached.
Arsenal's pressure had not disappeared, but City were beginning to find more opportunities to break through it.
That was precisely why Wenger kept shouting from the technical area.
"Patience!"
Francesco heard him.
So did Kanté.
Arsenal did not need to turn every possession into an attack.
They needed the right attack.
Then, in the sixty-third minute, it arrived.
Kanté won possession near the centre circle.
He immediately found Xhaka.
Xhaka looked up.
Francesco had dropped between the City midfield and defensive line.
Özil was already moving into the space on the left side of the central channel.
Xhaka passed to him.
Özil took the ball calmly.
For a fraction of a second, nothing seemed to be happening.
Then Francesco moved.
He started toward Otamendi.
Stopped.
Changed direction.
And burst between Otamendi and Stones.
Özil had seen it.
The German midfielder slipped the ball through the smallest opening.
It was perfectly timed.
Francesco entered the penalty area with only Bravo ahead of him.
The goalkeeper rushed out.
Francesco slowed.
One touch.
He waited for Bravo to commit.
Then he placed the ball beyond him.
Into the far corner.
Goal.
For a heartbeat, there was silence.
Then the Emirates exploded.
Francesco spun away, both fists clenched.
Özil was already running toward him.
Francesco opened his arms.
Mesut reached him first.
"You found me."
Özil laughed.
"You made the run."
Alexis crashed into them from behind.
Gnabry followed.
Kanté arrived moments later, smiling broadly.
The entire Arsenal team gathered near the corner flag.
The noise was almost overwhelming.
Francesco looked toward the supporters, then back at his teammates.
2–1.
Arsenal had completed the turnaround.
But he immediately raised a hand.
"Back! Come on!"
Alexis nodded.
"Not finished."
"Not even close."
Francesco turned toward halfway.
As he jogged back, Wenger stood on the touchline, clapping once before returning his attention to the tactical battle.
There was satisfaction in his expression.
But no celebration.
He knew exactly what was coming next.
Manchester City had just conceded.
Now they had to respond.
And they did.
The restart was followed by an immediate surge from the visitors.
De Bruyne demanded the ball.
Bernardo moved closer to Agüero.
Sané pushed higher.
David Silva began drifting toward the centre, searching for a route through Arsenal's midfield.
City's possession became more aggressive.
Arsenal dropped a few metres, maintaining their shape rather than chasing.
Wenger's plan was beginning to take form.
Let City come.
Make them believe the space was available.
Then attack it.
In the sixty-seventh minute, City nearly equalized.
De Bruyne received on the right and delivered a dangerous cross toward the near post.
Agüero attacked it ahead of Koscielny.
His header was powerful.
Čech reacted instantly.
The goalkeeper threw himself across the goal and pushed the ball away.
The rebound fell to Sané.
Robertson slid across.
The ball struck his shin and went behind.
The Arsenal supporters roared their appreciation.
Čech rose.
"Stay focused!"
The match had become stretched.
Wenger looked toward his bench.
It was time.
At the seventy-second minute, he made the decision.
Mesut Özil came off.
Santi Cazorla replaced him.
Granit Xhaka followed.
Aaron Ramsey entered.
And Serge Gnabry made way for Bukayo Saka.
The three substitutions changed the energy without changing the plan.
As Özil walked toward the bench, Francesco met him.
"Brilliant."
Özil smiled.
"Finish it."
Francesco nodded.
Cazorla immediately moved into position.
Ramsey began pressing.
Saka sprinted onto the pitch with fresh legs and immediately took up a wide position.
Across the field, Guardiola responded.
David Silva's afternoon was over.
İlkay Gündoğan replaced him.
Leroy Sané also came off.
Raheem Sterling entered.
The message was obvious.
City wanted speed.
They wanted another goal.
And they were willing to take risks.
Sterling's first involvement was a sprint behind Robertson.
De Bruyne found him.
Robertson recovered just in time, forcing Sterling toward the byline.
The cross was still dangerous.
Agüero met it.
His effort flew narrowly wide.
Francesco exhaled.
"Come on!"
Arsenal answered almost immediately.
Ramsey won possession and released Cazorla.
Cazorla carried forward before finding Alexis.
Alexis drove through the middle.
Saka raced down the right.
The pass came.
Saka reached it and cut inside.
He found Francesco at the top of the area.
Francesco struck first time.
Bravo saved.
The ball bounced loose.
Cazorla followed up.
Another save.
Bravo was suddenly surrounded by Arsenal players.
He managed to smother the ball.
The City goalkeeper stayed on the ground for a moment before rising.
"Keep going!" Ramsey shouted.
The final fifteen minutes became a contest of nerve.
City attacked.
Arsenal countered.
City attacked again.
Arsenal defended.
Agüero tested Čech from the edge of the box.
The goalkeeper caught it cleanly.
Sterling broke into the area and tried to square for Gündoğan.
Koscielny read it and intercepted.
Bernardo Silva curled an effort toward the far corner.
It missed by inches.
At the other end, Alexis nearly released Saka behind Otamendi.
Otamendi recovered.
Francesco then forced Stones into a desperate clearance.
Every attack carried consequences now.
The Emirates had become restless.
Supporters were standing.
Some were singing.
Others simply watched with hands clasped together.
With five minutes remaining, City produced their best opportunity of the closing stages.
Gündoğan received just outside the area and slipped a pass toward Agüero.
The striker turned between Koscielny and Van Dijk.
He shot low.
Čech dropped.
Saved.
The rebound fell dangerously into the six-yard box.
Sterling arrived.
But Walker threw himself across the goalmouth and cleared before the winger could finish.
Francesco pointed toward the defender.
"Brilliant!"
Walker got back to his feet.
"Still here."
The fourth official raised the board.
Four minutes of added time.
The stadium became deafening.
City threw bodies forward.
Arsenal defended with everything they had.
Kanté intercepted one final pass intended for Sterling.
Ramsey carried the ball away and won a foul.
Saka chased a loose ball into the corner and forced City to retreat.
Then Arsenal broke again.
Alexis found Francesco.
Francesco carried the ball toward the halfway line, with Stones chasing him.
He could have attempted another attack.
Instead, he held possession.
Waited.
Then passed safely backward.
The Emirates applauded.
It was exactly what Wenger wanted.
Control.
The seconds disappeared.
City launched one final ball into the area.
Van Dijk rose.
Headed clear.
Koscielny followed by completing the clearance.
The referee looked at his watch.
Then blew the whistle.
Full-time.
Arsenal 2.
Manchester City 1.
For a moment, Francesco simply stood still.
Then the Emirates erupted.
The sound rolled around the stadium as the Arsenal players embraced one another.
Kanté smiled.
Ramsey grabbed Saka.
Alexis wrapped an arm around Francesco's shoulders.
"You did it again."
Francesco laughed.
"We all did."
He looked toward the scoreboard.
His name was responsible for both Arsenal goals.
One before half-time.
One after it.
But the result had required everyone.
Čech's saves.
Van Dijk's interceptions.
Koscielny's blocks.
Walker's recovery.
Kanté's relentless work.
Xhaka's passing.
Özil's assist.
Alexis's goal involvement and movement.
The substitutes' energy.
The entire team's discipline.
Francesco walked toward the supporters and applauded them.
The response was immediate.
Scarves rose.
Flags waved.
Thousands of voices called his name.
He placed a hand over the Arsenal crest on his shirt.
Then turned back toward his teammates.
Wenger stood several metres away, watching.
The manager's expression was calm, almost understated.
But Francesco knew him well enough to recognize the satisfaction in his eyes.
Wenger approached.
"Good start."
Francesco smiled.
"Very good start."
Wenger nodded.
"But only a start."
Francesco looked toward the celebrating supporters.
"I know."
The manager placed a hand briefly on his shoulder.
"Enjoy today."
Francesco nodded.
"We will."
The players began their walk around the pitch.
The supporters stayed with them.
There was no trophy waiting this time.
No medal ceremony.
No grand presentation.
Just three points.
But somehow, they felt important.
Arsenal had beaten Manchester City again.
They had done it after trailing.
They had done it through pressure, patience and resilience.
Most importantly, they had begun the defence of their Premier League title with a victory against one of the teams expected to challenge them.
Yet nobody inside the Arsenal dressing room believed the season had been decided here.
There would be difficult away matches.
Injuries.
Bad days.
Tight games.
Moments when the football would refuse to cooperate.
There would be Liverpool.
Chelsea.
Manchester United.
European nights.
Cold winter afternoons.
Weeks when three points would feel much harder to earn than they had today.
Francesco knew that.
As he finally headed toward the tunnel, Alexis called after him.
"Captain!"
Francesco turned.
Alexis held out his hand.
Francesco slapped it.
"Good one."
"Good team."
Alexis smiled.
"Better."
Francesco laughed.
Behind them, the Emirates continued to roar.
The Premier League title defence had begun.
And Arsenal had made their first statement with three points, and there were thirty-seven more league matches waiting for them to win.
__________________________________________________
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, 2018 World Cup, and 2018/2019 Community Shield.
Season 17/18 stats:
Arsenal:
Match: 2
Goal: 3
Assist: 0
MOTM: 0
POTM: 0
England:
Match: 0
Goal: 0
Assist: 0
MOTM: 0
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