God Of football - Chapter 375

Chapter 375: Foot On The Pitch. [Golden Gacha. Pistacho031_3]
Arsenal’s lead didn’t last long. If there was one thing Bayer Leverkusen had proved last season, it was their resilience.

Even after going behind, they never panicked.

Xabi Alonso’s men stuck to their principles, moving the ball with precision and waiting for the right moments to strike.

And they found that moment in the 27th minute.

The ball was at Granit Xhaka’s feet—familiar territory for Arsenal fans. Once a captain at the club, he had reinvented himself under Alonso, becoming a midfield metronome.

Now, facing his old team, he played as if he had something to prove.

Rice pressed him aggressively, trying to shut him down, but Xhaka was calm under pressure.

With a quick turn and a well-placed body feint, he shrugged off the challenge, using his arm to shield the ball before spraying a perfectly weighted pass out wide to Jeremie Frimpong.

It was a signal.

The Dutch full-back was one of the most dangerous players in transition, and Arsenal had just given him space to attack.

Zinchenko had been caught high up the pitch, and Frimpong wasted no time.

With explosive acceleration, he burst forward, his rapid strides eating up the ground.

Gabriel tried to close him down, but Frimpong was too quick.

Instead of taking on his man, he spotted Florian Wirtz ghosting in at the edge of the box.

A sharp cut inside. A simple pass.

And Wirtz did the rest.

His first touch set himself up, and with his second, he curled a low shot toward the far corner.

Raya saw it late, diving full stretch, but the placement was perfect.

“GOAL! Florian Wirtz! Leverkusen strike back with a moment of brilliance!”

The German fans erupted, while Wirtz wheeled away, pointing toward Frimpong in celebration.

It was 1-1, and suddenly, Arsenal had a game on their hands.

⸻

If Arteta had been looking for a test, he got one.

Arsenal’s players reacted instantly, not letting the equalizer shake them.

Instead, they responded with intensity, pressing high and forcing Leverkusen deep into their half.

The patterns of play were clearer now, Ødegaard dictating the tempo in midfield while Rice and Jesus worked tirelessly off the ball.

It took just eight minutes for Arsenal to restore their lead.

A quick combination down the right saw Saka slip the ball into Ben White’s path.

The full-back had space and didn’t hesitate, whipping in a driven cross into the box.

The ball was sharp, but it was Gabriel Jesus’s movement that made the difference.

The Brazilian darted between Tapsoba and Kossounou, reacting quicker than both. With a delicate flick of his left boot, he redirected the ball past Hrádecký and into the bottom corner.

“GOAL! Jeśus! Arsenal are back in front!”

Jesus ran to the corner flag, pumping his fist as his teammates swarmed him.

The Arsenal fans in the crowd roared, feeling their team had regained control.

Zinchenko was the first to celebrate with him, playfully ruffling Jeśus’s hair before tapping his chest in approval.

⸻

“Arsenal have regained their lead again and this time it’s Gabriel Jesus’s strike that puts them ahead. Leverkusen have their work cut out for them.”

But Leverkusen weren’t done.

Even as Arsenal kept pushing, the German side remained dangerous. Just before halftime, they proved it again.

The warning signs were there. Xhaka, now dictating the tempo, kept finding gaps, while Wirtz and Schick lurked dangerously between the lines.

Then came the equalizer.

Xhaka, always scanning, saw the opening and took it. He pinged a diagonal ball toward Alejandro Grimaldo, who had pushed up on the left.

The Spanish full-back took one touch before delivering a teasing early cross into the box.

Arsenal’s defense had been solid all game, but this time, they were caught off guard.

Patrick Schick was waiting.

The Czech striker, lurking between Saliba and Gabriel, saw his moment. Timing his jump perfectly, he muscled past Saliba and met the cross with a powerful downward header.

The ball bounced once before skipping past Raya’s outstretched hand and into the net.

“GOAL! Patrick Schick! Leverkusen equalize again! 2-2 right before halftime!”

Schick barely celebrated—he just pointed toward Grimaldo, acknowledging the assist.

But the Leverkusen bench was on its feet, roaring in approval.

The halftime whistle followed shortly after, sending both teams into the tunnel with nothing to separate them.

Arsenal 2-2 Bayer Leverkusen.

As Arsenal’s players walked off the pitch, the hum of the crowd lingered in the background. Fans leaned over the railing, chatting excitedly about the game.

“Saka is unreal, man.”

“Did you see that pass from Ødegaard?”

The energy around the stadium was electric, a reflection of the intense first half. Izan kept his focus ahead, walking in stride with his teammates as they made their way into the tunnel.

Inside the dressing room, the atmosphere was focused, but not tense. The game was competitive, but it was still preseason.

Arteta stood in the center, waiting for his players to settle. He glanced around, letting the silence build before speaking.

“We’ve done some good things,” he said, his voice measured. “But we’re not there yet.”

The players nodded. The message was clear. This wasn’t about preseason fitness anymore. It was about setting a standard.

Arteta pointed toward the board, where clips of Leverkusen’s goals were already frozen on the screen.

“They’re exploiting the half-spaces. We’re reacting instead of anticipating. That’s why their second goal happened.”

Saliba and Gabriel exchanged glances, understanding what their coach was getting at.

“We need to be sharper. Faster. But listen—this is good for us. If we want to win something this season, we need to be challenged like this.”

He paused, letting that statement hang in the air.

“I believe in this squad. We have the quality. But we have a long way to go before we reach the cohesion I want. And that’s the difference between being good and being champions.”

The room was quiet now. No one doubted Arteta’s words.

Izan sat in the back, listening. He wasn’t playing yet, but he was absorbing everything.

He wasn’t just here to experience Arsenal—he was here to become an essential part of it.

The second half was coming.

…….

As the second half kicked off, both teams emerged from the tunnel with renewed focus.

Arsenal and Bayer Leverkusen had gone back and forth in an exhilarating first half, the score deadlocked at 2-2. Now, the question was who would take control.

Izan sat on the bench, his hands clasped together as he watched the first few minutes unfold.

He could feel the energy in the stadium, the expectation growing with every pass, every challenge.

“I want on in” he muttered while looking at Arteta.

“Izan, start warming up.”

The words came quickly from one of the assistants, and Izan’s head snapped up.

He didn’t hesitate, though—he was on his feet in an instant, rolling his shoulders as he made his way toward the touchline.

He started with short sprints before moving into dynamic stretches, his body adjusting to the shift in intensity.

…..

Up in the stands, the NBA stars who had come to watch were beginning to notice the shift on the sideline.

LeBron James leaned back in his seat, exhaling in mock disappointment.

“Man, the kid I even came to watch ain’t playing,” he said, nudging Austin Reaves beside him.

Reaves chuckled. “Yeah, figured he’d be in by now.”

Before they could dwell on it, movement caught their attention.

LeBron’s eyes locked onto the Arsenal touchline, where a figure in warm-up gear had begun his pre-match routine.

“Wait,” LeBron said, sitting up. “That him warming up?”

Reaves followed his gaze and nodded. “Looks like he’s coming on.”

The casual chatter among the Lakers players faded as more of them turned their attention to the sideline.

Anthony Davis grinned, leaning in slightly. “Alright then. Let’s see what the kid’s got.”

A few seats down, some other celebrities had started taking notice as well. Phones were pulled out, and cameras zoomed in.

On the pitch, Arsenal’s players were still engaged in the battle, but a few of them had noticed Izan’s warm-up too.

Zinchenko turned toward the sideline and smirked, nudging Declan Rice. “Looks like we’re about to get serious.”

Rice grinned. “About time.”

Izan ignored the attention, locked into his routine.

The noise of the stadium, the murmurs in the crowd, even the buzz from the stands—it was all just background.

Right now, his only focus was on the moment ahead.

Izan finished his warm-up with one last sprint before jogging back toward the dugout.

Arteta turned to him as he approached. “You’re going in,” the coach said, eyes sharp.

“I want you to play with confidence, but be smart. Move the ball quickly, and exploit spaces. Got it?”

Izan nodded, adjusting his shin guards. “Got it.”

The assistant handed him his jersey, and he pulled it on before stepping toward the fourth official.

The board lit up—his number flashing, signaling the change.

The reaction from the crowd was instant. A buzz rippled through the stadium, fans murmuring, cameras shifting.

The NBA players leaned forward in their seats, sensing the moment.

LeBron nudged Reaves. “Alright, let’s see what the hype is about.”

Izan stepped onto the pitch. The moment was brief—just a few steps across the white line—

The second time playing in Arsenal colors in front of a full stadium.

His teammates welcomed him quickly. Ødegaard clapped his back. “Let’s go, bro.”

Saka gave him a nod. “Do your thing.”

Izan took his position, scanning the pitch. The referee gave a glance, then blew the whistle.

A/n: 14/15. Last one left. I’ve been happy for the gift but damn, I’m tired. Learning for end of Sems too so its tough. Buh I like writing for you guys so keep spamming the gifts and the Golden tickets. Speaking of which, I have to make up for those too. Damn, it’ll be a while before I rest. 😪