If you want to read 20 Chapters ahead and more, be sure to check out my P-Tang12!!!
_____________________________
(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
...
Only the shared belief that had carried them this far, and might yet carry them to another trophy.
Then the morning of the FA Cup Final arrived without needing an alarm.
London had already been awake for hours.
Even before the first supporters began making their way toward Wembley, there was a different feeling hanging over the city.
A final always changed the rhythm of a place.
The streets moved differently.
People walked slower because they wanted to absorb every moment.
Shirts appeared in windows.
Scarves hung from balconies.
Cars travelled through the city with flags attached to mirrors and windows rolled down so songs could escape into the morning air.
For Arsenal supporters, it was another opportunity to witness history.
For Manchester United supporters, it was another chance to remind everyone that their club belonged on the biggest stages.
Two enormous fanbases.
Two historic clubs.
One trophy.
At London Colney, the Arsenal squad arrived earlier than usual.
There was no need for anyone to explain why.
Final mornings carried their own gravity.
The training ground, normally filled with the casual rhythm of preparation, felt almost ceremonial.
Players arrived quietly.
Staff members checked equipment repeatedly.
The kit department moved between rooms carrying bags, shirts, boots, and final pieces of match-day preparation.
Nobody was nervous.
Not exactly.
But everyone understood.
This was different.
Francesco arrived shortly after eight.
Unlike most mornings, he did not immediately head inside.
He stood beside his car for several seconds, looking across the training ground.
The same pitches.
The same buildings.
The same place where thousands of small decisions had created this moment.
Walker approached carrying his suit jacket over one shoulder.
"You're thinking too much."
Francesco looked over.
"Am I?"
"Yes."
"How do you know?"
"Because I'm also thinking too much."
Francesco laughed quietly.
"That's reassuring."
Walker nodded toward the building.
"Ready?"
Francesco looked back once more.
Then smiled.
"Always."
Inside, the final preparations continued.
The players who had earned their places in the starting lineup moved through their routines with a mixture of excitement and concentration.
Holding checked his boots.
Saka adjusted his training top.
Giroud sat quietly for a moment, headphones resting around his neck.
Cazorla, wearing the captain's armband for the final, spoke with the younger players.
Not with a speech.
Just small reminders.
Simple things.
Enjoy it.
Trust yourself.
Play your game.
That was the message Wenger had given them all week.
Do not become different because the occasion is bigger.
The best players did not chase moments.
They created them.
After the final team meal, the squad boarded the team bus.
The journey to Wembley was unlike any ordinary away trip.
The moment the bus left London Colney, the atmosphere outside began to build.
Supporters lined the roads.
Red and white flags waved above crowds.
Children stood on shoulders holding handmade signs.
Some had Francesco's name.
Some had Ozil's.
Some had Sanchez's.
Others simply read:
"COME ON ARSENAL."
The bus windows reflected thousands of faces.
Players looked outside quietly.
Even the experienced ones.
Because moments like this did not become normal.
Not really.
As the bus moved closer toward Wembley, the streets became increasingly crowded.
Security barriers guided supporters toward their entrances.
Police officers coordinated movement around the stadium.
Television trucks filled designated areas.
Cameras were positioned everywhere.
Reporters stood in front of bright banners delivering their pre-match analysis.
The world had arrived.
Wembley Stadium stood ahead like a monument.
Huge.
Imposing.
Waiting.
The iconic arch stretched into the sky above a sea of supporters.
Arsenal red mixed with Manchester United colours around the stadium.
Songs collided.
"Come on Arsenal!"
"United! United!"
Drums echoed.
Flags moved like waves.
Photographers gathered near the players' entrance, waiting for the first glimpse of the teams.
The bus slowed.
The noise grew louder.
Inside, the players became silent.
Not because they were afraid.
Because they were listening.
This was what they had worked for.
The doors opened.
The Arsenal staff stepped out first.
Coaches.
Analysts.
Medical personnel.
Kit managers.
Everyone who had contributed behind the scenes.
Because finals were never created only by the players on the pitch.
The entire club travelled together.
Wenger stepped down from the bus calmly.
He looked toward Wembley for a moment.
Then continued forward.
The squad followed.
Francesco walked beside Walker.
Behind them came Van Dijk, Alexis, Özil, Kanté, Čech, Robertson, and the rest of the substitutes.
They entered through the players' entrance, leaving the roar of the supporters behind the stadium walls.
Immediately, the environment changed.
The outside chaos disappeared.
Inside Wembley, everything became controlled.
Security staff guided everyone through the corridors.
Analysts moved toward their designated areas.
Medical staff prepared their stations.
The kit managers entered the dressing room one final time.
And when the players walked inside, every detail was already waiting.
The Arsenal dressing room looked perfect.
Every shirt hung in its place.
Every number.
Every name.
Every pair of boots positioned carefully underneath.
The FA Cup final.
A moment prepared down to the smallest detail.
Saka stopped briefly in front of his shirt.
He smiled.
Giroud noticed.
"First final?"
Saka nodded.
"Yes."
Giroud smiled.
"Remember the feeling."
"I will."
"Good."
Because these moments disappeared quickly.
The dressing room routine began.
Travel clothes were replaced by Arsenal training gear.
Players moved naturally through familiar processes.
Stretching areas were prepared.
Ankle tape was applied.
GPS vests were fitted.
Boots were checked.
Shin pads adjusted.
Nothing was rushed.
Nothing was forgotten.
The same routine they had followed hundreds of times.
Only the location was different.
Walker sat beside Francesco while preparing his boots.
"You know what's strange?"
"What?"
"We've played massive games all year."
Francesco looked over.
"And?"
"This still feels different."
Francesco nodded.
"Because everyone is watching."
Walker smiled.
"Exactly."
Across the room, the younger players were absorbing every detail.
Not overwhelmed.
Learning.
Watching how experienced players prepared.
How calm they remained.
How professionalism never disappeared.
A final was not won by emotion alone.
It was won by controlling emotion.
After the final checks, Wenger entered briefly.
"Five minutes."
The room immediately became quieter.
The players finished preparing.
Then everyone moved toward the tunnel area.
Wembley waited.
When Arsenal players walked onto the pitch for the warm-up, the atmosphere was overwhelming.
The stadium was already filling.
Thousands of supporters stood and applauded.
Flags moved across the stands.
The red and white sections created a wall of colour.
Manchester United's supporters answered with their own songs from the opposite side.
The noise never stopped.
The pitch itself looked flawless.
The grass was cut perfectly.
Every line was sharp.
The surface almost seemed unreal beneath the Wembley lights.
The players spread out.
Warm-up began.
First came movement.
Dynamic stretches.
Short accelerations.
Mobility exercises.
The sports science staff watched carefully.
No unnecessary effort.
Just preparation.
Then came passing drills.
Small groups formed.
Quick touches.
One-touch combinations.
Two-touch control.
Communication constantly filled the pitch.
"Man on."
"Turn."
"Again."
The ball moved smoothly.
Even with the occasion surrounding them, the players looked exactly like themselves.
That mattered.
The best preparation was familiarity.
The rondos followed.
A circle formed.
Players competed for possession.
Laughter appeared when someone lost the ball.
Even minutes before a final, the team remained human.
Kanté immediately frustrated everyone.
Walker pointed at him.
"You're not allowed to defend in warm-ups."
Kanté smiled.
"I'm practicing."
"You're ruining the practice."
Everyone laughed.
At the other end of the pitch, goalkeepers worked with the coaching staff.
David Raya moved through his routine with complete focus.
Low saves.
High catches.
Distribution exercises.
Quick reactions.
Every movement sharp.
Čech watched from nearby.
"He's ready."
Francesco nodded.
"He always is."
Crossing exercises began next.
Full-backs delivered into the box.
Attackers timed their runs.
Giroud attacked every ball.
Saka studied every movement.
"Again," Giroud told him.
Saka nodded.
The next run was better.
Then better again.
Finishing drills followed.
Shots from different angles.
One-touch finishes.
Headers.
Rebounds.
The sound of footballs hitting the net echoed around Wembley.
Finally came pressing exercises.
The starting lineup rehearsed triggers.
When to jump.
When to hold.
When to recover.
Every movement had purpose.
The warm-up ended with the entire squad gathering near the centre circle.
They turned toward the Arsenal supporters.
And applauded.
The supporters responded immediately.
The sound rolled around Wembley.
For the players who would start.
For those on the bench.
For everyone who had contributed.
Then Arsenal walked back inside.
The final moments had arrived.
The showers were quick.
Training gear disappeared.
Match shirts replaced them.
Boots were tightened.
Shin pads adjusted.
The noise outside became louder with every passing minute.
Then Wenger entered.
Everyone gathered.
No projector.
No long presentation.
Only the final words.
The manager looked around the room.
"The lineup is exactly as we discussed."
A pause.
"The players who brought us through this competition will start."
He looked toward Cazorla.
Then Giroud.
Then Saka
Monreal
Mustafi
Holding.
Bellerín.
Wilshere.
Everyone.
"You earned this."
"You were not selected because of a promise."
"You were selected because your performances gave us this opportunity."
He turned toward the substitutes.
"The rest of you have another responsibility."
"You support them."
"You prepare."
"And if your moment comes…"
"You change the match."
Everyone listened.
Then Wenger moved toward the tactical board.
Manchester United's formation appeared.
"José Mourinho will use a diamond."
The screen displayed the lineup.
"David De Gea."
"Ashley Young."
"Phil Jones."
"Chris Smalling."
"Antonio Valencia."
"Nemanja Matić holding."
"Paul Pogba."
"Ander Herrera."
"Jesse Lingard behind the two strikers."
"Marcus Rashford."
"Romelu Lukaku."
Wenger studied the players.
"They will try to control the centre."
"They will look for Pogba between lines."
"They will use Lukaku's strength."
"They will attack quickly after winning possession."
He pointed toward the midfield.
"Our distances must be excellent."
"Do not chase."
"Do not lose structure."
"Press intelligently."
"When the moment arrives, we go together."
Then toward the attackers.
"And when we recover the ball…"
"We attack."
"No fear."
"No hesitation."
"They respect us."
"We respect them."
"But respect does not mean fear."
He paused.
"We have beaten Manchester United before."
A few players nodded.
"But that means nothing today."
"History does not score goals."
"Players do."
The room became completely still.
"Be brave."
"Be disciplined."
"Be Arsenal."
The final words stayed with them.
One by one, the players stood.
The tunnel awaited.
The starting eleven walked forward.
Behind them, Francesco placed a hand on Saka's shoulder.
"Enjoy it."
Saka smiled.
"I will."
Walker hugged Holding briefly.
Van Dijk shook hands with every starter.
Alexis offered encouragement.
Özil smiled quietly.
Kanté simply nodded.
Everyone understood.
The players on the pitch represented everyone.
The substitutes moved toward the bench area.
The starters entered the tunnel.
The referee checked his watch.
The roar from Wembley grew.
And then the doors opened.
The Arsenal players stepped forward into a wall of sound.
Wembley erupted.
Both teams emerged together.
The atmosphere was spectacular.
Flags waved.
Songs thundered.
Thousands of voices became one enormous sound.
The players lined up beside the officials.
The handshake ceremony began.
Respectful.
Professional.
Each player greeted the referee.
Each player greeted their opponent.
Cazorla shook hands with Valencia.
A brief smile.
Then both teams turned for the official photographs.
Afterward, only the captains remained.
Cazorla walked toward the centre circle.
Valencia stood beside him.
The referee held the coin.
The final preparations.
The final decision.
Valencia called correctly.
Manchester United would kick off.
The two captains shook hands once more.
Then returned to their teams.
Then the whistle sounded.
As the whistle cut through the noise.
For a brief second, everything seemed to freeze.
Then Wembley exploded.
The FA Cup Final had begun.
Manchester United immediately showed why they had arrived prepared for a battle.
From the first touch, they pressed forward.
Lingard moved aggressively between the lines, searching for spaces behind Arsenal's midfield.
Pogba demanded the ball constantly, dropping deeper to influence the rhythm of the match.
Matić stayed disciplined, protecting the defence while Herrera moved alongside him, ready to support attacks and close passing lanes.
Arsenal responded with composure.
No panic.
No unnecessary risks.
Exactly as Wenger had demanded.
Cazorla took responsibility in the centre, slowing the game when needed and accelerating it when opportunities appeared.
Wilshere looked for spaces between United's midfield and defence.
Ramsey attacked forward whenever the moment appeared.
Giroud battled against Jones and Smalling, using his physical presence to create openings for the runners around him.
And Saka…
Saka played like Wembley was not the biggest stage of his young career.
He played like he belonged there.
The first ten minutes became a tactical fight.
Every metre of the pitch mattered.
Every challenge carried weight.
A loose pass could immediately become a counterattack.
A delayed decision could create danger.
The intensity was obvious.
Valencia clashed with Bellerín near the touchline.
The Arsenal full-back recovered quickly, winning the ball before United could exploit the space.
The crowd reacted instantly.
The Arsenal supporters rose.
The Manchester United fans answered with their own roar moments later when Rashford chased down a long pass and forced Holding into an uncomfortable clearance.
The game moved at incredible speed.
Neither team wanted to surrender control.
But slowly, Manchester United began to gain territory.
Not complete dominance.
Not yet.
But enough.
They pushed Arsenal deeper.
The diamond formation created problems.
Lingard constantly appeared in dangerous areas.
Pogba's movement forced Arsenal's midfield to remain alert.
Lukaku occupied both centre-backs, using his strength to hold the ball and bring others into play.
Wenger stood near the technical area, watching every movement.
Calm.
Focused.
He knew exactly what United were trying to do.
The question was whether Arsenal could withstand the pressure long enough to find their own opportunities.
The answer came through David Raya.
The goalkeeper became Arsenal's first defender.
And then their most important player.
In the fourteenth minute, United created their first major chance.
Pogba received possession in midfield and turned away from pressure before sliding a perfectly weighted pass into Lingard's path.
The midfielder moved forward quickly.
One touch.
Two touches.
Then a shot toward the bottom corner.
Raya reacted instantly.
He dropped low and pushed the ball around the post.
The Arsenal supporters behind the goal erupted.
Raya stood up immediately.
No celebration.
No wasted movement.
Only concentration.
"Excellent goalkeeping from Raya," the commentator said.
"He has started this final with enormous confidence."
The corner followed.
United attacked the delivery.
Lukaku rose above everyone.
His header looked destined for the top corner.
Again Raya moved.
This time he punched the ball away through traffic.
A commanding save.
A statement.
Francesco watched from the bench and nodded.
"He's ready," he said quietly.
Čech beside him agreed.
"He understands the moment."
Arsenal remained dangerous whenever they escaped United's pressure.
Their counterattacks were sharp.
Quick.
Purposeful.
In the seventeenth minute, Cazorla won possession and immediately found Saka.
The youngster accelerated down the right.
Wembley reacted.
Everyone knew something could happen.
Saka waited until Young committed before cutting inside.
He found Giroud in the box.
The striker controlled under pressure and attempted to turn.
Smalling blocked the effort.
A warning.
Arsenal were not simply surviving.
They were waiting.
United continued pushing.
Rashford's pace caused problems.
Lukaku fought for every aerial ball.
Pogba created danger every time he received facing forward.
In the twenty-second minute, United nearly opened the scoring.
Herrera recovered possession after an Arsenal attack and immediately launched a counter.
Rashford sprinted beyond the defensive line.
Holding chased.
Rashford crossed low toward Lukaku.
The striker connected.
The shot travelled powerfully toward goal.
Raya stood firm.
The goalkeeper reacted with both hands, pushing the ball away from danger.
The Arsenal bench jumped to their feet.
Wenger clenched his fist.
Not in frustration.
In approval.
The save kept Arsenal alive.
But United's pressure was increasing.
And eventually, the pressure became too much.
The breakthrough arrived in the twenty-fifth minute.
It started in midfield.
Pogba collected the ball near the halfway line.
Wilshere moved toward him.
Ramsey closed from the side.
But Pogba escaped.
One touch away from pressure.
Then another.
He carried the ball forward with confidence.
Arsenal's midfield retreated.
The Frenchman waited.
He waited until the exact moment the passing lane opened.
Then he played a perfectly timed through ball between Holding and Bellerín.
Lukaku had already started his run.
The Belgian striker controlled it perfectly.
One touch.
Inside the penalty area.
Raya rushed forward.
Lukaku stayed calm.
He opened his body.
And finished low into the corner.
1–0.
Manchester United had the lead.
The stadium erupted.
The red side of Wembley celebrated wildly.
Flags waved.
Scarves rose into the air.
The sound was enormous.
Lukaku turned toward the supporters, arms wide, teammates surrounding him.
Pogba followed immediately.
The creator and the finisher.
A perfect example of United's attacking plan.
On the Arsenal bench, there was silence for a moment.
Not fear.
Recognition.
The goal had been excellent.
Francesco watched carefully.
He did not look angry.
He looked focused.
Walker leaned forward.
"They're going to come again."
Francesco nodded.
"They have to."
Because that was the difference between this Arsenal team and previous versions.
They did not collapse when things went against them.
They responded.
Wenger remained calm on the touchline.
He applauded once.
Then turned back toward the pitch.
The message was clear.
Continue.
Only continue.
The commentators noticed it immediately.
"Arsenal have fallen behind, but there is no panic from Wenger's side."
"That is a team built on experience. They know there is still time."
And they were right.
The next few minutes belonged to Arsenal.
The passing became sharper.
The movement became more aggressive.
Cazorla began finding more space.
Wilshere started driving forward.
Saka became increasingly involved.
The young winger wanted the ball.
He demanded responsibility.
And in the thirty-third minute, he delivered.
The move began with patience.
Arsenal recycled possession across the pitch.
Monreal found Wilshere.
Wilshere turned and played into Cazorla.
One touch.
A quick pass forward.
Saka received on the right.
Young closed him down immediately.
The youngster remained calm.
Instead of forcing the cross, he waited.
He looked.
He understood.
Giroud had started his run.
Saka delivered.
The cross curled perfectly between goalkeeper and defenders.
Giroud attacked the space.
The French striker rose.
The header was powerful.
Precise.
De Gea moved.
But he could not reach it.
Goal.
1–1.
For a second, Wembley went silent.
Then the Arsenal supporters exploded.
The bench jumped.
Players sprinted toward Giroud.
Saka was swallowed by teammates.
The young winger stood smiling as Giroud grabbed him.
"Beautiful cross," the striker said.
Saka laughed.
"Beautiful run."
The scoreboard changed.
The final was level again.
The commentators immediately praised the moment.
"What composure from Bukayo Saka."
"At Wembley, in an FA Cup Final, at such a young age, he had the calmness to make the correct decision."
"And Giroud does what Giroud does."
"Excellent movement. Excellent finish."
On the Arsenal bench, Francesco smiled.
Walker shook his head.
"That kid is fearless."
Francesco nodded.
"That's why he's here."
The goal changed the feeling of the match.
Arsenal were alive again.
United remained dangerous.
But now every attack carried pressure.
The remainder of the half became a battle of quality.
Rashford forced another save from Raya after cutting inside from the left.
Giroud nearly scored again when he connected with a Wilshere cross, but De Gea reacted brilliantly.
Holding made a crucial block from Lingard.
Van Dijk, watching from the bench, applauded.
"Excellent."
Bellerín and Valencia continued their personal battle.
Neither player gave an inch.
Every challenge was clean.
Every duel mattered.
Near the end of the half, United almost regained the lead.
Pogba struck from distance.
The ball moved through bodies.
Raya saw it late.
Still, he reacted.
The goalkeeper pushed it over the bar.
The Arsenal supporters behind him sang his name.
The save gave the team another reminder.
They had everything they needed.
They just needed to keep believing.
The fourth official raised the board for added time.
Two minutes.
Both teams searched for one final opportunity.
United pushed forward.
Arsenal countered.
Saka nearly escaped down the wing again, but Herrera tracked back and stopped the attack.
Moments later, Lukaku challenged Holding in the air.
The defender held firm.
Then the referee looked at his watch.
The whistle came.
Half-time.
Arsenal 1.
Manchester United 1.
The players walked toward the tunnel exhausted but determined.
No one looked satisfied.
No one looked defeated.
It was exactly what a final should feel like.
A battle still waiting to be won.
Inside the Arsenal dressing room, the players took their seats.
Water bottles were opened.
Boots were loosened.
The medical staff moved quickly.
Wenger waited.
He allowed the room to settle.
Then he stood.
"We are still in this match."
Everyone looked up.
"They started better."
"They controlled more possession."
"They created chances."
A pause.
"But we responded."
He looked toward Saka.
"Because we trusted our football."
Then the manager moved toward the tactical board.
"The second half cannot be about protecting this score."
The room became silent.
"We cannot sit back and hope."
He pointed toward the pitch diagram.
"We attack."
"We press higher."
"We move the ball faster."
"We force them to defend."
"Manchester United are dangerous when they have time."
"So we do not give them time."
He looked around the room.
"Be brave."
"Be intelligent."
"Be aggressive."
"The team that lifts this trophy will be the team that believes it deserves it."
A final pause.
"Positive football gives us the best chance."
Wenger stepped back.
"Now go and win the FA Cup."
The players rose together.
The second half was waiting.
The players returned to the Wembley pitch with a different expression.
The score was level.
The trophy was still waiting.
But something inside Arsenal had changed during those fifteen minutes in the dressing room.
The first half had been about survival.
The second half would be about imposing themselves.
As the Arsenal players walked back onto the grass, the noise inside Wembley rose again.
The supporters sensed it.
They could feel the shift.
The red and white flags moved faster.
The songs became louder.
The players responded immediately.
From the first seconds after the restart, Arsenal played with a higher intensity.
Exactly as Wenger had demanded.
No sitting back.
No waiting.
They wanted the ball.
They wanted control.
They wanted Manchester United to feel pressure.
The first attack arrived almost immediately.
Cazorla dropped deeper to collect possession before turning away from Herrera.
One touch.
A quick pass forward.
Wilshere moved between the lines.
Ramsey pushed beyond him.
The movement forced United's midfield to retreat.
For the first time in the match, Manchester United looked uncomfortable.
Mourinho stood near his technical area, immediately giving instructions.
He knew what had changed.
Arsenal were no longer reacting.
They were dictating.
The midfield battle became fierce.
Every challenge sounded louder.
Every tackle brought both sets of supporters to their feet.
Matić continued trying to break Arsenal's rhythm.
Pogba searched for moments where he could drive forward.
But Cazorla and Wilshere began finding more influence.
The Spaniard controlled the tempo.
The Englishman carried the ball into dangerous areas.
Arsenal moved the ball quicker.
The passes became sharper.
The distances became smaller.
The team moved together.
United still threatened.
They were too dangerous not to.
In the fifty-second minute, Pogba won possession and immediately launched a counterattack.
Rashford's pace remained a constant threat.
The forward sprinted into space behind Arsenal's defence.
Holding tracked him.
Bellerín recovered quickly.
The cross came.
Lukaku rose.
But Van Dijk, watching from the bench, nodded approvingly as Holding and Mustafi dealt with the danger.
"Perfect," the Dutch defender said quietly.
Arsenal responded moments later.
Saka received the ball wide.
Young followed him closely.
The youngster turned, accelerated, and forced United backward.
The attack ended with a corner.
The momentum was changing.
Wembley could feel it.
Francesco watched from the bench, studying every movement.
He knew the game was reaching the point where one decision could define everything.
Wenger knew it too.
The manager looked toward his staff.
Then toward the pitch.
The first half had shown Arsenal could survive.
Now they needed something more.
They needed a spark.
The sixty-first minute arrived.
Wenger made his decision.
Three changes.
The fourth official raised the board.
Arsenal supporters immediately reacted.
Alex Iwobi walked toward the sideline after giving everything he had.
Giroud followed moments later, receiving applause from every direction.
Then Saka's number appeared.
The young winger looked disappointed for only a second.
Then he smiled.
Because he understood.
He had played his part.
He had created the equaliser on the biggest stage.
As he reached the bench, Francesco stood and embraced him.
"You were brilliant."
Saka nodded.
"I wanted to stay."
"I know."
Francesco smiled.
"That's why you're a footballer."
The changes were announced.
Alexis Sánchez entered.
Francesco entered.
Mesut Özil entered.
The stadium erupted.
The entire Arsenal bench rose.
But the most important moment came as Francesco stepped onto the pitch.
Cazorla removed the captain's armband.
He walked toward his teammate.
No hesitation.
No drama.
He placed it around Francesco's arm.
The captain had returned.
Francesco looked at it briefly.
Then looked toward the supporters.
Wembley roared.
The player who had carried Arsenal through so many moments was back on the pitch.
And now he carried the responsibility once again.
The tactical shape changed immediately.
Cazorla moved wider to the right.
Özil occupied the spaces between United's midfield and defence.
Alexis moved aggressively across the attacking line.
Francesco played centrally.
The entire character of Arsenal's attack changed.
United responded.
Mourinho was not going to allow Arsenal to take complete control.
Moments later, he made his own changes.
Marcus Rashford left the pitch.
Jesse Lingard followed.
Anthony Martial entered.
Juan Mata entered.
More creativity.
More technical quality.
More attacking threat.
The final entered another level.
The last thirty minutes became a true cup final battle.
Every player knew what was at stake.
Manchester United attacked with urgency.
Martial immediately looked dangerous.
His movement stretched Arsenal's defence.
Mata found pockets of space.
Pogba began stepping forward more frequently.
But Arsenal looked different now.
More confident.
More dangerous.
In the sixty-eighth minute, Özil received between the lines and immediately turned.
The German found Francesco.
The captain drove forward.
Wembley rose.
He attempted a shot from distance.
De Gea saved comfortably.
But the warning had been delivered.
Arsenal were coming.
Two minutes later, United almost answered.
Mata played a clever pass into Lukaku.
The striker turned.
Shot.
Raya saved again.
The goalkeeper punched the air afterward.
He knew every moment mattered.
Then came the moment Arsenal had been waiting for.
The seventy-second minute.
It began with patience.
Cazorla received the ball near the right side.
Valencia approached.
The experienced midfielder did not rush.
He waited.
One touch.
A small movement.
Enough to create space.
Francesco began his run.
Cazorla saw it before anyone else.
The pass came instantly.
Perfectly weighted.
Between the defenders.
Into the space.
Francesco accelerated.
For one second, Wembley went silent.
Everyone watched.
The captain entered the penalty area.
Smalling tried to recover.
Bailly was still on the bench.
Jones chased.
De Gea moved forward.
Francesco remained calm.
Everything slowed.
The noise disappeared.
Only the ball existed.
He opened his body.
And finished.
Goal.
2–1.
Arsenal had taken the lead.
For a moment, Francesco stood still.
Then Wembley exploded.
The Arsenal supporters lost control.
Flags flew into the air.
Scarves spun above heads.
The players sprinted toward their captain.
Cazorla reached him first.
The two embraced.
The assist.
The finish.
The connection between two generations of Arsenal.
One who had carried the club for years.
One who had become its new symbol.
The entire team surrounded them.
Francesco looked toward the supporters.
His hand touched the captain's armband.
He understood what the moment meant.
Not just another goal.
Not just another final.
This was Wembley.
This was Arsenal.
The commentators struggled to contain their excitement.
"What a moment for Francesco!"
"The captain delivers when Arsenal need him most."
"And look at the understanding with Cazorla. That is experience and quality combining on the biggest stage."
Wenger stood on the touchline.
For the first time in the match, he allowed himself a bigger reaction.
A smile.
A clenched fist.
Then immediately, concentration returned.
The game was not over.
Not against Manchester United.
Not in an FA Cup Final.
Mourinho reacted quickly.
The seventy-seventh minute arrived.
Phil Jones left the pitch.
Eric Bailly entered.
A defensive adjustment.
A final attempt to keep United organised.
To prevent Arsenal from finding another opening.
The remaining minutes became pure tension.
Manchester United pushed forward.
Arsenal defended together.
Every player worked.
Alexis chased defenders.
Özil tracked runners.
Kanté, who had entered earlier, covered every blade of grass.
Van Dijk stood on the bench, unable to sit still.
"Stay together," he shouted.
The final ten minutes felt endless.
United attacked.
Raya saved.
Arsenal countered.
Francesco almost created another chance.
The captain received the ball near halfway and drove forward before finding Alexis.
The attack ended narrowly wide.
The Arsenal supporters screamed in frustration.
Then immediately began singing again.
Because they believed.
The clock moved closer.
Ninety minutes.
Added time.
Four minutes.
Four minutes between Arsenal and history.
United threw everything forward.
Lukaku attacked every cross.
Pogba searched for one final opening.
Mata delivered dangerous balls into the box.
But Arsenal refused to break.
Holding cleared.
Mustafi blocked.
Bellerín and Monreal ran until his legs had nothing left.
Everyone defended.
Everyone contributed.
Then the final whistle came.
For a second, nobody moved.
Then Arsenal realised.
They had won.
Arsenal 2.
Manchester United 1.
The FA Cup belonged to them.
The players collapsed onto the Wembley pitch.
Some laughing.
Some crying.
Some simply lying there, absorbing the moment.
Francesco stood in the centre of the celebrations.
Cazorla embraced him.
Giroud returned from the bench and hugged him.
Saka ran toward him with a huge smile.
"You actually did it."
Francesco laughed.
"We all did."
Because that was the truth.
This trophy did not belong to one player.
It belonged to everyone.
The substitutes.
The starters.
The staff.
The supporters.
Everyone who had contributed.
The Arsenal players walked toward the supporters.
The noise was unbelievable.
Wembley was red and white.
The supporters knew they had witnessed something special.
Another trophy.
Another chapter.
The Arsenal supporters celebrated.
Another FA Cup.
The fourteenth in the club's history.
But this victory represented even more.
Arsenal had completed the domestic treble.
Premier League.
League Cup.
FA Cup.
The first Premier League team in English football history to achieve it.
A season that had already been extraordinary had become legendary.
Wenger watched from nearby.
A quiet smile on his face.
Because football was about moments.
And this was one Arsenal would remember forever.
The players continued celebrating beneath the Wembley lights.
Songs continued.
Pictures were taken.
Staff members embraced.
Everyone understood.
They had not simply won a final.
They had created another unforgettable chapter in Arsenal's legacy.
______________________________________________
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, and FA Cup 2017/2018.
Season 17/18 stats:
Arsenal:
Match: 58
Goal: 74
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