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...
And Arsenal's European campaign was ready to continue.
Then the following morning arrived beneath a pale German sky.
Sinsheim was quieter than London, and the difference was noticeable as the Arsenal squad made its way to the SV Sinsheim training ground. There were no supporters crowding the gates in the numbers they were used to at home, no constant stream of cameras following every movement.
Just a European away day beginning its final preparations.
The players stepped off the bus carrying their boots and training bags, some still speaking quietly among themselves. Francesco walked alongside Alexis and Gnabry, listening to them argue about something that had apparently started during breakfast.
"You said you were going to beat me," Gnabry said.
"I said I would," Alexis replied.
"At what?"
"Table tennis."
Francesco looked between them.
"You two played table tennis at breakfast?"
Alexis nodded seriously.
"And I won."
"You played once," Gnabry protested.
"A win is a win."
Francesco shook his head.
"You're both ridiculous."
Gnabry grinned.
"Captain, you have to take sides."
"No."
"That is not leadership."
"It is when neither of you can behave."
Alexis laughed as they reached the training pitch.
The joking gradually disappeared once Wenger called everyone together.
The session was not designed to exhaust them. The match was less than twenty-four hours away, and Wenger had no interest in filling their legs with unnecessary fatigue.
Instead, the work was precise.
The coaching staff began with mobility exercises and short conditioning movements before dividing the squad into passing groups. The ball moved rapidly between players, one-touch and two-touch combinations forcing everyone to stay alert.
Smith Rowe found himself working regularly with Francesco.
Their understanding was still developing, but the young midfielder's ability to receive between lines had caught Wenger's attention.
"Again," the coach called.
Smith Rowe received with his body half-turned, took the ball away from the imaginary pressure and played it into Francesco.
Francesco returned it immediately.
Smith Rowe accelerated.
Francesco's next pass went into the space ahead of him.
"Good," Wenger said from nearby.
Smith Rowe glanced toward him and nodded.
The next exercise focused on movement around a compact defensive block.
The attacking players were instructed to rotate positions rather than standing in fixed areas. Alexis drifted inside. Gnabry stayed wider before suddenly attacking the channel. Francesco occasionally dropped toward midfield, creating room for another runner.
It was exactly the kind of movement Wenger wanted against Hoffenheim.
They then worked on pressing.
The coaches placed two groups against one another and instructed the defensive side to trigger pressure when the ball entered particular zones.
Kanté seemed almost incapable of approaching a session without turning it into a competition.
He intercepted one pass and immediately accelerated away with the ball.
Alexis shouted after him.
"That's not fair!"
Kanté smiled.
"You passed badly."
"I passed perfectly."
"No."
Francesco laughed.
The finishing drills came afterward.
Crosses from the right.
Cutbacks from the left.
First-time finishes.
Shots after short combinations.
Francesco scored several, missed one, then immediately asked for the next ball.
There was no need for anyone to remind him to stay focused.
At the other end, Čech and Raya worked with the goalkeeping coaches while Van Dijk, Koscielny and the full-backs practiced defending crosses and maintaining their positions inside the penalty area.
The final portion of the session was tactical.
Wenger stopped the players several times and walked them through Hoffenheim's shape.
"Don't follow the ball blindly," he said. "Watch the runner."
He moved one of the markers.
"They want to create this space."
His finger pointed between the full-back and centre-back.
"If we close this early, they have fewer options."
Francesco listened carefully.
The session ended with stretching and a short cool-down.
Nobody was pushed beyond what was necessary.
As the players collected their equipment, Smith Rowe walked beside Francesco toward the dressing area.
"Tomorrow's going to be different without Mesut."
Francesco nodded.
"Yeah."
"You think it'll feel strange?"
"It might."
Smith Rowe looked toward him.
"I'm starting because he's injured."
"Because Wenger trusts you."
Smith Rowe smiled faintly.
"I know."
Francesco gave him a light tap on the shoulder.
"Don't try to be Mesut."
Smith Rowe looked at him.
"What should I do?"
"Be you."
That seemed to settle something in the young midfielder's expression.
"Alright."
"Good."
The squad returned to the hotel afterward, where the remainder of the day was deliberately quiet.
Recovery.
Food.
Meetings.
Rest.
The following evening, the Champions League returned.
The Arsenal team bus approached the Wirsol Rhein-Neckar-Arena with the stadium already glowing against the evening sky.
Even before the players stepped off, they could hear the supporters.
Hoffenheim's fans filled sections of the ground with blue-and-white colours, flags moving behind the goals and voices rising whenever the home side's name was announced.
The Arsenal supporters were equally noticeable.
Their section carried the familiar red and white, songs travelling across the stadium despite the distance from London.
Francesco stepped down from the bus with his headphones around his neck.
He paused briefly at the entrance.
Another European night.
Another away ground.
Another test.
Inside, Arsenal's players made their way through the stadium corridors toward the away dressing room.
Travel clothes came off.
Training kits went on.
Boots were tightened.
Water bottles were placed beside the benches.
The usual matchday routine began.
Nobody needed instructions for it.
After several minutes, the squad emerged for the warm-up.
The pitch looked immaculate beneath the floodlights.
Hoffenheim players were already completing their own preparations at the opposite end.
The Arsenal supporters greeted their team loudly as Francesco walked onto the grass.
He raised one hand toward them.
Then the work began.
Stretching first.
Dynamic movements.
Short sprints.
Passing triangles.
The ball moved quickly between Arsenal players as coaches watched from the edge of the pitch.
Francesco worked through shooting exercises, striking several attempts toward the corners while Čech and Raya alternated in goal.
Alexis took one particularly ambitious effort that flew over.
Gnabry laughed.
"You're trying too hard."
Alexis pointed at him.
"Wait until the match."
Smith Rowe remained focused.
He exchanged short passes with Xhaka and Kanté, occasionally looking toward the opposite end of the field.
Francesco noticed.
"Relax."
Smith Rowe smiled.
"Trying."
"That's enough."
The final few shooting exercises finished.
The players jogged back toward the tunnel.
The stadium noise seemed louder now.
Matchday had arrived properly.
Inside the dressing room, the players changed out of their training kits and into Arsenal's official match strips.
Shirts.
Shorts.
Socks.
Boots.
The captain's armband was handed to Francesco.
He slipped it around his arm and tightened it.
Wenger entered.
The conversations faded.
The manager stood in front of the players with the team sheet in his hand.
"Mesut cannot start tonight."
There was no drama in his voice.
"He has a muscle strain. We are not taking a risk. It is precautionary."
Francesco glanced briefly toward Özil, who was seated nearby.
Özil gave him a small nod.
Wenger continued.
"So, Emile starts."
Smith Rowe straightened slightly.
"The structure remains the same. We do not change who we are because one player is unavailable."
He turned toward the board.
"Petr."
Čech.
"Andy. Virgil. Laurent. Kyle."
Robertson.
Van Dijk.
Koscielny.
Walker.
"N'Golo. Granit."
Kanté.
Xhaka.
Then:
"Emile."
Smith Rowe.
"Alexis. Serge. Francesco."
Smith Rowe took a breath.
Wenger then turned the sheet over.
"Hoffenheim."
He read the names.
"Oliver Baumann, captain. Kaderábek. Posch. Hoogma. Akpoguma. Brenet. Grillitsch. Demirbay. Belfodil. Joelinton. Szalai."
Francesco listened.
Wenger placed the paper down.
"They will try to move us. They will try to pull our midfield apart and attack the spaces created."
He looked around the room.
"We don't allow that."
His voice remained calm.
"Concentration. Movement. Discipline. When we have the ball, make it difficult for them to defend. When we lose it, react immediately."
He paused.
"Emile, you don't need to prove anything in five minutes. Play your game."
Smith Rowe nodded.
"Yes, boss."
Wenger looked at the entire group.
"And remember. This is Champions League football. Respect the opponent. Enjoy the occasion. But compete."
The players rose.
Francesco brought his hands together.
"Come on, boys."
The squad gathered near the door.
They stepped into the corridor.
The sounds from the stadium grew with every few metres.
Boots struck the concrete floor.
Staff members moved aside.
A UEFA official stood waiting near the entrance to the tunnel.
The Hoffenheim players were already there.
Baumann stood at the front, captain's armband visible.
Francesco exchanged a brief glance with him.
A nod.
Nothing more was necessary.
The teams moved toward the pitch.
The sound that greeted them was enormous.
Hoffenheim supporters raised their voices as their players emerged, while Arsenal's travelling fans answered from the opposite section.
Players took their positions.
The referees stood between the teams.
For a moment, the movement around the stadium settled.
Then the familiar opening notes began.
The UEFA Champions League anthem echoed around the Wirsol Rhein-Neckar-Arena.
Francesco stood beside his teammates, shoulders relaxed, eyes forward.
There was something different about hearing that music away from the Emirates.
The surroundings were unfamiliar.
The occasion was not.
He had heard it countless times.
Still, it never became ordinary.
The anthem finished.
The players moved into the formal handshakes.
Arsenal and Hoffenheim players greeted one another before turning toward the officials.
The captains exchanged another handshake.
Then the Arsenal players gathered for the official starting-eleven photograph.
Francesco stood in the centre with the captain's armband clearly visible, surrounded by his teammates.
A few flashes.
Then the players dispersed.
At midfield, the referee called Francesco and Baumann over for the coin toss.
The referee held the coin between his fingers.
"Heads or tails?"
Francesco answered immediately.
"Right."
The coin went into the air.
It landed.
Arsenal won.
"Kickoff."
Francesco nodded.
He shook Baumann's hand once more.
"Good luck."
"You too."
The captains returned to their teammates.
The stadium noise climbed again.
Francesco took his place alongside Alexis and Gnabry.
Smith Rowe stood behind them.
The referee checked his watch.
The players waited.
Then the whistle sounded.
Arsenal moved the ball immediately.
Xhaka played back to Van Dijk.
Van Dijk found Robertson.
Robertson moved it inside to Kanté.
One touch.
Two.
Xhaka.
Smith Rowe.
Francesco.
The ball travelled quickly enough that Hoffenheim struggled to establish their pressing shape.
Smith Rowe immediately looked comfortable.
He did not attempt anything spectacular.
He simply found spaces.
A pass into his feet.
A quick turn.
A forward ball.
Then movement.
Francesco noticed it almost immediately.
"Keep going!"
Smith Rowe nodded.
Hoffenheim tried to press Arsenal's defenders, but the visitors continually found another passing option.
Kanté dropped toward the centre-backs.
Robertson pushed higher.
Walker occasionally stepped into midfield.
Alexis drifted inward.
Gnabry stretched the right side.
The movement kept Hoffenheim guessing.
In the sixteenth minute, Arsenal found the opening.
Kanté recovered possession in midfield and moved the ball to Smith Rowe.
Smith Rowe looked up.
Francesco had already begun his run.
The pass was played into the channel.
Francesco accelerated between the defenders.
Baumann rushed forward.
Francesco reached the ball first.
One touch to settle it.
Then a clean finish low into the corner.
1–0.
The Arsenal supporters exploded.
Francesco turned toward the away section, punching the air once before Alexis crashed into him.
"You knew!"
Francesco laughed.
"Of course I knew!"
Smith Rowe arrived a second later.
"That was your ball."
Francesco grabbed him by the shoulders.
"Exactly."
"Good?"
"Very good."
The players quickly reset.
Hoffenheim had no intention of collapsing.
They pushed forward, trying to increase the tempo, but Arsenal's midfield remained compact.
Whenever Demirbay attempted to progress the ball, Kanté or Xhaka closed him down.
When Joelinton dropped deeper, Van Dijk stayed disciplined rather than following unnecessarily.
Arsenal continued to find openings.
The second arrived in the twenty-eighth minute.
Alexis received the ball on the left.
He drove inward.
Smith Rowe moved toward him, creating a passing lane.
Francesco dragged Posch toward the centre.
Alexis suddenly had space.
He took another touch.
Then curled the ball beyond Baumann.
2–0.
Alexis spread his arms and ran toward the corner.
Gnabry reached him first.
"That's more like it."
Alexis laughed.
"Of course."
Francesco joined them briefly before pointing back toward halfway.
"Reset."
Hoffenheim tried again.
Their supporters urged them forward.
The home side created one promising opening when Brenet delivered from wide, but Čech came off his line confidently and claimed the ball before the attackers could reach it.
Arsenal continued to control possession.
The third goal came in the forty-second minute.
A corner was delivered into a crowded penalty area.
Van Dijk challenged.
Koscielny attacked the ball.
Several Hoffenheim defenders attempted to clear it at once.
The ball ricocheted.
Posch tried to react.
Instead, his attempted clearance struck him and deflected into his own goal.
3–0.
There was a brief moment of disbelief among the Arsenal players.
Francesco looked toward the goal, then toward Posch.
The defender stood still for a second before lowering his head.
Koscielny walked over and gave him a brief gesture of encouragement before returning toward midfield.
Francesco joined him.
"Unlucky."
Posch nodded.
The match restarted.
Hoffenheim tried to find something before halftime, but Arsenal remained composed.
They circulated possession through the final minutes, refusing to give away unnecessary opportunities.
Smith Rowe continued to grow into the game.
He pressed when necessary, found passing options and repeatedly moved into positions that allowed Arsenal to escape pressure.
When the referee finally blew for halftime, Arsenal walked toward the tunnel three goals ahead.
It was an excellent first half.
But Wenger was already waiting for them.
Inside the dressing room, players took their seats.
Water bottles opened.
Towels were pulled over shoulders.
Boots were loosened slightly.
There was satisfaction, but nobody was celebrating yet.
Wenger entered and waited until everyone was listening.
"Good."
That was his opening word.
"Very good."
He allowed the players a moment to breathe.
"But we are not finished."
Francesco listened.
Wenger pointed toward the tactical board.
"They will have to come at us now. That means space will appear, but it also means we must be intelligent."
He looked around the room.
"Second half: possession. Control the tempo. No unnecessary risks."
His eyes settled briefly on Francesco and then moved across the group.
"If the easy pass is there, take it. We do not need to force the difficult one."
Kanté nodded.
"Stay compact without the ball," Wenger continued. "Respect their quality. They have players who can punish mistakes."
He paused.
"Three goals is an excellent scoreline. It does not give us permission to become careless."
The room remained attentive.
Wenger stepped away from the board.
"Be patient. Make them run. When the opportunity comes, attack it."
Francesco took another drink of water and wiped his face with his towel.
Around him, his teammates were doing the same.
Three goals ahead.
A European away night under control.
But Wenger's message was clear.
There were still forty-five minutes to play.
Francesco tightened the captain's armband again and looked toward Smith Rowe.
The youngster caught his eye.
"Ready?"
Smith Rowe nodded.
"Ready."
Francesco smiled.
"Then let's finish it properly."
The dressing room door remained closed for another few moments as the players gathered themselves.
Outside, the noise of the Wirsol Rhein-Neckar-Arena was rising again.
The second half was waiting.
Then the dressing-room door finally opened.
One by one, the Arsenal players stepped back into the corridor, their expressions focused again. The noise from the stadium had grown during the interval, the Hoffenheim supporters sensing that their team needed something immediately after falling three goals behind.
Francesco walked near the front of the group.
The captain's armband remained tight around his left arm.
He glanced toward Smith Rowe.
"Same thing."
Smith Rowe nodded.
"Keep the ball."
"Exactly."
The players emerged from the tunnel.
The second half was about to begin.
Hoffenheim had gathered around the centre circle, their players speaking urgently among themselves. Nagelsmann stood near the technical area, already giving instructions before the restart.
The referee checked that everyone was ready.
Then the whistle went.
Arsenal did not attack immediately.
Instead, Xhaka received the opening pass and played it backward to Van Dijk.
The Dutchman shifted it across to Koscielny.
Koscielny found Robertson.
Robertson moved inside.
Kanté offered himself.
The ball went through him and back toward Xhaka.
Hoffenheim pressed.
Arsenal simply moved it away.
For the first several minutes, the visitors seemed almost determined to make the home side chase shadows.
It was not defensive football.
It was control.
Čech became involved whenever necessary, receiving a back-pass before calmly finding Van Dijk. The centre-backs separated, allowing Kanté to drop between them when Hoffenheim attempted to close the passing lanes.
Smith Rowe continued to position himself intelligently.
Whenever a Hoffenheim midfielder stepped toward Xhaka, Smith Rowe moved into the space behind him.
When a defender followed, Francesco drifted toward the opposite shoulder.
The movements were subtle.
Nothing dramatic.
But they kept opening small passing routes.
"Again," Francesco called after one sequence.
Kanté played into Smith Rowe.
The young midfielder turned away from pressure and found Walker.
Walker returned it to Kanté.
Three passes later, the ball was back with Čech.
Hoffenheim had barely touched it.
Their supporters grew increasingly impatient.
Nagelsmann stood on the edge of his technical area, gesturing for his players to push higher.
They tried.
Arsenal simply adapted.
Ten minutes passed.
Then eleven.
Then twelve.
The score remained 3–0, but Arsenal were not simply waiting for the final whistle. They were forcing Hoffenheim to expend energy chasing the ball while keeping their own shape intact.
Eventually, Wenger began encouraging the team to move forward again.
The tempo increased almost imperceptibly.
Robertson started pushing higher.
Walker overlapped more frequently.
Alexis drifted into the half-space.
Gnabry began attacking his full-back directly.
Francesco dropped toward the edge of the penalty area before suddenly turning and running beyond the defence.
One such movement nearly produced a fourth.
Xhaka found Smith Rowe, who slipped the ball into Francesco's path.
Francesco reached it inside the area and tried to square for Gnabry.
A Hoffenheim defender stretched out a leg.
The ball deflected behind.
Corner.
Francesco jogged away from the area, clapping once.
"Good movement."
Smith Rowe smiled.
The corner was cleared, but Arsenal recovered possession immediately.
Kanté recycled it.
Xhaka received.
He looked forward.
There was space.
This time he went.
The attack developed quickly.
Kanté carried the ball through midfield before releasing Alexis on the left.
Alexis cut inside and drew two defenders.
Francesco moved toward the near post.
Gnabry pulled wide.
Smith Rowe arrived late at the top of the area.
Alexis played inside.
Smith Rowe touched it toward Xhaka.
The Swiss midfielder continued his run.
The return pass came at exactly the right moment.
Xhaka stepped into the box.
He had time for one touch.
Then he struck it firmly into the corner.
4–0.
The Arsenal supporters behind the goal erupted.
Xhaka turned away with both arms raised as his teammates ran toward him.
Kanté was first.
Then Smith Rowe.
Then Gnabry.
Francesco arrived laughing.
"Finally!"
Xhaka pointed toward him.
"Better?"
"Much better."
The celebration lasted only a few seconds before Wenger was already gesturing toward the centre circle.
"Back."
The players understood.
There was still work to do.
Hoffenheim restarted and immediately tried to increase the pace.
Nagelsmann was now preparing changes.
Wenger, meanwhile, had his own plan.
Francesco had already played enough.
Alexis had covered plenty of ground.
Xhaka had just completed another demanding phase of the match.
There was no reason to leave important players exposed to unnecessary minutes.
In the sixty-ninth minute, Wenger called toward the bench.
"Changes."
Francesco looked over.
Giroud stood.
Saka stood.
Ramsey stood.
Francesco jogged toward the touchline.
Alexis followed.
Xhaka came off as well.
The fourth official raised the board.
Three Arsenal changes.
Francesco removed the captain's armband as he crossed the line.
Koscielny was waiting nearby.
Francesco handed it to him.
"Your turn."
Koscielny accepted it with a small smile.
"Go rest."
Francesco nodded.
"Keep them organized."
"I will."
Koscielny tightened the armband around his arm.
Francesco gave him a brief pat on the shoulder before heading toward the bench.
Giroud entered for Francesco.
Saka replaced Alexis.
Ramsey replaced Xhaka.
As Francesco sat down, he pulled the towel across his shoulders and watched the game continue.
On the opposite touchline, Nagelsmann was making changes too.
Szalai was withdrawn.
Andrej Kramarić came on.
Demirbay made way for Leonardo Bittencourt.
Grillitsch was replaced by Robin Hack.
Three changes intended to inject energy into Hoffenheim's attack.
Nagelsmann shouted instructions toward the new players as they took their positions.
Hoffenheim needed something.
Arsenal simply needed to remain disciplined.
Giroud immediately gave them a different outlet.
The Frenchman held the ball up with his back to goal, bringing Saka and Gnabry into play. He was less mobile than Francesco but offered a physical reference point that allowed Arsenal to bypass pressure.
Ramsey settled naturally into midfield.
His positioning gave Arsenal another layer of balance, particularly when Walker or Robertson advanced.
Saka, meanwhile, wasted no time.
His first run down the right forced Brenet backward almost twenty yards.
Francesco leaned forward from the bench.
"That's it."
Saka received again.
This time he pushed the ball beyond the defender and chased it.
The Arsenal bench applauded.
Giroud eventually became involved in another promising move.
He received a long pass from Van Dijk and brought it down with his chest before laying it off to Ramsey.
Ramsey immediately found Saka.
The young winger drove toward the box.
His cross was blocked.
Corner.
Arsenal continued to press.
Hoffenheim were still trying to attack, but their efforts often ended against the defensive wall of Van Dijk and Koscielny.
The latter was now wearing the captain's armband and communicating constantly.
"Hold!"
"Step!"
"Stay with him!"
His voice carried through the defensive line.
Čech remained composed behind them.
When Kramarić found a little room near the area, Čech moved across his goal and gathered the resulting effort cleanly.
Francesco applauded.
"Good, Petr."
The match entered its final ten minutes.
The result was no longer in serious doubt, but Arsenal still played with purpose.
The fifth goal arrived in the eighty-third minute.
Ramsey received the ball near the centre circle and found Walker.
Walker advanced before sending it toward the right side.
Saka collected it.
He looked up.
Giroud was already moving toward the penalty area.
Saka delivered.
The cross hung in the air just long enough for Giroud to judge it.
He rose.
A powerful header redirected the ball across the goal.
But instead of going directly toward the net, it travelled into the path of Saka, who had continued his run toward the far side.
Saka reacted instantly.
Right foot.
Finish.
5–0.
He wheeled away in disbelief.
Giroud was already chasing after him.
"You see?"
Saka shouted back.
"You passed it to me!"
Giroud laughed.
"Exactly!"
The rest of the Arsenal players joined them.
From the bench, Francesco stood and applauded enthusiastically.
Saka looked toward him and raised both arms.
Francesco nodded.
"Brilliant!"
The young winger smiled before turning back toward halfway.
For Francesco, there was something particularly satisfying about watching the substitutes contribute.
The match had started with Arsenal's strongest available side.
It was now being finished by players who had entered from the bench and immediately maintained the same standards.
That was what a squad was supposed to do.
Hoffenheim continued searching.
They pushed numbers forward.
Bittencourt tried to combine around the edge of the box.
Kramarić made runs between the defenders.
Hack attempted to stretch the right side.
But Arsenal refused to open the door.
Koscielny organized from the back.
Van Dijk won another aerial duel.
Robertson tracked his runner all the way toward the corner.
Walker recovered quickly whenever possession changed.
Kanté continued covering enormous amounts of ground.
Ramsey kept the midfield connected.
Saka and Gnabry remained willing to track back.
Giroud held the ball whenever Arsenal needed a few seconds to breathe.
The clock moved into the final minutes.
Hoffenheim had one last attempt from distance.
Čech watched it all the way.
Wide.
He turned and calmly collected the ball for the goal kick.
Francesco smiled.
That was that.
The referee looked at his watch.
Another few passes.
Another Hoffenheim challenge.
Then the final whistle.
Arsenal had won 5–0.
For a moment, the players simply stood where they were.
Five goals.
None conceded.
Three more Champions League points.
The travelling supporters began singing.
Their voices echoed across the stadium.
Francesco stepped onto the pitch and walked toward his teammates.
He found Saka first.
"Come here."
Saka grinned.
"Good goal."
"Thanks."
"You deserved that."
Giroud approached.
Francesco shook his hand.
"And you."
Giroud smiled.
"Not bad for an old man."
Francesco laughed.
"You're not old."
"Tell that to my legs."
Ramsey arrived next.
"Good to see you back in midfield."
"Felt good," Ramsey replied.
Francesco then turned toward Koscielny.
The captain's armband was still around his arm.
"Good job."
Koscielny nodded.
"Your instructions were simple."
"Which ones?"
"Keep them organized."
Francesco laughed.
"Fair."
The two exchanged a brief hug before moving toward the rest of the squad.
Wenger waited until the players had acknowledged the travelling supporters before bringing them together.
The Arsenal fans continued applauding, many holding scarves above their heads.
Wenger looked around at his players.
"Good."
That familiar word carried less celebration than recognition.
"Very good performance."
He paused.
"We controlled the match when we needed to. We attacked well. We defended properly. And the players who came on continued the level."
His eyes moved toward Saka and Giroud.
"That is important."
Then toward Koscielny.
"And Laurent handled the team well."
Koscielny smiled.
Wenger finally looked toward Francesco.
"And our captain played his part."
Francesco shrugged.
"We all did."
Wenger nodded.
"Exactly."
There was no need for a grand speech.
The players had already understood what the night meant.
They had travelled to Germany.
Lost their best-known creator before kickoff.
Adapted.
Controlled the match.
Used the squad.
And left with five goals and three points.
Back inside the dressing room, the mood was lighter.
Saka was still being congratulated.
Giroud received several playful complaints that his header had almost become a goal of its own.
Ramsey sat with an ice pack against his thigh while chatting with teammates.
Koscielny removed the captain's armband and handed it back to Francesco.
"Safe now."
Francesco took it.
"Thanks."
Smith Rowe, meanwhile, had every reason to be pleased with his performance.
Francesco walked over.
"You did well."
Smith Rowe smiled.
"Better than I expected."
"That's because you were worried."
"Maybe."
Francesco shook his head.
"You belonged out there."
Smith Rowe looked down briefly before smiling again.
"Thanks, captain."
The room settled gradually as players began changing and preparing for the journey back.
Outside, the Arsenal supporters were still singing.
Their voices could be heard through the stadium walls.
Francesco sat for a moment, boots finally off, and allowed himself to absorb the night.
Lyon had been four.
Hoffenheim had been five.
Six points from two Champions League matches.
But he knew better than anyone that the group was far from finished.
There would be Shakhtar.
There would be the return fixtures.
There would be Premier League matches squeezed between them.
And there would be days when the football would not be nearly as comfortable as this.
Wenger seemed to be thinking along similar lines.
As he passed through the dressing room, he said quietly:
"Enjoy tonight."
A few players looked up.
"Tomorrow, we recover."
A couple of smiles appeared.
"And after that, we work again."
Alexis, already halfway into his jacket, laughed.
"Of course."
Wenger gave him a knowing look.
"You sound disappointed."
"Never."
The room broke into laughter.
Francesco stood and collected his things.
Before leaving, he looked once more toward the doorway.
The Champions League night was over.
Arsenal had done what they had come to Germany to do.
Five goals.
A clean sheet.
Three points.
And another step through Group F.
The season, however, was showing no signs of slowing down.
There would be another flight.
Another training session.
Another opponent.
Another tactical problem for Wenger to solve.
Francesco slipped his jacket on and followed his teammates out toward the waiting team bus.
Outside, the Sinsheim night was cool and quiet again.
The noise of the stadium remained behind them.
Ahead was the journey home.
And beyond that, another demanding chapter of Arsenal's season was already waiting.
__________________________________________________
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: 10
Goal: 12
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