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As the captains, Mertesacker and Toulalan, exchanged pennants and spoke with the referee, Francesco took one final deep breath.
The referee blew his whistle, and the match was underway. Immediately, both sides fought for control, the intensity crackling in the air. Arsenal, aware of their narrow aggregate lead, looked to impose their game early. Monaco, driven by the urgency of needing a goal, pressed high and fast.
The first few minutes were a battle of wills. Francesco drifted into space on the right, looking for pockets to exploit, while Özil pulled the strings in midfield. But Monaco were compact, their midfield duo of Toulalan and Kondogbia closing down quickly, making it difficult for Arsenal to settle into a rhythm.
In the 4th minute, Monaco launched their first dangerous attack. Moutinho, true to Wenger's pre-match warning, dictated the tempo from deep, threading a sharp pass to Martial on the left. The young French winger surged forward, his blistering pace forcing Bellerín to backpedal. Cutting inside onto his right foot, Martial unleashed a curling shot from the edge of the box.
Ospina reacted swiftly, diving to his left and getting a strong hand on the ball, pushing it wide for a corner. The Monaco fans roared in approval as their team showed intent early on.
Arsenal responded in kind. In the 7th minute, Özil found space between the lines and slipped a perfectly weighted pass to Giroud, who held off Abdennour with his strength before laying it off to Francesco on the right side of the penalty area. Francesco took a touch to steady himself before firing a low shot toward the bottom corner.
Subašić, Monaco's ever-reliable keeper, was equal to it, diving to his right and palming it away.
Both teams were playing with fearless energy, trading attacks, each side looking for an opening.
In the 12th minute, Arsenal nearly broke the deadlock. A quick one-two between Alexis and Cazorla sent the Chilean through on goal. He took a quick touch to round Subašić, but the angle became too tight. He tried to square it to Giroud in the center, but Wallace lunged in at the last second, clearing the ball just before the French striker could tap it in.
Moments later, Monaco answered with another wave of pressure. Moutinho again was the architect, slipping a ball behind Arsenal's defense for Dirar, who had ghosted in from the right wing. Dirar struck the ball first-time, aiming for the top corner, but Ospina reacted magnificently, tipping it over the bar.
The game had no lull, no break in intensity.
At the 17-minute mark, Francesco was brought down just outside the box by Kurzawa, who had struggled to contain him. Arsenal had a free-kick in a dangerous position. Özil and Cazorla stood over the ball, deciding who would take it. Eventually, it was Cazorla who stepped up.
His effort curled over the wall, dipping late, forcing Subašić into another strong save. The Monaco keeper parried the ball away, but only as far as Alexis, who tried to volley the rebound on target. His shot was blocked heroically by Fabinho.
By the 20th minute, the score remained 0-0, but the tempo had been relentless. The match was turning into a spectacle, a pure contest of football at the highest level.
Arsenal knew they were still in control of the tie, but Monaco were showing they had no intention of going out quietly.
Giroud met the ball with a towering header, his neck muscles tensing as he powered it toward goal. It was a textbook header—downward, hard, and on target. The Arsenal fans behind the goal held their breath, expecting the net to bulge.
But Subašić had other plans.
The Monaco goalkeeper reacted instantly, diving low to his right, stretching out a strong palm to parry the ball away. It wasn't just a save—it was a statement. A moment that reaffirmed Monaco's resilience.
Giroud held his head in frustration, his disappointment evident. He knew that was a golden chance, a moment where he could have equalized and swung momentum back in Arsenal's favor. But instead of sulking, he turned toward Francesco, who had delivered the inch-perfect cross, and gave him a thumbs-up.
Francesco acknowledged it with a nod, but inside, he felt the same frustration. Arsenal were creating chances, but Subašić was proving to be an immovable force.
The game had opened up even more now, with Arsenal pushing forward, but Monaco remained deadly on the break.
In the 31st minute, Moutinho once again found space, evading Cazorla and spotting Martial sprinting down the left. The young French forward was electric, his pace terrifying Bellerín. With a sudden burst, Martial cut inside, beating the Spaniard before slipping a clever reverse pass into the box for Berbatov.
The Bulgarian, brimming with confidence, took a quick touch and tried to curl it into the far corner.
Ospina dived full stretch, his fingertips grazing the ball just enough to deflect it inches wide of the post. It was a massive save—one that kept Arsenal in the tie.
Wenger, still pacing the touchline, exhaled sharply. His team couldn't afford to concede again.
Arsenal needed inspiration, and Francesco was ready to provide it.
In the 34th minute, after receiving a short pass from Coquelin, Francesco turned sharply and drove forward. Kondogbia came sliding in aggressively, but Francesco skipped past him with a quick flick of his right foot.
The crowd gasped as Francesco surged forward, now with space to run at Monaco's backline. Kurzawa stepped up, trying to close him down, but Francesco executed a perfect feint, shifting his weight to the right before cutting left. The fullback was left off balance, and Francesco was through.
Seeing Giroud making a near-post run, Francesco decided to go for goal himself. With a sharp swing of his right foot, he unleashed a curling shot toward the top corner.
The strike was pure. The ball spun wickedly through the air.
Subašić scrambled, his body fully extended as he tried to reach it.
For a moment, time seemed to slow.
But then—the ball clipped the outside of the post and flew wide.
Francesco clenched his fists, biting his lip in frustration. He had beaten Subašić, but the post had denied him.
Wenger applauded from the sidelines, urging his players to keep going.
By the 40th minute, Arsenal were dominating possession, probing Monaco's defense from every angle. Özil and Cazorla were dictating the tempo, constantly shifting the ball to stretch Monaco's compact shape.
In the 42nd minute, a quick one-two between Cazorla and Alexis opened up a lane on the left. Alexis sprinted forward, cutting inside and drilling a low cross into the box.
Giroud tried to meet it, but Abdennour got a foot in just in time, deflecting it away.
The ball bounced out to Francesco, who was lurking just outside the area.
Without hesitation, he struck it on the half-volley.
The ball flew through a sea of bodies, swerving in mid-air, but once again, Subašić was Arsenal's tormentor. The goalkeeper got down low, making another vital stop.
The rebound fell to Alexis, who instinctively fired another shot, but Fabinho threw himself in the way, blocking it heroically.
Arsenal were relentless, but Monaco refused to break.
As the first half neared its conclusion, Arsenal continued to pile on the pressure, searching for an equalizer that would give them some breathing room in the tie.
In the 44th minute, they came agonizingly close once more.
It started with Özil, who had been quietly pulling the strings in midfield. Spotting Francesco making a diagonal run into the right channel, Özil threaded a perfectly weighted pass between two Monaco defenders.
Francesco, with his exceptional first touch, controlled the ball in stride before glancing up. He saw Giroud peeling away from his marker inside the box.
Without hesitation, Francesco whipped in a driven cross, low and hard across the six-yard box.
Giroud met it with a thunderous first-time strike, aiming to beat Subašić at the near post.
The Stade Louis II held its breath.
But once again, Subašić refused to be beaten.
The Monaco goalkeeper threw himself to his left, reacting with lightning-fast reflexes to palm the ball away. It was an outrageous save, the kind that goalkeepers dream about.
Giroud fell to his knees, staring at the ground in disbelief.
Arsenal fans groaned in frustration. How was this possible? How was the ball not in the back of the net? As for the Monaco fans were cheering because of Subašić briliant performances.
Francesco ran his hands through his hair. He had done everything right—found space, delivered the perfect ball—but still, Arsenal were being denied.
As the first half entered stoppage time (45+2'), Arsenal carved out one last opportunity before the break.
This time, it was Alexis Sánchez who initiated the move.
Receiving the ball on the left wing, Alexis skipped past Dirar with a clever change of pace. As he reached the edge of the box, he spotted Francesco making a late run toward the penalty spot.
Alexis dinked a delicate lofted pass into the area.
Francesco, timing his run to perfection, connected with a controlled volley, side-footing the ball toward the bottom corner.
It was struck with precision.
It was headed for the net.
But Subašić was having the half of his life.
The Croatian goalkeeper dived at full stretch, extending every inch of his frame to get a fingertip to the shot.
The ball deflected wide.
Francesco stood frozen, his hands on his hips, staring at the Monaco goalkeeper. He wasn't alone—every Arsenal player looked stunned.
Subašić had made six world-class saves in the first half alone.
The referee's whistle blew for halftime.
As Arsenal players walked toward the tunnel, a mix of emotions swirled in their expressions—frustration, disbelief, determination. They had dominated, created chances, but they were still level.
Wenger shook his head as he made his way down the tunnel. He knew his team was playing well. But if Subašić continued in this form, they would need something truly special to find a breakthrough.
As the Arsenal players trudged into the locker room, the frustration was palpable. The sound of boots scraping against the floor, deep sighs, and the occasional shake of the head filled the air.
Francesco collapsed onto the bench, running his fingers through his hair. He had come close—twice—but Subašić was playing like a man possessed. Across the room, Giroud sat with his elbows on his knees, staring at the floor, muttering under his breath.
Santi Cazorla leaned back against the wall, exhaling sharply. "I swear, that guy is not human," he said, shaking his head in disbelief.
"He's having the game of his life," Alexis Sánchez added, tossing his water bottle aside. "How many times do we have to test him before he finally cracks?"
Aaron Ramsey groaned. "It feels like we could play all night, and he'd still keep everything out."
Bellerín, still catching his breath, nodded. "I don't know, man. If he plays like that in the second half, we're going to need something extraordinary to beat him."
Doubt had crept into the team. They had thrown everything at Monaco, only to be denied by a goalkeeper putting in a once-in-a-lifetime performance.
Wenger, standing near the tactics board, listened in silence for a moment, letting them vent. Then, he clapped his hands together, drawing all eyes to him.
"Enough," he said firmly.
The room fell silent.
Wenger looked around, his piercing gaze scanning each and every one of them. "I know what you're all thinking. You're frustrated. You think maybe this isn't our night. Maybe the football gods have decided that Subašić will be unbeatable. But I will tell you this—goalkeepers are human."
He took a step forward, emphasizing his point. "No matter how good he's been in that first half, no one can keep up that level forever. Sooner or later, he'll make a mistake. He'll slow down. He'll react a fraction of a second late. And that's when we strike."
The players sat up a little straighter, listening intently.
Per Mertesacker, the captain, nodded and stood up, addressing his teammates. "The boss is right. We've dominated them. We've created chances. If Subašić wasn't playing like Superman, we'd be ahead by two or three goals already. That means we're doing something right. We just need to keep believing."
Cazorla sighed but nodded. "But what if he doesn't drop off? What if he keeps saving everything?"
Wenger responded immediately. "Then we keep shooting. We keep attacking. We keep pushing. If he wants to have the best game of his career, fine. But let's make sure he has to work for every single save. No goalkeeper can keep making those saves all game. Not even Buffon or Neuer. Eventually, one will go in."
The energy in the room began to shift. The doubt that had crept in was slowly being replaced by a renewed sense of purpose.
"Listen," Wenger continued, "our approach is good, but we need to be more clinical. Francesco, Giroud, Alexis—I want you to keep making those runs, keep putting shots on target. Francesco, I need you to test him from distance. Özil, Cazorla—keep moving the ball quickly, stretch them wide. If we play too centrally, it'll be easier for Subašić to react. Force him to move side to side. Wear him down."
Mertesacker chimed in, "And don't forget, we need to stay sharp at the back. Monaco are dangerous on the counter. If we push too recklessly, they'll punish us. So let's play smart. We will score. It's just a matter of time."
Wenger clapped his hands again. "Exactly. We are the better team. Play like it."
A fire had been lit inside the players. Giroud sat up straighter, nodding to himself. Francesco clenched his fists, a new determination in his eyes. Alexis stood up, stretching his legs, already preparing for the second half.
As the team stood to head back out, Wenger stopped Francesco just before he reached the tunnel.
"Francesco," he said quietly, "I need you to take more risks. If you see a chance, take it. I trust you."
Francesco met his manager's gaze and nodded. "I won't hesitate, boss." With that, they stepped back onto the pitch.
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Name : Francesco Lee
Age : 16 (2014)
Birthplace : London, England
Football Club : Arsenal First Team
Championship History : None
Match Played: 21
Goal: 26
Assist: 12
MOTM: 8