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As Arsenal entered the dressing room, Wenger was already at the board, ready to make adjustments.
The Arsenal players filed into the dressing room, their jerseys clinging to their bodies, soaked with sweat. The atmosphere was thick with exhaustion but also determination. The first half had been an intense battle, a showcase of tactical mastery and individual brilliance. Despite Juventus controlling possession for a stretch, Arsenal had still managed to carve out golden opportunities.
Francesco dropped into his seat, breathing heavily as he reached for a water bottle. His pulse was still racing, his mind replaying the moment when Buffon's fingertips had denied him what could have been a dream goal. Across the room, Özil sat next to Sanchez, shaking his head in frustration, while Giroud wiped his face with a towel, muttering something under his breath about Buffon's seemingly inhuman reflexes.
Arsène Wenger stood at the front of the room, his eyes scanning the tired but focused faces of his players. His hands rested on his hips, his mind already calculating the necessary adjustments.
"Alright, listen up," he began, his voice calm but firm. "We started brilliantly. We had them pinned back, we created chances. But then, they adapted. Their 3-5-2 allowed them to overload the midfield, and for ten minutes, we struggled. That cannot happen again in the second half."
He turned to the whiteboard, where a tactical diagram of Juventus' formation was already drawn.
"They're using their numbers in midfield to control the tempo. Pirlo has too much space. Vidal and Marchisio are suffocating us, and when we try to play out, they close the passing lanes quickly. We need to change how we build from the back."
Wenger picked up a marker and drew arrows from Coquelin and Cazorla.
"Francis, Santi, I want you to stay more compact when we're out of possession. Force Juventus to play out wide rather than through the middle. Coquelin, you need to stay close to Pirlo. Do not give him time to pick his passes. Make him uncomfortable."
Coquelin nodded, already shifting into the aggressive mindset required for such a role.
Wenger then pointed at Özil. "Mesut, we need you on the ball more. You need to find those pockets of space between their midfield and defense. We know they struggle when their back three are forced to spread out. Draw Vidal out of position. Make him chase you."
Özil, deep in thought, gave a small nod.
Wenger shifted his attention to the forward line. "Francesco, Alexis—you two have been dangerous, but you've been isolated. That's because their wing-backs are staying deeper to deal with you. That means the key is quick transitions. When we win the ball, I want you both making diagonal runs inward. Force their center-backs to make decisions."
Francesco leaned forward, his mind already visualizing the movements. He had been playing wide, waiting for the ball to come to him, but now, he needed to be more proactive.
Wenger's gaze met his. "Francesco, you're doing well, but don't hesitate. You're playing against one of the greatest goalkeepers of all time, but he's not invincible. Trust your instincts."
Francesco exhaled sharply, nodding. "I know, boss. I'll put one past him."
Wenger gave a satisfied smile before turning back to the entire squad. "We are not just here to play—we are here to win. We've matched them in every department, and we've proven that we can break them down. The next 45 minutes will decide our fate. Show them who we are."
The players clapped, their energy renewed as they stood up, stretching and preparing to head back out.
As Francesco laced up his boots tighter, he caught Özil's eye. The German smirked. "Time to write your moment, Francesco."
Francesco grinned, his heart pounding with anticipation. "Let's do this."
As the players returned to the pitch, the Emirates buzzed with energy. The fans, sensing that Arsenal had a chance to take control, raised their voices, filling the stadium with chants of encouragement.
The whistle blew, and the second half was underway.
Arsenal immediately showed their intent. They pressed higher, closing down Juventus' passing options. Coquelin, true to his instructions, stuck to Pirlo like glue, preventing the Italian maestro from dictating the tempo as he had in the first half.
In the 48th minute, Arsenal nearly found the breakthrough.
Özil, finally finding some space, played a delicate through ball between Bonucci and Barzagli. Francesco sprinted onto it, cutting inside onto his stronger foot before curling a shot toward the far post.
The Emirates held its breath.
Buffon, yet again, dived at full stretch and parried the ball away with his fingertips.
Francesco threw his hands in the air in frustration, but this time, he didn't dwell on it. He was getting closer.
Juventus tried to respond through a counterattack in the 52nd minute, with Tévez breaking free down the right flank. He squared a dangerous low ball into the box, but Koscielny slid in with a perfectly timed interception to clear the danger.
The game was now at full throttle. Both teams were exchanging blows, each searching for the elusive opening goal.
Then, in the 56th minute, Arsenal struck.
It started with a turnover in midfield. Coquelin, relentless in his pressing, dispossessed Marchisio and quickly laid the ball off to Cazorla. With Juventus momentarily disorganized, Cazorla spotted Francesco making a run behind Chiellini.
The Spaniard played a perfect lofted pass over the defense.
Francesco took it in stride, his first touch immaculate, setting him up just inside the box.
Bonucci lunged in desperately, but Francesco shifted the ball onto his right foot and let fly.
This time, Buffon had no chance.
The net rippled.
The Emirates exploded.
Francesco roared in celebration, running toward the corner flag, his teammates swarming him. Özil grabbed him by the shoulders, shaking him with excitement. "I told you!"
Francesco laughed, his heart pounding. He had finally done it. He had beaten Buffon.
The scoreboard flashed: Arsenal 1-0 Juventus (56') - Francesco Lee.
As the fans continued to celebrate, Wenger clapped from the sidelines, his faith in Francesco rewarded.
The roar of the Emirates was deafening. Francesco's goal had breathed new life into Arsenal, igniting belief among the players and fans alike. As he jogged back toward the center circle, a mix of adrenaline and relief surged through him. He had finally beaten Buffon. The battle wasn't over yet, but Arsenal had dragged themselves level in the tie—2-2 on aggregate.
Juventus, however, were no ordinary team. Despite the blow, they did not panic. Buffon, the captain, clapped his hands and barked orders, rallying his defenders. Pirlo, calm as ever, took control of the game's tempo once more. The Italian giants knew they still had the upper hand—an away goal would put them back in the driver's seat.
Arsenal, energized by their breakthrough, pressed forward in search of a second. The momentum was now fully with them, and Juventus were forced to absorb wave after wave of attacks.
In the 61st minute, Arsenal nearly struck again.
Özil, growing into the game, found space between the lines and slid an exquisite pass through to Alexis Sanchez. The Chilean, shifting the ball onto his right foot, unleashed a venomous shot toward the top corner.
The Emirates rose in anticipation.
But Buffon, the ever-present wall, flew across his goal and punched the ball away with his fingertips.
Sanchez let out a frustrated sigh, but Arsenal were undeterred. They were in control now, pinning Juventus back, forcing them into defensive mode.
Juventus, though, were still dangerous on the break. In the 65th minute, Tévez and Morata combined brilliantly to carve open a rare chance. Tévez picked up the ball in midfield, danced past Coquelin, and played a perfectly weighted through ball to Morata. The Spaniard, one-on-one with Szczęsny, fired a low shot toward the bottom corner.
Szczęsny reacted instantly, diving to his left and getting a strong hand to the ball, pushing it wide.
A huge let-off for Arsenal.
The game was teetering on a knife's edge.
Wenger, sensing that his side needed fresh legs, made his first change in the 70th minute. He brought on Aaron Ramsey for Cazorla, hoping that the Welshman's energy would add another dimension to Arsenal's midfield battle against Juventus' relentless trio.
Ramsey made an immediate impact, his box-to-box movement giving Arsenal another attacking outlet. In the 73rd minute, he surged forward, combining with Özil before delivering a teasing ball into the box.
Giroud attacked it, rising above Bonucci once more.
For a moment, it looked like the perfect connection.
But Buffon, defying age and physics, got a strong hand to it and palmed it away.
The frustration was building. Arsenal were creating chance after chance, but Buffon continued to deny them.
Wenger, pacing along the touchline, knew that Arsenal needed something different. They had Juventus under pressure, but Buffon was proving to be an impenetrable wall. If they were to find the winning goal before extra time, a change was necessary.
In the 77th minute, he made his move.
Off came Olivier Giroud, who had battled valiantly against Juventus' rugged center-backs, and Mesut Özil, who had been influential but was beginning to tire. In their place, Wenger introduced Theo Walcott and Jack Wilshere.
The Emirates applauded the changes. Walcott's blistering pace could stretch Juventus' backline, while Wilshere's close control and quick passing could add another layer of creativity in midfield.
Walcott slotted in on the right wing, pushing Alexis Sanchez to the left, while Francesco moved centrally to lead the line as the main striker. It was a role he had played before, and now, under the lights of the Emirates on a European night, he had the chance to deliver a moment Arsenal fans would never forget.
On the other side, Massimiliano Allegri also decided to shake things up. Juventus needed fresh legs, especially with the game looking likely to go into extra time. He made a triple substitution, bringing on Fernando Llorente for Álvaro Morata, Roberto Pereyra for Arturo Vidal, and Simeone Padoin for Patrice Evra.
Llorente's introduction meant Juventus now had a different type of striker to deal with Arsenal's defense. The towering Spaniard was a target man, someone who could hold up play and bring others into the game. Pereyra, a dynamic midfielder, added fresh energy in the middle, while Padoin's presence shored up Juventus' defensive shape.
With both managers making their moves, the final 15 minutes of normal time promised to be a battle of wits, fatigue, and moments of individual brilliance.
Arsenal, buoyed by the fresh injection of pace and energy, continued to push forward. Walcott's speed was already causing problems for Juventus. In the 81st minute, he raced down the right flank, leaving Chiellini in his wake, before whipping in a cross toward Francesco.
Francesco leaped high, twisting his body mid-air to direct a powerful header on goal.
The Emirates held its breath.
Buffon, once again, was there. The Juventus captain reacted instinctively, getting a strong palm to the ball and pushing it over the bar.
Frustration was creeping in, but Arsenal refused to let up.
Walcott's presence also forced Juventus' backline to stay deeper, giving Arsenal's midfield more space to operate. Wilshere, sharp as ever, was combining well with Ramsey, probing for an opening.
In the 84th minute, Wilshere picked up the ball near the edge of the box and threaded a quick pass to Francesco, who took a touch, turned, and fired a shot toward the bottom corner.
Buffon, despite being unsighted, got down low and somehow tipped it around the post.
The frustration on Francesco's face was evident. He had beaten Buffon once, but doing it a second time was proving to be an even greater challenge.
Juventus, despite being under constant pressure, were not sitting back entirely. They knew that one goal would kill the tie.
Pirlo, the maestro, was still pulling the strings. In the 86th minute, he sent a long diagonal pass to Pereyra, who controlled it beautifully before driving toward Arsenal's box.
Bellerín, tracking him, forced him wide, but Pereyra managed to whip in a cross toward Llorente.
The Spaniard, towering over Koscielny, met the ball with a powerful header.
Szczęsny, showing incredible reflexes, leapt to his right and punched the ball away before it could find the top corner.
Then the Emirates fell into a stunned silence.
It was the 87th minute, and despite Arsenal's relentless pressure, Juventus had struck back with a goal that sucked the air out of the stadium.
And it was pure class from Andrea Pirlo and Carlos Tévez.
It started deep in Juventus' own half. Arsenal had just forced another corner, but once again, Buffon had risen above the crowd and punched it clear. The ball fell to Pirlo, who, despite the chaos around him, remained impossibly calm.
With one quick glance upfield, he saw the opportunity. Arsenal's defense, pushed high in their desperation for a winner, had left space behind.
Pirlo took a step forward, shaping his body as if to play it short, then—like a grandmaster making his decisive move—he unleashed a pass that defied logic.
With the outside of his right foot, he bent a stunning 40-yard pass over Arsenal's backline. It curled delicately between Koscielny and Mertesacker, landing in the exact pocket of space where Tévez was already sprinting.
It was a pass only Pirlo could see. And only Pirlo could execute.
Tévez, still full of energy despite running tirelessly all night, latched onto it perfectly. He controlled the ball with his first touch, cushioning it beautifully as he surged into the penalty area.
Mertesacker, realizing the danger too late, scrambled to recover, but Tévez was already a step ahead. With a quick drop of the shoulder, he wrong-footed the German defender and opened up a sliver of space.
Szczęsny rushed off his line, arms spread wide, trying to make himself as big as possible. But Tévez was ice-cold.
He waited—just long enough for Szczęsny to commit—then, with a composed side-footed finish, slotted the ball past the Arsenal keeper and into the far corner.
The net rippled. Juventus players exploded in celebration.
Tévez turned and sprinted toward the away fans, sliding onto his knees, fists clenched. His teammates swarmed him, while Pirlo jogged over with a quiet smile, knowing he had once again orchestrated a moment of brilliance.
For Arsenal, it was heartbreak.
Wenger, who had been on the verge of celebration just moments ago, ran his hands through his hair in disbelief. His players stood frozen, unable to comprehend what had just happened.
One pass. One run. One ruthless finish.
From 2-1 up and in control, Arsenal were now staring at elimination. Juventus led 3-2 on aggregate with barely three minutes left on the clock.
The Emirates, which had been a cauldron of noise just minutes ago, now hummed with nervous tension. Arsenal needed a goal. Anything less, and their Champions League dreams were over.
Then Wenger reacted instantly, urging his players forward. There was no time to feel sorry for themselves—only time to fight. He gestured frantically from the touchline, pushing his midfield higher, signaling for his team to go all-out attack.
Juventus, meanwhile, retreated into a deep defensive shape, protecting their lead with every ounce of energy they had left. Chiellini and Bonucci barked instructions, organizing a defensive wall that Arsenal would need to break through.
Francesco, burning with frustration, took it upon himself to lead the charge.
In the 89th minute, he picked up the ball just outside the penalty area and tried to create something out of nothing. With two defenders on him, he pulled off a clever step-over before firing a shot toward the bottom corner.
It had power. It had accuracy.
But Buffon, as he had done all night, was there. The veteran keeper dived low, palming it away once more.
Wilshere reacted quickest to the rebound, stretching out a leg to poke it goalward—but before he could make contact, Padoin came flying in with a last-ditch block, sending the ball spinning out for a corner.
The clock was ticking. The 90th minute arrived. The board went up—four minutes of added time.
Arsenal had four minutes to save their season.
Szczęsny, knowing the urgency, sprinted forward for the corner, joining the attack. Every single Arsenal player was inside Juventus' box, except for Bellerín, who stayed back as the last man.
Cazorla stood over the ball, taking a deep breath.
This was it.
He whipped in a teasing cross, bending toward the far post. Francesco, rising above Bonucci, connected cleanly with a bullet header.
For a split second, time seemed to slow.
The Emirates watched, eyes wide, as the ball hurtled toward the top corner.
Buffon, already in mid-air, stretched out his fingertips.
And then—somehow—he got there.
With an impossible save, Buffon clawed the ball away, just inches from crossing the line.
Gasps filled the stadium. The Juventus defenders scrambled to clear, launching the ball as far as possible.
The ball dropped to Ramsey at the edge of the box. With no time to think, he struck it first-time.
It was a rocket.
The shot screamed through the air, heading straight for the bottom corner.
Buffon was beaten.
But Chiellini, throwing himself in the way like a warrior on the battlefield, blocked it at the last possible moment, sending the ball out for another corner.
Seconds were slipping away.
Cazorla rushed to take it. One last chance.
He curled it in once more—this time, aiming for Walcott.
Walcott jumped, flicking it toward goal with the back of his head.
The ball bounced dangerously in the six-yard box. Francesco reacted, swinging a boot at it.
But Bonucci, with a desperate lunge, got there first, stabbing it away.
And then—the whistle blew.
Full-time. Juventus win 3-2 on aggregate.
Juventus players collapsed in exhaustion, some in celebration, some in relief. Buffon, the hero of the night, was mobbed by his teammates. Pirlo, the composed figure, shook hands with his opponents before embracing Tévez, the man who had delivered the decisive goal.
On the other side, Arsenal players stood motionless, devastated.
Francesco, hands on his knees, stared at the grass, his mind replaying every moment. Every missed chance. Every save by Buffon. Every "what if."
Walcott sat on the pitch, head down. Wilshere, visibly gutted, covered his face with his hands. Ramsey looked up at the sky in disbelief.
Wenger walked onto the field, consoling his players. He knew they had given everything. But in the cruel world of football, sometimes even your best isn't enough.
The Emirates crowd, though heartbroken, recognized the effort. As the Juventus players celebrated, a section of Arsenal fans stood and applauded. They had witnessed an unforgettable night of football.
Arsenal had fought bravely. They had come so close. But in the end, Juventus, led by their magician in midfield and their legend in goal, had found a way to go through to the semi final of the champions league.
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Name : Francesco Lee
Age : 16 (2014)
Birthplace : London, England
Football Club : Arsenal First Team
Championship History : None
Match Played: 28
Goal: 33
Assist: 12
MOTM: 8