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Francesco pulled his jersey over his head, feeling the familiar weight of the Arsenal crest on his chest. He glanced at his phone one last time before putting it away. Then no more distractions, It was time for war as they walk to the tunnel.
As the Arsenal squad stepped into the tunnel, the energy was palpable. The roar of the Emirates crowd rumbled through the walls, and the tension in the air felt like a coiled spring ready to snap. Francesco took a deep breath, his fingers unconsciously flexing at his sides. This was the moment he had dreamed of since he was a kid—the Champions League quarter-finals, under the lights, against one of Europe's most formidable clubs, Juventus.
The Juventus squad stood on the other side of the tunnel, their expressions serious and focused. Gianluigi Buffon, a legend of the game, stood tall at the front, his presence alone commanding respect. Behind him, Giorgio Chiellini, Andrea Pirlo, and Carlos Tévez were locked in their own pre-match routines, stretching or quietly murmuring words of encouragement to one another.
Francesco glanced around at his own teammates. Mertesacker, the captain, stood stoic, his eyes fixed ahead. Özil rolled his shoulders, his usual calm expression unchanged. Alexis Sanchez bounced lightly on his toes, always full of restless energy, while Giroud cracked his knuckles, looking ready for battle.
A match official stepped forward, gesturing for both teams to line up. The players took their places beside the referees, waiting for the signal to walk onto the pitch.
"Let's do this," Francesco muttered under his breath.
The referee gave a nod, and the players marched out into the stadium.
The Emirates erupted. The Arsenal supporters, decked out in red and white, raised their scarves high, singing in unison. The Champions League anthem blared through the speakers, sending chills down Francesco's spine.
One by one, the Arsenal players shook hands with the referees before moving on to the Juventus squad. Francesco found himself face to face with Buffon. The Italian goalkeeper gave him a small nod, his grip firm as they shook hands.
"Buona fortuna," Buffon said with a small smile.
Francesco, who had picked up some Italian during his free time to study it a little, responded, "Grazie, maestro."
After finishing the pre-match formalities, the team gathered in front of the cameras for the official match photo. Francesco crouched down in the front row, his expression serious, determined. The cameras clicked away, capturing the moment that would either be remembered as the night Arsenal announced themselves as one of the true contenders—or another painful lesson in European football.
As soon as the photo was done, the players dispersed back to their positions. Mertesacker and Buffon walked up to the referee for the coin toss. The referee pulled out a coin, holding it up between them.
"Heads or tails?" the referee asked.
Buffon spoke first. "Heads."
The referee flicked the coin into the air, all three men watching as it landed on the grass.
"Tails," the referee announced.
Mertesacker gave a firm nod. "We'll take the kickoff."
The decision made, both captains shook hands one final time before jogging back to their respective teams.
Mertesacker returned to the Arsenal huddle, his voice loud and clear. "Alright, we start with the ball. Let's set the tempo early. No hesitation, no fear. We show them what Arsenal football is."
The squad nodded in unison, the fire in their eyes evident.
Francesco exhaled sharply, feeling the weight of the moment settle on his shoulders. He wanted this. He wanted to make history.
As the referee blew his whistle and signaled for the game to begin, Francesco locked eyes with Alexis Sanchez. The Chilean smirked.
"Let's make some magic, hermano."
Francesco smirked back.
As the referee's whistle echoed through the stadium, the game exploded into life. Arsenal, dressed in their iconic red and white, immediately pushed forward, while Juventus, in their classic black and white stripes, stood firm, ready to absorb the early pressure.
Francesco took his first few touches, feeling the ball at his feet, letting his instincts take over. His heart was pounding, but it wasn't nerves—it was adrenaline, pure and electrifying. He glanced up, scanning the field, already looking for the gaps in Juventus' rigid defense.
Juventus pressed high, refusing to let Arsenal settle into their usual rhythm. Pirlo, the maestro in midfield, dictated play with his signature calmness, spraying passes across the pitch, while Vidal used his physicality to break through Arsenal's midfield lines.
Arsenal responded in kind. Coquelin, tasked with breaking up play, threw himself into tackles, disrupting Juventus' flow. Santi Cazorla, the magician, danced between defenders, looking to carve out an opening.
The game was played at a relentless pace, both teams desperate to gain control. The ball zipped from one end of the pitch to the other, neither side willing to concede an inch.
The first real chance of the game came in the 6th minute. Juventus worked the ball out to the left, where Tévez latched onto a pass from Pirlo. The Argentine cut inside, feinting past Koscielny before unleashing a venomous strike towards the top corner.
Wojciech Szczęsny reacted instantly, leaping to his right, fingertips grazing the ball just enough to push it onto the crossbar. The Emirates gasped, then erupted in applause.
Arsenal responded immediately. Mesut Özil, finding space between the lines, threaded a perfect ball to Giroud. The Frenchman shrugged off Bonucci and fired low toward the far post, but Buffon was equal to it, getting down quickly to make the save.
By the 10th minute, both goalkeepers had already been called into action twice. Francesco, playing wide on the left, tested Patrice Evra with his dribbling, forcing the France full-back into uncomfortable positions.
In the 14th minute, Juventus nearly broke through. A lofted pass from Pirlo found Alvaro Morata, who brought it down beautifully before taking a shot. Again, Szczęsny produced a stunning save, diving low to his left to parry the effort away.
But Arsenal were relentless. Just two minutes later, Alexis Sanchez picked up the ball on the right, skipping past two defenders that is Lichsteiner and Chiellini before cutting inside. He rifled a shot towards the top corner, and for a moment, it looked destined to ripple the net—until Buffon, like a man defying time itself, stretched out a strong hand to deny the goal.
The game was becoming a showcase of elite goalkeeping.
In the 18th minute, Francesco found himself in space. Özil, with his unparalleled vision, spotted his run and delivered a perfectly weighted ball over the top. Francesco took a brilliant first touch, setting himself up just inside the box.
Evra and Barzagli rushed to close him down, but Francesco didn't hesitate—he cut inside onto his right foot and let fly.
Buffon was forced into action once more, diving to his right to tip the ball wide.
Francesco groaned in frustration but quickly refocused. He could feel it—he was getting closer.
By the 20th minute, the game had already produced eight saves—four from Szczęsny, four from Buffon.
Both teams had moments of dominance, but neither could break the deadlock. The Emirates crowd, fully engaged, roared with every Arsenal attack, gasped at every Juventus counter, living and breathing every second of the game.
Mertesacker shouted instructions from the back, organizing the defense, while Buffon's booming voice could be heard commanding his teammates.
Despite Arsenal's blistering start, Juventus soon began to show their tactical superiority. Their 3-5-2 formation gave them an extra man in midfield, allowing them to dictate the tempo. With Pirlo orchestrating play from deep and Vidal with Marchisio pressing relentlessly, Arsenal suddenly found themselves chasing shadows.
From the 20th minute onward, the game shifted. Juventus, patient and methodical, started to dominate possession, passing the ball around with precision. Every Arsenal attack was now being stifled before it could even develop.
Francesco, who had been a livewire on the left, was suddenly finding fewer opportunities. Evra and Barzagli, backed by the extra numbers in midfield, doubled up on him, cutting off his space. Meanwhile, Alexis Sanchez was facing the same problem on the opposite flank, with Lichsteiner and Chiellini ensuring he had no room to operate.
In the 23rd minute, Juventus nearly made their control count. Morata received the ball at the edge of the box, turned past Koscielny, and fired a low shot toward the bottom corner. Szczęsny, who had been in sensational form, got down quickly to make another crucial save, pushing the ball wide.
Arsenal were now struggling to get out of their own half. Every time they tried to play out, Juventus' midfield suffocated them with high pressing. Coquelin and Cazorla found themselves overrun, forced to play hurried passes that Juventus easily intercepted.
Pirlo was having the time of his life, dictating the game like a conductor leading an orchestra. In the 27th minute, he played a pinpoint diagonal ball to Tévez, who brought it down with one touch before cutting inside and curling a shot toward the far post.
This time, it looked unstoppable.
But Szczęsny once again proved his worth, diving full stretch to tip the ball around the post.
The Emirates breathed a collective sigh of relief.
Despite the pressure, Arsenal were hanging on.
By the 30th minute, it was clear that Juventus had taken control. They had Arsenal pinned back, recycling possession, probing for openings. The midfield trio of Pirlo, Vidal, and Marchisio was simply too much to handle.
Wenger could be seen on the sidelines, gesturing animatedly, urging his team to find a way to regain their composure.
Francesco dropped deeper, trying to help his team build from the back. Özil, usually the man to unlock defenses, was being shadowed by Vidal, who was giving him no breathing space.
Arsenal needed a moment to reset, a spark to turn the tide back in their favor.
Then, in the 32nd minute, they got it.
As Juventus continued to dominate possession, Arsenal finally found an opportunity to break. Marchisio, perhaps growing overconfident, attempted a risky pass in midfield. Coquelin lunged in with perfect timing, intercepting the ball and immediately sending it forward to Cazorla.
Sensing an opportunity, Francesco made a run down the left flank, sprinting into space behind Barzagli. Cazorla saw it and delivered a beautifully weighted pass over the top.
Francesco controlled it with his first touch, knocking it forward with the outside of his boot. Suddenly, it was just him and Buffon.
The Emirates rose to its feet.
Chiellini was closing in from the side, but Francesco didn't hesitate. He struck the ball low and hard toward the far post.
Buffon dived, stretching out his right hand.
For a split second, time seemed to slow.
Then—the fingertips of a legend made the save.
Buffon pushed the ball just enough to send it clipping the outside of the post before rolling out for a corner.
Francesco buried his face in his hands, barely believing it.
It had been so close.
But the crowd roared in approval. Arsenal had found their way back into the fight.
Momentum Shifts Again
The near goal seemed to breathe new life into Arsenal. The players, feeding off the energy of the crowd, upped their intensity.
Mertesacker, ever the leader, clapped his hands and shouted, "Come on, boys! We go again!"
Özil, now seeing more of the ball, started finding spaces to operate. Cazorla began to dictate play in midfield, his silky footwork allowing Arsenal to evade Juventus' press.
In the 35th minute, Arsenal created another golden opportunity.
This time, it was Sanchez who found a gap. He darted past Lichsteiner and floated a perfect cross into the box. Giroud, rising above Bonucci, met it with a thunderous header.
The ball was flying toward the top corner—
But Buffon, yet again, came to Juventus' rescue, tipping it over the bar.
The crowd groaned in frustration, but Arsenal were knocking on the door.
Juventus, who had controlled the previous ten minutes, were now being forced onto the back foot.
With the first half winding down, both teams were desperate to land the first blow.
Juventus, despite Arsenal's resurgence, remained dangerous. In the 38th minute, Pirlo spotted a gap and played an inch-perfect through ball to Morata. The Spaniard raced toward goal, only to be denied by a last-ditch tackle from Koscielny.
The Emirates erupted in appreciation.
Arsenal responded in the 42nd minute with yet another close call.
Özil slipped a pass through to Francesco, who had peeled away from his marker. With one touch, he flicked the ball past Chiellini and raced into the box.
Buffon came rushing out.
Francesco, seeing the angle closing, attempted a cheeky chip over the veteran keeper.
The Emirates held its breath.
The ball floated in the air, spinning toward the goal.
And then—
Chiellini, running back desperately, cleared it off the line with an outstretched boot.
Francesco fell to his knees, hands on his head. So close again.
As the game edged toward halftime, both teams had given everything. It was an intense, tactical battle of elite footballing minds and raw individual brilliance.
Then, in the 44th minute, Juventus had one last chance.
Vidal played a quick one-two with Tévez and unleashed a powerful shot from just outside the box.
The Emirates watched in horror as the ball rocketed toward goal.
But Szczęsny, who had been Arsenal's savior all night, produced a stunning reaction save, palming it over the crossbar.
The referee checked his watch.
Moments later—the halftime whistle blew.
Players from both teams bent over, hands on their knees, catching their breath. It had been 45 minutes of relentless, high-intensity football.
The scoreline remained 0-0, but the quality on display had been nothing short of extraordinary.
As Francesco walked toward the tunnel, Buffon patted him on the back and gave him a knowing smile.
"You're getting closer," the Italian legend said.
Francesco smirked.
"I'll get one past you soon."
Buffon chuckled. "We'll see, ragazzo."
As Arsenal entered the dressing room, Wenger was already at the board, ready to make adjustments.
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Name : Francesco Lee
Age : 16 (2014)
Birthplace : London, England
Football Club : Arsenal First Team
Championship History : None
Match Played: 27
Goal: 32
Assist: 12
MOTM: 8