"Bang!"
After a brief introduction, the morning training session officially began.
With the addition of two new players, Wenger specifically included various shooting and passing drills in this morning's training, wanting to see how they performed on the field.
There was no need to watch Maël's performance on the field; his goals and assists highlights alone, with replays, could fill an entire half.
Gilbert's were fewer, but with good editing, they could fill a halftime break.
Now, the main thing was to see where their abilities stood among Arsenal's stars! "Receive the ball!"
After warming up, Alexandre Song and several midfielders stood in the center circle, receiving passes from the assistant coaches and sweeping the ball to the wings.
There, a group of players skilled in crossing were already waiting. They sprinted towards the byline, observing the runs of their teammates in the middle and the goalkeeper's positioning.
"Bang! Bang!"
Crosses flew from both wings towards the center, where Van Persie, Walcott, and others quickly surged forward to attack, heading or volleying the ball towards the goal.
Maël quickly realized that in training matches without defensive pressure, Van Persie's finishing ability was terrifyingly strong, outstanding to the point of being conspicuous. Whether it was a header, a push shot, or his legendary volley, he could produce high-quality shots!
As long as the cross from the wing didn't go behind him, he could comfortably finish in the middle, with a success rate of about three out of four shots! This was almost no different from watching his goal highlights up close; spectacular goals that could be scored in a flash of inspiration in a match were commonplace in training.
"Terrifying."
Maël sighed, stepping back and forth on the wing to loosen his ankles, ready to receive the ball and cross.
Wenger's idea of transforming him into an all-around forward was likely just a preliminary thought; it was impossible to immediately put him in the center to finish.
That wasn't what he was good at now; he didn't have the ability to receive the ball with his back to the goal or protect the ball, nor did he have the ability to finish or head the ball.
These could be added to his training plan in the future to gradually make him more comprehensive, gradually approaching an all-around player, like Ronaldo at Real Madrid, or Messi at Barcelona.
Although their styles and focuses were different, their contributions to the team on the offensive end could both be described as all-around goalscorers.
"No rush."
For now, what Maël needed to do was to firmly establish himself on the wing and show off all his excellent abilities! On this point, he was very confident; his lv4 Precision Guided Cross and lv4 Instep Arc could both allow him to deliver high-quality crosses.
"Receive the ball, kid!"
A voice responded, and Alexandre Song sent a long, arcing pass from midfield. The ball landed in a good spot, and controlling it wasn't too difficult.
Maël stopped the ball on his outside, glancing at Van Persie's position in the center, noticing that he was at the edge of the penalty arc, preparing to charge into the box.
For some reason, Maël felt a sense of security and confidence. Watching a top finisher waiting for his pass, he knew that his crossing ability was finally going to be put to great use.
No need to worry about anything else, as long as the quality was high and the placement was accurate, the other party would definitely find a way to score!
"Bang!"
Maël flicked his leg to send the pass, his ankle suddenly twitching upwards as he kicked, sending a fast, in-swinging ball towards the center.
In the middle, Van Persie had already lowered his center of gravity, ready to receive the ball. He knew that the young man had provided 27 assists in a single season in the EFL Championship, so he should have a good grasp of passing.
But... even so, when Maël's pass spiraled over his head, surprise flashed in his eyes.
He didn't expect the ball speed to be so fast, the in-swinging arc to be so large... it almost instantly curved to a spot more than a step in front of him.
"Can't keep up!"
Van Persie looked frustrated. He knew this was a high-quality pass that would likely break through the opponent's defense in a match, creating a chance to threaten their goal.
If he had started a step earlier, he could have comfortably chested the ball down and pushed it into the far corner, or directly volleyed a powerful shot! "Wait!"
He suddenly remembered a type of shot, shifting his weight forward, and as he was about to fall, he exploded off the ground with his toes.
A diving header!
Van Persie's body flew out, heading the ball at the last moment as it passed in front of him, completing a high-quality diving header.
His body stretched and sprang open like a fish, even using the last bit of his core strength to tuck his chest and flick his neck in the air, extremely agile and breathtaking.
"Swish!"
The ball passed Szczęsny's hands and flew into the far corner of the goal.
"Oh!"
"Robin! You're playing like your life depends on it even in training?"
"That ball was so comfortable to hit, my god. If I could pull that off in a league game, it could compete for the top five goals of the season."
After getting up from the ground, Van Persie saw his teammates holding their heads in amazement, marveling at his shooting skills.
He turned his gaze to Maël, who was already turning away on the wing, it felt like a partnership! "Let's try again."
Van Persie didn't rush to a conclusion, he suppressed the fervor in his eyes, waiting for Maël's next pass.
"Bang! Bang!"
As Maël stepped up round after round, delivering precise Arc Guiding Crosses, Van Persie in the center position gradually started to feel like he was getting into the zone.
Sometimes he would leap high, looking back at the moon, elegantly flicking the ball into the far corner of the goal; other times he would stretch his body sideways, meeting the ball that was already heading towards the goal with an extremely comfortable volley.
Instep Arc volley, violent instep side volley, handsome side hook volley while jumping in the air!
He used them all!
"Swish!"
"Swish!"
The ball fell into the net again and again, leaving Szczęsny and Almunia, who took turns guarding the goal, sighing at the ball, and eventually feeling a bit of a loss of confidence in their goalkeeping.
Young Szczęsny once tried a trick, knowing that Van Persie's shots often went for the far corner, he leaned towards one corner in advance, thinking he might have a one-in-two chance of guessing the right direction and saving the shot.
"Bang!"
As a result, Van Persie observed his movement and, with an extremely insulting Instep Arc shot to the center, hit the ball to the spot where he had just been standing.
Szczęsny: "..."
"Hahaha!" Van Persie smiled, he hadn't felt this refreshed in training for a long time.
Looking at Maël on the wing again, he was sure that as long as this kid was good in other aspects and could get a starting position next season, they would definitely have a good chemistry.
Calling them the best partners might be premature, but being able to coordinate was certain!
"Good ball, Maël!" Van Persie no longer called Maël 'kid' like the others, but directly called his name.
He accepted this young player who had returned from loan from the EFL Championship and recognized the value of his 27 assists.
At this time, other players also slowly discovered Maël's Cross skills, and their eyes towards Maël changed.
"Good winger."
Near the center circle, Ramsey fiddled with the ball under his feet, and sighed: "Looking at it this way, his assist data is very reasonable, but the 40 goals are still unverifiable."
"How can they be unverifiable?" Diaby showed his big white teeth, smiling and said: "Just go and see his highlights, if that doesn't work, you can go to the EFL Championship yourself to try."
Ramsey grunted, inadvertently noticing that Alexandre Song's expression next to him seemed a little wrong, as if he was a little heavy?
He pulled Diaby and motioned him to look over there together, "What do you think he's thinking?"
"What's wrong?"
Diaby was still relatively outgoing, and went up and slapped Alexandre Song on the shoulder, "Afraid he'll steal your position? Don't worry, your positions are far apart."
"It's not that." Alexandre Song shook his head, turned around with a serious expression and said: "I'm afraid he'll steal my limelight."
"What?!"
Ramsey frowned in confusion, his expression exaggerated, "You're a defensive midfielder, what limelight is he going to steal from you?"
"Huh?"
Alexandre Song looked surprised, he felt that everyone's perception of him was biased, "Defense is just the responsibility of my position, passing and assisting are my strengths, how could you not know?"
He could often pass extremely wonderful balls to Van Persie, helping Van Persie complete many miracle goals.
Therefore, he could justifiably regard himself as—Europe's top passer.
"Okay, okay."
Ramsey was speechless, and gave him a thumbs up and encouraged him: "You are right, you are the strongest."
"That's just how it is." Alexandre Song leaned back slightly, spreading his hands with a look of confusion and ignorance.
Next, the team conducted fixed-area one-on-one and two-on-two offensive and defensive training.
They competed in a space of about twenty-five square meters, each group for 3 minutes, with a 1-minute rest to change opponents.
"Bang, bang, bang!"
In the one-on-one training, Maël encountered the team's main right-back 'Factory Flower' Sagna, the main center-back 'High Priest' Vermaelen, and the hardworking, unremarkable main left-back Gibbs.
He encountered some trouble because, in a fixed area, he couldn't utilize his speed advantage.
"Pa!"
"Cha!"
In more than ten training sessions, he was repeatedly intercepted by Sagna, tackled by Gibbs. Vermaelen looked gentle, but on the field, he didn't give an inch, often actively seeking physical confrontation with him.
Maël got a preliminary feel for the pressure of the Premier League. These defenders had quick reaction speeds, and their tackles were fierce and decisive.
More importantly, they played with their brains.
They were good at using feints in defense, using body orientation to deceive attacking players into breaking through in the direction they designed, or compressing space to force attacking players into corner positions.
To the naked eye, the Premier League's confrontation might not be as intense or direct as the EFL Championship.
But in reality, the contest of minds was constant, and everyone was looking for opportunities to set traps for their opponents.
Of course, another reason was that it was Maël's first day joining the training, and he hadn't adapted to the rhythm here yet.
Gilbert, who arrived with him, also encountered this situation. In theory, his footwork was more refined, and his success rate in breaking through in narrow areas should not be low.
Who knew that, except for once when he dodged Alexandre Song's sliding tackle and got past him, he had no other successful dribbles.
"Clap, clap, clap!" A burst of applause full of mockery came from the sidelines towards the two of them. Everyone turned to look and found that it was Fabregas making the sound.
"What's wrong with him?"
The team's right-back Sagna glanced at him and frowned at the left-back Gibbs beside him, "Isn't that unnecessary?"
"Who knows."
Gibbs shook his head, glanced at Mr. Wenger, and found that he had also noticed the situation, and with a straight face, sent Philip to Fabregas's seat.
"What are you doing sitting here?"
Philip then came to Fabregas's side. Since Wenger and Fabregas had a conflict in the player tunnel after the game, they had already fallen out.
"Being a spectator."
Fabregas was still wearing Arsenal's training uniform, and said indifferently, "I've been reporting injuries to the club for a long time, afraid of missing the club's training sessions, so I came to observe and see, is that not allowed?"
"Don't be ridiculous."
As the first assistant coach, Philip had a high position in the club. Since Wenger had already broken up with the other party, he would not give the other party a good look.
There was a hint of disgust in his eyes, and he said seriously, "If you don't participate in training, please leave the training ground. If you don't want to leave, then don't make any noise."
Fabregas shrugged his shoulders and looked ahead, neither refusing nor agreeing, looking like a dead pig unafraid of boiling water.
He was different from those who were penniless and played rogue. He was very proud, had his own confidence, and felt very good about himself.
Think about becoming Arsenal captain at the age of 21, winning the European Cup in the same year, and then winning the World Cup two years later! The peak Barcelona didn't hide their desire and pursuit of him, and even at the cost of some infamy, they had to recruit him into the team.
What kind of player was he? Even he himself couldn't say, but one thing was certain, comparing Maël and Gilbert to him was an insult to him.
He wanted to get back the face he lost in the player tunnel that day, and before leaving, he would vent all the anger he suffered in front of Wenger on the two young players that Wenger valued.
And tell everyone that it was impossible to compare these two young players with him!
In the following two-on-two offensive and defensive training, Maël and Gilbert were in a group. Wenger seemed to think that the two had some experience as partners and had more tacit understanding.
"I'm afraid I'll implicate you."
Gilbert looked worried. He didn't have much confidence in himself, and after being mocked by Fabregas's applause, he felt a little self-conscious.
"It's okay."
Maël glanced at Fabregas sitting in the distance, and a few traces of disgust rose in his heart. He comforted Gilbert, "Don't care what others think, just perform well."
"Okay," Gilbert replied without much conviction, put on a scrimmage vest, and stood next to Maël.
"Bip!" With a whistle from Wenger, two-on-two training began simultaneously on multiple fields. Maël and Gilbert's opponents were Vermaelen and Koscielny.
At this time, Koscielny had a sharp red mohawk, looking extremely sharp and aggressive.
He and Vermaelen rushed over together. The two center-backs, who had partnered in the Premier League, already had a good understanding.
As soon as Maël passed the ball to Gilbert, they quickly squeezed the space and surrounded him. After trapping him in the corner, they stepped forward and poked the ball out of bounds.
"Bang!" An assistant coach quickly pushed a soccer ball and passed it to Gilbert's feet.
Gilbert suppressed the tension in his heart, took two steps towards Koscielny, and passed the ball to Maël on the side.
Vermaelen, guarding this side, quickly followed, wanting to quickly complete his defensive positioning in front of Maël and give him some pressure.
"Bang!" Maël noticed that he was rushing fiercely, so he didn't stop the ball at his feet to grind slowly. Instead, he took a long stride past Vermaelen the moment he received the ball.
A body feint!
He started running, bursting into speed in the limited space, bypassing Vermaelen and chasing after the soccer ball.
Vermaelen didn't expect this, and even less did he expect Maël's speed. As soon as he turned around, he saw Maël easily overtake him from his left and receive the ball in front of him.
Successful breakthrough!
"So fast!" He smiled and sighed, then turned his head without feeling annoyed.
In the subsequent defense, he changed his strategy, no longer pressing high to force the two, but instead releasing distance and dragging behind.
Anyway, it was only about twenty-five square meters. He and Koscielny, one in front and one behind, one pressing and one protecting, basically occupied the entire area, so they were not afraid of being used for a speed breakthrough.
Maël and Gilbert's breakthrough success rate dropped again, and the two even looked a little embarrassed at times.
"Clang!"
In the last two-on-two attack and defense, Koscielny made a clean and precise sliding tackle, kicking the ball under Gilbert's feet out of the boundary of the attack and defense area.
This was a perfect defense!
"Pa pa pa!" Applause rang out again from the sidelines, seemingly applauding Koscielny, but everyone knew what it actually meant.
Fabregas sat there jokingly, even shouting a few times this time: "Good! That's how it should be, let the young people experience the intensity and difficulty of the Premier League! It must be a good thing to let them know earlier that this is not a secondary league. Young people must have a clear understanding of themselves."
"You can't think that if the data is good in the EFL Championship, you will definitely be able to inherit it in the Premier League. This is a completely different place."
As soon as his voice fell, Mr. Wenger seemed to be unable to bear it any longer, turned around angrily, and strode towards the place where Fabregas was sitting.
Fabregas stood up from his seat, ready to confront Wenger.
"Mr. Wenger!"
Many assistant coaches immediately followed, afraid that the two would have a fierce conflict, and wanted to go up to ease the situation.
The training was terminated, and the players also leaned towards the position of the two. Most people had complex expressions, some with disgust, and some were relatively indifferent.
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