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God Of football

Chapter 362: Saved By PR [Pistacho031_3]] · Oct 10, 2026

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Chapter List (1057)

Page number / 22

351 Chapter 351: Tour 2026-10-10
352 Chapter 352: First Day At Work[Golden Ticket] 2026-10-10
353 Chapter 353: First Session 2026-10-10
354 Chapter 354: First Session, Completed 2026-10-10
355 Chapter 355: Finding The Right Piece [Nameyelus Gifts too much] 2026-10-10
356 Chapter 356: Izan’s Tactics 2026-10-10
357 Chapter 357: Prelude to Pre-Season 2026-10-10
358 Chapter 358: Just 2 Days 2026-10-10
359 Chapter 359: Watching From Afar [Golden Gachapon: Pistacho031_3 ] 2026-10-10
360 Chapter 360 - 2 in 26 [Golden Gachapon: Pistacho031_3 ] 2026-10-10
361 Chapter 361: Ball And Banter [Golden Gachapon: Pistacho031_3 ] 2026-10-10
362 Chapter 362: Saved By PR [Pistacho031_3]] 2026-10-10
363 Chapter 363: Arsenal’s Newest Man [Pistacho031_3]] 2026-10-10
364 Chapter 364: Pending Start[Gachapon Bonus] 2026-10-10
365 Chapter 365: US Tour [Golden Gacha - ] 2026-10-10
366 Chapter 366: Pre-Season Fever [Normal Release] 2026-10-10
367 Chapter 367: It Is Time [Golden Gacha, Pistacho031_3] 2026-10-10
368 Chapter 368: A Real Red Devil [Golden Gacha Pistacho_031_3] 2026-10-10
369 Chapter 369: A New Menace [Normal Release] 2026-10-10
370 Chapter 370: Football At Its Finest[Golden Gacha - ] 2026-10-10
371 Chapter 371: The NBA [Golden Gacha - ] 2026-10-10
372 Chapter 372: The American Game. 2026-10-10
373 Chapter 373: Night In LA [Normal Release] 2026-10-10
374 Chapter 374: Early Lead [Golden Gacha] 2026-10-10
375 Chapter 375: Foot On The PitChapter [Golden Gacha. Pistacho031_3] 2026-10-10
376 Chapter 376: Goal In LA [Normal Release] 2026-10-10
377 Chapter 377: Relentless Leverkusen [Final Gacha - ] 2026-10-10
378 Chapter 378: First Start 2026-10-10
379 Chapter 379: Something Greater 2026-10-10
380 Chapter 380: Late Night Escapades 2026-10-10
381 Chapter 381: Clash Of Two Titans 2026-10-10
382 Chapter 382: Clash Of Two Titans: [2] 2026-10-10
383 Chapter 383: War In A Coliseum 2026-10-10
384 Chapter 384: Brilliance Under The Lights 2026-10-10
385 Chapter 385: Egyptian Magic 2026-10-10
386 Chapter 386: Little Conductor 2026-10-10
387 Chapter 387: Halfway There 2026-10-10
388 Chapter 388: Halftime Antics 2026-10-10
389 Chapter 389: Troll 2026-10-10
390 Chapter 390: Against the Best [Golden Ticket] 2026-10-10
391 Chapter 391: Something Special 2026-10-10
392 Chapter 392: Pre-Season Conference 2026-10-10
393 Chapter 393: Unexpected(Golden Ticket) 2026-10-10
394 Chapter 394: Unspoken Words. 2026-10-10
395 Chapter 395: A World Of Their Own 2026-10-10
396 Chapter 396: League Preparations 2026-10-10
397 Chapter 397: Life At Colney 2026-10-10
398 Chapter 398: Whispers Of Fame 2026-10-10
399 Chapter 399: Moments Between Whistles 2026-10-10
400 Chapter 400: The Premier League 2026-10-10

Chapter 362: Saved By PR [Pistacho031_3]]

Izan stretched out on his couch, the match still playing on his TV.

Arsenalʼs youngsters had pulled off a ridiculous comeback, flipping a disastrous first half into a dominant second.

If this had been a Premier League game, it would be all over Sky Sports with dramatic music and tactical breakdowns.

But right now? The group chat was in flames.

Saka: 3-0 down to Leyton Orient is actually criminal

Martinelli: Nah, that first half should be erased from history

Nelson: Weʼre never speaking about it again

Timber: Didnʼt happen. I refuse to believe it

Izan smirked and typed.

Izan: That long throw from their keeper had us looking like schoolboys

Saka: Kiwior turning around like he was waiting for VAR to save him

Martinelli: Bro looked at the linesman like he was about to cry

Nelson: He was buffering IRL

Izan laughed. It was so bad it was funny. That entire first half had been a disasterclass.

But now? After the comeback? The tone had completely changed.

Saka: What did Mikel even say at halftime?

Nelson: ”They can score three? Good. We score five.”

Martinelli: ”Suffer now or suffer in the Prem.”

Timber: ”You want to play for Arsenal? PROVE IT.”

Izan could actually hear Arteta saying that last one, pacing up and down the dressing room, eyes burning. There was no way he let that first half slide.

Izan: Man is still fuming. Those boys are running laps tomorrow.

Saka: Oh, 100%. Even in preseason, Arteta doesnʼt forget.

Martinelli: Preseason or not, we went 3-0 down to LEYTON ORIENT. Thatʼs gotta be punishment training.

.....

The full-time whistle had barely blown before Twitter (or X, whatever) turned into a warzone.

Arsenal fans? Half relieved, half traumatized.

@GoonerMike: I aged 10 years watching that match. We won, but at what cost?

@InvincibleGooner: Leyton Orient had us in a SPLIFF for 45 minutes. Then Arteta turned into Prime Guardiola. I love this club.

@NorthBankBanter: We really said ”Spot them 3, letʼs make it interesting.”

Meanwhile, rival fans were having the time of their lives.

@ManUnitedMemez: ARSENAL WERE 3-0 DOWN TO LEYTON ORIENT??? TEARS IN MY EYES.

@ChelseaTrolls: And they think theyʼre winning the league??

@SpursFanTV: Even when Arsenal win, they find ways to embarrass themselves. Beautiful.

Even Leyton Orientʼs official account joined in:

@LeytonOrientFC: We had them SHAKING in the first half. GGʼs lads

The replies? Pure chaos.

@ArsenalForever: Delete this before Arteta sees it

@PremierLeagueFan: Leyton Orient admin is moving reckless

@GoonerKev: Iʼm actually sweating. Imagine we lost.

...…

Artetaʼs face in the post-match interview said it all.

He was not happy.

”We were sloppy,” he said, shaking his head. ”We lacked intensity, lacked focus. This is a learning moment, but also a warning.”

Then, when asked about the comeback:

”The response was good, yes. But we shouldnʼt need to be 3-0 down to wake up.”

He was still fuming.

Meanwhile, Leyton Orientʼs manager was grinning.

”The first half was brilliant, wasnʼt it?” he said. ”We gave them a real scare. Thatʼs what preseason is about—testing yourselves against the best.”

A few Arsenal youngsters also spoke after the game.

Ethan Nwaneri, who had scored one of the comeback goals, looked relieved more than anything.

”We knew we had to step up,” he admitted. ”The gaffer didnʼt hold back at halftime. Letʼs just say… we got the message loud and clear.”

Someone in the background chuckled.

Even the interviewer laughed. ”It was that bad?”

Ethan hesitated, then grinned. ”Letʼs just say no one wanted to be the reason we ran extra tomorrow.”

...….

The morning after, the Arsenal youngsters walked into training looking like men heading to war.

Arteta stood in the middle of the pitch, arms crossed.

No clipboard. No notes. Just disappointment.

And thatʼs when they knew—they were in for a long day.

No More. No More. No More.

The training ground was a graveyard of exhausted bodies.

Players were hunched over, hands on their knees, panting like marathon runners who had just finished a race they didnʼt sign up for.

Some lay flat on the grass, others crouched with their heads buried in their arms. Every single one of them was drenched in sweat.

Arteta? Perfectly fine.

Standing tall in the center of the pitch, arms crossed, watching them with the calm of a man who had just finished a light yoga session.

”No more!” someone screamed.

Then another.

And another.

”No more, boss!”

”Weʼre sorry, gaffer!”

”Never again!”

Arteta simply nodded. ”Good.”

Izan, bent over, hands on his knees, tried to catch his breath. He had experienced intense training sessions before, but this one was up there.

The preseason game mightʼve been a joke in the group chat, but right now? Nobody was laughing.

Artetaʼs voice cut through the silence.

”Tell me,” he said, hands behind his back, pacing slowly between them.

”The next time youʼre sitting at home, watching us go 3-0 down, will you still be joking in the group chat?”

The response was instant.

A row of shaking heads.

”No, boss.”

Arteta smirked. ”Good. Because if it happens again, we do this twice.”

Izan finally straightened up, wiping sweat from his face. The silence was so thick you could hear the heavy breathing of twenty grown men struggling to stay upright. And then—

He laughed.

Not just a chuckle. A proper laugh.

Because in hindsight, it was hilarious. The entire team, begging for mercy because of one bad half against Leyton Orient.

Arteta turned his head sharply.

”You think itʼs funny, Izan?”

Izan threw up his hands. ”A little, yeah.”

A few teammates chuckled—tired, broken chuckles—but chuckles nonetheless.

Arteta let the moment linger before sighing. ”Alright,” he said. ”Go wash up. Then head to the cafeteria for brunch.”

A few groans of relief echoed around the pitch.

”You made us come early,” Arteta continued, ”so none of you had breakfast. Eat. Recover. But donʼt think weʼre done. We still have training in the afternoon.”

The collective sigh of pain that followed could probably be heard from Emirates Stadium.

After brunch, the players trudged into the indoor training hall, expecting the usual post-match analysis.

Instead, they walked into a fully set-up media event—bright banners, camera crews, and tables covered in Arsenal merchandise.

For the first time that morning, there was life in their eyes.

”PR day, boys,” one of the staff members announced. ”Weʼve got some fun activities lined up. Smile for the cameras!”

Arteta, standing off to the side, merely crossed his arms. ”Enjoy it while it lasts.”

The first event was a Q&A session. Players took turns picking up tablets and answering pre-submitted questions from fans.

Ethan went first. ”Alright, letʼs see… ʼWhich player on the team would survive the longest in a zombie apocalypse?ʼ”

The room immediately turned chaotic.

”Not Jorginho,” Myles said, grinning.

Jorginho gasped. ”Excuse me?”

”Bro, youʼd try to negotiate with the zombies,” Ramsdale said.

The entire room burst into laughter.

Izan stepped up next. His question was: ”Would you rather score a last-minute winner in the Champions League final or assist a teammate for the winner?”

He smirked. ”Iʼll take the assist… but if no oneʼs there, Iʼll finish it myself.”

Myles let out a whistle. ”Nah, that was cold.”

Next, a small goal was set up for the next activity—a trick shot penalty challenge.

Jorginho went first, attempting a Panenka. He barely chipped it, and the ball rolled straight into the keeperʼs hands.

Silence.

Then the entire room erupted into laughter.

”Oh my days,” Ethan wheezed. ”That was disrespectfully bad.”

Jesus was up next. He went for power but miscalculated completely—his shot slammed into a nearby camera.

One of the PR staff members let out a horrified gasp.

”Yeah… Iʼm walking away,” Jesus muttered.

Ethan finally stepped up and buried his into the top corner. The ball snapped into the net so cleanly that everyone let out an impressed ʼOoooh!ʼ

”Manʼs got technique,” Rice said, nodding.

Saka and Martinelli, who had been missing from the morning training but had been very present in the group chat, finally showed up.

Seeing them, Izan smirked. ”Oh, look who it is. Didnʼt hear from you when we were 3-0 down.”

Saka grinned. ”I was providing emotional support… from a distance.”

Martinelli sat down, picking up a controller. ”Letʼs settle things properly. FIFA match. Whoʼs playing?”

Ethan and Myles took the challenge. Saka picked Arsenal as his team.

Izan, sitting nearby, couldnʼt resist. ”You better not go 3-0 down.”

The entire room burst into laughter again.

Saka just shook his head. ”Yʼall got jokes, huh?”

As the PR event wrapped up, players sprawled across the couches, some lying on the floor, completely drained.

Izan leaned back in his seat, scrolling through his phone. Social media was already in chaos over the Leyton Orient game.

Optimistic fan: ”Itʼs preseason, relax. The young guys will learn from it.”

Doomer fan: ”WE LOST THREE GOALS TO A LEAGUE TWO SIDE. WAKE UP.”

United fan trolling: ”3-0 to Leyton Orient? And you lot think youʼre winning the league?”

Arsenal fan clapping back: ”Donʼt you have a Glazers protest to attend?”

Izan just shook his head, amused. The internet never failed to entertain.

Then, before they could get too comfortable, Arteta re-entered the room.

He clapped his hands once. ”Alright, everyone up. Letʼs get back to work.”

The mood immediately shifted.

Groans filled the room. Players peeled themselves off the couches like they were carrying a hundred kilos on their backs.

Kiwior let out a long sigh. ”Man, I thought we were safe…”

Saka stretched his arms, yawning. ”Back to suffering, boys.”

And just like that, they were back in the video room.

A/n: Iʼm tired. Damn. 4 out of 10 for the day. Have fun reading. And if you have any plans to send a gift, hold onto it for me🥲. Iʼm dying

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