God Of football

Chapter 933: Irreplaceable.

The news broke just after sunrise in London, long before most people had gone through their first cup of coffee.

A bright banner across every sports feed read the same thing:

Arsenal complete the signing of Victor Gyökeres.

Within minutes, timelines across Arsenal Twitter started moving at a speed that only transfer confirmations could trigger.

No one eased into the morning because the fan base had been woken up swinging.

A user called Northbank Poet posted a short clip of himself half-asleep, hair in every direction, pointing to the announcement on his TV.

”Look at what God has done,” he wrote. ”We are cooking breakfast before the day even starts.”

Another fan quote-tweeted the club’s announcement with a screenshot of a calculator app open.

”Seventy-nine goals plus Fifty-something. I don’t want to say what I’m thinking, but I’m thinking it loudly.”

On a supporters’ blog, the comments section under the transfer presentation lit up like a live chat.

”Someone check on the goalkeepers in this league. They deserve counselling,” one person typed.

A second commenter added, ”Arteta is literally collecting all the types of players he wished he had when he played his career mode on FIFA.”

A third wrote, ”This is either genius or financially poor, but I’m already buying the Gyökeres shirt, so whatever.”

Fans from other clubs wandered in too, as they always did.

A United fan replied to the thread with a resigned sigh typed into words.

”Fawning over some Portuguese league striker while you have the world’s best player on your team is some dumb attitude from the Arsenal fans.”

”I thought he was coming to us. Cool. Back to Sesko then. Enjoy, greed FC.”

Someone from the Arsenal side shot back, ”It was always going to happen, and it finally has. I can finally go on that date now.”

Underneath all the noise was a real buzz about one thing:

What happens now that Izan and Gyökeres, two of the three players with the most goals the past season, line up on the field?

One supporter wrote, ”The guy who scored seventy-nine goals last season and claimed the Golden Boot is about to get a partner in the guy who finished third in that same European Golden Boot race. I don’t know what we’re supposed to expect, but I’m nervous in a good way.”

Someone else added, ”Imagine being a defender. You stop the Swedish tank, and now you have to deal with the teenage demon in Izan behind him. This is cruelty.”

By mid-morning, every sports channel had pulled the signing into their running order.

The discussion on Premier Daily opened with a still image of Gyökeres holding up the Arsenal shirt, despite the former not even arriving in England yet.

The host leaned forward and gestured at the graphic. ”This is heavy business. Arsenal just added a guaranteed goalscorer to a squad that already has the most dangerous player in all of Europe and of football.”

The first analyst, a former striker himself, nodded slowly.

”People shit on him, excuse me for the language, because he did it all in the Portuguese league, but Gyokeres is good. He drags entire defences out of shape. That movement with someone as ruthless as Izan behind him... that is straight nightmares.”

The second analyst laughed under his breath.

”Seventy-nine goals from Izan last season. Mbappé in second. Gyökeres in third. Arsenal basically looked at that list and said, ’Yeah, let’s just put two of them together.’”

The host raised a hand. ”There’s risk, though. Big forwards don’t always blend.”

”True,” the former striker replied, ”but Izan’s game is so adaptable. He doesn’t need the ball every minute to hurt you. Gyökeres thrives on chaos and space. If their chemistry clicks, Arsenal won’t just be better, they’ll be unplayable.”

”Last season was fun, but this season is about to be a whole lot,” the analyst paused, looking for a better word, before turning towards the other people in the room, ” funner ”

By the time noon rolled around, every comment section, feed, and group chat had turned into a mix of excitement, taunting, and pure anticipation.

Because the Arsenal fans knew what was next and who they were up against.

...

Chatter flew about the Cafeteria that afternoon when Izan entered with clattering cutlery, and the low hum of players drifting in and out between sessions.

Madueke was loudest, which wasn’t surprising, considering who he was sitting next to.

He was leaning across the table toward Havertz with a grin he clearly wasn’t trying to hide.

”You know your job might be gone soon, yeah?” Madueke said.

”Big Victor is coming. You might need to start practising as a six or something.”

Havertz didn’t look bothered.

He just stabbed a piece of fruit with his fork and smiled at him.

”If Izan couldn’t put me out of business, Vic definitely won’t.”

Saka, sitting opposite them, let out a short laugh.

”That’s actually true.”

He was mid-bite when he noticed someone approaching.

Then, he nodded toward Izan.

”Speak of the devil.”

Izan set his bottle down and then raised an eyebrow.

”I’m a gunner, not a devil.”

Saka shrugged.

”Tell that to the United fans. They’re already shaking for the first game of the season.”

Izan just smirked and sat down while Madueke leaned closer to Saka and tapped his shoulder, but Saka just ignored him.

”Talking about competition, yeah,” he said, thumbing his hand towards Madueke, ”I used to breathe easy on that right flank. Now I’ve got this black dreadster breathing down my neck every training session.”

Madueke, who had hopped over to another table a few metres away, heard his name and shot a thumbs-up over his shoulder, to which Saka snorted.

”Exactly. Look at him. He enjoys this too much.”

He returned his attention to Izan.

”Meanwhile, you’re not even sweating. Your replacement might show up soon, though. Eze is coming for your spot.”

Izan drank some water before responding, looking keenly at Saka before replying.

”You really think someone can replace me?”

Saka opened his mouth but realised he didn’t have a clean comeback.

Izan got to his feet, bottle in hand, and walked off toward the other end of the room.

Saka watched him go for a few seconds, then nodded to himself.

”That was actually cold. I can’t lie.”

Havertz pushed his chair back and stood as well, still laughing.

”He’s different, man.”

Madueke wandered back to the table with a drink, looking between them in confusion.

”What happened?”

Saka only shook his head.

”I’m not the one who told you to leave,” he said before also leaving the table.

.....

[Late Afternoon]

The room was quiet when the video stopped.

The last freeze-frame of Tottenham’s press sat on the screen for a moment before the projector clicked and the lights slowly brightened.

Players blinked as their eyes adjusted to the lights after being in the dark for close to an hour, while Arteta stepped forward with the remote still in his hand.

”That’s the picture,” he began, taking in the faces of his players.

”You’ve seen how they build, how they trap, where they rush their decisions, and where they leave gaps. None of this is new to you.”

”This match is not just another trophy. If we win this one, you put yourselves next to two teams in the history of this sport. Only two. Barcelona. Bayern. Nobody else has managed to win all six.”

The room stayed still as the players all stared at their manager.

It wasn’t news to them that they could also that their names, whether they participated or not, would be embedded in the annals of history.

”That level is hard to reach,” Arteta continued after a while, ”and even harder to stay at. But you’ve given yourselves the chance. You earned it last season, and you earned it in pre-season. Now the door is right there.”

He pointed at the blank screen behind him.

”They will hate you for being in this position,” he said.

”Fans, media, even their players. That’s normal. You don’t need to match that hate. You only match their tempo, match their fight, and impose the football we worked on.”

Arteta placed the remote on the table beside him as he came closer to the front.

”We travel in two days. Udine will not be a friendly atmosphere for either side, so prepare yourselves properly. Do whatever needs to be done from now till then. Recovery, study, sleep, treatment. No shortcuts.”

He gave them one last look.

”You know the standards.”

The players rose from their seats in small clusters, as the room began emptying, not as they had come in but with purpose this time.