God Of football

Chapter 975: Is He Playing?

A day after Arsenal’s UCL clash against Athletic Bilbao, a clear but moderately grainy image surfaced online mid-morning, snapped outside a quiet Paris hotel.

In it was Izan, hoodie up, headphones on, pulling a small carry-on behind him as he crossed the pavement.

France.

On any other day, it might have gathered millions of likes like posts about Izan always did, as well as the usual comments, but the timing, with all that was upcoming, blew everything out of proportion.

Within minutes, the image was everywhere.

Cropped.

Zoomed.

Circled.

Captioned.

And everybody had something to say.

”So he’s already there?”

”Ballon d’Or mode.”

”No City then?”

The comments piled up faster than most posts could manage in a year.

A day after Bilbao, and already in Paris.

To a certain corner of the internet, that was enough.

The conclusion wrote itself.

One of Arsenal’s biggest games of the season so far was coming up, Manchester City away, and one of their captains and, inarguably, their best player and the best in the world was away in the city of baguettes and love.

Speculating eventually became the way to go as some fans brushed it off, saying it meant nothing and that things were just being taken out of proportion.

Others were less patient.

They read the silence as confirmation, and by the afternoon, the debate had made its way onto television.

In one studio session, the host leaned back slightly and left the talk to his guests on the show.

”That’s really bad of him,” one panellist said, leaning forward, palms flat on the table.

”I know what weight the Ballon D’Or carries for most players, and so his leaving to attend is okay, but for what I’ve been expecting of the kid, this is really unprofessional.”

”It’s happened before, and we’ve seen players leave right after the games to attend the ceremony, so he could have done the same.”

The second panellist didn’t flinch, putting on a smirk and then addressing the latter’s words.

”We don’t actually know that’s his decision,” he replied calmly.

”It could be something else. It could be the club allowing him to leave. People are jumping to conclusions.”

The first man shook his head, then pointed across the desk.

”You’re only saying that because you support City and you know what is in it for your team should he not play.”

A ripple of laughter moved through the studio after that as even the second panellist chuckled.

”Come on,” the second panellist shrugged. ”That’s lazy.”

”You know exactly what you’re doing,” the first shot back. ”No Izan, your chances go up. Simple as that.”

The accused panellist raised both hands, unbothered.

”Whatever. The kid’s been playing non-stop. A rest was due.”

”That argument doesn’t hold,” another voice cut in. ”He didn’t even go on international duty.”

The host stepped in before it tipped further.

”Let’s bring it back,” he said, voice measured.

”Whether it’s Izan’s choice or the club’s, the reality is this. Arsenal are a great side without Izan and the best with him on the pitch. This Manchester City side have improved from their abysmal performances last season, and if things are to really go on as suggested, chances are they drop points, a draw for me, or a win if they are really lucky.”

The camera pulled back as he continued.

”This fixture changes drastically depending on whether Izan’s name is on that team sheet.”

From London, the conversation carried north.

At the Etihad Campus, the mood was quieter yet nonetheless cagey.

Pep Guardiola stood near the edge of the training pitch, arms folded, eyes fixed on a group of players running through a positional drill.

His assistants hovered close, all in thought, before one moved closer.

”If he’s truly going to be out, we can be a bit bolder, yeah?”

Pep didn’t answer immediately.

He rubbed at his jaw, gaze still forward.

”And if he plays?” another assistant asked.

Pep finally turned.

”Then we suffer if we are not ready.”

A brief calculative pause followed as he stayed in thought.

”There’s the Izan-proof structure we discussed,” the first assistant said carefully.

”But it costs us width.”

Pep chuckled at that, snorting a bit.

”What ’Izan proof” plan? It was only a countermeasure I suggested to reduce the damage.”

”And if he doesn’t play,

He exhaled, then gave a small, decisive shrug.

”Let’s just prepare for both situations.”

The assistants leaned in as he continued.

”Tell the boys after this that we are going to extend sessions. And after the Arsenal game, they will get a day of rest, 2 if we are able to win the game.”

One of them smiled faintly.

”They won’t love that.”

Pep allowed himself a thin grin.

”They don’t need to love it, but they will love it when they win against this dominant Arsenal side.”

The rest of the week passed in a strange, stretched quiet.

The Arsenal football club still didn’t release anything, not even a training session photo showing Izan in training, and Izan did the same.

Just one post, dropped late one evening.

It was a still image of a night sky, dark and cloudless, with a thin line of stars barely visible.

No caption and no location tag.

That was enough to send people spiralling.

Fans zoomed in, adjusted contrast, and argued about constellations.

Someone pulled up Google Maps and compared skyline silhouettes while another section of fans swore the light pollution matched Paris, not London.

Then the day arrived.

North London woke up under a pale sky, cool air sitting low over the streets.

By late morning, red shirts began to appear in clusters.

On trains.

Outside cafés.

Along the walkways leading toward the Emirates.

The team news dropped just after noon, and there it was.

Izan’s name and number, stamped in the squad list.

”I told you,” one man said, nudging his mate as they walked. ”Never doubted it.”

Another shook his head, grinning.

”Had us all going, though, didn’t he?”

Inside, the Emirates filled quickly.

The noise built layer by layer as the stands swallowed people whole.

Down in the tunnel, the players formed their lines.

Child mascots shuffled at their sides, some standing, excitedly, and others staring wide-eyed at everything around them.

Izan stood near the back, head slightly bowed with hands resting on his hips.

His hair was tied back into a neat bun, a few loose strands falling forward and sticking to his forehead just as the broadcast feed cut in when the teams stepped out.

”Good evening and welcome,” the commentator said, voice cutting cleanly through the roar.

”What a fixture we have tonight. Arsenal against Manchester City. And what a build-up it’s been.”

The camera lingered as Izan walked onto the pitch, an armband missing from his arm this time.

”There was speculation all week,” the analyst added. ”Is he playing? Is he not? Well, there he is.”

Izan glanced up briefly, eyes scanning the stands while Pep and Arteta met at the edge of the technical area, polite, brief.

Eventually, the teams took their positions, and a moment later, City kicked off.

The opening minutes were sharp, almost aggressive in their rhythm.

No one wanted to be bold first.

Manchester City moved the ball cleanly through midfield, trying to draw Arsenal out but Arsenal stayed patient, not falling for the whims of Pep’s side, until they gained possession.

Then Izan touched the ball for the first time.

It came from Odegaard, who rolled gently into his path near the right touchline.

Izan took it on the half-turn and immediately burst forward.

Josko Gvardiol stepped out to meet him, but Izan went past him like he wasn’t worth the effort.

Rodri, seeing this, shifted across immediately, closing the lane, but Izan nudged the ball ahead and forced him to turn, but not cleanly because Rodri got a toe in, just enough to deflect the ball loose.

Izan chased it down, recovered, and laid it back to Timber before City could reset.

After this, City answered with their own spell of possession, keeping the ball away from the North London giants until a chance showed up after Cherki found space between the lines and clipped a pass into Haaland, who tried to spin Gabriel.

Gabriel stood firm, chest out, and forced him sideways before Raya collected the loose ball moments later and slowed things down.

Then Arsenal came again.

Rice drove forward from deep, shrugging off a challenge and feeding Odegaard the next second.

Odegaard, with the ball in tow, carried it straight at the defence, forcing three shirts to narrow around him while Gyokeres peeled away to the left, hand raised, but he still kept it.

At the edge of the box, he checked his run and slipped the ball wide to Eze, who had ghosted into space.

Eze struck first time.

His shot skidded low and true, but Donnarumma was down quickly, pushing it wide with a strong right hand, earning a wave of groans from the Emirates faithful.

”What a start we’ve had to this game,” came the commentary as Izan recovered the ball before pushing it back after seeing no need to go again.