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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
...
The players eventually headed back toward the tunnel together while cameras followed every step.
Floodlights still blazed overhead.
Supporters remained standing throughout the Emirates applauding while Arsenal players disappeared gradually beneath the stands.
The adrenaline after a derby victory always felt strange.
Not immediate calm.
More like emotional static still buzzing through the body long after the final whistle.
Francesco walked beside Walker and Kante through the tunnel while stadium noise echoed endlessly behind them.
Sweat still clung to the back of his neck.
His legs felt heavy now.
Not painful.
Satisfied.
The kind of exhaustion that only came after matches where emotion and intensity drained everything out of you completely.
Walker bumped his shoulder lightly again.
"Three goals against Spurs."
"You've mentioned this already."
"I'm making sure you appreciate me."
"You crossed one ball."
"It was an elite cross."
Before Francesco could answer, one of Arsenal's media staff hurried down the tunnel toward them holding a headset awkwardly while trying not to trip over cables.
"Francesco."
He slowed slightly.
"Yeah?"
"Premier League interview. Pitchside."
Walker immediately pointed at him dramatically.
"Starboy duties."
Kante smiled faintly beside them.
"Don't say anything too controversial."
"No promises," Francesco replied dryly.
The staff member laughed nervously in the way people always did when they genuinely couldn't tell if footballers were joking anymore.
"Interviewer's already waiting."
Francesco nodded once before peeling away from the group.
As he turned back toward the tunnel entrance leading pitchside, the noise hit him again immediately.
Still loud.
Still electric.
Even after full time the Emirates remained alive with celebration.
Arsenal songs echoed around the stadium while supporters lingered in the stands refusing to let the moment end too quickly.
North London derby victories lasted longer emotionally than ordinary wins.
Especially four-nil victories.
Especially hat-trick victories.
Especially after weeks where half the football world questioned whether Arsenal's captain was emotionally ready to return.
Francesco exhaled slowly while walking back toward the sideline interview area.
A few television crew members moved around quickly adjusting cameras and cables while security staff maintained small barriers around the media section.
The grass beneath the floodlights looked almost silver now from rain still lingering faintly across the pitch surface.
One of the production assistants pointed him toward the interviewer already standing beside the Premier League backdrop near the touchline.
The interviewer looked up immediately when Francesco approached.
"Here he is."
Warm smile.
Professional energy.
The kind broadcasters mastered after years around footballers running entirely on adrenaline and exhaustion.
"Congratulations," the interviewer said while shaking his hand. "Quite the afternoon."
Francesco laughed quietly.
"Yeah. Not bad."
"Not bad," the interviewer repeated with mock disbelief. "Hat-trick in a North London derby and he says not bad."
That earned a grin from Francesco despite himself.
Nearby cameras adjusted into position while producers counted down quietly through headsets.
Three.
Two.
One.
The red recording light switched on.
And instantly the interviewer's voice shifted smoothly into broadcast mode.
"Francesco, congratulations. Arsenal four, Tottenham nil. A hat-trick for yourself. Just describe what this afternoon feels like."
For a second Francesco looked back out toward the Emirates crowd still singing behind the cameras.
The emotion hit him unexpectedly then.
Not overwhelming.
Just real.
Because this stadium had carried him through one of the hardest emotional stretches of his life over the last few weeks.
And today they'd welcomed him back like family.
He rubbed briefly at the back of his neck before answering honestly.
"It feels special."
The crowd noise rolled faintly behind him while he spoke.
"Derbies always matter here. Everyone knows what this match means to Arsenal supporters."
Then a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"And obviously scoring three against Tottenham helps too."
The interviewer laughed.
"I imagine it does."
Then more seriously:
"You looked incredibly sharp today from the first minute. Did you feel something personal coming into this game?"
Francesco considered the question carefully.
Because yeah.
There absolutely had been something personal underneath today.
Not anger exactly.
Not proving critics wrong either.
More like reclaiming himself.
"I think…" He paused briefly searching for the right words. "I think football felt normal again today."
The interviewer nodded slightly encouraging him to continue.
"The last few weeks were difficult for me and Leah away from football," Francesco admitted calmly. "And when something like that happens, sometimes you start overthinking everything."
The stadium around them still buzzed softly beneath the floodlights while camera crews stayed completely silent listening.
"But today," he continued, "once the match started… it was just football again."
That sentence landed differently somehow.
Simple.
Honest.
Real.
The interviewer's expression softened slightly.
"A lot of people have spoken about your statement earlier this week."
Francesco nodded once.
"You were very open about struggling mentally after the incident at your home. How are you feeling now?"
There it was.
The question everyone wanted answered eventually.
A few weeks earlier maybe that question would've tightened something painfully inside his chest.
Now though?
Now he could answer honestly without feeling ashamed of it.
He glanced briefly toward the pitch before speaking again.
"Better."
No rehearsed media answer.
Just truth.
"Honestly… much better."
The interviewer listened quietly.
Francesco continued more thoughtfully afterward.
"I think the biggest thing was realizing I didn't need to pretend everything was completely fine immediately."
That sentence felt important somehow.
Around the stadium a few supporters close enough to hear applauded lightly.
"You know," Francesco said, "footballers get taught from a young age to push through everything. Injuries. Pressure. Criticism."
Then more quietly:
"But mentally sometimes people need support too."
The interviewer nodded slowly.
"You spoke very highly about Gareth Southgate and Arsenal helping you through this."
"Because they did," Francesco answered immediately.
"Gareth was brilliant with me. Arsène too."
Even saying Wenger's first name aloud in interviews still felt weird honestly.
Like addressing a university professor too casually.
Francesco smiled faintly.
"The club supported both me and Leah from the beginning."
Then after a pause:
"And I think talking honestly about it helped more than hiding from it."
The interviewer looked genuinely impressed by the maturity of the answer.
Which honestly still amused Francesco sometimes because inside his own head he still regularly forgot laundry existed.
Football made young players grow up strangely.
One moment you're arguing about FIFA ratings.
Next moment you're discussing trauma recovery on live television.
Life came at people quickly.
The interviewer shifted slightly afterward.
"There'll be a lot of young supporters watching this interview who maybe look up to you not only as a footballer but as a person. What would you say to them after the last few weeks?"
That question hit harder unexpectedly.
Because Southgate had said something similar days earlier.
About honesty mattering.
About younger athletes watching.
Francesco looked briefly toward the cameras again.
Then answered slowly.
"I'd probably say…" He paused. "Don't feel embarrassed for struggling after something difficult happens."
The stadium noise softened into background blur around him now.
"People see footballers on television and think we're supposed to handle everything perfectly all the time."
He shook his head lightly.
"But we're human beings too."
That line spread quietly through the production crew around them.
A few staff exchanged glances.
Not dramatic.
Just genuine.
Francesco kept going calmly.
"And honestly, asking for help doesn't make someone weak. I think pretending you don't need help when you do is probably worse."
Back inside the stadium bowl, Arsenal supporters close enough to the interview area started applauding louder now.
Not huge roaring celebration.
Something warmer.
More emotional.
The interviewer smiled softly hearing it.
"I think they appreciate that answer."
Francesco glanced toward the crowd and laughed quietly.
"Hopefully they appreciate the hat-trick more."
That broke the heavier atmosphere immediately.
The interviewer laughed too.
"Trust me, they definitely appreciated both."
Behind them Sánchez suddenly appeared in the background still wearing training gear over his match kit while waving both arms toward the cameras like a complete menace to professional broadcasting.
"HE IS BEST STRIKER IN WORLD," the Chilean shouted loudly enough for half the stadium to hear.
Francesco physically covered his face briefly.
"Oh my God."
The interviewer burst out laughing while Sánchez disappeared again yelling something in Spanish at a cameraman.
Absolute chaos human being.
The interviewer shook his head smiling.
"Your teammates seem happy for you."
"Alexis celebrates literally everything like we've won the World Cup."
"Fair observation."
The interviewer glanced briefly toward his notes afterward before speaking again.
"You know, there were so many headlines over the last two weeks asking whether you were ready to return mentally."
Francesco sighed dramatically.
"Yeah. I saw approximately all of them."
That earned another laugh.
"But today," the interviewer continued, "you looked free out there."
That word again.
Free.
Interesting how many people kept using it.
Wenger used it.
Leah used it.
Now this interviewer too.
Francesco thought quietly for a second before answering.
"I think because today reminded me why I love football in the first place."
His eyes drifted toward the Emirates crowd again.
"Pressure exists. Noise exists. Criticism exists."
Then a small smile appeared.
"But there's also this."
He gestured lightly around the stadium.
"The atmosphere. The supporters. Playing with teammates you love competing beside."
Then more softly:
"You remember pretty quickly why the game matters."
For a second the interviewer didn't interrupt.
Probably because some answers didn't need immediate follow-up questions.
Eventually though he smiled warmly.
"Well, I'd say Arsenal supporters are very happy to have you back."
That drew another loud cheer from nearby fans listening along the barriers.
One supporter screamed:
"WE LOVE YOU FRANCESCO!"
He laughed and pointed toward the crowd briefly.
"Love you too."
The interviewer looked down toward the small Premier League podium beside them afterward before grinning.
"Well, one final thing before we let you go."
Francesco blinked once.
"Oh no."
The interviewer picked up the award resting on the podium.
"After three goals, a captain's performance, and helping Arsenal demolish Tottenham four-nil…"
He lifted the trophy slightly.
"…I think this belongs to you."
The Premier League Man of the Match award gleamed beneath the floodlights.
The crowd erupted again instantly.
Huge cheers rolling across the stadium while cameras zoomed tighter.
Francesco stared at the trophy for half a second before laughing softly under his breath.
"Yeah okay, this one feels pretty good."
The interviewer handed it over while still smiling.
"Francesco Lee, congratulations. Hat-trick hero. Man of the Match."
Francesco accepted the award carefully.
The weight of it settled into his hands while applause continued echoing around them.
And strangely?
This one felt different from previous awards.
Not because it was bigger.
Not because it was more prestigious.
But because of what it represented.
Not perfection.
Not invincibility.
Recovery.
Resilience.
Joy returning.
The interviewer extended his hand one final time.
"Congratulations again."
"Thank you."
The cameras finally cut away moments later while production staff relaxed immediately around them.
The interviewer leaned slightly closer afterward speaking off-air now.
"For what it's worth," he said quietly, "I thought the way you handled everything publicly this week was really impressive."
Francesco shifted the trophy lightly under his arm.
"Appreciate that."
The interviewer nodded warmly.
"A lot of people needed to hear someone say those things out loud."
There was that idea again.
Honesty helping people.
Francesco still wasn't fully used to thinking about it that way honestly.
To him it had just been survival.
Truth.
But maybe truth mattered more publicly than he realized.
Nearby another production assistant approached quickly.
"Quick photo before you go?"
Of course.
Football never escaped cameras.
Francesco stepped beside the Premier League branding board while photographers shouted instructions immediately.
"Hold the trophy higher!"
"Look this way!"
"One more smile!"
The Emirates crowd still lingering inside the stadium cheered every time his face appeared on the giant screen overhead during the photo session.
Eventually the photographers finished and the production crew thanked him while beginning to pack equipment away.
Francesco adjusted the Man of the Match trophy beneath his arm afterward before turning back toward the tunnel entrance.
The stadium still glowed around him.
Floodlights reflecting off damp grass.
Supporters slowly filtering toward exits while still singing Arsenal songs into the cold North London night.
As he walked back toward the tunnel, he spotted Leah waiting near the barrier area where families sometimes stood after matches.
The second she saw him carrying the trophy, she laughed.
"Oh no."
"What?"
"You've become unbearable now."
Francesco grinned tiredly.
"Correct."
She stepped closer smiling up at him while the noise of the stadium faded gradually behind them.
Then her eyes drifted briefly toward the trophy before back toward him again.
"You really are okay."
The sentence landed softly.
Not questioning.
Not uncertain.
Just relieved.
Francesco looked at her quietly for a moment beneath the fading floodlights.
Then finally nodded.
"Yeah," he admitted honestly.
This time there was no hesitation attached to the answer.
The tunnel felt warmer now.
Not physically warmer necessarily.
Just heavier with post-match life.
Voices echoing off concrete walls.
Staff moving quickly in every direction.
Boots squeaking against flooring while players drifted back toward the dressing rooms carrying exhaustion and adrenaline in equal measure.
Francesco walked beside Leah for another few seconds near the family area while still balancing the Man of the Match trophy beneath his arm.
Around them Arsenal staff smiled as they passed.
A few offered congratulations.
One academy coach physically shook his head laughing.
"Three against Spurs," he muttered. "Ridiculous afternoon."
Francesco grinned tiredly.
"I'm accepting compliments for the next forty-eight hours."
"Understandable."
Leah nudged lightly against his side as they continued toward the dressing room corridor.
"You realize Alexis is going to become emotionally unbearable after this result."
"Become?"
Fair point honestly.
Before they separated near the restricted access doors, Leah reached up briefly brushing damp hair away from his forehead.
There was something softer in her expression tonight.
Relief.
Not the temporary kind either.
The genuine kind that arrived after finally watching someone you loved look fully alive again.
"You were smiling before you even scored," she said quietly.
Francesco looked at her for a second.
Because she was right.
The goals mattered.
The hat-trick mattered.
But the real difference today?
He'd felt happy before any of that happened.
Happy simply being back on the pitch.
Back inside noise and movement and chaos where football simplified his brain again.
He leaned down briefly kissing her forehead.
"See you after media torture."
Leah laughed.
"Good luck."
Then she stepped back toward the family section while Francesco finally pushed through the dressing room doors carrying the trophy under one arm.
The reaction was immediate.
Absolute chaos.
"HE RETURNS!" Sánchez screamed dramatically from across the room while standing on a bench for absolutely no reason whatsoever.
Several players applauded sarcastically.
Walker pointed directly at the trophy.
"There it is. The proof my assist changed football history."
"You crossed one ball," Koscielny muttered while unlacing his boots.
"An elite ball."
"You say elite about everything."
"Because I am elite."
Nobody even argued anymore honestly.
The dressing room buzzed with post-derby energy.
Music blasted louder now.
Steam drifted faintly through the air from showers already running.
Some players sat exhausted against lockers while others still bounced around riding emotional highs from humiliating Tottenham publicly.
Sánchez had somehow already changed shirts and was now dancing terribly beside the recovery table while shouting partial song lyrics in Spanish.
Cazorla encouraged this behavior instead of stopping it.
Dangerous combination honestly.
Francesco placed the Man of the Match trophy carefully near his locker before finally dropping heavily onto the bench.
Now that the match adrenaline slowly faded, fatigue hit properly.
His legs ached.
His shoulders felt tight.
There was dried sweat cooling across the back of his neck.
The satisfying kind of exhaustion.
The kind footballers actually enjoyed.
Kante sat beside him quietly drinking water.
"You looked good today."
Simple.
Direct.
Very Kante.
Francesco smiled faintly.
"Thanks."
The midfielder nodded once.
Then after a second:
"You looked happy."
There was that word again in a different form.
Happy.
Free.
Alive.
Interesting how everyone noticed it immediately.
Before Francesco could answer, Walker launched himself into the conversation still wearing only compression shorts and chaos.
"Did you hear the crowd after the hat-trick?"
"Yes Kyle, the entire country heard the crowd."
"As they should."
Walker pointed dramatically around the room.
"This is what greatness looks like."
"You assisted one goal," Xhaka reminded him from across the dressing room.
"And I'll remember it forever."
Hopeless human being honestly.
Eventually Francesco pushed himself back upright and headed toward the shower area while noise and laughter continued behind him.
The shower room carried that familiar post-match atmosphere too.
Steam clouding mirrors.
Water hammering against tiles.
Players drifting in and out discussing random moments from the match while recovering physically.
Van Dijk stood beneath one shower calmly washing mud from his hair like a man emotionally unaffected by scoring four goals in a derby.
Robertson meanwhile replayed Sánchez's celebration repeatedly while laughing to himself.
Francesco stepped beneath the hot water eventually and closed his eyes briefly as tension finally loosened properly from his muscles.
And for the first time all day, silence reached him.
Real silence.
No crowd noise.
No media questions.
No tactical instructions.
Just water running down tile.
He tilted his head slightly beneath the stream while breathing slowly.
Funny how different the world felt compared to two weeks ago.
Back then he'd barely been sleeping properly.
Every sudden sound triggered instinctive alertness.
Every quiet room felt slightly wrong.
Now?
Now his body still carried traces of that experience, sure.
But tonight football had reminded him something important.
Fear hadn't taken him away from himself.
That mattered.
More than headlines.
More than debate shows.
More than online opinions.
Eventually he shut the water off and grabbed a towel while steam curled softly through the room around him.
By the time he returned toward his locker area dressed in fresh Arsenal jumpsuit gear, the dressing room atmosphere had calmed slightly.
Still loud.
Still celebratory.
But less chaotic now.
Some players already scrolling phones reading reactions online despite every professional footballer pretending not to care about social media.
Liars honestly.
Francesco sat down briefly pulling the zip higher on his Arsenal jacket before Wenger appeared near the center of the room.
The manager still looked remarkably composed despite orchestrating a four-goal demolition of Tottenham.
Only the faintest satisfaction showed in his expression.
Wenger's emotional range after victories mostly moved between "calm" and "slightly calmer."
"Gentlemen," he said.
The room quieted automatically.
"Excellent performance."
Simple.
But from Wenger, simple praise carried weight.
The manager looked around the room carefully afterward.
"You controlled emotion well. Your movement was intelligent. Your defensive discipline remained strong."
Then a faint smile finally appeared.
"And scoring four goals against Tottenham is usually enjoyable."
That earned loud approval immediately.
Sánchez pointed toward Wenger dramatically.
"Mister finally celebrates!"
"I am capable of happiness, Alexis."
"Debatable."
Even Wenger laughed quietly at that.
The older man spoke with several players briefly afterward before eventually approaching Francesco near his locker.
"Good recovery session tomorrow morning," Wenger said calmly.
Francesco nodded.
"Yeah boss."
Then Wenger added:
"And before you disappear home, you're joining me for the press conference."
Francesco sighed dramatically.
"Ah yes. My reward."
"You survived Tottenham. I believe you can survive journalists."
"Less convinced honestly."
Wenger's mouth twitched slightly with amusement.
"You handled yourself very well earlier."
The pitchside interview.
Right.
Francesco rubbed lightly at the back of his neck.
"Felt strange talking about all of that publicly."
"Yes," Wenger agreed softly. "But important."
Then after a pause:
"You spoke like a leader today. On and off the pitch."
That one landed quietly.
Because part of Francesco still occasionally forgot people listened carefully when footballers spoke honestly.
Especially younger supporters.
Especially players.
Wenger patted his shoulder once before moving away again toward the staff area.
"Five minutes."
Francesco leaned back against the locker afterward exhaling slowly.
Press conferences.
Honestly one of football's weirdest traditions.
Spend ninety minutes emotionally and physically destroying yourself under pressure, then immediately sit beneath bright lights answering philosophical questions from strangers holding microphones.
Beautiful sport.
A few minutes later he followed Wenger through the corridors beneath the Emirates toward the media auditorium.
The deeper they moved into the stadium, the more post-match noise shifted.
Less celebration now.
More television production sounds.
Equipment rolling across floors.
Commentators recording late segments.
Staff coordinating interviews through headsets.
Outside one corridor screen replayed highlights from the match.
Francesco watched briefly as his second goal flashed across the monitor again.
The turn.
The strike.
Net bulging.
Still felt slightly surreal.
"You know," Wenger said quietly beside him without looking away from the screen, "your movement before the second goal was exceptional."
Trust Wenger to analyze tactical details immediately after emotional redemption arcs.
Francesco smiled faintly.
"You saw the half-space?"
"I saw three half-spaces."
Of course he did.
Football genius honestly.
They reached the media room moments later where photographers and journalists already crowded together beneath bright lighting.
The second Francesco entered beside Wenger, camera shutters erupted instantly.
Rapid flashes everywhere.
Questions already half-shouted before either man even sat down.
"Francesco over here!"
"Arsène!"
"Hat-trick reaction please!"
Premier League press conferences always felt slightly like controlled chaos pretending to be professionalism.
Wenger settled calmly into his chair behind the microphones while Francesco sat beside him placing a water bottle carefully on the table.
The Arsenal backdrop behind them glowed beneath camera lights.
Sponsors everywhere.
Club crest centered proudly between them.
The press officer stepped forward briefly.
"Okay everyone, we'll begin."
Instant silence settled.
Well.
Mostly silence.
Still plenty of typing noises.
The first journalist stood immediately.
"Arsène, congratulations. Four-nil against Tottenham. Your thoughts on the performance?"
Wenger folded his hands calmly.
"I think we played with intelligence and emotional control today."
Classic Wenger beginning.
Measured.
Thoughtful.
"We started aggressively but remained disciplined. Against Tottenham you cannot become emotionally chaotic because the match opens too much."
The manager glanced briefly toward Francesco beside him.
"And offensively we were clinical."
Several journalists nodded while scribbling notes quickly.
Another reporter stood next.
"Francesco, hat-trick in a North London derby after everything that's happened recently. Was today emotional for you personally?"
There it was again.
The question underneath every question tonight.
Francesco leaned slightly toward the microphone.
"Yeah," he admitted honestly. "It was."
No point pretending otherwise now.
"I think football felt enjoyable again today."
The room quieted slightly at that answer.
Francesco continued calmly.
"The last few weeks were difficult away from football obviously."
Then a faint smile appeared.
"But once the match started, everything became simple again."
A journalist near the front raised her hand next.
"You spoke openly earlier about mental health and recovery after the incident at your home. How difficult was that process privately?"
The question carried genuine care underneath it.
Not tabloid hunting.
That mattered.
Francesco thought for a second before answering carefully.
"I think the hardest part was accepting that being affected by something doesn't mean you're weak."
Several reporters immediately stopped typing just listening now.
"Football culture teaches players to push through everything," he continued. "And sometimes that's useful."
Then quieter:
"But sometimes people need support too."
Beside him Wenger stayed completely silent letting him speak fully.
Which honestly Francesco appreciated.
The manager never interrupted moments that mattered emotionally.
Another journalist leaned forward afterward.
"Did you worry at any point about returning too quickly?"
Francesco nodded slightly.
"A little."
Truth again.
No reason hiding it.
"But Arsenal handled things really well. The medical staff. Arsène. Everyone."
He glanced briefly toward Wenger.
"The club never pressured me."
Wenger finally spoke softly beside him.
"Because human beings matter more than footballers."
That sentence changed the room immediately.
Silence settled heavier afterward.
Not uncomfortable.
Respectful.
One reporter lowered his notebook slightly before asking the next question.
"Arsène, do you think football is changing in the way it approaches mental health?"
Interesting question.
Wenger leaned back thoughtfully.
"Slowly, yes."
Then after a pause:
"But perhaps not quickly enough."
The room stayed completely focused now.
The manager's voice remained calm and intelligent as always.
"For many years football celebrated only toughness. Physical resilience. Playing through pain."
He folded his hands together again.
"But emotional suffering also exists. Fear exists. Stress exists."
Then he gestured lightly toward Francesco.
"And players should not feel ashamed speaking honestly about those experiences."
Several journalists nodded quietly.
One older reporter spoke next.
"Francesco, did today feel like proving something to critics?"
Francesco laughed softly through his nose.
"Honestly?"
The room smiled slightly already because everyone recognized that tone now.
"I didn't spend the match thinking about critics."
Then a small grin appeared.
"I was mostly thinking about scoring against Tottenham."
That earned laughter throughout the room including from Wenger himself.
Fair answer honestly.
Another reporter raised her hand.
"You mentioned Leah several times publicly this week. How important has she been through all this?"
Francesco's expression softened immediately.
"Everything important."
Simple answer.
True answer.
"She went through the same experience I did."
Then quieter:
"And honestly there were days she handled it better than me."
Somewhere in the back cameras clicked rapidly again.
Human answers always made better headlines.
The journalist continued gently.
"Did speaking openly together help?"
"Yeah," Francesco admitted. "Definitely."
Then after a second he added:
"I think pretending people are unaffected by fear usually makes things worse."
That line got written down everywhere instantly.
You could physically see it happening.
Football press rooms developed strange instincts around meaningful quotes.
One younger journalist spoke next from the side row.
"A lot of young fans look up to you. Are you aware your comments this week might encourage others to speak more openly?"
That question visibly made Francesco hesitate slightly.
Not because he disliked it.
Because he still genuinely hadn't processed that part fully.
"I don't know," he answered honestly.
Then after thinking:
"I hope so maybe."
He shrugged lightly.
"I think people deserve to know struggling mentally after something frightening is normal."
The room stayed quiet again.
Francesco continued more thoughtfully now.
"And honestly? Therapy helped."
A few journalists looked mildly surprised hearing the word stated directly.
Not because therapy itself shocked them.
Because footballers almost never said it publicly in 2016.
Francesco noticed the reaction immediately and smiled faintly.
"See? That reaction right there."
Some reporters laughed awkwardly.
"That's exactly why more athletes should probably talk about this stuff."
Even Wenger looked quietly proud beside him now.
Another journalist leaned forward quickly.
"So the psychologist Arsenal arranged was useful?"
"Very."
Francesco nodded once.
"She mostly helped us realize our reactions were normal."
Then dryly:
"Apparently attempting to fight vacuum cleaners isn't ideal coping behavior though."
The entire room burst into laughter unexpectedly.
Even Wenger physically lowered his head smiling.
One reporter nearly choked on coffee.
"Sorry," Francesco added through a grin. "Long story."
The atmosphere relaxed after that.
Lighter now.
Still serious.
But human.
Football press conferences rarely became genuinely honest conversations.
Tonight somehow had.
Another journalist eventually shifted discussion back toward football.
"Arsène, tactically today Tottenham seemed overwhelmed by Arsenal's movement between lines."
Ah.
Finally.
Wenger immediately transformed back into football professor mode.
"Yes," he said calmly. "We wanted quick positional rotations."
He pointed lightly toward Francesco.
"Francesco dropped deeper at times which created space behind Tottenham's midfield."
Then toward the imaginary tactical board apparently existing inside his brain constantly:
"Ozil occupied pockets well. Alexis attacked diagonally. Our fullbacks provided width aggressively."
The tactical analysis continued several minutes afterward.
Questions about Kante dominating midfield.
About Walker's performance against his former rivals.
About Van Dijk's aerial control.
Standard football detail returning gradually.
But underneath everything tonight, another feeling lingered inside the room too.
Respect maybe.
Because journalists had expected cautious media answers.
Instead Francesco spoke honestly.
Openly.
Without embarrassment attached to it anymore.
Eventually the press officer signaled the final question.
One last reporter stood near the back.
"Francesco, after the last few weeks… and after a performance like tonight… how would you describe how you feel right now?"
Simple question.
Big answer.
Francesco leaned back slightly thinking quietly for a second while camera flashes softened around the room.
Then finally he smiled.
"Tired."
That earned immediate laughter.
Then more softly:
"But good tired."
The room settled again listening.
"I think…" He paused briefly. "I think tonight reminded me that difficult experiences don't erase who you are."
Silence now.
Real silence.
Francesco looked down briefly toward the microphones before continuing.
"They become part of you maybe. But they don't define everything afterward."
Then a small smile returned.
"And scoring a hat-trick against Tottenham definitely helps perspective."
That broke the tension perfectly.
The room laughed again while Wenger shook his head faintly beside him.
The press officer stood afterward.
"Okay everyone, thank you."
Camera flashes exploded one final time as Wenger and Francesco rose from their seats.
Several journalists called out congratulations while staff already rushed forward organizing equipment and deadlines.
______________________________________________
Name : Francesco Lee
Age : 18 (2016)
Birthplace : London, England
Football Club : Arsenal First Team
Championship History : 2014/2015 Premier League, 2014/2015 FA Cup, 2015/2016 Community Shield, 2016/2017 Premier League, 2015/2016 Champions League, Euro 2016, Premier League Champion 2016/2017, and 2016/2017 Champions League.
Season 17/18 stats:
Arsenal:
Match: 21
Goal: 28
Assist: 1
MOTM: 4
POTM: 0
England:
Match: 2
Goal: 2
Assist: 0
MOTM: 0
Season 16/17 stats:
Arsenal:
Match: 55
Goal: 87
Assist: 5
MOTM: 14
POTM: 1
England:
Match: 1
Goal: 1
Assist: 0
MOTM: 0
Season 15/16 stats:
Arsenal:
Match Played: 60
Goal: 82
Assist: 10
MOTM: 9
POTM: 1
England:
Match Played: 2
Goal: 4
Assist: 0
Euro 2016
Match Played: 6
Goal: 13
Assist: 4
MOTM: 6
Season 14/15 stats:
Match Played: 35
Goal: 45
Assist: 12
MOTM: 9