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And now, Arsenal's name would be in the draw for the Champions League quarter-finals.
The applause refused to fade.
Even after Porto's players had disappeared down the tunnel, the Emirates continued to celebrate another memorable European evening.
Scarves remained raised above heads.
The Champions League anthem had long since finished, replaced by thousands of supporters singing Arsenal songs that echoed around every corner of the stadium.
The players took one final lap toward the North Bank before slowly making their way back beneath the stands.
There was laughter now.
The kind that only came after a job had been completed exactly as planned.
Walker draped an arm across Robertson's shoulders.
"Ten-nil."
Robertson shook his head with a grin.
"When you say it out loud…"
"…it sounds ridiculous."
"It does."
Alexis walked alongside them, still breathing heavily.
"We earned every goal."
"No arguments there," Walker replied.
Kanté smiled quietly.
"It was a good team performance."
Walker laughed.
"You say that after every match."
"Because it's true."
Francesco walked a few steps behind them, still carrying the captain's armband around his left arm.
His legs finally felt heavy.
The adrenaline that had carried him through ninety minutes was beginning to wear off.
Three goals.
Another clean sheet.
Quarter-finals secured.
Not a bad evening's work.
As the squad approached the dressing-room corridor, Arsenal's media officer appeared once again, headset around his neck and clipboard tucked beneath one arm.
"Francesco."
He smiled apologetically.
"They need you first."
Francesco already knew the answer.
"The flash interview?"
The media officer nodded.
"And…"
A knowing smile crossed his face.
"I think you'll like what they're waiting to give you."
Walker overheard immediately.
"Oh no."
He pointed dramatically.
"Another one."
Francesco laughed.
"You haven't even seen it yet."
"I don't need to."
Walker folded his arms.
"Hattrick."
"Ten-nil aggregate."
"You're definitely coming back with another trophy."
Alexis chuckled.
"He's probably right."
Robertson pointed toward the dressing room.
"We'll save your place."
"And your shower," Giroud added.
Walker looked offended.
"If he takes much longer, I'll use all the hot water."
"You'll probably spend twenty minutes looking in the mirror," Alexis replied.
The corridor burst into laughter.
Francesco simply shook his head.
"I'll be quick."
"You never are," Walker called after him.
Still smiling, Francesco followed the media officer through another corridor leading toward UEFA's flash interview area.
The familiar blue Champions League backdrop filled the room.
Television cameras had already been positioned.
Bright lights illuminated the interview platform while technicians completed their final checks.
A production assistant approached him.
"Evening, Francesco."
"Congratulations."
"Thank you."
She clipped a microphone carefully onto his Arsenal shirt before adjusting the cable.
"We'll be live in twenty seconds."
He nodded calmly.
"No problem."
Across from him, the presenter extended a hand.
"Congratulations on a fantastic evening."
Francesco shook it warmly.
"Thank you."
The countdown began.
"Five…"
"Four…"
"Three…"
The red light appeared.
The presenter faced the camera.
"We're joined by Arsenal captain Francesco after a remarkable Champions League performance."
He turned back toward the striker with a smile.
"First of all, congratulations."
"A 4-0 victory tonight."
"Ten-nil on aggregate."
"And another hat-trick."
"How does that feel?"
Francesco let out a slow breath.
"It feels good."
"But more than anything…"
"…it feels satisfying."
"We respected Porto."
"We respected the competition."
"We knew people outside the club believed the tie was already over after the first leg."
"But inside our dressing room…"
"…that wasn't our mentality."
"We wanted to win tonight as well."
The interviewer nodded.
"It certainly looked that way."
"You scored three excellent goals."
"The first from Mesut Özil's pass."
"The second after a wonderful individual run."
"And the third from Alexis Sánchez's assist."
He smiled.
"Do you have a favourite?"
Francesco thought for a moment before smiling.
"I'll probably say the second."
"It wasn't just because I scored."
"I enjoyed the movement."
"The timing."
"The space opening up."
"It all happened instinctively."
The interviewer laughed.
"I think everyone inside the stadium enjoyed it."
A replay of the goal played across one of the nearby monitors.
Several production staff watched it again with appreciative smiles.
The presenter continued.
"You've now scored another Champions League hat-trick."
"Does European football bring out something different in you?"
Francesco smiled modestly.
"I don't think about the competition while I'm playing."
"A football pitch is still a football pitch."
"My responsibility stays the same."
"Work for the team."
"Create chances."
"Score when I can."
"If the goals come…"
"That's a bonus."
The interviewer nodded.
"You wore the captain's armband again tonight."
"Has that responsibility started feeling more natural?"
"I think so."
"The senior players make my job much easier."
"Virgil."
"Laurent."
"Petr."
"Granit."
"N'Golo."
"They're all leaders."
"The armband reminds me to communicate more."
"But leadership isn't just one person."
The presenter smiled.
"Arsenal are now through to the Champions League quarter-finals."
"The Carabao Cup is already in the cabinet."
"You're challenging in the Premier League."
"You're still in the FA Cup."
"Supporters are beginning to dream."
Francesco laughed softly.
"They're allowed to dream."
"They're supporters."
"Our job is different."
"We think about training tomorrow."
"We think about the next opponent."
"If we start looking too far ahead…"
"…football usually has a way of punishing you."
The interviewer smiled knowingly.
"I've noticed that's becoming your trademark answer."
Francesco grinned.
"It keeps us grounded."
"I suppose it does."
The presenter reached beneath the desk before lifting a familiar black-and-silver trophy.
"Before we let you go…"
"…there's one final thing."
"Following tonight's performance…"
"…and after receiving the overwhelming majority of votes…"
"…you have been named UEFA's Player of the Match."
"Congratulations."
Applause filled the small studio.
Several camera operators clapped while one of the production assistants gave him a thumbs-up.
Francesco accepted the award with both hands.
"Thank you very much."
"It's a great honour."
He looked briefly at the trophy before smiling again.
"But honestly…"
"This reflects how well the whole team played."
"Our midfield controlled the game."
"Our defenders stayed focused."
"Petr made important saves."
"I'm happy my name is on the award…"
"…but tonight belonged to everyone."
The interviewer chuckled.
"I had a feeling you'd say exactly that."
"Congratulations again."
"And good luck in the quarter-finals."
"Thank you very much."
As soon as the cameras stopped rolling, the atmosphere relaxed immediately.
Crew members came over one after another.
"Brilliant performance."
"That second goal was unbelievable."
"Congratulations."
Francesco thanked each of them before leaving the interview area, the Player of the Match trophy tucked comfortably beneath his arm.
By the time he returned to the dressing room, the celebrations inside had become considerably louder.
Music was playing.
Walker noticed him first.
"There he is!"
"Our serial award winner!"
Every head turned.
Giroud immediately pointed toward the trophy.
"I knew it."
Alexis applauded dramatically.
"Well deserved."
Kanté smiled.
"Congratulations."
Walker walked over pretending to inspect the award carefully.
"Hmm…"
"I suppose UEFA know what they're doing."
Robertson folded his arms.
"You're jealous."
"I am absolutely jealous."
The room erupted into laughter.
Francesco smiled, slightly embarrassed by the attention.
"It was a team performance."
Walker rolled his eyes.
"There it is again."
"The team performance speech."
"You really do interviews, don't you?"
Francesco laughed.
"I've learned from the boss."
"That's dangerous," Walker replied.
Still smiling, Francesco reached his locker.
He carefully placed the Player of the Match award beside the Premier League award he had collected only a few days earlier.
For a brief moment he simply looked at them.
Carabao Cup winner.
Back-to-back Player of the Match awards.
A hat-trick in the Champions League.
It had been an extraordinary week.
He gently closed the locker before reaching for a clean white towel.
"I'm getting a shower."
Walker called after him.
"Don't stay in there forever."
"You'll use all the hot water."
Francesco looked over his shoulder.
"I thought that was your job."
Even Wenger, passing outside the dressing room, smiled as laughter echoed through the room.
The shower area quickly filled with steam.
Hot water washed away another demanding ninety minutes.
The tiredness hidden by adrenaline finally settled into every muscle.
Ramsey leaned back against the tiled wall.
"My legs are finished."
Walker answered from two showers away.
"I think mine resigned around the seventieth minute."
Alexis laughed.
"They kept moving."
"Only because they had no choice."
Giroud rinsed shampoo from his hair before looking across.
"Hattrick feels nice?"
Francesco smiled.
"It does."
"But qualifying feels even better."
Giroud nodded.
"Exactly."
"No one remembers individual goals if the team goes home."
The conversation drifted naturally from the match to the upcoming quarter-final draw, then to training, and eventually—inevitably—to food.
Walker stretched his shoulders.
"I'm ordering the biggest meal they've got."
Robertson laughed.
"You always say that."
"And I always mean it."
After another fifteen minutes the showers gradually switched off.
Steam slowly disappeared from the room as players dried themselves before changing into matching Arsenal tracksuits.
Fresh trainers replaced muddy boots.
Recovery drinks appeared.
The atmosphere remained relaxed.
Francesco had just zipped up his jacket when there was a knock on the dressing-room door.
Tony Colbert stepped inside.
"Francesco."
"The boss needs you."
He looked up.
"Press conference?"
Tony nodded.
"He's waiting outside."
Walker immediately pointed.
"Don't embarrass us."
Alexis smirked.
"Too late."
Francesco laughed.
"I'll try my best."
Outside, Wenger stood waiting patiently.
The Frenchman smiled as Francesco approached.
"Ready?"
"Always."
Together they walked through the media corridor toward the Champions League press conference room.
It was even busier than usual.
Journalists from England, Spain, Portugal, France, Germany and Italy filled almost every seat.
Television cameras lined the back wall.
Photographers adjusted lenses as Wenger and Francesco took their places behind the long UEFA desk.
The moderator welcomed everyone.
"We'll begin."
Hands immediately filled the air.
The first journalist stood.
"Arsène, congratulations."
"Ten-nil over two legs."
"Can you remember a more complete European performance from one of your teams?"
Wenger reflected for a moment.
"It is certainly among the best."
"But what pleased me most wasn't the score."
"It was our discipline."
"We respected Porto from the first minute until the last."
"We never believed qualification had already been secured."
Another reporter turned toward Francesco.
"You've scored another Champions League hat-trick."
"People are beginning to compare your numbers with some of Europe's greatest forwards."
Francesco smiled politely.
"I appreciate the compliment."
"But I'm still learning."
"I have excellent teammates."
"They create opportunities."
"My responsibility is to finish them."
A Portuguese journalist then addressed Wenger.
"What impressed you most about Francesco's development?"
The Arsenal manager glanced briefly toward his striker before answering.
"His mentality."
"Talent is obvious."
"Everyone can see that."
"But he prepares well."
"He listens."
"And perhaps most importantly…"
"He remains humble after good performances."
Francesco lowered his eyes slightly, clearly uncomfortable with the praise.
Another reporter asked him directly.
"Did you know your second goal was special the moment it left your foot?"
He smiled.
"I knew I'd beaten the defenders."
"After that…"
"I was mostly hoping it stayed under the crossbar."
Laughter rippled around the room.
One final question came from the back.
"Arsenal are through to the quarter-finals."
"Do you have a preferred opponent?"
Francesco shook his head immediately.
"No."
"If you want to win the Champions League…"
"…you eventually have to beat the best teams anyway."
"So whoever comes out of the draw…"
"…we'll prepare properly."
Wenger nodded beside him.
"I couldn't answer better myself."
The moderator stood.
"Thank you, ladies and gentlemen."
"That's all for tonight."
Camera flashes filled the room as Wenger and Francesco stood, thanked the journalists and quietly made their way back through the corridor.
Outside, Arsenal's team coach was already waiting.
Its engine hummed softly beneath the stadium lights.
One by one the players climbed aboard.
Walker immediately looked up.
"There they are."
"Our press conference specialists."
Francesco smiled as he took his usual seat.
"It wasn't that bad."
Ramsey leaned across the aisle.
"What did they ask?"
"The usual."
"The goals."
"The quarter-finals."
"The manager being nice about me."
Walker laughed.
"That must have been awkward."
"It was."
A few moments later Wenger climbed aboard to warm applause from the squad.
He thanked the driver before taking his seat near the front.
The doors closed with a gentle hiss.
Slowly, the bus pulled away from the Emirates.
Outside, supporters still waiting near the exit applauded as it passed, waving scarves into the cold London night.
Inside, the atmosphere was calm.
Some players watched highlights on tablets.
Others closed their eyes almost immediately, exhaustion finally overtaking them.
Francesco rested his head against the window and watched the lights of North London drift by.
Another victory.
Another memorable European night.
Then the journey back to London Colney passed in comfortable silence.
The excitement of another unforgettable Champions League night slowly gave way to exhaustion.
A few players watched the match highlights replaying on their tablets, occasionally smiling when one of the goals appeared again.
Walker, unsurprisingly, couldn't resist commenting.
"There it is again."
He pointed at the screen as Francesco's second goal flashed across the display.
"I still don't understand how you got through four defenders."
Francesco looked over briefly before shrugging.
"I don't either."
Walker laughed.
"That's not the answer I was expecting."
"It's the honest one."
"I just saw the space."
Robertson, sitting across the aisle, smiled.
"Sometimes that's the difference."
"You see something everyone else doesn't."
Francesco simply smiled before turning his attention back toward the window.
Outside, the streets of North London gradually became quieter as the coach left the city behind, eventually reaching the familiar roads that led toward London Colney.
When they finally arrived, there were no long speeches.
No dramatic celebrations.
The coaching staff reminded everyone of the recovery schedule before wishing the squad a good night.
"Tomorrow is recovery," Tony Colbert reminded them.
"Sleep well."
"Hydrate."
"And don't forget your recovery sessions."
Walker nodded seriously.
"I only heard the sleep part."
"I noticed," Alexis replied with a grin.
One by one the players collected their bags before heading toward their own cars.
Francesco said goodbye to his teammates before climbing into his BMW X5.
The journey back to Richmond was peaceful.
By the time he reached the mansion, the house was quiet except for a single light glowing warmly through the front window.
Leah was waiting.
She opened the door before he even reached it.
"There he is."
She smiled as soon as she saw him.
"Our hat-trick hero."
Francesco laughed tiredly.
"I think Walker has already used that line about twenty times."
"I'll make it twenty-one."
She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him.
"I'm proud of you."
He hugged her gently.
"Thank you."
"I watched every minute."
"And?"
"You made that second goal look unfair."
He smiled.
"It felt good."
"You looked exhausted after the match."
"I am."
"Then come inside."
"No football tonight."
"Deal?"
Francesco nodded.
"Deal."
The following morning arrived quietly.
Unlike most training days, there was no alarm ringing before sunrise.
Wenger had scheduled a recovery day for the players who had featured heavily against Porto.
For the first time in nearly a week, Francesco woke naturally.
Soft winter sunlight filtered through the curtains as he slowly opened his eyes.
The mansion was peaceful.
No rush.
No tactical meeting waiting.
No training session beginning in an hour.
Just silence.
It felt unfamiliar.
After breakfast with Leah, he changed into a simple grey hoodie and black jogging trousers before settling into the spacious living room.
The fireplace crackled gently, taking the chill out of the February morning.
A mug of coffee rested on the table beside him.
Leah sat at the opposite end of the sofa reading a novel, occasionally looking up whenever something interesting appeared on television.
Francesco picked up the remote.
"I wonder what they're talking about today."
Leah smiled without looking away from her book.
"Let me guess."
"You?"
"I hope not."
"You know that's impossible."
He laughed softly before switching on the television.
Within seconds, a familiar theme tune filled the room.
A football analysis programme had already begun.
Across the bottom of the screen, the headline immediately caught his attention.
ARSENAL MARCH INTO CHAMPIONS LEAGUE QUARTER-FINALS AFTER 10-0 AGGREGATE VICTORY OVER PORTO
Leah looked over.
"Well…"
"So much for not talking about football."
Francesco smiled.
"I suppose we gave them something to discuss."
The broadcast cut to highlights from the previous evening.
His opening goal from Özil's through ball.
The solo effort before half-time.
Then the composed finish from Alexis' assist that completed the hat-trick.
Each replay drew fresh admiration from the panel sitting inside the studio.
The presenter turned toward the first pundit.
"We've just watched Arsenal dismantle Porto over two legs."
"Ten goals scored."
"None conceded."
"How impressed have you been?"
The former England international sitting beside him didn't hesitate.
"Massively impressed."
"Everyone keeps talking about Arsenal's attack and rightly so, but what has stood out to me is their balance."
"They've scored ten goals against a club with genuine European pedigree."
"But they've also kept two clean sheets."
"You don't achieve that by accident."
Another pundit nodded in agreement.
"Exactly."
"We're talking about a Porto side with experienced players."
"Iker Casillas."
"Felipe."
"Aboubakar."
"This wasn't an inexperienced team."
"Arsenal simply controlled every area of the pitch."
The screen switched to footage of Wenger standing calmly on the touchline.
The presenter continued.
"I've said this before, but Arsène Wenger deserves enormous credit."
"A few years ago people questioned whether Arsenal could compete consistently with Europe's elite."
"Now look at them."
"They've just won the Carabao Cup."
"They've beaten Manchester City twice in the same week."
"And now they've won 10-0 over two Champions League matches."
"They're playing some of the best football in Europe."
Leah quietly smiled.
"They're being nice to your manager."
"They should be."
Francesco nodded.
"He deserves it."
The programme then focused on individual performances.
A graphic appeared on screen showing Francesco's statistics.
3 Goals
7 Shots
5 Chances Created
92% Passing Accuracy
Player of the Match
One of the pundits leaned forward.
"I know he's still incredibly young…"
"…but we need to stop talking about Francesco as simply a talented youngster."
"He's already one of Europe's elite forwards."
"What impresses me isn't only the finishing."
"It's the maturity."
"You listen to his interviews."
"He never gets carried away."
"He always talks about the team."
"That's leadership."
Another analyst smiled.
"I loved his answer last night."
"'Supporters are allowed to dream. Our job is different.'"
"That tells you everything about Arsenal's dressing room."
"They're focused."
"They're grounded."
"And that mentality usually comes from the manager."
Francesco shifted slightly on the sofa, looking a little uncomfortable.
Leah noticed immediately.
"You never enjoy watching yourself."
"I don't mind watching the football."
"It's listening to people talk about me."
She laughed softly.
"You'll have to get used to it."
"I'd rather not."
The programme continued by analysing Arsenal's midfield.
Video clips highlighted Özil's movement between the lines.
Kanté's countless interceptions.
Xhaka's calm distribution.
The presenter pointed toward the screen.
"This trio might be the most balanced midfield in Europe right now."
"Mesut Özil provides creativity."
"Granit Xhaka dictates rhythm."
"N'Golo Kanté wins absolutely everything."
"It allows the front three enormous freedom."
The next replay showed Francesco's first goal once again.
The analysts froze the image just before Özil released the pass.
"Look at this."
"Watch Francesco's movement."
"He's not sprinting."
"He's waiting."
"The moment Felipe steps half a yard too high…"
"…he attacks the space."
"Mesut sees it immediately."
"That's chemistry."
"You can't coach that overnight."
Leah looked across at him.
"You've watched that run a hundred times in training, haven't you?"
Francesco smiled.
"Thousands."
"The timing has to be perfect."
"If I go half a second early…"
"I'm offside."
"If I wait too long…"
"The defender recovers."
She nodded thoughtfully.
"It makes more sense when you explain it."
The discussion then moved toward Arsenal's chances in the remainder of the season.
A graphic filled the screen.
CARABAO CUP – WINNERS
PREMIER LEAGUE – TITLE RACE
FA CUP – STILL COMPETING
CHAMPIONS LEAGUE – QUARTER-FINALISTS
The presenter smiled.
"I know Arsenal don't want to talk about it…"
"…but supporters certainly will."
"The quadruple."
One of the pundits laughed.
"I listened to Francesco's interview."
"He'll probably tell us they're only thinking about training tomorrow."
Everyone around the studio laughed.
Another pundit nodded.
"And that's exactly why they're dangerous."
"They're not distracted."
"They're taking one match at a time."
"Inside football clubs, that's how successful seasons are built."
Leah closed her book before looking at him.
"You've accidentally created a catchphrase."
Francesco looked confused.
"What?"
"'One match at a time.'"
She smiled.
"They've mentioned it about six times already."
He laughed quietly.
"I suppose that's better than saying something silly."
"It certainly is."
The programme eventually moved on to discuss the upcoming Champions League quarter-final draw.
Names of Europe's remaining clubs appeared on the screen.
Some of the biggest teams on the continent were still alive in the competition.
The presenter looked around the panel.
"If you're Arsenal…"
"…who do you want?"
The first pundit shook his head.
"At this stage?"
"Nobody."
"They're all outstanding teams."
"But after what Arsenal have shown over the last month…"
"I don't think anyone will want to draw them either."
Another analyst agreed.
"That's probably true."
"Imagine being one of Europe's top clubs and seeing Arsenal come out of the draw."
"They're in outstanding form."
"They've got confidence."
"They've got goals."
"And perhaps most importantly…"
"They've got belief."
Francesco quietly reached for his coffee.
He didn't say anything.
He simply watched.
Leah smiled knowingly.
"You've gone quiet."
"I'm thinking."
"About the draw?"
He nodded.
"It doesn't really matter who we get."
She recognised that answer immediately.
"Because you'll prepare for whoever it is."
He smiled.
"Exactly."
She shook her head with a laugh.
"You really have been listening to Arsène Wenger."
"Quite a lot."
The television eventually moved on to other football stories around Europe.
Francesco lowered the volume before leaning back into the sofa.
For the first time in several weeks, there was nowhere he needed to be.
No training session.
No meeting.
No interview.
Just a quiet morning at home.
Outside, the winter sun continued shining across the gardens surrounding the Richmond mansion.
Inside, however, the peace wouldn't last forever.
Tomorrow, London Colney would be waiting again.
Another training session.
Another opponent.
Another challenge.
The victories over Manchester City and Porto had already become part of Arsenal's past.
The next objective was already beginning to take shape.
And if there was one lesson Wenger had repeated often enough for every player to believe it completely, as the quickest way to lose momentum was to spend too long celebrating it.
______________________________________________
Name : Francesco Lee
Age : 19 (2017)
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, 2016/2017 Champions League, and 2017/2018 Carabao Cup.
Season 17/18 stats:
Arsenal:
Match: 44
Goal: 54
Assist: 6
MOTM: 6
POTM: 0
England:
Match: 2
Goal: 2
Assist: 0
MOTM: 1
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