In the stands, the chants began to roll again, "¡Madrid! ¡Madrid!", shaking the air as the scoreboard blinked to 2–0.
[Arsenal's Bench]
"Izan, you're on"
"Finally," Izan muttered, tugging off his warm-up bib with that grin that made the whole bench laugh.
"You better fix this, hero boy," Nwaneri said.
"Relax," Izan replied, flashing a grin as he jogged to the line.
He tossed aside the bib, running a hand through his hair before pulling on the shirt that had just been handed to him.
"I must say our kits are usually clean, but this season's is just better," Izan said as he tugged his inner sleeves lower.
He jogged over to the touchline, where Arteta stood.
The manager didn't say much, just gave that small nod of trust he reserved for players who didn't need reminding.
"Do what you do best," Arteta murmured.
Izan nodded once, his face setting into quiet focus.
The fourth official lifted the board, where 23 glowed red and 10 in bright green.
