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Chapter 26: The Last Friendly
July 27, 2003 — London Colney Training Ground, Arsenal vs. Feyenoord (Friendly)
The morning light hit the damp grass at Colney, the kind that glowed faintly gold before noon heat turned it dull. You could smell the wet earth mixing with the faint scent of liniment and cut grass — football's real perfume.
Jeremy leaned back on the bench, headphones half-on, nodding to the beat. His baggy tracksuit bore the Arsenal crest, but his name didn't sit right under it. Not yet, anyway. He wasn't theirs — not really more like a spark they didn't know how to hold.
Henry tossed him a grin across the locker room. "You ready, kid?"
Jeremy looked up, one earbud still in. "Always ready."
The Frenchman smirked. "Good. Because Wenger's watching."
A low whistle cut through the air. Pat Rice's voice followed: "Kick-off in fifteen! Let's move!"
The lads began their slow rise — the shuffle of boots, the stretch bands creaking, the thud of studs against the floor. Classic Arsenal: efficient chaos.
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Match Setup
Arsenal Starting XI (4-4-2)
🇫🇷 Manager: Arsène Wenger
🇩🇪 Jens Lehmann (GK, #1)
🇨🇫 Lauren (RB, #12)
🇨🇲 Kolo Touré (CB, #28)
🇫🇷 Pascal Cygan (CB, #18)
🏴 Ashley Cole (LB, #3)
🇫🇷 Robert Pirès (RM, #7)
🇫🇷 Patrick Vieira (CM, #4, C)
🇧🇷 Gilberto Silva (CM, #19)
🇸🇪 Fredrik Ljungberg (LM, #8)
🇫🇷 Thierry Henry (ST, #14)
🏴 Jeremy Lynch (ST, #23)
Substitutes:
🇪🇸 Cesc Fàbregas (#57)
🇸🇪 Sebastian Larsson (#47)
🇫🇷 Gaël Clichy (#22)
🏴 David Bentley (#29)
🇨🇿 Tomáš Rosický (Trial)
Opposition: Feyenoord (4-3-3)
🇳🇱 Manager: Bert van Marwijk
🇳🇱 Patrick Lodewijks (GK, #1)
🇳🇱 Dirk Kuyt (RW, #18)
🇳🇱 Pierre van Hooijdonk (ST, #9)
🇳🇱 Robin van Persie (LW, #11)
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The whistle went, slicing through the early hum of fans and staff. Just a friendly — that's what they all said. But for Jeremy, nothing about this was friendly.
He wanted the pitch to remember him.
The ball rolled back from Henry's boot to Vieira, then spread wide to Lauren. Arsenal's passing rhythm clicked in quickly — crisp, one-touch football. The usual hum of Wenger's machine. But Jeremy's movement stood out. Not the pace — the timing.
He'd seen this all before. Literally. 2025 drills, data models, motion tracking — all of it stored somewhere behind his eyes. His body just... knew.
When Pirès looked up, Jeremy was already gone, splitting the line between the right-back and center-back. Pirès' pass came late, but Jeremy adjusted, flicking the ball with his heel mid-sprint.
The defender froze. Jeremy cut back, rolled it under his sole, then chipped it softly toward the back post — not for show, but precision. Henry arrived. One touch. Bang.
1–0.
Wenger didn't move, but you could see that twitch of approval in his jawline. Henry turned, pointing toward Jeremy.
"Nice one, kid!"
Jeremy didn't answer. Just smirked, jogged back to halfway, head down. He liked hearing it, but he wasn't the type to play grateful.
---
The system's voice slipped into his head. Cold. Sharp. No warmth, no approval.
> [Ego System: Match performance evaluated.]
[Skill utilization: 72%]
[Instinct efficiency: 84%]
[Observation: You hesitate when praised.]
[Conclusion: Diamond buried under ego 💎.]
Jeremy blinked, annoyed. "You again. Thought you were quiet today."
> [Correction: You don't think. You perform.]
[Focus. Every match is survival.]
He almost laughed. "You sound like my old coach."
> [Incorrect. I'm smarter.]
The voice vanished.
---
By halftime, Arsenal were 2–1 up. Feyenoord's van Persie had curled in a stunner past Lehmann, and Henry hit another after combining with Ljungberg. Jeremy? Two assists. One of them was a backheel pass that made even Vieira chuckle mid-play.
In the dressing room, the talk was easy. Ljungberg joked about the Dutch lads. Henry leaned back, towel over his shoulder, sipping water. Jeremy sat quietly, scrolling through his system panel, pretending to tie his laces.
> [Player Stats Updated.]
Name: Jeremy Lynch
Age: 15 (2003)
Speed: 83
Agility: 89
Dribbling: 90
Finishing: 81
Vision: 84
Stamina: 75
Mentality: 92
[New Feature Unlocked: System Shop (Lv 2)]
[Special Skills – Future Drills]
[Price: 400 Ego Points]
He only had 215.
He sighed. "Guess I'm still broke, huh?"
Henry noticed him muttering. "What's that, little man? Counting your blessings?"
Jeremy looked up. "Something like that."
Henry grinned. "Save some for us."
---
The second half started. Wenger made changes — Cesc and Bentley on, Henry off. Jeremy stayed. It was clear this was a test now.
Feyenoord pressed higher, their midfield trying to trap Arsenal's youth. Jeremy dropped deep, picking up the ball near the halfway line, two defenders biting at him.
He flicked it through one's legs, spun around, and pulled a flip-flap — a move he'd perfected long before it was cool. The crowd gasped. Even Pirès laughed, shaking his head.
"Show-off," he said under his breath.
Jeremy heard it — smiled. "That's the point."
---
In the 78th minute, he got his goal.
Cesc sent a chipped through-ball — too long, most would've given up. Jeremy sprinted, cut in at the last second, and toe-poked it just before the keeper arrived. Net rippled. 3–1.
He didn't celebrate wildly. Just stood there, arms slightly out, chin up. A look that said: You'll remember me.
The system chimed again.
> [Ego Points +120]
[Updated Balance: 335]
[Observation: Efficient arrogance detected.]
[Advice: Maintain this form. Emotion weakens edge.]
He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah."
---
After the match, Wenger called him aside near the tunnel.
"Good performance today."
Jeremy nodded. "Thanks, boss."
Wenger studied him, thoughtful. "You have talent. Great vision. But I can't give you regular minutes here yet."
Jeremy looked up, quiet.
"You'll go on loan. Brentford. You'll get matches, experience... and humility."
That last word hung between them like fog. Jeremy almost smiled. "Humility, huh? I'll try."
"Do more than try," Wenger said, walking away.
Henry passed by, patting Jeremy's shoulder. "Don't take it wrong. Every legend starts somewhere."
Jeremy just muttered, "Yeah. Somewhere."
---
That night, he sat alone in his flat, boot bag dumped on the floor, the glow of the system lighting the dark.
> [New Mission Assigned.]
["Diamond Loan" — Objective: Dominate League One with Brentford FC.]
[Reward: Special Skill Card (Locked).]
[Failure Penalty: Stat Regression –10%.]
[Timer: 365 days.]
He stared at it for a moment, then exhaled.
"Brentford, huh? Fine. Let's make some noise."
The system's voice echoed softly before fading:
> [Shine bright. Or stay buried. Your choice, Diamond 💎.]
Jeremy leaned back, eyes half-closed, and whispered, almost to himself—
"Let's get started."
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End of Chapter 26