We must make a strong effort... Wenger knows very well how a perfect unbeaten record this month will boost the team's morale and spirit.
Beside him, Boas was on his knees again, but this time it wasn't a celebratory slide; instead, it was the softening of his legs in disappointment. His hands were in his pockets, and he looked slightly confused at the pitch.
Such a goal can easily crush a team's spirit.
Just a moment ago, he confidently remarked that the team's defense was good since Ma'el hadn't scored.
But then, Ma'el hit him with something major... something he was sure to remember for a long time.
Meanwhile, in the stadium's box section, in the owner's box.
Abramovich's face was flushed from drinking, holding a cigar between his fingers as he watched the field, covering his eyes.
Mendes was reclining beside him, shaking his head in amazement and laughing quietly, aware that this was not the moment to celebrate too loudly.
