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Arsenal had walked into White Hart Lane, handled every challenge Tottenham threw at them, kept their composure during the match's most heated moments, and walked away with a deserved 2–0 victory.
The celebrations inside White Hart Lane gradually faded as the Arsenal players made their way back into the away dressing room.
There were smiles everywhere.
Not wild celebrations.
Not players shouting at the tops of their voices.
Just the quiet satisfaction that always came from winning a North London Derby away from home.
Those victories always carried a little extra meaning.
Walker was the first through the door.
He spread his arms dramatically.
"I would just like everyone to know…"
"I was absolutely outstanding."
Robertson rolled his eyes before he had even reached his own seat.
"You've been waiting all game to say that."
"I've earned it."
"You've earned a shower."
"That too."
The room burst into laughter.
Alexis threw his boots into his locker before pointing across the room.
"And our captain?"
He nodded towards Francesco.
"One goal."
"One assist by creating the space."
"Not bad."
Francesco smiled.
"We all did our jobs."
"That sounds exactly like something a captain would say," Ramsey laughed.
Wenger entered a moment later.
The room settled almost instantly.
The Frenchman looked around at his players, allowing the silence to settle before speaking.
"I asked for discipline."
"You gave me discipline."
"I asked for another goal."
"You gave me another goal."
He nodded toward the defenders.
"Clean sheet."
Toward the midfield.
"Excellent control."
Finally toward the attackers.
"You never stopped working."
"Well done."
Simple words.
But from Arsène Wenger, they meant a great deal.
The players applauded briefly before beginning their recovery routines.
Ice baths.
Protein shakes.
Treatment for tired muscles.
Another match successfully behind them.
The days that followed settled into Arsenal's familiar rhythm.
Recovery.
Training.
Video analysis.
Preparation.
The victory over Tottenham filled the dressing room with confidence, but Wenger made sure nobody became complacent.
Every morning at London Colney began the same way.
Meetings.
Fitness work.
Possession drills.
Finishing exercises.
Every session carried intensity because another busy period awaited.
The fixture list showed no mercy.
The Premier League title race remained fiercely competitive.
The FA Cup continued.
And just around the corner waited Europe's biggest stage.
The UEFA Champions League Round of 16.
Before Arsenal could even think about Porto, however, there was another competition demanding their full attention.
The FA Cup.
Fourth Round.
Away.
Against Hull City.
The journey north to the KCOM Stadium was noticeably calmer than the derby had been.
There were no headlines dominating the newspapers.
No transfer stories.
No speculation.
Just football.
Exactly the way Wenger liked it.
Inside the coach, Walker was once again impossible to silence.
"So…"
Robertson sighed.
"What now?"
"If we score three today…"
"We probably win."
Robertson stared at him.
"That's your tactical analysis?"
"Yes."
"You've got a future in television."
Alexis laughed loudly.
"They'll replace all the pundits."
"I deserve better."
"You really don't."
Even Francesco found himself laughing.
These conversations never changed.
No matter the opponent.
No matter the competition.
They simply helped everyone relax.
The KCOM Stadium welcomed Arsenal beneath cold grey skies.
Hull City knew they faced one of Europe's strongest teams, but the home supporters created an excellent atmosphere from the opening whistle.
As expected, Hull defended with determination.
Two compact defensive lines.
Little space between midfield and defence.
Every Arsenal attack required patience.
The first half became a frustrating affair.
Francesco struck the post from a narrow angle after combining beautifully with Özil.
Giroud forced an excellent save from the Hull goalkeeper.
Alexis twice came close from distance.
Hull worked tirelessly.
Every block was celebrated almost like a goal.
At halftime the score remained 0-0.
Inside the dressing room Wenger stayed calm.
"They're organised."
"But they're getting tired."
He pointed toward the wide areas.
"Move the ball quicker."
"Stretch them."
"The chances will come."
Nobody panicked.
There were still forty-five minutes to play.
The breakthrough finally arrived shortly after the restart.
Özil drifted into space just outside the penalty area before slipping a clever reverse pass into Giroud.
The French striker held off his marker superbly before turning and firing low across the goalkeeper.
Goal.
0-1 Arsenal.
Giroud punched the air before being surrounded by teammates.
"That feels better," Walker shouted.
Hull suddenly had to attack.
That changed everything.
More space appeared.
Exactly what Arsenal wanted.
Twenty minutes later the second goal arrived.
Alexis won possession high up the pitch before feeding Iwobi, who drove confidently toward the edge of the area.
The young winger looked up once before curling a beautiful finish into the far corner.
0-2.
His teammates celebrated enthusiastically.
Francesco wrapped an arm around him.
"Well done."
Iwobi grinned from ear to ear.
"I've been waiting for that."
"You earned it."
Hull continued battling bravely, refusing to give up despite the scoreline.
But Arsenal's quality gradually took control.
Late in the match came the final goal.
Kanté recovered possession near the halfway line before quickly finding Ramsey.
Ramsey spotted Francesco's run immediately.
The pass split Hull's defence.
Francesco timed his movement perfectly, staying onside before racing through on goal.
The goalkeeper rushed forward.
Francesco stayed calm.
One touch.
Then a composed finish into the bottom corner.
0-3.
The travelling Arsenal supporters erupted behind the goal.
Francesco pointed toward Ramsey in appreciation before embracing the Welsh midfielder.
Another goal.
Another victory.
When the final whistle sounded, Arsenal had safely progressed with a convincing 3-0 win.
Goals from Giroud.
Iwobi.
And Francesco in the second half had secured their place in the next round.
Back in London, there was little time to celebrate.
Recovery sessions replaced celebrations almost immediately.
The coaching staff focused everyone's attention toward the Premier League once again.
Everton were next.
At the Emirates Stadium.
Another opportunity to keep pressure on the teams around them.
Matchday arrived beneath clear winter skies.
The Emirates buzzed long before kickoff.
Supporters sensed their team was finding excellent form.
The confidence from recent performances could be felt everywhere.
During the final training session before the match, however, Wenger had made one important decision.
Granit Xhaka had played an enormous number of minutes over recent weeks.
After consulting with the medical staff, Wenger decided to rest him.
Inside the dressing room he explained the change.
"Granit has given us everything."
"But fatigue is beginning to show."
He looked toward Ramsey.
"Aaron."
"You start today."
Ramsey nodded immediately.
"I'll be ready."
Xhaka accepted the decision professionally.
He walked over and shook Ramsey's hand.
"Go and enjoy it."
"I will."
It was another example of the togetherness growing inside the squad.
Nobody complained.
Everyone understood the demands of competing across multiple competitions.
From the opening whistle against Everton, Arsenal looked sharp.
The passing was quicker.
The pressing more aggressive.
The movement almost impossible to contain.
Everton struggled to settle.
Only fifteen minutes had passed when Arsenal struck first.
Özil floated a delightful cross toward the penalty spot.
Francesco rose highest.
His powerful header gave the goalkeeper no chance.
1-0.
The Emirates exploded.
Francesco celebrated with both arms raised before being embraced by Alexis and Gnabry.
The captain had given Arsenal the perfect start.
Everton attempted to respond but found themselves constantly frustrated.
Kanté recovered possession repeatedly.
Walker and Robertson pushed high from full-back.
Van Dijk organised everything from the back.
Just before halftime Arsenal doubled their advantage.
A corner from Özil caused chaos inside Everton's penalty area.
The ball bounced awkwardly before Laurent Koscielny reacted quickest, stabbing home from close range.
2-0.
The French defender rarely celebrated wildly, but even he couldn't hide his smile.
If the first half belonged to Arsenal, then the second belonged almost entirely to Aaron Ramsey.
The Welsh midfielder produced one of the finest performances of his Arsenal career.
Early after the restart he exchanged passes with Francesco before driving into the box and calmly finishing low beyond the goalkeeper.
3-0.
His confidence visibly grew.
Every touch seemed cleaner.
Every run perfectly timed.
Twenty minutes later he struck again.
This time Alexis found space down the left before cutting the ball back toward the edge of the area.
Ramsey arrived perfectly.
One touch.
Powerful finish.
4-0.
The Emirates rose to applaud.
Walker ran almost the entire length of the pitch to celebrate.
"That's two!"
Ramsey laughed.
"I know!"
"You're not finished!"
Remarkably Walker turned out to be right.
With only minutes remaining, Arsenal launched one final counterattack.
Iwobi carried the ball through midfield before slipping it across to Francesco.
Rather than shooting himself, Francesco noticed Ramsey bursting through the centre.
Without hesitation he squared the pass.
Ramsey met it first time.
The ball nestled into the bottom corner.
Hat-trick.
The Emirates erupted once more.
Aaron Ramsey stood momentarily frozen before teammates swarmed him from every direction.
His smile said everything.
Hat-tricks were rare enough.
Doing it in the Premier League made it even more special.
Francesco hugged him tightly.
"You deserved every one."
Ramsey laughed breathlessly.
"I don't think I'll sleep tonight."
"You probably won't."
The supporters sang Ramsey's name continuously for the remainder of the match.
Even Xhaka, watching from the bench after being rested, stood and applauded warmly.
There was no jealousy.
Only genuine happiness for a teammate who had seized his opportunity.
When the referee finally brought the afternoon to an end, the scoreboard reflected Arsenal's complete dominance.
Arsenal 5-0 Everton.
Francesco had opened the scoring.
Koscielny had added the second.
Ramsey, replacing the fatigued Xhaka, had produced a magnificent second-half hat-trick to complete an emphatic victory.
As the players applauded the home supporters after the final whistle, Wenger stood quietly near the touchline with a satisfied expression.
Two convincing victories in quick succession.
Progress in the FA Cup.
Another statement in the Premier League.
Confidence throughout the squad continued to grow.
Yet everyone inside the Arsenal camp knew that an even greater challenge now awaited.
In only a few days, they would leave England behind and fly to Portugal for the first leg of their UEFA Champions League Round of 16 tie against Porto.
The knockout stage of Europe's biggest competition had arrived, and every player understood that from this point onward, every mistake and every moment of brilliance could shape their season.
Two days passed almost without anyone noticing.
The victories over Hull City and Everton had lifted spirits throughout London Colney, but there was no sense of complacency inside Arsenal's training ground.
If anything, the mood became even more focused.
The Premier League could wait for a few days.
So could the FA Cup.
Now every conversation, every tactical meeting and every training exercise revolved around one competition.
The UEFA Champions League.
For many players, there was simply nothing else like it.
The famous anthem.
The floodlights.
The knowledge that the smallest mistake could decide an entire European campaign.
Those were the nights footballers dreamed about.
The morning of departure arrived beneath a pale London sky.
Long before sunrise, Arsenal's players began arriving at London Colney carrying small travel bags instead of their usual training equipment.
The first-team building looked slightly different.
Instead of boots drying outside lockers and footballs lined neatly beside the indoor pitch, luggage had been stacked carefully near the entrance.
Members of Arsenal's operations staff moved efficiently between players, checking passports, travel documents and equipment lists one final time.
Everything had been planned weeks in advance.
Nothing was left to chance.
Walker arrived carrying a travel pillow around his neck.
Robertson spotted him immediately.
"You've come prepared."
Walker looked offended.
"Champions League flights require luxury."
"You've got a forty-five minute pillow."
"It supports my neck."
"It looks ridiculous."
"It looks comfortable."
Alexis walked past them carrying nothing more than a small backpack.
"I think Robertson's just jealous."
"I absolutely am not."
Walker grinned.
"You can borrow it."
"I'd rather sit on the floor."
The nearby players laughed.
Francesco climbed out of his BMW before locking it and making his way toward the entrance.
Cheddar had looked thoroughly disappointed that morning when his owner had left the mansion earlier than usual.
Leah had smiled knowingly.
"He'll spend the next two days waiting by the front window."
Francesco had laughed.
"Make sure he doesn't forget me."
"I don't think that's possible."
Now, as he stepped inside London Colney, football once again took over his thoughts.
Porto.
Nothing else.
A short bus journey later, the squad arrived at the airport's private terminal.
There were no crowded departure halls.
No long queues.
Only airport staff, club officials and a small group of journalists waiting behind security barriers.
Supporters waved Arsenal scarves as the players stepped off the coach.
Some called for photographs.
Others simply wished the team good luck.
One young supporter shouted loudly,
"Bring us back a win, Francesco!"
Francesco turned and waved.
"We'll do our best."
The boy's smile stretched from ear to ear.
Moments like that never grew old.
Inside the terminal, everything moved smoothly.
Passports checked.
Luggage loaded.
Security completed.
Soon afterwards the squad walked across the tarmac toward the waiting aircraft.
The Arsenal crest had been placed near the entrance of the charter plane.
The sight always reminded everyone that this wasn't an ordinary trip.
This was Europe.
Once everyone had settled into their seats, the atmosphere relaxed.
Some players immediately reclined their chairs.
Others opened tablets containing tactical videos prepared by the coaching staff.
Özil quietly watched clips of Porto's midfield structure.
Van Dijk reviewed defensive positioning during Porto's recent league matches.
Kanté sat beside Xhaka discussing pressing triggers they expected to encounter.
Francesco noticed Wenger walking slowly down the aisle, stopping briefly beside different players.
The manager wasn't talking tactics.
Not yet.
He simply checked that everyone was comfortable.
That everyone had what they needed.
Small gestures.
The sort that often went unnoticed.
Walker, meanwhile, had already placed the famous travel pillow around his neck.
Robertson glanced sideways.
"You actually brought it."
"I told you."
"You look like you're about to sleep for a week."
"I'm preparing mentally."
"By snoring?"
"I perform best after quality rest."
Alexis leaned across the aisle.
"I give him five minutes."
Walker smiled confidently.
"You underestimate me."
Less than four minutes later, soft snoring drifted from his seat.
Robertson didn't even look up from his magazine.
"I win."
The nearby players laughed quietly, careful not to wake him.
Even Wenger smiled as he walked past.
Some things never changed.
The flight itself passed peacefully.
Above the clouds, the bright winter sunshine filled the cabin through the windows.
Lunch was served shortly after take-off.
Most players chose light meals carefully planned by the club's nutrition staff.
Grilled chicken.
Rice.
Fresh vegetables.
Fruit.
Hydration remained a priority.
No one wanted heavy food before an important European fixture.
After eating, Francesco looked out of the window.
The clouds gradually disappeared, revealing the coastline of Portugal beneath them.
It had been several years since he had last visited Porto.
The city looked beautiful from above.
Blue water.
Historic buildings.
The winding Douro River cutting through the landscape.
Football had taken him to remarkable places across Europe.
Yet every city carried its own character.
Porto felt different.
Traditional.
Passionate.
A city that loved football.
The captain quietly closed his eyes for a few minutes, mentally replaying movements they had worked on during training.
Timing runs.
Pressing patterns.
Set-piece positioning.
Champions League football demanded attention to every detail.
"Ladies and gentlemen…"
The captain's voice came through the aircraft speakers.
"We'll shortly begin our descent into Porto."
Players gradually looked up from books, tablets and conversations.
Seat belts clicked into place.
Walker stretched dramatically.
"I survived."
Robertson smiled.
"Barely."
"I had an excellent nap."
"We all know."
"I'm refreshed."
"You were unconscious."
The plane descended smoothly before touching down on Portuguese soil.
Applause broke out softly among several members of the travelling staff.
Another European away trip had officially begun.
Waiting beside the aircraft stood Arsenal's team bus.
The familiar dark-red coach gleamed beneath the afternoon sunshine.
The luggage truck arrived moments later, and equipment staff quickly loaded everything underneath the bus.
The players climbed aboard one after another.
As the coach pulled away from the airport, many naturally looked through the windows.
Porto unfolded around them.
Historic streets.
Colourful buildings climbing the hillsides.
Small cafés filled with afternoon customers.
Trams moving steadily through the city.
The famous Douro River shimmered beneath the sunlight.
Alexis smiled.
"Beautiful city."
Francesco nodded.
"It really is."
Walker looked out of the opposite window.
"I'm mostly looking forward to dinner."
Robertson sighed.
"You've been here five minutes."
"I plan ahead."
"You plan meals."
"Exactly."
The journey to the team hotel lasted around half an hour.
Police escorts occasionally cleared intersections, allowing the coach to move smoothly through traffic.
As they approached the hotel, several dozen Arsenal supporters had already gathered outside.
Many had travelled from England.
Others lived locally.
Scarves waved proudly.
Phones appeared as the team bus slowed to a stop.
The players stepped off one by one.
Applause greeted them immediately.
Several supporters shouted encouragement.
"Come on Arsenal!"
"Good luck tomorrow!"
Francesco stopped briefly to sign a couple of shirts before club staff gently encouraged everyone toward the hotel entrance.
Inside, everything had already been prepared.
Reception staff welcomed the squad warmly before Arsenal's operations manager began handing out room cards.
Players naturally paired with their usual roommates.
Walker glanced at his envelope.
"Oh no."
Robertson looked suspiciously.
"What?"
"We're together again."
Robertson closed his eyes dramatically.
"I asked for a transfer."
"It was rejected."
"I understand why."
"You secretly enjoy my company."
"I secretly enjoy silence."
The nearby players laughed.
Alexis shook his head.
"You two should have your own television programme."
"We probably should," Walker replied proudly.
Francesco collected his own room card before slipping it carefully into his pocket.
Before anyone disappeared toward the lifts, Wenger called everyone together.
The conversations immediately stopped.
The manager waited until every player was listening.
"We'll keep this evening simple."
"Dinner is at seven."
"Recovery afterwards."
"Get plenty of rest."
He paused briefly.
"Tomorrow morning we'll begin our preparations at Boavista's training ground."
Several players nodded.
Wenger continued.
"Our session there will be important."
"We'll familiarise ourselves with conditions."
"Review our tactical work."
"And make our final adjustments before facing Porto."
He looked around the group.
"Enjoy the evening."
"But remember why we're here."
Nobody needed reminding.
This wasn't a sightseeing trip.
It was business.
European business.
The evening passed quietly.
Dinner was relaxed.
Players chatted about football, family and recent matches.
Afterwards many returned to their rooms early.
Some watched television.
Others called loved ones back home.
Francesco spoke with Leah for nearly half an hour.
"How's Cheddar?"
"He spent most of the afternoon staring out of the front window."
Francesco smiled.
"I knew he would."
"He'll be happy when you're back."
"So will I."
"Take care of yourself tomorrow."
"I will."
"And tell Cheddar I'll bring him something from Portugal."
Leah laughed.
"I don't think he cares about souvenirs."
"He cares that you come home."
The words stayed with Francesco long after the call ended.
The next morning arrived beneath clear blue skies.
Portugal's weather felt noticeably warmer than England's.
After breakfast, the Arsenal squad boarded the team bus once more.
Today's destination wasn't the Estádio do Dragão.
Instead, they travelled across the city toward the training facilities of Boavista FC, where arrangements had been made for Arsenal's final preparations.
The drive was short.
Players quietly looked through the windows as Porto slowly came to life.
Cafés opened their doors.
Supporters wearing Porto shirts walked through the streets.
Local newspapers already carried previews of the following night's match.
The excitement throughout the city was unmistakable.
When the bus entered Boavista's training complex, everyone immediately appreciated the facilities.
The pitches looked immaculate.
Ground staff had prepared everything perfectly.
Cones, mannequins and training equipment had already been arranged exactly as Arsenal's coaches had requested.
Tony Colbert stepped onto the grass first.
He smiled with approval.
"Excellent surface."
Wenger nodded.
"Perfect."
One by one, the players emerged from the changing rooms wearing Arsenal's dark training kit.
The fresh Portuguese air carried the scent of cut grass.
Francesco took a deep breath.
Champions League knockout football always felt different.
You could almost sense the importance before a ball had even been kicked.
Wenger gathered everyone into a circle before training officially began.
"This is our final session."
"No unnecessary risks."
"But complete concentration."
He looked from player to player.
"Everything we do today prepares us for tomorrow night."
The players nodded together.
Warm-ups began under the guidance of the fitness coaches.
Light jogging.
Dynamic stretching.
Mobility work.
Then came passing drills, positional exercises and tactical rehearsals designed specifically for Porto.
Wenger frequently stopped play to make small adjustments.
"Move five yards higher."
"Press together."
"Support quicker."
Every instruction carried purpose.
Francesco worked closely with Özil, Alexis and Gnabry on attacking combinations around the edge of the penalty area, while Kanté and Ramsey rehearsed pressing patterns behind them.
Meanwhile, Van Dijk organised the defensive line repeatedly, making sure everyone remained compact whenever Porto's likely attacking movements were simulated.
The session lasted just under ninety minutes, but every minute was intense.
Every pass mattered.
Every run had meaning.
As training drew to a close, Wenger watched his players gather near the centre circle.
There was confidence in their body language.
There was unity.
Most importantly, there was hunger.
Preparation was complete.
The journey to Porto had ended.
Now only one thing remained.
The first leg of Arsenal's UEFA Champions League Round of 16 tie awaited under the lights of the Estádio do Dragão.
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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, and 2016/2017 Champions League.
Season 17/18 stats:
Arsenal:
Match: 39
Goal: 46
Assist: 5
MOTM: 5
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