Saliba was still shaking his head when he got up, brushing grass off his shorts.
"Yeah, that was very nice," he muttered loud enough for everyone to hear, his voice dripping with mock irritation.
"Easy to say when it's not you getting dropped to the floor, boss."
The other players laughed at his remark while on the sideline, Arteta, who had been scribbling something into his small black notebook, lifted his head with that half-smile of his.
"I've had my fair share of embarrassment when I played, trust me," he called back.
"I know exactly how it feels."
"Not like that, you haven't!" Jesus chimed in, pointing at Saliba, who exaggeratedly pretended to limp.
The group laughed again, while Arteta shook his head, smiling, and raised a hand.
"Alright, enough. Let's get back to it," he said, his tone firm but light.
"Let's go again."
The players groaned, all at once this time, but they obeyed, trudging back to their halves.
