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And beyond that, another demanding chapter of Arsenal's season was already waiting.
Then the team bus rolled away from the Wirsol Rhein-Neckar-Arena with the glow of the floodlights still visible behind the trees.
Inside, the mood had settled into the familiar quiet of a successful away trip. Some players were already leaning back with headphones on, others talking softly across the aisle, while the coaching staff occupied themselves with the final details of the evening. Equipment had been loaded into the luggage compartments, the medical staff had checked on the players, and the last members of the travelling party had climbed aboard.
Francesco sat by the window.
Sinsheim slipped past in fragments of streetlights, dark buildings, and occasional signs illuminated against the night. His boots were packed away, his captain's armband safely inside his bag, and a bottle of water rested between his hands.
Five-nil.
Another Champions League victory.
Another clean sheet.
But there was already another match ahead.
He glanced down the aisle.
Giroud was talking animatedly with Ramsey, while Saka sat nearby listening to music and occasionally laughing at something the older players said. Koscielny had his eyes closed, finally allowing himself a few quiet minutes after leading the side through the final twenty minutes.
Wenger eventually appeared at the front of the bus.
"Everyone comfortable?"
A few players answered.
"Good."
The manager looked toward the back.
"Sleep if you can. Recovery begins tonight."
Alexis lifted his head.
"Does that mean no dancing?"
Wenger stared at him.
"It means especially no dancing."
The bus erupted in laughter.
Alexis grinned and returned to his seat.
The journey continued.
By the time Arsenal reached the airport and boarded their flight back to England, the night had become almost entirely about recovery. Players moved through the necessary procedures with the efficiency of a squad accustomed to European travel: passports checked, luggage accounted for, staff confirming arrangements, then the familiar walk across the tarmac toward the aircraft.
Francesco slept for part of the flight.
When Arsenal finally returned to London, there was little ceremony.
The players collected their belongings, climbed aboard the waiting vehicles, and dispersed toward home.
There would be no extended celebration.
The season demanded too much for that.
Several days later, the Champions League victory already felt like another completed page.
Training returned to its normal rhythm, although Wenger was careful with the workload. The players who had accumulated heavy minutes were monitored closely, while those who had come from the bench were given opportunities to sharpen themselves.
The next challenge was domestic.
Fulham.
Craven Cottage.
An away match in London, but one that carried an entirely different character from a European night in Germany.
On matchday, the Arsenal convoy made its way across the city.
The traffic was heavier than usual around west London, and supporters in red could be spotted on pavements and outside pubs as the afternoon moved toward kickoff. Arsenal scarves appeared among the crowds, while Fulham supporters made their way toward the Thames with shirts and jackets bearing the club's colors.
Craven Cottage stood beside the river, its historic structure contrasting sharply with the modern stadiums Arsenal had become accustomed to visiting.
The Thames moved quietly beside the ground.
Boats passed beyond the stands.
The old football ground had a character of its own.
As the Arsenal bus approached, Francesco looked through the window.
"Different from Germany."
Walker, sitting nearby, nodded.
"Definitely."
"Nice place, though."
"Until they start shouting at us."
Francesco laughed.
"That usually happens."
Inside the stadium, Wenger gathered his players before the match.
The tactical board showed Fulham's shape and the areas Arsenal intended to attack.
"We have played a lot of football recently," Wenger said. "That does not mean we reduce our standards."
He pointed toward the wide areas.
"Move them. Make them defend from side to side."
Then toward midfield.
"Do not force the first pass. If it is not there, recycle."
Finally, his attention settled briefly on Francesco.
"And when the opportunity comes, be decisive."
Francesco nodded.
The message was simple.
Another league match.
Another three points to pursue.
The players emerged from the tunnel to a mixture of applause and noise from the stands.
The river breeze moved through the stadium as the teams took their positions.
The referee checked his watch.
Then the whistle sounded.
Arsenal took control almost immediately.
Kanté and Xhaka established possession in midfield, while Özil began finding pockets between Fulham's midfield and defence. Robertson pushed forward from the left, Walker offered width on the opposite side, and Alexis repeatedly drifted inside.
Francesco remained between the centre-backs.
He did not need to touch the ball constantly.
He only needed to keep them uncertain.
In the opening stages, Fulham defended compactly.
Arsenal patiently moved around them.
Then the first opening arrived.
Özil received between the lines and turned.
Francesco began his run.
A defender followed.
That created space for Alexis.
Özil played toward him.
Alexis controlled, shifted inside and struck.
The ball flew beyond the goalkeeper.
One-nil.
The Arsenal supporters erupted.
Alexis sprinted toward the corner, arms spread wide as his teammates chased after him.
Francesco arrived moments later.
"Good start."
Alexis grinned.
"Very good start."
Fulham attempted to respond, but Arsenal's pressure prevented them from settling.
Kanté won a loose ball.
Xhaka immediately switched play.
Walker advanced.
The cross was cleared, but only as far as Özil.
The German midfielder returned it toward the edge of the area.
Francesco had already found the gap.
One touch.
Then another.
He opened his body and finished low into the far corner.
Two-nil.
The Arsenal bench rose.
Francesco turned toward the supporters before being surrounded by Gnabry, Alexis and Özil.
"Beautiful," Özil said.
Francesco smiled.
"Your pass."
"Your finish."
The match continued at Arsenal's pace.
Fulham tried to push higher, but that only created more room behind their defensive line.
Francesco found it again before halftime.
Kanté intercepted a pass and immediately released Alexis.
Alexis carried the ball forward before slipping it inside.
Francesco timed his movement perfectly.
He collected the pass, took one touch to settle himself and finished past the goalkeeper.
Three-nil.
A second goal for the captain.
He celebrated with a quick embrace from Alexis before turning back toward halfway.
By halftime, Arsenal were firmly in control.
Wenger's message in the dressing room was measured.
"Good first half. But we manage the second half intelligently."
His eyes moved across the room.
"We do not need to make this match more difficult than it is."
Francesco sat quietly, drinking water.
He knew exactly what was coming.
Wenger eventually approached him.
"You have done enough."
Francesco nodded.
"Okay."
"We have another break coming. I want to protect you."
"Understood."
There was no argument.
That was part of the responsibility of being captain.
Sometimes leadership meant accepting that the match did not require another thirty minutes.
The second half began with Arsenal still in control.
Fulham attempted to raise the intensity, but Arsenal's defensive organization remained intact.
Van Dijk won an aerial challenge.
Koscielny stepped in front of a forward.
Čech collected a cross without difficulty.
Then, after another period of controlled possession, Wenger turned toward his bench.
"Giroud."
The Frenchman stood.
Francesco jogged toward the touchline.
The fourth official prepared the board.
Francesco's evening was over.
As he crossed the line, Giroud came on.
The Arsenal supporters applauded their captain.
Francesco acknowledged them with a raised hand before walking toward the bench.
Wenger greeted him.
"Good work."
Francesco sat down and reached for his water.
"Thanks."
Now Giroud had the responsibility of leading the line.
And he immediately gave Fulham a different problem.
He held off defenders, brought midfielders into play, and provided a target whenever Arsenal went direct.
The fourth goal arrived midway through the second half.
Robertson won possession and advanced before delivering a cross into the penalty area.
Giroud positioned himself between two defenders.
He rose above them.
Header.
Four-nil.
The Frenchman landed and immediately pointed toward Robertson.
"That's yours!"
Robertson laughed as teammates surrounded Giroud.
From the bench, Francesco applauded.
"Good one, Oli!"
Giroud turned toward him.
"Still got it!"
"You never lost it."
The Arsenal supporters enjoyed that exchange almost as much as the goal.
Fulham were struggling to regain any control.
Yet Arsenal refused to become careless.
Kanté continued patrolling midfield, closing spaces before Fulham could exploit them.
Eventually, he became the unlikely scorer of the fifth.
Xhaka won possession and moved it toward Özil.
Özil drew a defender before laying the ball back.
Kanté arrived from midfield.
He struck first time.
The shot travelled through a crowded area and found the bottom corner.
Five-nil.
Kanté stopped for half a second as if he was almost surprised himself.
Then his teammates arrived.
Walker grabbed him from behind.
"Look at that!"
Kanté laughed.
"I don't score often."
"Save it for the important ones."
Francesco applauded from the bench, smiling.
The remainder of the match was professional rather than spectacular.
Arsenal maintained their structure.
Fulham tried to create something, but Van Dijk and Koscielny dealt with the danger, while Čech remained composed.
When the final whistle arrived, the scoreboard read 5–0.
Another emphatic victory.
Another clean sheet.
Another league match completed.
Francesco stood and applauded the supporters before joining his teammates.
There was no excessive celebration.
They had become accustomed to winning.
That did not make the achievement meaningless.
It simply meant the squad understood that the next challenge was always approaching.
In the dressing room, Giroud was still being teased about his goal.
Kanté received considerably more attention than he seemed comfortable with.
"You scored," Ramsey said.
Kanté looked at him.
"I know."
"Say it louder."
"No."
Everyone laughed.
Wenger eventually entered.
"Good performance."
He paused.
"And sensible management."
His eyes briefly found Francesco.
"We protected a player when we had the opportunity to do so."
Francesco nodded.
With the international break approaching, the decision was obvious.
There was no reason to gamble with fatigue.
The following morning, the international squads were announced.
England manager Gareth Southgate had named his group.
Francesco's name was there.
So was Kyle Walker's.
His period away from international duty was over.
After weeks of focusing entirely on Arsenal, Francesco would once again report for England.
The news carried a different feeling.
Club football had become routine.
International football never quite did.
There was something unique about leaving London wearing England colors, knowing that every training session was compressed into a few days and every tactical instruction had to be absorbed quickly.
The morning of his departure, the Richmond mansion was unusually quiet.
Francesco walked downstairs with his travel bag.
Leah was waiting near the entrance.
Cheddar was already there.
The corgi looked up at Francesco with immediate interest.
"You know I'm leaving, don't you?"
Cheddar's tail began moving.
Francesco crouched.
"Come here."
Cheddar trotted over and pressed against him.
Francesco scratched behind his ears.
"Be good for Leah."
Cheddar stared back at him.
Leah folded her arms.
"He's already planning to ignore you."
"I expected that."
She smiled.
Francesco stood.
Leah stepped closer.
"Take care of yourself."
"I will."
"And don't come back injured."
"I'll try."
She gave him a look.
"That's not particularly reassuring."
Francesco laughed softly.
"I'll be careful."
Leah adjusted the collar of his jacket.
"Good."
They kissed briefly.
Then she rested her forehead against his.
"Go do your thing."
Francesco smiled.
"I'll call you."
"You'd better."
Cheddar suddenly nudged his leg.
Francesco looked down.
"Oh, now you want attention?"
He crouched again and gave the corgi one last affectionate scratch.
"See you soon."
Cheddar watched him leave through the front door.
Francesco paused briefly at the driveway.
For a moment, he looked back at the house.
Leah stood in the doorway.
He raised a hand.
She waved back.
Then he climbed into the waiting car.
The door closed.
The vehicle pulled away.
The quiet of Richmond gradually disappeared behind him.
Ahead was St. George's Park.
And with it came a different responsibility.
Not Arsenal.
Not the Premier League.
England.
The journey north carried him into a world he knew well but had not inhabited for some time.
By the time Francesco arrived at St. George's Park, several England players were already settling into camp.
Harry Kane was among the first familiar faces he encountered.
"There he is."
Francesco smiled.
"Harry."
Kane pulled him into a quick hug.
"Been a while."
"Too long."
Jordan Henderson appeared shortly afterward.
"Welcome back."
"Good to see you."
Jordan Pickford called over from across the room.
"Captain!"
Francesco laughed.
"Not here."
Pickford grinned.
"Fair enough."
Marcus Rashford and Jesse Lingard arrived soon afterward, greeting Francesco with the same mixture of familiarity and excitement.
The conversations were easy.
Club football had separated them for weeks, but international camps had a way of restoring old friendships quickly.
Then Francesco saw another familiar figure entering with a bag over his shoulder.
Kyle Walker.
Walker spotted him immediately.
"No way."
Francesco smiled.
"You again."
Walker shook his head.
"Travel together for Arsenal, travel together for England."
"Could be worse."
"True."
They bumped shoulders.
Walker looked toward the corridor.
"Come on. Let's get settled before they make us run."
Francesco laughed.
"You know they will."
And they did.
Over the following days, St. George's Park became a completely different kind of football environment.
The sessions were shorter in duration than a full club week, but every minute mattered.
Southgate and his staff placed heavy emphasis on efficiency.
There was little time to develop habits.
Fitness work opened the first sessions, followed by passing exercises designed to sharpen players immediately after arriving from different club environments.
Small positional drills followed.
Kane worked with Francesco during finishing patterns, the two strikers exchanging movement cues and discussing how they could occupy defenders without getting in each other's way.
Henderson coordinated the midfield.
Walker worked through defensive positioning and recovery runs.
Pickford spent portions of training with the goalkeeping staff before joining the larger tactical exercises.
Rashford and Lingard provided pace during attacking drills.
Pressing sessions were particularly demanding.
Southgate repeatedly stopped play.
"Again."
The players reset.
"Distance between the lines."
They moved.
"Quicker."
Again.
The purpose was not simply to run.
It was to establish collective reactions.
When one player pressed, the others needed to understand what space would appear behind him.
When England regained possession, the first pass needed to have purpose.
Set pieces occupied another portion of the preparation.
Corners.
Free kicks.
Defensive assignments.
Second-ball positioning.
Southgate's staff carefully walked the players through responsibilities before allowing them to execute at match speed.
During one break, Lingard dropped beside Francesco.
"Feels strange seeing you back."
"Feels strange being back."
"You missed us."
"Obviously."
Lingard grinned.
"I knew it."
Kane overheard.
"He's been pretending Arsenal is enough."
Francesco laughed.
"Arsenal is pretty good."
"Traitor."
The players laughed.
But underneath the jokes was a clear understanding.
International football was different.
There was no long preseason.
No months of training together.
No ability to spend weeks correcting the same tactical problem.
The players had to adapt immediately.
Southgate reminded them of that before one tactical session.
"We have limited time," he told them. "So communicate. Help each other. If something is unclear, ask. We need everyone understanding the same picture."
Francesco took that responsibility seriously.
At Arsenal, he was the captain.
With England, he was simply one part of a larger group, even if his experience meant teammates naturally looked toward him.
He did not try to force that role.
He trained.
He listened.
He worked alongside Kane, Henderson, Walker, Pickford, Rashford, Lingard and everyone else.
The days passed quickly.
Eventually, preparation gave way to departure.
The players gathered their luggage around the entrance to the complex while staff members checked names and counted bags.
Coaches coordinated transport.
Equipment staff loaded cases.
Phones appeared as players informed families that they were leaving.
Francesco carried his own bag toward the vehicle.
Walker walked alongside him.
"Croatia."
"Yep."
"You ready?"
Francesco looked ahead.
"Almost."
At the airport, the group moved through the familiar sequence of an international away trip.
Check-in.
Security.
Waiting.
Boarding.
Once aboard the plane bound for Rijeka, the atmosphere slowly changed.
At St. George's Park, there had still been room for jokes.
Now the players were beginning to focus.
Kane sat nearby reviewing information about Croatia.
Henderson discussed midfield movements with another teammate.
Pickford had headphones on, looking out of the window.
Rashford and Lingard spoke quietly several rows away.
Walker settled into his seat and looked across at Francesco.
"You bringing the Arsenal tactics with you?"
Francesco smiled.
"Only the useful ones."
"Good answer."
Francesco leaned back.
The flight continued over Europe.
Some players slept.
Others watched films.
A few reviewed tactical notes on tablets.
The relaxed rhythm of the first part of the journey gradually gave way to concentration.
Croatia was waiting.
The UEFA Nations League was beginning another chapter for England.
And for Francesco, the transition was complete.
A few days earlier, he had been Arsenal's captain walking away from a five-nil victory at Craven Cottage.
Now he was wearing England colors again.
Different shirt.
Different teammates.
Different tactical instructions.
Same responsibility to perform.
As the aircraft began its descent, the coastline of Croatia appeared beneath the clouds.
The Adriatic stretched beyond the landscape, blue and expansive beneath the afternoon light.
Rijeka came into view.
The players began gathering their belongings.
Seat belts clicked open.
Headphones were removed.
Conversations became quieter.
Outside the window, the Croatian landscape grew clearer with every passing second.
When the England delegation finally arrived in Rijeka, staff members were already waiting to guide the group through the airport.
Luggage was collected.
Transport was organized.
The players moved together toward the waiting buses.
Francesco stepped outside.
The air felt different from England.
Warmer.
Saltier.
The Adriatic breeze carried across the city.
Walker joined him.
"Here we are."
Francesco looked toward the road ahead.
"Yeah."
There was no match tonight.
Not yet.
For now, there was only another hotel, another training ground, another tactical meeting, and another opportunity to prepare properly.
The England squad climbed aboard.
As the bus pulled away from the airport and Rijeka opened before them, Francesco looked out through the window.
Then England bus pulled away from Rijeka Airport and joined the road leading toward the city.
Francesco remained by the window for a while, watching Croatia pass outside.
The arrival had been relatively quiet. There had been supporters at the airport, a few photographers behind barriers, and the usual cluster of security personnel guiding the delegation through the terminal. But now the players were settling into the reality of the trip.
They had arrived.
The match was still ahead.
And tomorrow, the work would begin again.
Walker sat across the aisle, scrolling through his phone.
"You know what the best part of international duty is?" he asked.
Francesco looked over.
"What?"
"No club manager telling you to press for ninety minutes."
Francesco laughed.
"You haven't met Gareth."
Walker lowered his phone.
"Fair point."
A few seats farther forward, Kane was speaking with Henderson about Croatia's midfield. Pickford had his headphones on, while Rashford and Lingard were discussing something that repeatedly made them laugh.
Sterling sat near the front with several of the other players, already looking through the information provided by the coaching staff.
The journey to the hotel passed quickly.
By the following morning, the atmosphere had changed.
The England squad had their first full session at the HNK Rijeka training ground.
The Croatian surroundings were immediately noticeable.
The air was warmer than England's, and beyond the training complex the hills and distant coastline gave the area a different character. The grass was immaculate, the pitches prepared carefully for the visiting team, while staff members moved between equipment stations arranging cones, mannequins, GPS equipment and footballs.
Southgate arrived shortly before the players.
He gathered his coaching staff near the halfway line.
There was no need for a long speech.
They had limited days together.
Every session had a purpose.
The opening work was physical.
Short acceleration exercises.
Changes of direction.
Mobility work.
Controlled conditioning.
The sports-science staff monitored the players closely, particularly those who had arrived after heavy workloads with their clubs.
Francesco completed the first series alongside Walker.
"Still alive?" Walker asked.
"Barely."
Walker laughed.
"Good."
Once the physical work was complete, the players moved into passing patterns.
The ball travelled quickly.
One touch where possible.
Two when necessary.
Southgate wanted the group comfortable receiving under pressure because Croatia were expected to challenge them aggressively whenever England attempted to build from the back.
Henderson frequently called for movement.
"Again, again!"
Kane dropped deeper during one sequence and drew a defender with him.
Francesco immediately moved into the space.
Kane spotted it.
The pass arrived.
Francesco returned it first time.
"That's the idea," Southgate called.
The following session focused more heavily on pressing.
The coaching staff divided the squad into units.
Forwards worked on the first line.
Midfielders practiced closing passing lanes.
Defenders rehearsed stepping forward together rather than individually.
Southgate stopped the exercise several times.
"Don't chase the ball."
The players reset.
"Chase the next pass."
That distinction became central to the preparation.
Croatia were not a side that could simply be overwhelmed by running.
England needed to understand where the pressure would lead them.
The attacking work followed.
Sterling and Rashford alternated between wide positions and inside runs, while Lingard moved between the lines.
Kane worked on holding the ball with his back to goal.
Francesco practiced movements across the centre-backs.
At one point Kane came alongside him.
"If I drop, you go."
"Got it."
"If you drop?"
"You go."
Kane smiled.
"Simple."
"Hopefully."
Set pieces occupied another portion of the afternoon.
Henderson stood over corners.
Francesco worked on near-post and penalty-spot movements.
The defenders practiced marking responsibilities.
Pickford worked separately with the goalkeeping coaches, repeatedly dealing with crosses and second balls before joining the rest of the group.
The days passed quickly.
There was recovery.
Video analysis.
Tactical meetings.
More work on defensive transitions.
More finishing.
More pressing.
Every evening, the squad gradually became quieter.
The jokes remained.
They simply became shorter.
Everyone knew the match was approaching.
One evening, Lingard sat beside Francesco at dinner.
"You've been away for a while."
"From England?"
"Yeah."
Francesco nodded.
"Needed the rest."
"Fair enough."
Lingard looked across the room toward Kane and Sterling.
"Good to have you back, though."
Francesco smiled.
"Good to be back."
The next morning, Southgate's final tactical session was shorter.
The players knew the plan.
The remaining work was about clarity.
No unnecessary information.
No dramatic changes.
Just confidence in the preparation.
By matchday, the hotel felt completely different.
Players moved through breakfast quietly.
Staff checked bags.
Security arrangements were confirmed.
The England kit had already been delivered.
The buses waited outside.
Francesco finished his coffee and returned upstairs to collect his things.
He paused briefly before leaving his room.
There was always something different about matchday with England.
At Arsenal, he carried the captain's armband every week.
Here, he wore the shirt of his country.
The responsibility was different.
But it was no lighter.
The delegation departed for Stadion HNK Rijeka under increased security.
As the buses moved through the city, supporters appeared along the route.
England shirts.
Croatian shirts.
Flags.
Scarves.
Police vehicles controlled several intersections around the stadium.
The closer they came, the louder the streets became.
Inside the bus, conversations gradually stopped.
Walker looked through the glass.
"Here we go."
Francesco nodded.
The stadium came into view.
The players entered through the secure arrival area and were directed inside.
Staff immediately began their familiar matchday work.
Kit managers laid out shirts, shorts and socks.
Medical staff prepared treatment areas.
Coaches checked the tactical board.
Players began changing.
Francesco pulled the England shirt over his head.
The three lions sat against his chest.
For a moment, he simply looked down at it.
Then he stood.
Kane was already dressed.
Henderson adjusted his socks.
Walker was tightening his boots.
Sterling walked past.
"Ready?"
Francesco nodded.
"Yeah."
The players headed outside for the warm-up.
The stadium had filled significantly.
England supporters occupied their section, while Croatian fans created a wall of noise around them.
The pitch looked bright under the stadium lights.
Passing began.
Then movement patterns.
Short sprints.
Finishing.
Crosses.
Pickford worked through his goalkeeping routine.
Southgate stood near the technical area, watching rather than shouting.
He knew the players had already heard the instructions.
Back inside, the final meeting was brief.
"We know what they will try," Southgate said.
He pointed toward the tactical board.
"Stay connected. Don't allow their midfield to turn freely."
Then he looked at the attacking players.
"When we win the ball, go with purpose."
Finally:
"Be brave with it."
The players nodded.
There was no need for anything more.
The tunnel filled.
Croatia stood opposite them.
Handshakes followed.
Officials checked the players.
Francesco shook hands with the Croatian captain.
Then both teams walked onto the pitch.
The Croatian anthem rang through the stadium.
England's followed.
Francesco stood among his teammates, eyes forward.
He could hear the travelling supporters singing.
He breathed slowly.
The anthem ended.
The teams assembled for the official photographs.
Francesco stood in the England line, shoulders square.
Then the referee gathered the captains.
The final formalities were completed.
The whistle came.
Croatia kicked off.
The opening minutes were tense.
Neither side wanted to give away an early transition.
England circulated through Henderson and the midfield, while Croatia pressed selectively rather than committing everyone forward.
Francesco stayed between the centre-backs.
Kane moved deeper.
Sterling remained wide before drifting inward.
The first real opening came when Henderson intercepted a loose pass.
He immediately found Sterling.
Sterling accelerated.
A Croatian defender stepped across.
Sterling released the ball to Kane, who returned it into the space.
Sterling reached it first and crossed.
Francesco attacked the near post.
A defender cleared.
The ball dropped to Henderson.
England kept possession.
Croatia responded with a spell of their own.
Modrić and Rakitić moved the ball through midfield, forcing England to defend patiently.
Pickford made the first important intervention when a low shot from outside the area took a slight deflection.
He dropped quickly and gathered it.
"Good hands," Henderson called.
The match continued.
Neither side dominated completely.
England's pressing forced Croatia backward at times, but the hosts were comfortable enough to escape through midfield.
Then, late in the first half, England found the breakthrough.
Henderson won the ball near the centre circle.
He played it forward to Kane.
Kane turned.
Francesco immediately started his run behind the defence.
Kane waited until the final moment.
Then he slid the pass between the centre-back and full-back.
Francesco reached it inside the area.
One touch.
The goalkeeper rushed forward.
Francesco lifted the ball over him.
It dropped into the net.
One-nil.
For a second, the England supporters seemed unable to believe it.
Then the away section exploded.
Francesco turned toward them.
Kane reached him first.
"That's it!"
Francesco grabbed him in a quick embrace.
Sterling arrived moments later.
Walker came sprinting from the other side.
Henderson raised both arms as he approached.
The celebration was loud but brief.
Francesco looked toward the bench.
Southgate simply clenched his fist once.
Then he pointed toward halfway.
Back to work.
Croatia restarted.
The remainder of the half became even more cautious.
England protected their advantage without abandoning the possibility of another attack.
At halftime, Southgate spoke calmly.
"They'll come."
He looked around the room.
"Expect that."
Henderson nodded.
"We stay together."
"Exactly."
The second half began with Croatia pushing higher.
England defended deeper during the opening spell.
Walker made one important recovery run to prevent a cross.
Pickford punched away a dangerous delivery.
Kane helped relieve pressure by holding the ball near halfway.
Francesco dropped deeper whenever necessary.
The match became a contest of patience.
Croatia wanted England to lose their shape.
England refused.
Sterling remained dangerous whenever space appeared.
Rashford entered the game late in the second half and immediately gave the Croatian defence another problem with his pace.
Lingard worked between the lines.
Henderson continued directing traffic.
The final ten minutes were tense.
Croatia pushed more players forward.
England defended the penalty area with discipline.
A cross flew through a crowded six-yard box.
Pickford came off his line.
He caught it cleanly.
"Mine!"
He landed and immediately released the ball.
The clock continued.
Four minutes.
Three.
Two.
The Croatian supporters grew louder.
The England bench stood.
Francesco tracked back once more.
Then the referee raised his whistle.
Full time.
England had won 1–0.
Francesco stood still for a moment, breathing heavily.
Kane reached him.
"Massive."
Francesco smiled.
"Good pass."
Kane laughed.
"Good finish."
Walker arrived.
"You made that look easy."
"It wasn't."
"Didn't look that way."
Henderson hugged Francesco.
"Welcome back."
That meant more than the words suggested.
Francesco turned toward the England supporters.
The squad walked across together.
The travelling fans applauded and sang, their voices carrying across the stadium.
Francesco raised his hands toward them.
He had missed this.
Not the pressure.
Not the attention.
The feeling of representing something larger than a club.
Back in the dressing room, the players were relieved rather than wild.
Southgate waited until everyone had settled.
"That was disciplined."
He looked around.
"Not perfect. But disciplined."
He praised the defensive work, the midfield's concentration and the willingness of the attacking players to keep working when Croatia made the game uncomfortable.
Then he looked toward Francesco.
"Important goal."
Francesco nodded.
"Thank you."
Southgate smiled.
"And welcome back."
The players applauded.
Francesco laughed quietly.
After the usual medical checks, interviews and equipment collection, the squad returned to the airport.
The mood was lighter.
They had won.
But another match was already approaching.
Spain.
The plane was waiting.
The equipment staff loaded the cases while players boarded.
Francesco took his seat beside the window.
Walker sat nearby.
Kane was further forward.
As the aircraft left Croatia, Francesco watched the lights of Rijeka disappear beneath them.
There was little time to dwell on the victory.
Spain was next.
The flight eventually brought the England delegation into Seville.
The difference was immediate.
The air was warmer.
The streets carried a distinctly Spanish rhythm, and the late light settled over the city as the buses departed the airport.
Players looked through the windows.
Sterling pointed toward something outside.
"Definitely warmer than England."
Lingard nodded.
"I could get used to this."
Walker laughed.
"Until training."
They reached the hotel and checked in.
There was little free time.
The following morning, England began preparations at the Real Betis training ground.
The emphasis was completely different from Croatia.
Spain's possession game demanded specific preparation.
Southgate's staff devoted extensive time to pressing resistance.
The players practiced closing passing lanes without being dragged out of position.
Midfielders learned when to step.
Defenders practiced holding their line.
Forwards rehearsed directing Spain's build-up toward specific areas.
Henderson and Francesco spent part of one session working on compactness between the lines.
"If we chase them," Henderson said, "they'll move it around us."
Francesco nodded.
"So we make them play where we want."
"Exactly."
Attacking patterns were equally important.
England practiced quick transitions after recovering possession.
Kane worked as a central reference.
Sterling and Rashford attacked the spaces outside the centre-backs.
Francesco alternated between dropping toward midfield and running behind.
Southgate repeatedly emphasized the first few seconds after winning the ball.
"That's when they're vulnerable."
The training was intense.
There were recovery sessions.
Video analysis.
Finishing drills.
Set-piece rehearsals.
Defensive transition work.
The players spent hours studying how Spain moved the ball.
But evenings still belonged to the squad.
Kane and Francesco occasionally sat together after dinner discussing football.
Walker and Henderson debated something on television.
Pickford played music from his phone.
Lingard and Rashford joked with Sterling.
The atmosphere remained relaxed when training ended.
But everyone knew what awaited them.
The Benito Villamarín.
Spain.
Another major away match.
Matchday arrived.
The team bus left the hotel under heavy security.
As they approached the stadium, the noise increased.
Spanish supporters filled the streets.
Red shirts.
Flags.
Scarves.
Police barriers.
The stadium itself rose ahead of them, surrounded by thousands of supporters.
Inside, the England delegation entered through the secure area.
The dressing room was prepared.
England shirts hung neatly.
Boots were arranged.
Water bottles waited beside each player's place.
The players changed quietly.
Francesco pulled on the shirt.
Kane stood nearby.
Sterling finished tying his boots.
Walker looked across the room.
"Big one."
Francesco nodded.
"Very."
The warm-up was intense.
Spain's players emerged onto the pitch on the opposite side.
The stadium was full.
The noise was enormous.
England completed passing drills, finishing patterns and short accelerations.
Pickford worked through his final movements.
Southgate watched from the technical area.
Back inside, he delivered the final instructions.
"Stay brave."
He pointed toward the midfield.
"Do not allow them to dictate every phase."
Then toward the attackers.
"When we win it, attack."
The players listened.
The tunnel filled.
Handshakes followed.
The anthems were played.
Francesco stood proudly among his teammates.
The formalities concluded.
The referee checked both sides.
Then the whistle.
Spain began exactly as expected.
They kept the ball.
Short passes.
Constant movement.
Players appearing between lines.
England remained compact.
Kane pressed the centre-backs.
Francesco closed the nearest passing lane.
Sterling and Rashford tracked the full-backs.
Henderson organized behind them.
The first breakthrough, however, came from Spain.
A patient sequence drew England toward the left.
The ball was switched quickly.
A Spanish midfielder found space between the lines.
He slipped a pass into Paco Alcácer.
Alcácer turned inside the area.
One touch.
Finish.
Spain led 1–0.
The stadium erupted.
England regrouped immediately.
Henderson clapped his hands.
"Keep going."
Francesco nodded.
The match had become more demanding.
Spain continued circulating possession, but England's pressing began to create moments.
Eventually, Henderson won the ball high up the pitch.
He found Kane.
Kane held off a defender and waited for Sterling to sprint beyond him.
The pass went through.
Sterling entered the area.
He cut inside.
Shot.
Goal.
1–1.
The England supporters erupted.
Sterling raced toward the corner before being surrounded by Kane and Francesco.
"That's more like it!" Kane shouted.
Sterling laughed.
"Keep going!"
Spain restarted.
England now had belief.
The visitors began finding more space.
Francesco dropped deeper, pulling a centre-back with him.
Kane recognized it immediately.
He moved into the vacated area.
Henderson found him.
Kane turned and struck from outside the box.
The ball curled beyond the goalkeeper.
2–1 England.
Kane stood motionless for a moment.
Then he raised both arms.
Francesco reached him first.
"Brilliant!"
Kane laughed.
"Keep the lead."
Spain refused to collapse.
They increased their pressure after halftime.
England defended deeper.
Pickford made a crucial save from a close-range effort.
Walker cleared another dangerous cross.
Henderson continued battling in midfield.
Then Spain won a free kick.
The delivery came toward the penalty spot.
Sergio Ramos attacked it.
He rose above the defenders.
Header.
2–2.
The stadium erupted again.
England gathered around Henderson.
No one panicked.
Southgate shouted from the technical area.
"Reset!"
The players moved back into position.
The match became frantic.
Then England found another opening.
Sterling received the ball wide.
Walker overlapped, dragging a defender away.
Sterling cut inside instead.
Francesco had dropped into the space at the top of the area.
He received the pass.
One touch.
He waited for Kane's run.
Kane's movement pulled a defender away.
Francesco then stepped onto his right foot.
Shot.
Goal.
3–2 England.
The travelling supporters exploded.
Francesco turned toward the England bench.
Kane was already running toward him.
Sterling followed.
Henderson arrived moments later.
Walker came from the opposite side.
Southgate applauded intensely from the touchline.
"Good!"
Francesco looked toward the supporters.
They were bouncing behind the goal.
But the match was not finished.
Spain pushed forward again.
England absorbed the pressure.
Pickford commanded his area.
Walker and the defenders held their positions.
Rashford tracked back.
Lingard helped close the midfield.
Then, deep into the second half, England won possession.
Henderson played forward.
Kane received.
He turned and found Sterling racing into open space.
The pass was perfect.
Sterling was through.
He entered the area.
The goalkeeper advanced.
Sterling calmly placed the ball beyond him.
4–2.
His second.
England's fourth.
Sterling wheeled away with both arms raised.
Kane chased him.
Francesco followed.
The England bench erupted.
Southgate punched the air once before immediately pointing toward the players.
"Concentrate!"
The final minutes were exhausting.
Spain continued attacking.
England defended every cross.
Pickford saved again.
Walker blocked a shot.
Henderson intercepted another pass.
When the referee finally blew for full time, England's players remained where they were for a moment.
Four-two.
They had beaten Spain in Seville.
Sterling was immediately surrounded.
Kane laughed as he grabbed him.
"Two!"
Sterling shouted.
"Two!"
Francesco joined them.
"Excellent."
Sterling smiled.
"Your goal mattered too."
Francesco nodded.
"So did yours."
Walker walked over.
"That's one hell of an away win."
Henderson shook Francesco's hand.
"Two matches. Two wins."
Francesco looked toward the supporters.
The England fans were singing again.
The squad walked across to acknowledge them.
There were flags everywhere.
The players applauded.
Some waved.
Others stood with hands on hips, exhausted after the final whistle.
Back in the dressing room, the celebrations were louder than they had been in Rijeka.
Sterling was the centre of attention.
"Two goals!"
Lingard shouted.
Sterling laughed.
"I heard you the first time!"
Kane sat nearby, still smiling.
Francesco dropped onto the bench.
Walker came over.
"Not bad coming back from your rest."
Francesco laughed.
"Not bad."
Southgate entered shortly afterward.
The room gradually settled.
"That was a difficult match," he said.
Everyone listened.
"We had to suffer at times. We had to defend. We had to stay brave with the ball."
He looked around the room.
"And when the chances came, we took them."
His eyes moved toward Sterling.
"Two goals."
Then Kane.
"One."
Then Francesco.
"And one very important contribution."
Francesco smiled.
Southgate continued.
"More importantly, you stayed together when Spain made it difficult."
That was the part he wanted them to remember.
The result mattered.
So did the manner in which they responded to setbacks.
After medical checks, interviews and the final equipment procedures, the squad made its way back toward the airport.
The players were tired now.
The adrenaline was fading.
Luggage was checked.
Equipment cases were loaded.
Staff counted everything twice.
No shirts.
No boots.
No medical bags.
Nothing left behind.
Eventually, the players boarded.
Francesco took his seat and looked out through the window as Seville's lights spread across the distance.
Kane sat nearby.
Walker was already settling into his seat.
Henderson spoke quietly with another midfielder.
Pickford put his headphones on.
Sterling leaned back, finally allowing himself to relax after an exhausting night.
The aircraft began moving.
Francesco looked down at the England shirt beneath his jacket.
Croatia.
One-nil.
Spain.
Four-two.
Two difficult away matches.
Two victories.
And, perhaps more importantly, a reminder of what it meant to leave club football behind and become part of the national team again.
At Arsenal, he was the captain.
At England, he was Francesco Lee.
One player among a group carrying the same badge.
He had missed that feeling.
The pressure.
The responsibility.
The strange sense of belonging that came from walking onto a pitch wearing the shirt of his country.
As the aircraft lifted into the night, the lights of Seville gradually disappeared beneath the clouds.
The international break had demanded almost everything from them.
Croatia had tested their discipline.
Spain had tested their resilience.
England had come through both.
And somewhere ahead, beyond the darkness outside the aircraft window, home was waiting.
Francesco closed his eyes.
For the first time in several days, there was nothing left to prepare for as there only the journey back to home.
__________________________________________________
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, FA Cup 2016/2017, 2016/2017 Champions League, 2017/2018 Carabao Cup, Premier League 2017/2018, FA Cup 2017/2018, Champions League 2017/2018, 2018 World Cup, and 2018/2019 Community Shield.
Season 17/18 stats:
Arsenal:
Match: 11
Goal: 14
Assist: 0
MOTM: 0
POTM: 0
England:
Match: 2
Goal: 2
Assist: 0
MOTM: 0
Season 17/18 stats:
Arsenal:
Match: 59
Goal: 76
Assist: 6
MOTM: 7
POTM: 0
England:
Match: 11
Goal: 14
Assist: 1
MOTM: 7
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