Alex stood in the tunnel at Stamford Bridge. The air smelled of expensive grass and money.
Chelsea had spent another three hundred million pounds. Their shirts looked shinier than Arsenal shirts. Their boots looked faster.
Standing next to Alex was their new striker. The one Steve had warned them about.
He was a giant. He was from Norway. He looked like he had been built in a factory.
"He is big," Mark whispered, standing behind Alex. "He is very big. Do you think he runs on batteries?"
"He runs on goals," Alex whispered back. "Do not make him angry."
Mark looked at his own silver boots. "I am not scared. I am the Arrow. Arrows break metal."
The referee picked up the ball.
Steve, the manager, walked past them. He winked.
"Remember," Steve said. "The Vortex. Be water. Be air. Do not be still."
Alex nodded.
It was the most complicated tactic in football history. No positions. No rules. Just movement. It sounded like genius. It felt like a disaster waiting to happen.
