My light shines on Arsenal

Chapter 46 Ambition is growing
November is going smoothly for Arsenal.

Arsenal's players are getting better and better in the league matches under Wenger's personal coaching, especially striker Robin van Persie.

The Dutchman has ignited the Emirates Stadium time and time again this season with his wonderful performances, and also helped the team grab three points in a game that was not dominant.

Arsenal scored two wins and one draw in the Premier League in November, with Van Persie scoring in all three league rounds.

"This is Van Persie's team, he is a top striker, without him, we are still in relegation!"

After the No.13 round of the Premier League, outside the Emirates Stadium, a fan patted his Van Persie fan uniform and said loudly.

Just now, Arsenal had nothing to do in the audience, but they knocked on the door of Fulham with Van Persie's goal.

"So, who do you think is the best player at Arsenal this season?"

The man with the microphone was a fat black man wearing an Arsenal cap and handed it to the fan.

"Of course it's Robin van Persie! Didn't you hear me? Arsenal would be relegated without him!"

"Thank you bro, who do you think has the worst performance in Arsenal this season?"

"The worst? Ramsey is like a headless fly on the court. Is Arshavin used to lead in his legs? And Andre Santos, this idiot can really play as a defender? Farke, and..."

"Etc., etc."

The fat black man suddenly stopped the fans. He was silent for a while, organized his words, and asked, "Do you... have any opinions on Arsenal's coaching staff?"

"You mean...Arsena?" the fan frowned and said hesitantly, "I admit that there was a time when I thought he stayed long enough. But it's not his fault, is it?"

A trace of regret flashed across the fat black man's face, but he quickly returned to normal.

"So what do you think of Arsenal's 'cup coach'?"

"This is a stupid idea, that Oriental face looks like a childish fool."

A passing fan said loudly.

"Dude, what are you talking about, Chen did a good job, Falk, can you be more normal?"

A fan next to him spoke up.

"Are you talking about me? Don't you think it's ridiculous? We're turning into a joke..."

"What joke? He led the team and never lost a game..."

Seeing the two fans gradually arguing, the black fat man moved the microphone over with great interest, and a smile began to bloom on his face.

Not far away, a figure silently watched the little disturbance in this corner.

"interesting……"

……

In a primary school in London, beside the green field.

A group of seven or eight-year-old primary school students wore uniform uniforms and stood neatly outside the court.

Mr Arthur Ursworth, in tracksuit and with a whistle around his neck, looked gravely at the children.

"You won the game, gentlemen, even though you played like a bunch of primitive beasts."

"But - I'm proud of you. Now, dismiss and come to training on time tomorrow!"

"Alas!"

The children dispersed in an instant, hugged Arthur, and left the field cheering.

"Mr Ashworth, I admire your football leadership, but you can't call kids 'prime beasts'."

Donna came over wearing a trench coat and complained to Arthur.

"Mr. Jones, this is my language style in managing the boys' football team under the age of nine, please respect it."

Arthur looked back with a stern face.

"Respect your size!"

Donna punched Arthur and said angrily, "Would you like to go to the Manchester City League Cup?"

"Huh? Donna, you actually asked to watch the game?"

Arthur's serious expression had long since disappeared, he scratched his head and said in surprise.

"Idiot." Donna rolled her eyes at him.

"Of course I will. Well, but lately I feel something is wrong."

"What's wrong?"

"The atmosphere is wrong."

Arthur grumbled.

"In north London, I can meet that group of diehard fans every day... But the atmosphere of the fan group is a bit strange. Recently, there have been voices saying that there is something wrong with our management..."

"Are they talking about...Wenger? Or Chen Yao?"

"They all seem to have some opinions. Some are even saying that Fabregas' departure and Arsenal's predicament are all Wenger's fault." Arthur shrugged, "Of course, I think they are all nonsense. But now everyone It was so embarrassing.”

"Then do you think there is a problem?"

"I don't think it's important. I just need to love this team. I can see Wenger, Chen, Pat Rice, and the players on the field, they are all fighting for the team badge on the chest. Full strength. Why should I blame them? I can't understand the brains of those drunks at all."

Donna nodded thoughtfully.

……

Jorginho and Verratti walking the streets of North London.

The 20-year-old Jorginho hummed a ditty with a Brazilian accent, and the 19-year-old Verratti looked up at the sky defiantly. The two walked to the rented apartment with their sneakers.

They had just said goodbye to Zaha.

As a child who lived in London for many years, Zaha had her own residence.

As a result, there are only two midfield partners left to go together.

"Ruore, can you stop? This song is really ugly."

Verratti turned his head to Jorginho, who had to look up because Jorginho was more than four inches taller than him.

Jorginho frowned, and the ditty stopped abruptly.

He stretched out his hand and rubbed Verratti's head, cursing: "Little Marco, I'm missing my hometown, can't you hear it?"

"But it's really ugly."

"%#%*@*"

Jorginho cursed a few words in Brazilian and rubbed Verratti's head hard.

Verratti dodged angrily, and complained aggrievedly: "Jorge, you can't rub me all the time, or I won't grow taller."

"Don't worry, little Marco, you can't grow taller anymore."

"You..." Verratti jumped up and was about to hit him.

"It doesn't matter." Jorginho hugged Verratti. "I will take over the high ball, and Mertesacker, the big brother, will handle it. You don't need to worry. You just need to lead the way forward." Okay, seriously Marco, you look so small, how can you protect the ball so steadily?"

Verratti smiled proudly. "It's my talent, João. When I go forward with the ball, I feel like my center of gravity is low and I'm one with the ground. The ball sticks to my feet. "

"So it's short..." Jorginho suddenly realized.

"You..." Verratti jumped up and wanted to fight again.

"Wait." Jorginho held down Verratti and looked at the roadside.

"Marco, I seem to see someone I know... Would you like something to drink?"

(End of this chapter)