The Match Arrived!

The Match Arrived!

The next day, Arsenal's Colney Training Base.

On the U17 training pitch, cameras had been set up early on the raised platform, ready to record the match later.

A fierce clash between young lads was about to kick off here! At three in the afternoon, the Arsenal U17 players appeared on the field and began their warm-up.

Not long after, Liverpool's youngsters arrived by bus as well. Once they walked onto the pitch, they immediately started changing and warming up.

In European football, where youth training systems were well developed, even a long-distance away friendly match for a youth team was nothing unusual.

Clubs spared no expense investing in their youth teams, doing everything they could to create better environments for young players to grow.

Because as long as they could develop one promising talent, the returns would be thousands upon thousands of times greater!

A little over ten minutes later, some Arsenal fans who had heard the news began trickling in along the touchline.

Most of them were holding popcorn and beer, fully prepared to watch the match in comfort.

"Come on, lads!"

"You can definitely win this! Whether you're trialists or contracted players!"

"Smash Liverpool!"

"..."

The Arsenal fans shouted loudly. Most people who came to watch youth-team matches were die-hard supporters.

They were the kind willing to give everything to support the team and pay attention to its future.

Unlike usual, however, an especially large number of people had come to the pitch today—well over three hundred.

Presumably, they had also heard that Mr. Wenger would be there and were ready to see the First Team manager up close.

"Oh... he's here, he's here! He really came!"

They did not have to wait long. A tall figure suddenly appeared at the entrance to the pitch, striding briskly toward the team's coaching area, ready to sit with the coach directing the match.

"Clap, clap, clap, clap..." Applause rang out at the scene. This was the fans' way of showing Wenger their love and support.

When Wenger heard that it was because of him, he deliberately turned back to greet the fans in the stands, causing another stir.

However, a few calm-looking men in the corner of the fan area caught his attention.

They were several middle-aged men of around forty, dressed very formally, each holding a notebook and a pen.

Scouts?

Wenger gave them a deep look, then turned his head away.

If what they had in mind was a loan, he would welcome their arrival and gladly accept it.

But if they wanted to pick up a bargain and take a few players back to their own clubs, then he would not give these people a pleasant expression.

"He saw us just now."

In the stands, a scout from Leeds United smiled and reminded the person beside him, "Should we tell him we want Gilbert, their U17 captain?"

"Why ask for trouble? Don't you know that's what Mr. Wenger hates most?"

A Sheffield United scout beside him frowned and glanced at him. "Besides, I reckon Gilbert will be promoted to the first team in the next year or two. He won't leave with us either. A loan is the only possibility."

"Not necessarily."

Another Burnley scout joined the conversation and spoke confidently. "If you can offer a high price, with Arsenal's finances and habits, they probably won't refuse."

"Then try buying Fabregas or Wilshere from the First Team?" the Sheffield United scout shot back, rolling his eyes.

"I can't do that, but handling a few youth-team players is easy."

The Burnley scout smiled and said, "All right, it's about to start. Let's all say less. Scouts judge players by their own ability."

The people beside him turned their eyes toward the pitch, hoping to discover one or two good prospects through this match.

At three-thirty in the afternoon, the players from both sides took up their positions on the pitch.

Maël stood on the left side of Arsenal's formation, playing as a winger. He roughly observed Liverpool's shape. It was a traditional 4-2-3-1.

This was probably a continuation of their First Team manager Benitez's style. They would press high up the pitch in the front line, forcing Arsenal's back line to struggle to play the ball out easily.

"There'll be a lot of long balls, but contesting headers isn't my strength. I need to pay more attention to second balls after the aerial duels."

Maël made his judgment inwardly. He was just waiting to get the ball and have a shot at Liverpool's goal.

He glanced at the opposition goalkeeper, smiled faintly, and felt a slight sense of anticipation.

"Beep!!"

Very soon, the referee blew the whistle to officially start the match.

Liverpool U17 had the kickoff in the first half, and their Black center forward kicked the ball back with one touch.

"Press! Midfield, push up near the halfway line! Careful not to go too high!"

Arsenal captain Gilbert waved his hand and directed his teammates, leading the players in all three lines to run forward and apply pressure.

However, they did not adopt a high press.

Liverpool's style had always been simple and brutal. If they pushed too far forward, the pressure on their back line to defend balls in behind would become immense.

Bang! Bang!

After Liverpool exchanged two simple passes in their own half, they immediately launched a long ball toward the flank in Arsenal's backfield, trying to push their attacking line forward.

The ball was headed out over the touchline by Arsenal's Right Back and posed no real threat.

But Liverpool had already achieved their tactical objective. All their players had squeezed over to Arsenal's right side in the backfield, waiting for their chance.

Maël was the farthest from his own right flank. He did not pay too much attention to the team's defending, instead constantly observing the Liverpool defender marking him.

He was waiting for a chance to receive the ball.

Bang!

Liverpool's attack ultimately ended with a cross. The quality of the delivery was poor, and it was caught directly in the arms of Arsenal goalkeeper Hopkins.

Hopkins took a quick look around. Seeing that a large number of Liverpool players had gathered in his own half, he gave up on the idea of a short pass.

He tossed the ball up with one hand, turned his body sideways, and volleyed it toward the front line, looking for Gilbert in the middle.

Though Gilbert wore the No. 10 shirt, he stood a full 187 centimeters tall and had a certain ability to challenge for headers.

Chak! After jumping up, Gilbert glanced the ball backward, trying to catch Liverpool's defensive line off guard.

With this kind of flick-on, few could maintain accuracy. It all depended on whether they could take advantage before the opponent reacted, lofting it in behind for their own teammates to chase.

After landing, Gilbert quickly turned his head to observe the situation up front.

He saw the ball drop on the left flank. There, Maël was racing against the opposing defender.

"My ball!"

The Liverpool defender was clearly running a little faster. He reached the ball first and prepared to pass it back to the goalkeeper.

But Maël reacted in time. Realizing he could not catch up, he simply gave up the chase, braced himself, and charged straight into the opponent's body.

This was a relatively thin, agile fullback. Judging from his appearance, his physical dueling attribute was basically zero.

Thud!

A muffled sound of bodily contact rang out. The Liverpool defender suddenly crashed to the ground like a kite with its string cut, then waved at the referee with a face full of unwillingness. "Hey! That's not a foul?!"

The referee shook his head, signaling that there was no problem with the play and telling him to get up.

He hurriedly planted his hands on the ground, wanting to rise, but Maël had already pushed the ball past him and cut toward the middle.

Bang!!

Seeing that he had entered shooting range, Maël did not stand on ceremony. He drew his bow and fired the first shot of the entire match.

Compared with before, his adjustment this time was very quick, and he still produced decent quality.

The ball only skimmed over the crossbar. From the dazed expression on Liverpool's goalkeeper, it was clear that if the shot had been on target, there probably would have been no problem scoring.

"Keep them coming!"

After trying a shot, Maël's confidence swelled again, and his desire for the ball rose another level.

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