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Chapter 152: Anta Shoot
🕑 Added 2025-09-20 14:46:17 +0000 UTCRegarding Vermaelen’s transfer, only Wenger, Vermaelen, and Kai were in the know.
Under the current circumstances, making the deal public would do Arsenal no favours.
Kai felt a twinge of regret, but he also understood that a move might be best for everyone.
Even if Vermaelen stayed, the injuries and the rise of others meant his place in the side was slipping away.
Wenger had been transparent, telling him half a season earlier, so he could plan ahead. Vermaelen had time to search for a new club and mentally prepare himself.
Once the decision was set, his starting spot all but disappeared. Wenger confirmed Mertesacker and Koscielny as his main pairing, and whether any other defensive reinforcements would arrive was still unknown—even to Kai.
…
Premier League, Round 17 – Hull City vs. Arsenal
This was Arsenal’s final league match before Christmas. Hull, newly promoted and full of energy, lined up in a daring 3-3-2-2. It placed heavy responsibility on their wingers, but they were running into one of the most disciplined midfields in the league.
Hull tried to build patiently, moving the ball forward in neat steps, but each advance was cut short once it reached midfield. Kai and Ramsey were relentless, sweeping up danger and snapping into tackles. Hull’s attacks fizzled out before they could spark.
Martin Taylor on Sky Sports:
“Hull like to pounce on loose moments, but Arsenal aren’t gifting them anything. Kai’s reading of the game has been outstanding so far.”
Alan Smith added:
“Exactly. Hull thrived on a miracle goal against City—remember that outrageous long ball and the thunderbolt finish—but this is a different challenge. Arsenal are far more compact through the middle.”
Arsenal struck first in the 40th minute when Suárez slotted home after a slick counter. Hull’s composure wavered, and the tension only grew after the interval. They chased the game, their shape stretching and fraying.
Sensing the weakness, Kai split their midfield with a precise forward pass, releasing Suárez for his second. The goal all but silenced the home crowd.
By the 70th minute, Wenger brought Kai off for Flamini.
“We were too slow on the break,” Kai said as he reached the touchline. “Even when I spotted the pass, the runners couldn’t keep up.”
Wenger nodded, a brief hand on the shoulder all the response needed.
From the bench, Kai watched Flamini slot in seamlessly. It was a welcome breather. Unlike last season, he wouldn’t have to grind through every minute of every competition.
Arsenal closed out a 3–1 win. After Flamini’s introduction, Cazorla set up Suárez for his hat-trick, bringing the Uruguayan to 18 goals in 17 matches—one per game and top of the scoring charts. Liverpool’s Sturridge trailed with 15, while Van Persie, last season’s sharpshooter, had managed just five.
Kai’s own influence showed on the assist table: six so far, third behind Gerrard and Southampton’s Lambert.
With the 17th round complete, the league paused for the Christmas break. Liverpool held the symbolic half-season title, but everyone knew the real tests lay ahead.
Wenger granted his squad a rare day off. Arsenal seldom broke routine mid-season, but Christmas in London is something else entirely. The city turned festive and loud, parties lighting up the night.
Kai planned a quiet day at home, but his agent, Barnett, had other ideas.
“The shooting crew from Anta has been waiting for days,” Barnett insisted. “Perfect time to get the shoot done.”
Kai couldn’t refuse. “Fair enough. Let’s get it over with.”
...
The Emirates, dressed for the commercial shoot, felt strangely hollow as he stepped onto the pitch in full kit. Christmas or not, work was work—and today the dream stage felt more like a set.
Around him, two fixed cameras were already humming while a third glided along a circular track, the faint whir of its motor echoing across the empty stands.
He shifted his weight and glanced toward the crew.
“Alright,” he asked with a half-smile, “what exactly do you need me to do?”
The director, a compact man in a padded jacket and wool cap, pointed toward the goal about ten meters away.
“See those sneakers hanging under the crossbar? Each pair is a different colour. In a moment, the crew will hold up coloured cards. All you have to do is pick the matching sneakers and hit them—clean and quick.”
Kai squinted toward the goal and let out a low whistle. Four pairs of shoes swayed gently in the breeze like bright targets at a carnival.
“Got it,” he said, dropping the ball to the turf and giving a small nod of readiness.
“Everyone set?” the director called, voice ringing through the quiet stadium.
Before Kai could settle, four or five staffers jogged toward the goal, each holding a spare ball.
He raised an eyebrow. “What’s with the extra crowd back there?”
The director gave a sheepish grin. “We’re on a tight schedule—need to wrap this today and get back to the studio.”
Kai tilted his head toward the goal. “And?”
“Well,” the man admitted, “just in case you, uh, miss a few, they’re ready to feed balls back in quickly.”
A laugh escaped Kai before he could stop it. “That’s very considerate of you lot.”
“Alright, cameras rolling!” the director shouted. “Cue the signs!”
To Kai’s right, a crew member hoisted a green card. He took three steady steps, swung through the strike, and sent the ball curling neatly onto the dangling green sneakers.
One by one, the colours changed—red, yellow, blue—and each time Kai delivered, the ball arcing perfectly to its target.
After the fourth hit, a few of the waiting assistants exchanged glances, scratching their heads, their spare balls untouched.
“Cut!” the director barked, then let out an incredulous chuckle. “That’s a wrap.”
“That’s it?” Kai asked, brushing grass from his sleeve. “We’re done already?”
“Done and dusted,” the director replied, still smiling. Then, almost shyly, he added, “One more thing—could you sign a few autographs for the crew? Bit of a keepsake.”
Kai blinked in surprise, then grinned. “Of course.”
He spent the next several minutes chatting and signing shirts, training bibs, even a camera case, before finally handing the last marker back.
The ride back was quiet at first, the city’s Christmas lights flickering across the car windows. Barnett, hands steady on the wheel, finally broke the silence.
“You’ve had a flood of endorsement offers lately,” the agent said. “I’ve turned most of them down.”
Kai leaned back in the passenger seat. “You don’t have to run every detail past me.”
Barnett shook his head. “You should know. My contract with you is five years, and you’re not on a permanent Arsenal deal yet. It’s important we stay selective.”
Kai chuckled. “Alright then, what’s been crossing your desk?”
“Plenty,” Barnett replied, “including a few… colourful ideas. Suggestive underwear, flashy shorts—stuff that screams for attention. Not the direction we want.”
Kai raised an eyebrow. “So what is the direction?”
“Brands the average fan relates to,” Barnett said. “Everyday products that connect you with supporters. Maybe the fees aren’t sky-high, but the payoff is bigger than money.”
“Bigger how?” Kai asked.
Barnett allowed himself a small smile. “A sense of identity. Something that makes the public feel you’re one of them, not just another star chasing luxury labels.”
Kai watched the London lights blur past the window and nodded slowly. “A sense of identity,” he repeated, the words settling in like a quiet challenge.
