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Chapter 105: FA Cup Final 4
🕑 Added 2025-07-26 16:16:13 +0000 UTCWhat can you do in ten minutes?
Kai didn’t know the answer.
But he felt it — these ten minutes would be everything.
By the 75th minute, both Arsenal and Manchester City were on their last legs.
Players were dragging themselves across the pitch, technique and sharpness fading fast.
That was the opening Kai had been waiting for.
If he could win the ball in just the right spot...
The rain, the fatigue, the chaos — they made the match unpredictable. A misstep, a mistimed pass — anything could turn the tide.
Kai himself was completely spent. He couldn’t keep up the relentless pressing he'd done earlier.
So instead, he started watching, analyzing, picking his moments to conserve energy and make it count.
The decisive moment.
Foresight
Legs trembled. Lungs burned. Breath came in short bursts.
But that’s when mistakes are made.
And they would come.
They always do.
Kai locked his eyes on City's half and pushed forward.
“Kai’s stepped into City’s half—he hasn’t given up!” said Alan Smith on commentary.
Martin Taylor nodded. “For a 19-year-old to still be pushing like this at Wembley, in these conditions... it’s incredible.”
“He’s been superb so far,” Smith continued. “Even if this is his last contribution, he’s more than proven himself today.”
The fans could see it too.
Kai was spent — anyone could tell.
But he refused to stop.
Martin Taylor didn’t understand where that persistence came from.
But he admired it.
Because that kind of stubbornness — that’s what warriors are made of.
...
“City is slowing down now. The players on both sides are running on fumes. Cazorla and Walcott are pressing Yaya Touré... Touré shifts it quickly to David Silva... but Cazorla doesn’t stop. He’s chasing again — Arsenal’s forwards know their backline can’t keep doing this alone. They’re throwing in everything they’ve got.”
“Silva with a sideways pass—ah, it’s under-hit! Wait! Kai!!”
Alan Smith’s voice suddenly jumped.
There he was — Kai, drifting near the center circle just moments ago, suddenly bursting forward.
The entire Wembley seemed to freeze.
Then, like a wave, Arsenal fans erupted.
Kai was running!
He had nothing left. His legs barely obeyed. His chest heaved with each step.
He just flung his arms, forcing his body forward.
This was the moment.
Just one chance.
That’s all great players need.
Kai’s eyes never left the ball.
His strides weren’t wide, but his legs moved in a rapid blur, arms pumping like pistons.
His thighs started to go numb.
He couldn’t even feel his calves anymore.
Didn’t matter.
He could still run.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Gareth Barry moving in on the loose ball.
Both of them reached it almost at the same time—
“Mine!” Kai growled, lunging with his right leg.
“Kai gets there first! He's nicked it! That’s brilliant!” Alan Smith shouted, rising from his seat.
Even Martin Taylor was stunned into silence.
The neutrality of Sky Sports went out the window for a moment as both commentators held their breath.
Kai looked up. Arshavin was breaking down the left.
Can you go? Kai asked silently. You’re fresh. You’ve just come on.
Arshavin answered with a sprint.
He cut inside, dropping Zabaleta in a heartbeat.
Kai focused.
He swung his right leg back and delivered a powerful pass.
The ball curved through the air, sailing toward the open space.
It was slightly overhit.
But who could blame him at this point?
Arshavin kept his eyes on the ball — pure focus.
It’s long... but I can get there.
The Russian sprinted harder, pulling away from Zabaleta with every step.
Kai collapsed on the turf.
He tilted his head back and sucked in a breath.
His vision was foggy.
His body refused to move.
But then he heard it.
The roar.
GOAL!!!
Kai smiled through the exhaustion.
“Nice finish, Arshavin...”
“GOAL!!! ARSHAVIN!!”
“Incredible! This could be the winner!”
“Arsenal! Just one step from breaking a 7-year trophy drought!”
“You can’t write scripts like this. They just don’t quit.”
“Look! Arshavin’s running to Kai! The whole team’s going with him!”
“That assist — perfect. And this from a kid under pressure from Tevez, from Džeko... and he’s got two assists in an FA Cup final?”
“Hahaha! You’re looking at the Man of the Match, no question about it!”
On the pitch, Arshavin dived onto Kai, wrapping his arms around his head and kissing him excitedly.
“You’re insane, man!”
Kai grimaced, half in pain, half in disbelief.
But he was too tired to protest.
Too tired — and too happy.
Arsenal’s players rushed over and piled on top of Kai.
“That’s the winner! We’ve done it!”
“Unbelievable! This is insane!”
“I love this rain now, it’s magic!”
“We’re champions, right? We’ve got to be!”
They couldn’t hold back. Arsenal's squad was celebrating like schoolboys, sliding on the wet turf, screaming with joy.
On the touchline, Wenger and the coaching staff threw their arms around one another, letting emotion finally break through the tension.
Wenger’s heart was pounding. He was burning up inside — from joy, from stress, from relief. But the match wasn’t over yet.
As the celebrations started to calm and the match restarted, Manchester City struck back almost immediately.
David Silva spotted a gap in Arsenal’s midfield and darted forward, lifting a clever pass into the box.
Koscielny and Aguero sprinted toward the drop point — but Szczesny reacted faster than anyone.
Charging out of his area, the Arsenal keeper leapt and met the ball with his head, clearing it just beyond danger.
But only just.
The ball landed at the feet of David Silva.
Without hesitation, Silva took it on the volley — a sweet strike from distance.
The ball sailed back into the net.
Goal.
Less than two minutes after Arsenal’s moment of glory, the score was level again.
Martin Taylor, ever composed on Sky Sports, called it:
“Manchester City aren’t giving up. Once again, they’ve clawed themselves back from the edge.”
Kai, slumped near the halfway line, was gutted. All that effort, that perfect pass, that moment of belief — erased in a flash.
And that goal changed more than just the scoreboard.
Wenger, who had been preparing to bring on Ramsey, immediately hesitated.
If extra time was coming, he couldn’t afford to take off Kai now.
In stoppage time, he eventually made a conservative swap: Ramsey for Walcott — a final push to prepare for what looked inevitable.
The full-time whistle blew.
2–2.
Arsenal and Manchester City were heading to extra time.
...
During the short break, Kai received a quick massage from the team doctor. Some energy gels, fluids — whatever they could get into him.
He was still exhausted, but he could stand. He could move.
And everyone else was just as tired — Arsenal and City alike.
Kai glanced at the lineup. Wenger had started thinking about penalties. Suarez, Cazorla, Arteta — all reliable penalty takers — were still on the pitch.
Ramsey had been brought on late.
Add Koscielny to the mix, and it was clear: Wenger was quietly assembling his shootout squad.
Both teams came out for extra time in mirrored 4-4-2 formations.
But it was slow going.
The pace dropped significantly. Every movement was labored. Quick transitions had vanished — players were simply too drained to launch attacks like before.
Defenders weren’t taking risks anymore. Most clearances were big, aimless punts upfield. “Just get it away” was the only instruction.
And every new build-up felt like it took an eternity.
The intensity was gone, replaced by calculation — and fatigue.
Both teams, consciously or not, were now playing with penalties in mind.
...
After thirty more minutes, the scoreline hadn't changed.
Manchester City 2–2 Arsenal.
The 2013 FA Cup Final would be decided in the most unforgiving way — a penalty shootout.
Back in the studio, Martin Taylor sighed heavily, his voice matching the mood of every exhausted fan watching back home.
“After 120 minutes of football, we still don’t have a winner. Now it’s down to penalties — the cruelest way to end a match, but the only option left.”
On the pitch, both squads huddled into tight circles. Managers moved quickly, naming their five penalty takers.
Wenger’s choices were clear — Suarez, Cazorla, Arteta, Ramsey, and Koscielny.
And Kai?
He was still catching his breath.
