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Chapter 89: Arsenal vs Bayern Munich 3
🕑 Added 2025-07-10 15:41:49 +0000 UTC"We can’t get through when we attack!"
In the Arsenal dressing room at half-time, Walcott raised his voice. "We’re too predictable going forward—we’re not breaking them down."
"There’s no support for the forwards," Podolski added, his frustration clear. "We’re having to drop deep to collect the ball, and by the time we do, Bayern are already in a defensive shape outside their box."
Having once worn Bayern’s shirt before being cast aside, Podolski had a point to prove tonight. But without proper midfield linkage, the front line was starved.
"We need more men pushing forward," Suarez chimed in, raising his hand.
Wenger looked around at the players, then nodded. "Alright. I’ll make some adjustments."
He walked over to Kai. "Come with me."
Kai blinked, surprised, then got up and followed him out of the dressing room.
Outside the door, Wenger turned to him. "If we free you from covering Robben on the left, how confident are you in winning the ball higher up?"
Kai considered, then replied, "If I’m not locked to Robben, I think we’ll move the ball better."
Wenger nodded slightly. "Tell me what you’re thinking."
Kai leaned against the wall. "First half showed one thing: the Germans are building everything through Kroos. He’s top-class—no doubt—but I’ve noticed something."
"What?" Wenger asked.
Kai scratched his head. "Maybe it’s just a feeling... but Kroos leans left a lot. Even when Müller’s in a better position, he still plays it to Robben."
Wenger tilted his head. "He trusts Robben more?"
"No," Kai said firmly. "He’s wary of him. Bayern’s attacking line feels like it’s constantly trying to feed Robben—almost forced."
"So?"
"So it’s hard to take the ball off Robben directly. But if we think one step earlier, what if I intercept the pass from Kroos? When Bayern are pushing up, one interception can flip the pitch. We counter—quick, sharp. Like we did early in the first half."
Kai added, "Tracking Kroos is easier and more efficient than trailing Robben."
Wenger nodded again. "Alright. You don’t need to mark Robben in the second half. Trust your instincts—pick your moments."
Kai exhaled in relief.
Back in the changing room, Wenger spoke to Vermaelen and Koscielny. They would now be responsible for tracking Robben.
Kai watched their faces sink.
In the first half, he’d done the dirty work in front of them. Now, they’d have to face the storm head-on.
....
Over in Bayern’s dressing room, Robben sat in silence.
That number 4 from Arsenal had gotten under his skin like few ever had.
"Hey," Kroos came over, clapping Robben on the shoulder. "Don’t let the first half get to you. I’ll get you more service."
Robben’s face softened a little.
"Feed me the ball," he said, eyes narrowing. "I’ll break him down this time."
Kroos nodded. "Müller’s there too—"
"His time will come. For now, pass to me," Robben interrupted.
"Alright."
Kroos glanced at Robben for a second, and he simply nodded.
...
The whistle blew for the second half.
Kai was still lined up opposite Robben.
From a distance, Robben smirked and mimicked a shooting motion.
"You’re mine this time."
Kai’s response was blunt, a simple tap to the temple of the head while mouthing:
“Dream on.”
In the Sina Sports Champions League broadcast room:
"Lahm’s thunderbolt in the 43rd minute gave Bayern the lead," Zhan Jun recapped. "Arsenal trail 1-0 at home. Both teams return unchanged for the second half."
Zhang Lu chimed in: "Bayern’s offensive variety makes them unpredictable. Their threats don’t just come from the front line—goals can arrive from anywhere, even from their defenders. Arsenal’s attack looks rigid tonight. With Arteta and Cazorla out, the midfield lacks fluidity."
"Rosicky helps, but post-injury, he’s clearly not at full throttle."
"So now it’s a big question: who’s the key for Arsenal? Who breaks the rhythm?"
Zhang Lu’s analysis hit home.
Arsenal had enjoyed more possession in the first half, but little threat. Five shots, only two on target. Possession wasn’t the problem. Penetration was.
...
On the pitch, Kai had shifted his focus to Kroos.
But he still kept an eye on Robben.
He hovered about a metre away—close enough to intervene, far enough to bait.
Robben tried shaking him. Every time, Kai was there.
Then—unexpectedly—Kai jogged ahead of Robben.
Robben blinked. “What the hell?”
Just then—a yelp.
Müller was floored by Rosický and Ramsey in a double tackle. He rolled, shouting for a foul.
The ref waved play on.
Rosicky, not waiting, turned to restart the play.
"GIVE IT TO ME!"
He turned—Kai was already waving, positioned near the left centre circle.
Without hesitation, Rosicky sent the pass.
Kai scanned, saw the open space down the right.
Walcott was already on the move.
Both of them saw the same thing.
Kai took the ball side-on, planted his foot, and pinged a diagonal long pass.
As the ball left Kai’s boot, Walcott launched like a sprinter off its wheels.
He beat Lahm for pace.
Looking up, there it was. The ball, dropping just in front.
Perfect.
Walcott didn’t need to slow down. He cushioned it with his head and darted into the box.
Neuer came charging out.
But Walcott was quicker. He took one more touch—
Neuer lunged.
Walcott crashed to the turf.
"Müller carried the ball toward midfield—Rosicky and Ramsey pounced—great tackle! Counterattack is on! Rosický finds Kai—long ball! WALCOTT’S THROUGH! ONE-ON-ONE WITH NEUER!" Martin Taylor shouted on commentary.
"Massive moment! Did Neuer clip him? This is chaos!" Alan Smith added, voice rising with tension.
"Penalty! That’s got to be a penalty, Alan." Martin Taylor exclaimed as the studio replay rolled.
"Neuer clattered Walcott! The winger got his touch in, and Neuer brought him down. That’s a stonewall penalty." Alan Smith said, agreeing with Martin.
On the touchline, Wenger erupted, storming toward the fourth official, his arms flailing as he barked out furious protests.
On the pitch, Kai, Rosický, Robben, and several others swarmed the Norwegian referee, voices raised in appeal.
In this pre-VAR era, everything rode on the referee’s judgment.
Surrounded, the official calmly brushed players aside, hand to his earpiece as he consulted the linesman via radio.
A tense few seconds passed. Then, the referee jogged into the box, held up a yellow card to Neuer, and then pointed decisively to the spot.
Penalty.
Emirates Stadium erupted.
This was the moment Arsenal needed.
The team gathered outside the box, trying to decide who would step up.
Normally, it would be Cazorla.
But he was recovering from an injury.
Arteta was also out.
Rosický didn’t feel confident. His form wasn’t there.
Walcott, still catching his breath from the collision, shook his head. "My legs are numb. Not me."
Eyes turned to Ramsey.
He immediately waved them off. "You don’t want me taking it."
A short silence followed.
Then all heads turned toward Kai.
He gave a short nod. "Alright. I’ll take it."
Pressure and opportunity—two sides of the same coin.
He collected the ball, walked into the box, and placed it on the spot with quiet focus.
In the commentary box, Martin looked up in surprise. "Is Kai stepping up for the penalty? That’s unexpected!"
Alan, the data analyst, flipped through his notes. "No record of him taking penalties before—not at senior level. This is big."
Kai gave the ball a quick rub with his shirt, set it down again, and stood tall.
Neuer was bouncing side to side on his line.
Then came the mind games.
"Hey! Kid!" Neuer called out. "Left or right? I've got you figured out! Doesn’t matter which way—you won’t score."
Kai ignored him at first.
But Neuer wouldn’t stop. "Go on, pick a corner. You’re not fooling me."
Finally, Kai barked back.
"I’m chipping it."
Both players paused.
Neuer blinked.
He’s messing with me—he’s lying, Neuer thought, instantly paranoid.
The tension crackled.
The referee backed out of the area. Kai stepped back.
Neuer’s mind was whirring: Is he bluffing?
The referee blew his whistle.
Kai approached the ball.
Neuer stayed planted, watching closely.
There was no tell in Kai’s stride.
No lean. No twitch.
Then—thigh up, body leaning, strike.
BOOM.
The ball rocketed low into the bottom right corner.
Neuer didn’t move.
Too late.
He stood there, frozen.
Kai spun and pointed back at the Bayern keeper.
"Who’s bluffing now?"
"He buries it! What a strike from the young midfielder! Kai levels it for Arsenal! Neuer stood still—he bought the bluff!" Martin Taylor shouted.
"Outstanding nerve. The kid told him he was going to chip it—and then thundered it past him! That’s cold-blooded!" Alan Smith added.
The stadium roared as Arsenal players mobbed Kai.
Game on.
