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Chapter 73: Sweat, Smiles And Sprints
🕑 Added 2025-06-24 09:34:51 +0000 UTCFrom the second day, Arsenal began intensive training focused on defensive counterattacks.
The formations they practiced primarily included the 4-5-1, 4-4-2, and 5-3-2.
The overarching strategy was clear: establish a solid defensive structure first, then strike when the opportunity for a counter presented itself.
This style of play could be described as smart and efficient. With more numbers in the middle and back third, the opposition had little room to work with. Arsenal’s players could neutralize attacks from short range effectively.
This approach didn’t just conserve energy—it lured the opponent’s attackers further forward.
Once the opponent committed too many men up front, their defensive line became exposed.
At that moment, if Arsenal regained possession, the ball would be passed quickly to the player lingering in the opposition’s half. Just like that, the formation would shift—4-5-1 or 5-3-2 would morph into an aggressive 3-5-2 or even 3-4-3.
In a flash, Arsenal would have the numbers advantage in the opponent’s half, ready to deliver a decisive blow.
In all this, Kai played a pivotal role—both in defense and attack.
Truth be told, Kai was still coming to terms with the responsibility.
Who would’ve thought that just a few matches after breaking into the first team, with several core players sidelined, he’d suddenly find himself the new lynchpin?
But being the core of the team isn’t easy, and Kai was still figuring it all out.
Defensive counterattacking might look straightforward on paper, but in practice, there’s far more nuance.
The key lies in timing.
Contrary to popular belief, you can't take every counterattack opportunity that comes your way. If players are constantly sprinting back and forth, they’ll burn out well before the final whistle. That collapse in stamina often leads to disorganized formations and gaping holes in the defensive line.
Pat Rice had once put it succinctly:
“A proper counterattack should be like a compressed spring. The more tension you build, the more powerful the release.”
And that meant relying on the front line's ability to execute quick, lethal attacks.
Whether Arsenal’s front three could deliver on that would be the biggest challenge they faced.
Back on the training pitch, Kai was trying to balance his duties—defending, reading the game, thinking several steps ahead.
He was processing everything—the coordination on the defensive end, choosing the right moment to break forward, and how to organize and press collectively.
And at that moment, the weight of the word core hit him.
How did Arteta manage this every week?
These weren't just tactical decisions—they were constant mental puzzles. Kai’s head was already spinning. And he hadn’t even started thinking about the individual matchups yet.
Beep!
The whistle blew. Training paused. The players were given a break.
Kai walked off the pitch, soaked in sweat, breathing heavily.
Pat Rice came over, handed him a towel, and offered some quiet guidance.
“You don’t need to plug every hole yourself. You’re part of a system,” Pat said, voice calm but firm. “No matter how hard you work, you can’t cover for the whole team on your own. Focus on your role within the structure.”
Kai poured water into his mouth, spat it out, wiped his lips, and muttered, “But some gaps are obvious. If I don’t patch them, who will?”
Pat nodded. “Then adapt the system to your strengths. You’re the core now—play like it.”
Kai gave a half-smile.
The pressure was mounting again.
Recently, both Wenger and Pat had started throwing the word core around like it was nothing. But for Kai, it felt heavy every time.
Seriously? He’d just started getting regular minutes, and now this?
Even if it was only temporary, did they need to keep reminding him?
Still, one-on-one talks like these between Pat and Kai had become routine.
The other players didn’t think much of it anymore.
It was no secret: Pat had taken a special interest in Kai’s development.
Everyone on the first team knew the coaching staff had a soft spot for the lad.
But funny enough, no one was jealous.
Had it been someone else, it might’ve sparked frustration.
But Kai was different.
When given that support, he delivered a jaw-dropping stat line in a training match—10 steals, 9 interceptions, and 5 key passes. That kind of performance would break most players.
The subs practically had their lungs wrung out by him.
Across the whole match, they only managed four shots, just one of which even hit the frame, and that was a long-range effort.
These were the numbers posted by the second team after the starters shifted into a defensive counterattack setup.
Of course, the first team still had its flaws.
Their coordination in the transition from defense to attack wasn’t perfect.
But the defensive structure? Rock solid.
Kai and Ramsey were a powerhouse in midfield—relentless, tireless, covering ground like machines.
Especially Kai. He could intercept from almost any position, and that was… unsettling.
The second team even started glancing over their shoulders when passing—just to make sure Kai wasn’t lurking nearby, ready to pounce.
They were getting spooked.
And for good reason.
At that moment, they saw Kai walk over to Walcott and gesture for Podolski to join them.
The three crouched together near the sideline, and Kai got straight to the point.
“Guys, our midfield press isn’t strong enough,” he said. “I need you both to track wider and close in from the flanks more aggressively. That extra support in the middle will help us trap them.”
Podolski frowned slightly. “But when we drop back, there’s no one making forward runs into the open spaces up front.”
Kai shook his head. “Forget about their open spaces for now. Our priority is keeping the shape. If we can’t stabilize the defense, there’s no point talking about attacking. Just stay alert to the spaces behind you. Once we lock down the midfield, the chances will come.”
Then he turned to Podolski directly. “And don’t worry so much about getting on the scoresheet. I don’t want to see you going it alone out there. This isn’t about being a hero—we’re a team. Keep playing like a lone wolf, and you’ll find yourself isolated.”
Podolski looked slightly embarrassed, then nodded. “Alright. I’ll work on it.”
“Good!” Kai clapped his hands and stood up. “Right, time for fitness drills! The last three to finish become the targets in today’s kick-ass challenge!”
The announcement sparked laughter.
“I’m aiming for Chamberlain’s butt!”
“Jenkinson, you better get those legs moving!”
“Why me?!”
“Because you run like you’ve got bricks in your boots!”
Amid the teasing, the players rose with grins on their faces and jogged off to form up.
The “kick-ass” game had been Kai’s idea. It was a light-hearted punishment for the slowest players in fitness training.
The rules were simple: the final three had to lie face-down on the goal line with their rear ends up, while the rest of the squad took one penalty kick each, aiming straight at their backsides.
It was the kind of game that sparked competitive fire—players worked twice as hard the next day just to avoid being on the receiving end.
Training kicked into gear: nine laps around the pitch, with a sprint on the final one.
For most of the run, the squad chatted, joked, and kept the mood light. But the moment Kai shouted “Run!” they exploded forward.
A chaotic sprint broke out, stretching the group into a long line.
Kai and Ramsey, both tireless in midfield, reached the finish line first thanks to their superior fitness.
Kai turned back with a grin as he watched the others stagger in. He looked at Chamberlain, Mertesacker, and Diaby and called out, “You three! Goal line. Assume the position!”
Then he turned to the rest of the group and yelled, “Alright, gentlemen, grab your bullets!”
Cheers erupted as everyone scrambled to grab footballs and head to the penalty spot, forming a neat line like schoolboys before mischief.
Chamberlain lay down on the turf, backside raised, muttering, “You lot are shameless—oof!”
Kai had taken the first shot, smacking him right on target.
“Can’t even keep up,” Kai said with a laugh. “And don’t give me that ‘wait for the signal’ excuse. If you’ve got the legs, sprint from the start next time!”
The whole group burst into laughter.
Chamberlain turned around and pointed at his rear in mock outrage. “You got your shot in—now leave me alone!”
Kai shrugged and strolled off, still chuckling.
And so began the most chaotic part of the session—a full-on backside-shooting contest.
On the sidelines, the coaching staff watched the mayhem with amused expressions.
Pat Rice smiled and remarked, “It’s been a while since I’ve seen this kind of energy at Arsenal.”
Wenger nodded beside him, hands in his coat pockets. “This is a different Arsenal now. Young, hungry—and full of life.”
