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Chapter 53: The Professor's Puzzle
🕑 Added 2025-06-01 11:06:59 +0000 UTCAt the end of the 90-minute battle, thanks to Podolski’s equalizer, Arsenal managed to hold Manchester City to a draw on their home ground.
No one had expected this before kick-off.
But that hard-earned point allowed Arsenal to breathe a little easier.
With five rounds of the season completed, the Premier League table was already in chaos.
Chelsea topped the league with four wins and a draw, sitting on 13 points.
Manchester United followed closely with 12 points from four wins and one loss.
Arsenal occupied third with 11 points.
Everton and West Bromwich Albion occupied fourth and fifth respectively, with 10 points.
Last season’s champions, Manchester City, were fifth with 9 points.
Tottenham, despite a shaky start, sat in eighth place with 2 wins, 2 draws, and a loss—tied with West Ham, and Newcastle.
For anyone watching the full 90 minutes, Kai’s performance stood out.
Whether it was his tireless work in defense or the clever assist for the equalizer, Kai made a strong case for himself.
The post-match ratings reflected that: another impressive 8.5.
Kai’s average ratings this season had been remarkably high. But that in itself pointed to something deeper—when a defensive player consistently stands out, it’s usually a sign the team’s attack isn’t clicking.
Still, an 8.5 rating wasn’t the highest on the pitch, but it was certainly among the most eye-catching.
It was clear that Kai had played a decisive role.
And this time, there were no disputes over the rating. Everyone had seen what he brought to the pitch.
Of course, Kai, still soaking in the atmosphere, wasn’t aware of any of that just yet.
He walked over with a few teammates to thank the travelling fans.
Roughly 4,000 Arsenal supporters had made the trip. Though their chants were drowned out at times, their passion never wavered.
Especially after the late equalizer, the away end had erupted.
Not every player went over to show their thanks, but those who had a moment did.
He walked directly toward the away stands.
As he got within 10 meters, the cheering suddenly grew louder.
Startled, Kai looked up.
The fans were waving, shouting, and calling out to him with excitement.
As he got closer, he finally caught what they were saying:
“That was beautiful!”
“How did you even make that pass? That was divine!”
Then, out of nowhere, someone shouted:
“Never give up!”
Soon, the chant spread like wildfire.
“Never give up! Never give up!”
Arms waved, voices echoed, and Kai could feel something swell inside his chest.
He stood there at the edge of the pitch, watching the frenzy of red and white. He hadn’t imagined he’d be loved like this—not so soon.
With a hand on his chest, he smiled and shouted back, “Never give up!”
That set the crowd off again.
After a final wave to the fans, Kai turned and headed for the sideline.
Just as he was about to leave the pitch, a reporter stepped in front of him.
She was dressed professionally, stylish, confident, and ready to pounce on the post-match buzz.
“You earned an 8.5 rating again today,” she said, holding out her mic. “That’s two consecutive games with an assist. How are you feeling right now?”
Kai was about to answer when someone grabbed his arm.
Pat stepped in front of him with a firm expression.
“Sorry, no interviews right now. We’ve got a meeting to attend,” he said sternly.
Then, without waiting, he guided Kai away.
Confused, Kai asked, “I thought post-match interviews were allowed?”
Pat muttered under his breath, “Take a look at the logo on her mic.”
Kai glanced back.
White letters on a red background: The Sun.
“…Oh.”
Back in the locker room, as soon as Kai stepped in, Chamberlain leapt up.
“Oi, look. Our MVP is here!”
The others joined in, hooting and cheering.
Kai chuckled. Technically, Cazorla had taken the official man of the match, but the squad thought Kai had made the bigger impact.
Chamberlain pulled out his phone and opened an app.
“Here, this one’s great for quick stat reviews.”
“Let me see,” Kai said, leaning over.
On the screen: Premier League Round 5 — Man City 1:1 Arsenal.
Below that was Kai’s profile page. Beside his name, a silver number: 8.5.
Then came the stats:
90 minutes played
0 goals, 1 assist
30 touches, 28/30 passes completed (93%)
1 key pass, 3 long balls
4/5 ground duels won, 3/3 aerial duels won
A solid performance all around.
Kai glanced at the others’ ratings. Only Cazorla had a higher score: 8.9.
It all highlighted one thing: Arsenal had been under pressure for most of the game.
When a defensive player racks up numbers like these, it’s usually because the forwards couldn’t create enough to put pressure on City's defense.
...
It was past 7 pm when the team arrived back at the training ground.
Wenger didn’t hold anyone back—he dismissed them straight away to their recovery baths.
But as the players dispersed, the manager made his way to his office with a laptop and stacks of data.
He wouldn’t leave that room for the rest of the night.
...
The next morning during training, Kai and the others could see it plainly—Wenger stood on the sidelines, dark circles under his eyes, clearly sleep-deprived.
Yet he remained focused.
“Arsène, you should rest,” said Pat, walking over.
Wenger waved him off. “I’m fine. I want to see something.”
“See what?”
But Wenger didn’t answer. His eyes stayed locked on Kai, closely observing how he moved, how he passed.
Then, abruptly, Wenger called a halt.
“Kai, Arteta—come here.”
The two jogged over, curious.
“In the next drill, I want you both to organize together in the main team,” Wenger instructed.
They blinked.
“Organize together?” Kai asked, confused.
They exchanged looks, but there was no further explanation.
Kai muttered, “How do you want to handle it?”
Arteta scratched his head. “I’ll take the right, you take the left?”
“Works for me.”
They gave it a shot. But it quickly became a mess.
With no clear hierarchy between them, everything fell apart.
When Kai tried to initiate a move, Arteta wasn’t in sync.
When Arteta tried to advance, Kai had already released the ball forward.
In a word, chaos.
They eventually drifted into separate zones—Kai sticking to the left, Arteta to the right.
No connection. No cohesion.
“This isn’t working,” Kai said, exasperated.
Arteta sighed. “Yeah, we’re not syncing at all.”
Their styles were too different.
Arteta read the game with experience and valued structure, aiming for calm and control.
Kai was more instinctive and aggressive. He thrived on breaking lines and exploiting gaps with sharp, visionary passes.
They weren’t speaking the same football language.
The whole session left both players—and their teammates—frustrated.
Eventually, Wenger called it off and sent everyone to work on individual drills.
He grabbed his notebook and began sketching ideas furiously.
Pat leaned in. “What are you trying to figure out?”
“I want to combine Kai and Arteta’s abilities,” Wenger replied directly.
“Kai reads attacking space brilliantly and can deliver unexpected passes. That’s something we must use. But he lacks the link-up control—Arteta can provide that. You see?”
Pat suggested, “Then just let Kai go forward and have Arteta control the midfield?”
Wenger shook his head, annoyed. “That’s patchwork. I don’t want to compromise. I want synergy—where their strengths complement each other.”
Wenger was a perfectionist.
And he wasn’t about to settle for anything less than the perfect balance.
It was just an idea for now.
And Kai and Arteta were already proving how difficult it was for the two of them to mesh.
After the main session ended, Kai and a few others stayed behind for extra training.
Compared to the first day, the numbers had grown. There were about fifteen of them now.
Even Captain Vermaelen had joined in.
Most of the first-team squad agreed—these smaller, focused sessions were great for building understanding on the pitch.
But with more people turning up, they had to start rotating teams.
Kai and Arteta stood on the sidelines, waiting for their turn.
They started chatting as they watched the game unfold.
“What do you think the boss is trying to do?” Kai asked, frowning slightly.
Arteta thought for a moment. “I think he wants to combine our strengths—get us organizing together.”
He pointed at himself. “Control. Structure.”
Then at Kai. “Penetration. Key passes.”
Kai raised an eyebrow. “So… I handle the attack, and you handle the structure?”
Arteta shook his head. “Not quite. The boss is a perfectionist. He’s not just splitting roles—he wants a real fusion.”
“Your ability to break defensive lines, paired with my consistency and composure. He wants those things to blend seamlessly.”
Kai scratched the back of his head. “That sounds… complicated.”
Arteta let out a dry chuckle. “Complicated? Try impossible.”
They both knew the challenge. Two players with different instincts, different rhythms—trying to operate as one.
Splitting responsibilities in midfield could easily lead to confusion. And without clarity, organization suffers.
Kai sighed. “Decentralized control never works well, does it?”
Arteta just smiled, half amused, half resigned. “Not unless we find a way to speak the same football language.”
