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God Of football

Chapter 372: The American Game. · Oct 10, 2026

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Chapter List (1057)

Page number / 22

351 Chapter 351: Tour 2026-10-10
352 Chapter 352: First Day At Work[Golden Ticket] 2026-10-10
353 Chapter 353: First Session 2026-10-10
354 Chapter 354: First Session, Completed 2026-10-10
355 Chapter 355: Finding The Right Piece [Nameyelus Gifts too much] 2026-10-10
356 Chapter 356: Izan’s Tactics 2026-10-10
357 Chapter 357: Prelude to Pre-Season 2026-10-10
358 Chapter 358: Just 2 Days 2026-10-10
359 Chapter 359: Watching From Afar [Golden Gachapon: Pistacho031_3 ] 2026-10-10
360 Chapter 360 - 2 in 26 [Golden Gachapon: Pistacho031_3 ] 2026-10-10
361 Chapter 361: Ball And Banter [Golden Gachapon: Pistacho031_3 ] 2026-10-10
362 Chapter 362: Saved By PR [Pistacho031_3]] 2026-10-10
363 Chapter 363: Arsenal’s Newest Man [Pistacho031_3]] 2026-10-10
364 Chapter 364: Pending Start[Gachapon Bonus] 2026-10-10
365 Chapter 365: US Tour [Golden Gacha - ] 2026-10-10
366 Chapter 366: Pre-Season Fever [Normal Release] 2026-10-10
367 Chapter 367: It Is Time [Golden Gacha, Pistacho031_3] 2026-10-10
368 Chapter 368: A Real Red Devil [Golden Gacha Pistacho_031_3] 2026-10-10
369 Chapter 369: A New Menace [Normal Release] 2026-10-10
370 Chapter 370: Football At Its Finest[Golden Gacha - ] 2026-10-10
371 Chapter 371: The NBA [Golden Gacha - ] 2026-10-10
372 Chapter 372: The American Game. 2026-10-10
373 Chapter 373: Night In LA [Normal Release] 2026-10-10
374 Chapter 374: Early Lead [Golden Gacha] 2026-10-10
375 Chapter 375: Foot On The PitChapter [Golden Gacha. Pistacho031_3] 2026-10-10
376 Chapter 376: Goal In LA [Normal Release] 2026-10-10
377 Chapter 377: Relentless Leverkusen [Final Gacha - ] 2026-10-10
378 Chapter 378: First Start 2026-10-10
379 Chapter 379: Something Greater 2026-10-10
380 Chapter 380: Late Night Escapades 2026-10-10
381 Chapter 381: Clash Of Two Titans 2026-10-10
382 Chapter 382: Clash Of Two Titans: [2] 2026-10-10
383 Chapter 383: War In A Coliseum 2026-10-10
384 Chapter 384: Brilliance Under The Lights 2026-10-10
385 Chapter 385: Egyptian Magic 2026-10-10
386 Chapter 386: Little Conductor 2026-10-10
387 Chapter 387: Halfway There 2026-10-10
388 Chapter 388: Halftime Antics 2026-10-10
389 Chapter 389: Troll 2026-10-10
390 Chapter 390: Against the Best [Golden Ticket] 2026-10-10
391 Chapter 391: Something Special 2026-10-10
392 Chapter 392: Pre-Season Conference 2026-10-10
393 Chapter 393: Unexpected(Golden Ticket) 2026-10-10
394 Chapter 394: Unspoken Words. 2026-10-10
395 Chapter 395: A World Of Their Own 2026-10-10
396 Chapter 396: League Preparations 2026-10-10
397 Chapter 397: Life At Colney 2026-10-10
398 Chapter 398: Whispers Of Fame 2026-10-10
399 Chapter 399: Moments Between Whistles 2026-10-10
400 Chapter 400: The Premier League 2026-10-10

Chapter 372: The American Game.

Izan entered his room the next moment and shut his door, trying to get a few minutes of sleep in before they went for the game.

Less than an hour later, there was another knock at his door.

Izan opened it to find two men in sleek black suits standing outside. They werenʼt hotel staff. They were stylists.

”Izan Hernandez ?” one of them asked like he didnʼt know who he was.

Izan simply nodded.

”Henry Duvant sent us. We have a selection of outfits for you.”

Saint Laurent. Of course. Miranda must have called Henry directly.

The stylists entered his room, carrying garment bags that they carefully laid out on the bed.

One by one, they unzipped them, revealing a lineup of designer fits—everything from streetwear-inspired looks to classic tailored suits, all dripping with luxury.

The older of the two stylists, a man with a sharp eye for detail, inspected Izanʼs frame before nodding to himself.

”You need something that blends effortless style with presence. Nothing too try-hard, but nothing forgettable either.”

He pulled out a fit—slim-cut black trousers, a slightly oversized white Saint Laurent t-shirt, and a black leather jacket with subtle silver accents.

Paired with minimalist high-top sneakers and a single silver chain, it was clean, modern, and just flashy enough to stand out.

”This,” the stylist said, handing it to him.

Izan took the clothes and changed quickly. The moment he looked in the mirror, he had to admit—these guys knew what they were doing.

One of the stylists adjusted the fit slightly, straightening the chain around his neck. ”Perfect. This will photograph well.”

Miranda had been right to call them. If he was going to make an appearance, he might as well do it right.

The stylists packed up their things and left as quickly as they had arrived, leaving Izan standing in front of the mirror, inspecting himself one last time.

He exhaled, shaking his head slightly.

A few months ago, he never would have cared about this. But now, this was just part of his world.

He grabbed his phone, checking the notifications just to see one arrive from Saka.

”You ready?” It read.

Izan typed a reply next before going out of the room.

Izan: Yeah, coming now.

He slid his phone into his pocket and stepped out, the leather jacket settling comfortably on his shoulders.

The hallway was quieter now, most of the squad either still in their rooms or already downstairs.

He walked briskly toward the elevator, the low hum of conversations growing louder as he neared the lobby.

Saka and Martinelli were waiting near the entrance, both dressed clean but in their own styles—Saka in a fitted polo and sneakers, Martinelli with a relaxed button-up and tailored trousers.

Saka looked up from his phone when he spotted Izan. ”Damn, they got you looking proper, huh?”

Martinelli whistled. ”Saint Laurentʼs treating you well, bro.”

Izan smirked. ”You know how it is.”

The three of them stepped outside, where a few other teammates were already gathered, waiting for the transport to the game.

Cameras flashed in the distance—photographers and fans catching glimpses of them. Even on an off night, the attention never faded.

Declan Rice walked over, hands in his pockets. ”Whereʼs the rest?”

”Coming,” Martinelli said. ”Zinchenko probably fixing his hair.”

They shared a laugh just as a sleek black SUV pulled up.

The club had arranged transport, keeping things simple and private. One by one, they filed in, the hum of conversation filling the vehicle.

The ride to the arena was smooth, the city lights flashing past the tinted windows.

Inside, the topic shifted effortlessly—from who was winning the Lakers game to who had lost the most FIFA matches earlier.

”You still owe me a rematch,” Zinchenko grumbled at Izan from the backseat.

Izan just grinned. ”Whenever you want.”

They pulled up to the arena a short while later, security guiding them through a private entrance.

The energy inside was different—loud, electric, the kind of atmosphere only a big game could bring.

Izan had been to stadiums all his life, but this? This was new.

The flashing scoreboards, the booming music, the courtside presence—it was a different kind of spectacle.

As they walked through, heads turned. Fans recognized them, some calling out their names, others just snapping photos.

A few NBA players warming up glanced their way, nodding in acknowledgment.

Izan nodded back. Another moment, another experience he never thought heʼd have.

Saka nudged him. ”Letʼs go find our seats.”

The moment they stepped onto the court, Izan could feel the sheer energy of the arena.

The hardwood had a different kind of presence—slick, polished, almost humming with anticipation.

The Lakers players were already warming up, running shooting drills, practicing layups, and pulling up from deep range like it was nothing.

Saka let out a low whistle. ”Man, this is crazy.”

Rice was grinning. ”Tell me why this already feels like a Champions League night?”

A Lakers staff member led them further in. ”Feel free to walk around, but stay out of the way during drills. Some of the players might come over in a bit.”

Zinchenko stretched his arms like he was about to check-in. ”I shouldʼve worn my Jordans.”

Izan smirked, glancing around. It wasnʼt long before one of the Lakers stars approached—none other than Anthony Davis.

”Big Arsenal fans in the house, huh?” Davis greeted them with a fist bump.

”Guess the roles are reversed tonight,” Rice joked.

Before they could respond, another voice chimed in. ”We should get them to take some shots.”

It was Austin Reaves, spinning a ball casually in his hands.

Zinchenko nudged Izan, eyes gleaming. ”You got a shot in you?”

Izan raised a brow. ”You doubting me?”

Zinchenko shrugged. ”I just think youʼll airball.”

That was all the challenge Izan needed. Reaves passed him a ball, and Izan stepped back behind the three-point line, feeling the weight of it in his hands.

It was different from a football—lighter, smoother—but the challenge was the same. Hit the target.

He squared up, took a breath, and let it fly.

Swish.

The ball snapped clean through the net.

”Ooooh!” The Arsenal players erupted in surprise.

Zinchenko raised his hands. ”Okay, okay, one lucky shot.”

Izan smirked, and took another, same spot. Swish.

”Oh, nah,” Saka laughed.

One more time. Swish.

At that point, even the Lakers players watching gave nods of approval. ”Alright, we might need to sign him,” Reaves joked.

Feeling himself, Izan backed up past half-court. The moment he took the shot, everyone could tell it had a chance.

The ball soared, hit the backboard, bounced on the rim, did a few slow turns—

And then rolled out.

The entire court groaned. Zinchenko clutched his head. ”No way!”

Reaves laughed. ”Almost had your viral moment.”

Izan just shrugged. ”Not bad for my first day in the NBA.”

Davis clapped him on the back. ”Not bad at all, man.”

As they stepped off the court to let the real warmups continue, Izan couldnʼt help but grin.

A night like this? Yeah, he could get used to this.

...….

As the first half neared its end, another timeout was called, and the Lakers players made their way toward the sideline.

This time, a couple of them stopped near the Arsenal squad, dapping them up and exchanging a few words.

LeBron, ever the icon, greeted them first, offering a handshake to each. ”Good to see you boys here,” he said, nodding at Saka and Rice before turning to Izan.

”Iʼve been hearing your name a lot. You got a crazy future ahead.”

Izan shook his hand, feeling the firm grip. ”Appreciate that. Youʼve been at the top for so long—itʼs inspiring.”

LeBron chuckled. ”Longevityʼs the real game.”

Anthony Davis stepped up next, followed by Austin Reaves and DʼAngelo Russell, who both seemed more than happy to chat.

”Man, we need to swap jerseys,” Reaves said with a grin. ”Footballers always make it look cool.”

Zinchenko laughed. ”Say less.”

Soon after the final buzzer sounded and the Lakers secured their win, the atmosphere remained electric.

Fans lingered in their seats, soaking in the moment, while the Arsenal players, still buzzing from the experience, made their way courtside once again.

Staff members approached them, bringing out fresh Lakers jerseys, and the Arsenal boys handed over their own kits in return.

It was a full-on jersey swap between two worlds.

Izan scribbled his signature onto Reavesʼ jersey, while LeBron signed a Lakers kit and handed it to him.

”Thatʼs one for the collection,” Saka said, watching as Rice did the same with Anthony Davis.

Cameras flashed as they posed together, a mix of NBA and football stars in one frame.

Some of the Lakers players threw up peace signs, while the Arsenal boys stood casually, football shirts clashing with NBA jerseys in a rare crossover of sports.

Zinchenko nudged Izan, eyeing the jersey in his hands—the iconic Lakers gold with LeBronʼs signature across the front.

”Youʼre framing that, right?”

Izan smirked. ”Definitely.”

As they started making their way off the court, a staff member approached. ”You guys sticking around?”

Izan exchanged glances with Saka and the others. Before they could answer, a familiar voice cut in.

”You should. Weʼre throwing something after this.”

Izan turned to see Reaves grinning at them, still holding the Arsenal jersey he had swapped earlier.

”A party?” Zinchenko asked, already interested.

LeBron, now walking past, patted Reaves on the back. ”They should come. Footballers donʼt get out here often.”

Rice looked at Izan, raising an eyebrow. ”What do you think?”

Izan shrugged, feeling the weight of Mirandaʼs voice in his head again. ”Stay marketable.”

”Alright,” he said, slipping the Lakers jersey over his shoulder. ”Letʼs go.”

A/n: Diddy bout to pull up. Anyways have fun reading. 12/15 for the Golden Gachapon chapters.

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