God Of football

Chapter 642: Play Begins

While the fans in the stadium showed their approval of the clash, the same couldn’t be said for those online, who were in a whole different energy.

A clipped recording of Izan’s Dutch response was looping with subtitles.

It hadn’t gained much traction after it was posted the previous day by a fan account but when Arsenal’s own account posted it the following day, it caught fire.

It wasn’t a football discourse, but it had everyone talking.

It was him.

A pinned comment from a football forum thread titled:

”Did Izan just speak fluent Dutch???” the Arsenal account captioned the video and below it were the reactions of the fans.

@GunsBlazing77

He didn’t just speak Dutch. He delivered in Dutch. Fluid. Calm. No translator glance. Just straight through. Like he grew up in Rotterdam. What 17-year-old does that?

@VanDerBoom

That was native-level. I live in Utrecht, born and raised — trust me, it wasn’t textbook Dutch. It was lived-in so now I am wondering why I can’t do the same for my spanish.

@WrightTurnsOnly

He didn’t learn it to show off. That’s the part that gets me. He only used it when someone else asked in Dutch. Like it was just... there.

@AFC_Raz

You could hear the tone shift in the room when he said ”Wat er is gebeurd, was niet voetbal.” It wasn’t bravado. It was control. Like he just took back the tempo of the whole presser.

IkBenRoodWit

I’m Dutch and PSV till I die — but respect where it’s due. That kid didn’t come to Eindhoven for applause. He came to end debates.

Yaya4Life

So far, he’s spoken Spanish, French, Japanese, German, now Dutch. That’s not prep. That’s an obsession. That’s... Duolingo with bloodlust.

Zinchenyo

Petition to make Izan the human Duolingo mascot.

Let Duo rest. He’s done enough.

#IzanAndDuo, soon began trending, and it didn’t take long for Duolingo’s official account to indulge.

@Duolingo

We’d like to subscribe to this idea.

It wasn’t anything unheard of but when done by a person who had that much eyes on him, it was nuclear.

.........

[Back at the stadium]

”Well... welcome to the Philips Stadion in Eindhoven, where the air tonight is electric — and not just because it’s a European night. Arsenal are here, top of the group, but the talk — almost unbelievably — has been about a seventeen-year-old midfielder and a press conference that’s already gone viral.”

”I’ve watched this club face great midfielders before — Gattuso, Scholes, Busquets — but I can’t remember a single one switching fluently into Dutch the night before kickoff. That’s what Izan did. Calm. Word-perfect. He even quoted a piece of our football history back to us. That’s more than respect. That’s preparation and that... is... unsettling.”

The second commentator looked at the lead, nodding at the words before giving a few of his own:

”He’s become a kind of myth on social media. I’m not sure how many young players would spend their nights before a Champions League tie reading about Dutch footballing philosophy... and its language. But that’s what we’re dealing with here. This isn’t just a wonderkid. This is someone who studies opponents to the bone. One fan online said it best — ’We scouted his heatmaps, he scouted our culture.’”

”And now, he’s here,”the lead commentator said.

”Standing on that halfway line. Alongside names like Ødegaard, Rice, and Gabriel. No longer the boy with potential, but the man in the middle of Mikel Arteta’s plans. A technician. A tempo setter. And maybe, tonight, a game-breaker.But PSV — don’t forget — they’ve been here before. European nights at the Philips Stadion bring out their sharpest edge. They’ve beaten giants here before. And they’ll believe they can do it again tonight. The crowd is in full voice. The players are set. The referee glances at his watch. It’s Arsenal. It’s PSV. It’s the Champions League...”

Below the gantry, the referee blew his whistle.

”And we are underway in Eindhoven.”

PSV kicked off, the ball rolling gently back to Guul Til, who took a touch and calmly spread it wide to Noa Lang on the left.

Not a single rushed movement and no hesitation.

The tempo was measured, as if they’d already trained this first phase a hundred times.

Lewis Skelly darted forward from left-back to press Noa Lang, who simply nudged it down the line for Guus Til.

The pass was tight, but Guus Til managed to shield it just enough, poking it back to Noa Lang again before Timber arrived.

Izan, starting in the False 9 role, closed the central space.

Trossard adjusted, pushing higher to trap the left side while Saka mirrored on the opposite flank, shadowing Malacia, and Rice began to shift horizontally, waiting for his cue.

It was Arsenal’s machine at work, which had swallowed teams whole in the early minutes of matches.

Most sides didn’t even try to play through it.

They booted long, or worse, panicked themselves into disaster, but PSV looked like a whole different animal.

The ball zipped diagonally to Schouten, who had dropped between Boscagli and Ledezma.

A soft touch with his instep turned Saibari toward the centre, and in a single motion, he rolled it inside to Perisic, who had drifted just behind Odegaard’s shoulder.

Odegaard turned sharply, arm reaching, but Perisic was already gone, spinning out of pressure like he had a compass in his boots.

Rice stepped forward to close the gap, but Perisic didn’t force it and sent a reverse pass straight back to Saibari, who now carried it into midfield.

Saibari drove forward, hips low, arms poised for balance.

Timber tracked him, cutting the angle, but Saibari delayed the pass just long enough for Perisic to slide into the right half-space unnoticed.

A short disguised pass, weighted just right.

Perisic opened his body and punched it forward to Guus Til, who had ghosted inside Lewis Skelly’s blind spot and that one pass flipped Arsenal.

Suddenly, it was a sprint toward the edge of the final third.

”Go! Go!” shouted Peter Bosz on the touchline, gesturing wildly.

His coat tails flared with every step as he pointed down the channel.

Guus Til didn’t hesitate.

He danced past Lewis Skelly’s recovery attempt with a smooth feint and burst into space.

Malgalhaes dropped inside to cover, but De Jong was already pulling off the back shoulder toward the near post.

Guus Til spotted it and, without breaking stride, whipped in a teasing low cross across the six-yard line.

Raya read it early and exploded off his line — sliding low, arms outstretched.

Thump!

The save came hard and sharp, a two-handed block that ricocheted off Raya’s palms and skipped out toward the corner flag as the Philip Stadion took a breath.

”Well, well... that is not something you see every day,” came the voice of Darren Fletcher on the English broadcast, tone half surprised and half impressed.

”Most teams buckle under this kind of pressure from Arsenal. Their press has been clinical all season — it devoured Manchester City and suffocated Liverpool and PSG — but PSV... PSV look like they’ve come to play.”

”You can see the work Bosz has done with this side. That was brave. That was clean. That was prepared.”

Martin Keown chimed in, just as the replay of Perisic’s turn played again.

”Look at this from Perisic here — ice cold. And Saibari... that midfield triangle with Guus Til? That’s drilled. That’s why Arsenal couldn’t reset.”

”But I’ll tell you what — Raya was absolutely massive there. Comes off his line like a veteran keeper. That’s why Arteta trusts him.”

Meanwhile, on the pitch, Izan had dropped deeper, glancing at Ødegaard, who was calling his mates to press a bit more compactly.

”This won’t be easy,” Saka muttered to Izan as they walked towards their box for the corner.

Izan just glanced at Saka and then turned towards the corner flag where Perisic stood, poised to take the corner.

”You never know when things could break,” Izan said as they reached the edge of the box but before they could go further Arteta’s voice rose above the low murmur of the Emirates.

”Izan! Inside the box!”

Izan turned his head slightly, catching his manager’s gesture.

The instruction was clear — abandon his zonal spot and offer presence in the air.

He nodded once and started jogging inward — but Perisic was already in motion.

The delivery was vicious — not floated, but whipped with conviction, curling toward the near post.

Ryan Flamingo peeled off his marker with a clever feint and launched himself forward.

He met the ball with a thumping header, directing it downward and goalward — a textbook finish, but,

Thwack!

It cannoned off the post, the entire frame rattling.

David Raya had barely shifted across when the rebound popped loose, but Mikel Merino was first to react.

Calm under pressure, he planted his feet and snapped a clearing header high and long, straight out toward the edge of the box.

Saka read it, already taking a step back to meet the falling ball — but two red shirts inched toward him.

He took a touch with his chest — loose — and in an instant, pressure came.

Saibari and Lang converged like jackals, blades out.

Saka didn’t hesitate.

He spun, and with the outside of his left boot, lashed the ball clear downfield — a desperate hoof, maybe, but instinctive.

Only it wasn’t just a clearance.

It was a trigger.

As the ball rose and arced through the air toward midfield, a burst of cheers rippled through the stands — because suddenly, out of nowhere, Izan was sprinting.

Eyes up with his body leaning forward.

He was already past the halfway line before anyone else reacted.

And ahead of him, Guus Til had seen it too, and now the chase was on

A/N: Second for the day. I got a bit of time so see you tomorrow.