God Of football

Chapter 908: Next Stop?

The noise outside the National Stadium hadn’t died down at all.

If anything, it felt louder once the players stepped out into the humid night.

The crowd pressed against the barricades, chanting Izan’s name in bursts that rolled across the plaza.

Phones lit up the dark with flashes going off every few seconds.

Izan walked beside Martinelli and Calafiori, with his bag hanging on his shoulder.

A few of the boys laughed quietly as the chanting spiked again while Izan lifted a hand, gave the crowd a small wave, and the reaction jumped like someone had turned up the volume.

Security guided them toward the bus, though the crowd weren’t really that rowdy as much as the noise they were making.

Izan gave one last wave before climbing the steps.

The moment the door shut, the noise softened, not fully fading but turning into a steady hum behind the glass.

”Damn,” Nwaneri muttered from his seat. ”Singapore’s finished.”

Izan shook his head with a tired smile. ”They’re just excited.”

”That’s one word for it,” Nwaneri said as the bus pulled away, the crowd chasing it with their phones raised.

Some, mostly teenagers, ran for a bit before giving up, laughing as they slowed.

By the time the team reached their hotel, another crowd was already there, and waiting for the bus.

This time, the staff kept the players from going anywhere near the entrance, ushering them straight inside.

Even so, Izan could still hear his name from the street while he waited for the elevator to arrive.

The next morning, Singapore woke to a full media storm.

Every major channel had clips of the match running on a loop.

Analysts talked about his first goal from three different angles.

Talk show hosts brought in former players to discuss the game, while one headline read: ”The Night Singapore Fell for Izan Hernandez.”

Online, it spread even faster.

Fans from Indonesia, Malaysia, Korea, and Australia joined the frenzy with their own reactions.

”Singapore is obsessed, and I get it. That boy was ridiculous last night. I really wish they had come to Australia”

”Someone check the humidity levels. It’s just Izan fever.”

”Imagine travelling for pre-season and turning the whole country upside down.”

Singaporeans replied with equal energy.

”Let us enjoy. We haven’t recovered.”

”The way everyone screamed when he walked out? Unreal.”

”Dude, I didn’t get to watch the AC Milan game, but I am definitely going to watch Arsenal play against Newcastle.”

Some joked that schools were going to start teaching ”Izan Studies” by next week.

By the time Izan sat down for breakfast, every table in the hotel restaurant had a TV nearby showing the same highlights package.

He had barely taken two bites when his phone buzzed.

Miranda.

He stepped away from the table and answered.

”Morning,” she said. Her voice was crisp, already in work mode.

”Congratulations, by the way. You’ve taken Singapore hostage.”

”I’ve noticed,” he said, glancing at the TV behind the bar.

”And just like so, a few brands there reached out to me overnight. Some tourism boards, too. They want quick collaborations while you’re in the country. Nothing long-term. Photo ops, recorded messages, small appearances. Easy things.”

He leaned against the wall near the elevator.

”I’m not doing anything during pre-season. I want to keep my head on the football. Maybe after or some other time.”

”That’s what I guessed you’d say,” Miranda replied.

”I’ll handle it. I’ll tell them you appreciate the interest, but your focus is on the team, but I won’t shut them off entirely, okay?”

”Thanks.”

She paused, then added, ”You did well yesterday. Rest up. And eat something and try to avoid public spaces when you’re without your team. And we have to seriously consider the bodyguard talk.”

He smiled.

”I will, I will, and I will not consider the last request,” he said, causing Miranda to snort over at the other side before the call ended.

Izan placed the phone back in his pocket and returned to his table, where most of his teammates had already begun eating.

....

After putting the AC Milan game and everything that came with it aside, Arsenal spent the next few days working hard behind closed doors, squeezing every bit of sharpness out of the Singapore leg before their second and final game.

The training pitch at Kallang saw a steady rhythm of shouts, thuds, and bursts of applause from the coaching staff as the sessions ran long.

The air was heavy and humid, and more than once the players joked that they were sweating before warm-up even started.

Still, there was a fire running through the group, and each day they looked a little sharper and a little quicker.

Online, fans counted down to the twenty-seventh like it was a cup final.

Singaporeans shared clips from the AC Milan game all week, especially Izan’s goals and that moment with the match ball and the girl.

Foreign fans chimed in too, claiming they weren’t missing the next match, no matter the time zone.

All of them agreed that Singapore had turned into a full showcase for him, and when the day finally arrived, the National Stadium was filled to the brim.

The red shirts in the stands doubled, maybe even tripled.

Newcastle fans brought their noise as well, but the locals were the ones who filled the space, waving signs and flags while the warm-ups were still going on.

By the time the referee blew for the start, the place felt like it had been building pressure for days.

Arsenal began with purpose, moving the ball quickly and pulling Newcastle around.

Izan settled into the game almost immediately.

Every touch had a weight to it, every pass carried intent.

Ten minutes in, he picked up the ball in midfield, let one defender rush past him with a small shift of his body, then threaded a pass between two others to find Martinelli, and the winger didn’t hesitate, striking the ball low across the goal for the opener.

The crowd roared, and the commentators didn’t even try to hide their delight.

”Izan turns provider again to set up Martinelli for the first goal of the night,” one of them said as replays rolled.

”What kind of masterclass will this boy be putting on show for us again tonight?”

Newcastle tried to respond by pressing higher, and failed as it barely slowed Arsenal.

Izan drifted into pockets, dragging black-and-white shirts with him.

When he dropped a little deeper for the next move, the defenders followed, leaving Saka alone on the right.

Izan clipped the ball towards him with a calmness that made the whole thing look rehearsed, and Saka took one touch, squared it into the box, and Arsenal doubled their lead just on the 30th-minute mark.

Fans behind the goal were already on their feet even before the ball crossed the line as their celebrations rolled through the stadium like their own nation had qualified for the World Cup.

The third came from a counterattack Newcastle never saw coming, where Izan won the ball near the halfway line, spun away from a challenge, and drove forward.

He had Martinelli to his left and Saka to his right, but he held the ball until the last possible moment.

When the final defender committed, he slid it into Martinelli, who finished with a simple tap to Nwaneri, with the latter tapping the ball into the back of the net to make it 3-0 for Arsenal on the night.

Newcastle regrouped, but their frustration began to show.

A few hard tackles flew in, and the referee had to step in more than once.

Izan got clipped twice in quick succession and finally stood up with a small shake of his head, dusting grass off his socks while two Newcastle players argued with the referee.

The yellow card came out, and the crowd whistled in approval.

With the score at three, Arsenal slowed things down.

They kept possession, worked passing patterns, and forced Newcastle to chase shadows.

The game was comfortable, but the crowd knew what they were waiting for.

It came in the second half when Arsenal won a free kick near the left corner of the box.

The moment Izan placed the ball down, phones went up everywhere.

Some Newcastle players pointed at their wall, trying to get things set quickly, but the pressure was written all over them.

The referee stepped back as Izan took a breath and then struck the ball cleanly.

It curled high, dipped late, and smashed into the far top corner.

The reaction wasn’t a roar at first.

It was a stunned intake of breath, like the stadium needed a second to understand what it had just seen.

Then the noise hit with full force.

”This Generation of footballers are going to have a lot to deal with when they meet this boy because this is just the start.”

From that point on, it didn’t matter what Newcastle tried.

Arsenal controlled the rhythm, made changes, and saw out the rest of the match.

When the fourth official lifted the board in the eighty-seventh minute, the applause started even before Izan reached the touchline.

As he jogged off, he lifted a hand towards the stands in a small thank you as the noise followed him all the way to the bench.

Singapore had made its feelings clear.

Arsenal had given them a show, and Izan had given them another memory.

And with that, the Singapore leg ended on a high, the stadium still humming long after the final whistle.