Reincarnated As A Wonderkid-Chapter 528: New tactics

Alex sat on a beach in Dubai. The sand was white, the sea was blue, and the air conditioning in his hotel room was set to "Penguin."

He was trying to relax. He was reading a book called The Physics of Failure.

It was a cheerful read.

"Recovery," Alex muttered. "Elasticity. Bouncing back."

Mark ran past him. He was wearing flippers and a snorkel mask. He was chasing a crab.

"COME HERE, SEBASTIAN!" Mark yelled. "I WANT TO RACE YOU SIDEWAYS!"

The crab scuttled into a hole. Mark face-planted into the sand.

"He cheated!" Mark spat out sand. "He has eight legs! I only have two!"

"Crabs have ten legs, Mark," Alex corrected without looking up. "Decapods."

"Show offs," Mark grumbled.

Maya was sitting under a parasol. She was typing on a laptop.

"Analysis of the Euro Final," Maya said. "Spain’s pass completion was 92%. Ours was 84%. The variance was in the midfield transition. Rodri controlled the vector."

"Maya," Alex sighed. "We are on holiday. Can we stop analyzing the loss?"

"Failure is data," Maya said. "Data is power. Next time, we win."

"Next time," Alex agreed.

His phone buzzed.

It was a notification. The Premier League fixtures were released.

Matchday 1. Arsenal vs Tottenham. The Emirates.

A Derby to start the season. No warm-up. Just fire.

"Mark," Alex said. "Stop harassing the wildlife. We have work to do."

London. The Training Ground.

It was raining. The English summer was living up to its reputation.

Steve, the manager, stood in the center circle. He looked serious.

"Last season was history," Steve said. "Treble winners. Legends."

The players smiled. They puffed out their chests.

"But the Euros..." Steve paused. "That hurt."

Alex looked at his boots. Saka looked at the sky. Rice looked angry.

"Good," Steve said. "Use the pain. Pain is fuel. Hunger is better than satisfaction."

He pointed to the new signings.

There was a new striker. A giant. Viktor Gyokeres. He was Swedish. He looked like he could wrestle a bear.

And a new midfielder. Frenkie de Jong. The Dutch maestro. He looked calm. Elegant.

"We have evolved," Steve said. "We are stronger. We are faster. We are Arsenal."

He looked at Alex.

"Professor. You have the Golden Ball. You have the trophies. But do you still have the fire?"

"I am burning," Alex said.

Matchday 1. The Emirates Stadium.

The sun came out. The stadium was red and white.

Arsenal vs Tottenham.

The Spurs fans were singing. They wanted to spoil the party.

Alex stood in the tunnel.

James Maddison stood next to him.

"Golden Boy," Maddison smirked. "Still sad about the Euros?"

"Spain were good," Alex said. "But today is London."

"London is white," Maddison said.

"London is red," Alex replied. "Check the map."

Mark stood behind Alex. He was staring at Romero.

"You look scary," Mark said to the Spurs defender. "Do you eat rocks?"

Romero growled.

"I eat rocks too," Mark lied. " Pebbles. For breakfast. Crunchy."

The whistle blew.

The game started.

It was fierce.

Tottenham had a new manager (again). They played aggressive football. They kicked. They ran.

In the tenth minute, Son got the ball. He ran at White.

Son cut inside. He shot.

Raya saved.

"Wake up!" Raya screamed.

Arsenal were sluggish. Maybe it was the Euros hangover. Maybe it was the pressure.

In the thirtieth minute, Maddison crossed. Richarlison headed.

Goal.

Zero one. Tottenham.

The away end went crazy.

"Here we go again," Rico muttered.

Alex stood in the center circle.

He felt the weight of the Ballon d’Or. He felt the weight of the loss in Berlin.

"No," Alex whispered. "Not today."

He looked at Frenkie de Jong. The new midfielder.

"Frenkie," Alex said. "Control."

Frenkie nodded. He didn’t speak much. He just played.

Arsenal restarted.

Frenkie got the ball. He didn’t run. He glided.

He passed to Alex. Alex passed back.

Tick. Tock.

They started to build a rhythm. A new rhythm.

Frenkie was the bass. Alex was the melody.

Forty fifth minute.

Alex got the ball. He saw Gyokeres. The giant Swede was holding off two defenders.

Alex hit a pass.

Gyokeres controlled it with his chest. He turned. He smashed it.

It hit the bar.

The rebound fell to Saka.

Saka volleyed.

Goal.

One one.

"We are back!" Saka shouted.

Halftime. One one.

Steve was calm.

"They are tired," Steve said. "They chased the ball for twenty minutes. Now we kill them."

He looked at Mark.

"Speed. Van de Ven is fast. But he turns slow. Twist him."

"I am a pretzel!" Mark declared. "I will twist!"

Second half.

Arsenal took control.

Frenkie de Jong was a metronome. He never lost the ball.

Alex was the spark.

Sixtieth minute.

Alex got the ball on the edge of the box.

He saw the Tottenham defense. Compact. Solid.

He saw a gap.

He didn’t pass. He dribbled.

He went past Bissouma. He went past Romero.

He was in the box.

He saw the goal.

But he saw Mark.

Mark was at the back post. Unmarked.

Alex chipped the ball.

It was a perfect arc.

Mark jumped. 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝕨𝕖𝗯𝚗𝚘𝕧𝕖𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝕞

He headed it.

Goal.

Two one. Arsenal.

Mark ran to the corner. He did a somersault. He landed on his feet (miraculously).

"I AM A GYMNAST!" Mark screamed. "OLYMPIC GOLD!"

Alex ran over. "Great header!"

"I closed my eyes!" Mark admitted. "It hit my forehead by accident!"

Tottenham tried to fight back.

But Arsenal were too strong. Too experienced.

Eighty fifth minute.

Rico came on. The Samba King.

He got the ball on the wing. He danced past Porro.

He crossed.

Gyokeres was there.

He bullied the defender. He powered a header into the net.

Goal.

Three one.

Game over.

The final whistle blew.

Arsenal 3. Tottenham 1.

The season started with a bang.

Alex walked off the pitch.

He felt good. The pain of the Euros was still there, but it was smaller. A scar, not a wound.

Milo ran onto the pitch. He was wearing a North London map as a cape.

"THE CARTOGRAPHER!" Milo screamed. "I MAPPED THE VICTORY! ALEX! I AM SELLING GPS COORDINATES TO THE GOAL! ONLY FIVE POUNDS! NEVER GET LOST AGAIN!"

"Milo, the goal doesn’t move," Alex laughed.

"IT MOVES IF YOU ARE MARK!" Milo yelled. "HE IS EVERYWHERE!"

They walked into the dressing room.

The team was singing North London Forever.

Alex sat down.

He checked his phone.

A text from Maya.

"Recovery analysis: Successful. You converted negative emotional energy into positive kinetic output. Efficiency rating: 96%. Also, I have a new project. The Champions League format has changed. It is a Swiss Model now. More games. More variables. I need a bigger whiteboard."

Alex smiled.

More games. More puzzles.

He looked at Mark.

Mark was eating a celebratory donut.

"Hey Professor," Mark said, sugar on his nose.

"Yeah?"

"We are still good, right?"

"We are good, Mark."

"Good," Mark said. "Because I want to win everything this year. Even the trophy for best hair."

"You have terrible hair, Mark."

"It is aerodynamic!" Mark argued. "It cuts the wind!"

Alex laughed.

The new season had begun.

New players. New tactics. New challenges.