Reincarnated As A Wonderkid-Chapter 571: Again!!

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

It was the FA Cup Final. Again.

This time, it was against Manchester United.

The stadium was packed. Ninety thousand fans. Red vs Red.

Alex stood in the center of the room. He was wearing his manager's suit.

"Penalties," Alex said.

The word hung in the air like a ghost.

The game had ended 2-2. Extra time had ended 2-2.

Now, it was down to luck. Or science.

"They say penalties are a lottery," Alex said, looking at his players. "They say it is about nerve. About luck."

He shook his head.

"It is about geometry. Physics. Psychology."

He pointed to the whiteboard.

"Onana dives to his right 62% of the time when under pressure. He steps early. Wait for the step."

He looked at Saka.

"Bukayo. You go first. Set the tone."

"Yes Boss," Saka said.

He looked at Paz.

"Nico. You go second. Hard and high."

"Yes Boss."

He looked at Luca. The young winger.

"Luca. You go third."

Luca looked pale. "Me? A penalty? In the final?"

"You have the best technique," Alex said. "Trust it."

He looked at Marco. The defender.

"Marco. Fourth. Smash it."

"I will break the net," Marco promised.

He looked at Tito. The striker.

"Tito. Fifth. The winner."

"Samba style," Tito winked.

The players walked out to the center circle. They stood arm in arm. A chain of red shirts.

The Manchester United players stood opposite them. They looked confident. They had practiced penalties all week.

The coin toss. United won. They chose to shoot first.

Bruno Fernandes stepped up. The captain.

He did his little hop. He shot.

Goal.

Raya went the right way, but the shot was too good.

1-0 United.

Saka stepped up.

The crowd whistled.

Saka placed the ball. He looked at Onana.

He ran up. He paused.

He rolled it into the corner.

Goal.

1-1.

Rashford stepped up.

He smashed it.

Goal.

2-1 United.

Paz stepped up.

He hit it hard and high. Just like Alex said.

It hit the roof of the net.

Goal.

2-2.

Casemiro stepped up.

He looked calm. He shot.

Raya saved it!

The Arsenal end erupted.

"YES!" Mark screamed from the touchline. "RAYA IS A WALL!"

Now, it was Luca's turn.

The 18-year-old walked to the spot. He looked tiny in the giant stadium.

He placed the ball. His hands were shaking.

Onana was dancing on the line. Trying to distract him.

"Hey kid!" Onana shouted. "I know where you are going!"

Luca looked at Alex.

Alex nodded. Trust the technique.

Luca ran up.

He hit it.

It wasn't a smash. It wasn't a placement. It was a "Panenka".

He chipped it down the middle.

Onana dived to the right. He watched the ball float past him.

Goal.

3-2 Arsenal.

"THE NERVE!" Rico yelled. "HE HAS ICE IN HIS VEINS!"

Hojlund stepped up for United.

He had to score.

He shot.

Goal.

3-3.

Marco stepped up. The tank.

He didn't look at the keeper. He just looked at the ball.

He ran up.

BOOM.

He hit it so hard the net actually lifted off the ground.

Goal.

4-3 Arsenal.

"POWER!" Mark shouted. "HE KICKED IT TO THE MOON!"

Mount stepped up for United.

He shot.

Goal.

4-4.

Sudden death.

Or not. It was the fifth penalty.

Tito stepped up.

If he scored, Arsenal won.

Tito placed the ball. He did a little dance.

Onana looked confused.

Tito ran up.

He stopped.

He looked at the left corner. Onana leaned left.

Tito hit it right.

It rolled.

It hit the post.

CLANG.

The stadium gasped.

The ball bounced out. It spun. It hit Onana's back.

And rolled into the net.

GOAL.

Arsenal won.

5-4.

The stadium exploded.

Alex fell to his knees.

Another trophy. Another win.

The players piled on top of Tito.

"LUCKY!" Mark screamed, running onto the pitch. "BUT WE TAKE IT!"

Milo ran onto the pitch. He was wearing a suit made of gold medals (plastic ones). 𝑓𝘳𝘦𝑒𝑤𝑒𝘣𝘯ℴ𝘷𝘦𝓁.𝑐𝑜𝑚

"THE CHAMPION!" Milo screamed. "ALEX! I AM SELLING PENALTY SPOTS! I DUG THIS ONE UP WITH A SPOON! IT IS WORTH MILLIONS!"

"Milo, leave the pitch alone," Alex laughed.

They walked up the steps.

Alex lifted the FA Cup.

He looked at the crowd.

He saw a banner.

IN FINCH WE TRUST.

He smiled.

He thought about the penalty shootout. It wasn't just luck. It was preparation. It was trust.

It was science.

"Hey Professor," Mark said, wearing the FA Cup lid as a hat (tradition).

"Yeah?"

"Did you calculate that?"

"Calculate what?"

"Tito hitting the post and then the keeper's back."

"No," Alex admitted. "That was just... football."

"Chaos," Rico said. "Beautiful chaos."

Alex looked at his team.

They were winners. Again.

But he knew the game never stopped.

Next season. New challenges. New variables.

"Class dismissed," Alex whispered.

But he was already thinking about the next lesson.

And it was going to be a good one.

The end of the season party was in full swing.

It was held on a boat on the River Thames. The London Eye glowed red and white in the background.

Alex sat on the deck, holding a glass of apple juice.

He was tired. But it was a good tired. The kind of tired you feel after climbing a mountain.

Maya walked over. She was carrying a laptop (of course).

"The data is in," Maya announced.

"Can we not have data tonight, Maya?" Alex smiled. "We won the FA Cup. We finished second in the league. It was a good season."

"Good is subjective," Maya adjusted her glasses. "Data is objective. And the data says..."

She clicked a button. A projection appeared on the side of the boat (Milo had set it up).

SEASON STATISTICS: ALEX FINCH

Games Played: 52

Goals: 25

Assists: 32

Nutmegs: 48

Distance Covered: 600km (Equivalent to walking from London to Edinburgh)

Pass Completion: 94%

"Impressive," Alex nodded. "But not perfect."

"Perfection is statistically impossible," Maya said. "But you are close. You are in the 99th percentile of all midfielders in history."

"What about Mark?" Alex asked.

Maya clicked again.

SEASON STATISTICS: MARK SPEED

Games Played: 48

Goals: 20

Offsides: 150 (League Record)

Top Speed: 38.5 km/h

Pizzas Consumed: Unknown (Estimate: 400)

Red Cards (for celebrating too hard): 1

"I broke the record!" Mark shouted, appearing from nowhere with a plate of canapés. "The offside record! I am always ahead of the game!"

"You are ahead of the defensive line, Mark," Alex laughed. "That is the problem."

"It is their fault for being slow!" Mark argued. "They should run faster!"

Rico danced over. He was wearing a shirt made of sequins.

"Show me my stats!" Rico demanded. "Show me the samba!"

Maya clicked.

SEASON STATISTICS: RICO

Games Played: 45

Goals: 15

Assists: 20

Dribbles Completed: 200

Successful 'Rainbow Flicks': 12

Times He Made a Defender Fall Over: 50

"Fifty!" Rico cheered. "I broke fifty ankles! Metaphorically!"

"You are a menace," Alex said.

"I am an artist," Rico corrected.

Steve, the manager, walked over. He looked relaxed for the first time in ten months.

"Good numbers," Steve said, looking at the projection. "But numbers don't tell the whole story."

He looked at Alex.

"You led them. When we were down against City. When we were tired against Liverpool. You carried the team."

"We carried each other," Alex said.

"That is the captain's answer," Steve smiled. "But it is true. You built a culture."

Milo ran onto the deck. He was wearing a captain's hat and holding a telescope.

"LAND HO!" Milo screamed. "I SEE THE FUTURE! ALEX! I AM SELLING CRYSTAL BALLS! THEY PREDICT THE SCORE! ONLY ONE HUNDRED POUNDS!"

"Milo, that is a snow globe," Alex said.

"IT IS A WINTER FORECAST!" Milo yelled. "SNOW MEANS GOALS!"

Alex laughed.

He looked at the river. The water was dark and calm.

Another season done. Another chapter written.

He thought about the beginning. The muddy pitches. The doubts. The fear.

Now, he was here. On a boat in London, celebrating with his best friends.

"Hey Professor," Mark said, leaning on the railing.

"Yeah?"

"Do you think we can win the league next year?"

"We were close this year," Alex said. "Two points behind City."

"Next year," Mark said seriously. "I will run faster. I will eat more pasta. I will be a pasta-powered rocket."

"And I will dance more," Rico added. "I will invent a new move. The 'Double Sombrero'."

"And I will sell more merchandise!" Milo shouted. "I will sell 'Double Sombrero' hats!"

Alex looked at them.

They were ridiculous. They were chaotic. They were perfect.

"And I," Alex said. "I will calculate the variables."

"Boring!" Mark groaned. "Just say you will score goals!"

"I will score calculated goals," Alex winked.

They laughed.

The boat drifted down the Thames.

The season was over.

But the story wasn't.

The Dynasty was just getting started.

And the Professor?

He was ready for the next lesson.

"Class dismissed," Alex whispered to the London night.