God Of football - Chapter 599 599: At The Molineux

The backdrop of the Arsenal media room glowed with soft floodlights, freshly replaced after the latest overhaul.

The crests behind the long desk shimmered slightly under the pressure of camera flashes and hot, recycled air.

Izan sat centred, bottle of water to his right, the match ball from the 4–0 demolition of Dinamo Zagreb nestled just beside it — not quite hidden, but not flaunted either.

He wore the club jacket zipped halfway, his collar raised slightly, the number 10 on his chest sharp under the spotlight.

The media officer nodded toward the room, starting the session.

“First question.”

A hand shot up — BBC Sport.

A familiar face.

“Two goals and an assist tonight, Izan — what’s clicking for you in Europe that seems almost routine now?”

He smiled faintly and adjusted his mic.

“I think it’s all about how lucky you are to get chances and to finish them.

The trust. We’re playing well — everyone knows their job. When the team flows like that, it’s easier to find space, to do damage.”

Another hand.

“Were you surprised Dinamo gave you so much room to operate?”

A slight shrug.

“I wouldn’t say that. They came to play. We just pressed early and controlled the tempo. Once you get the second goal, teams tend to open up. We punished that.”

A ripple of murmurs as the moderator nodded to the next.

“You’re now on 12 goals and 4 assists in the league phase. That’s just your own class level at this point. Do you ever let yourself think about winning the Golden Boot or the UCL individual awards?”

Izan leaned in slightly, but his tone stayed even.

“If I do that, I stop playing for the team. We win as a group. That’s always the focus. Goals are good. Assists are good. But trophies talk louder. If push comes to shove, I will step but not only me, my teammates will and that’s what it means to play as a team.”

A laugh or two in the gallery. A few nods.

Then the shift.

The inevitable.

“Let’s talk about next week, Izan — Valencia at the Mestalla. Your return. What does that mean to you?”

He hesitated, just a beat.

A short inhale.

“We’ll talk about Valencia when it’s time to play Valencia,” he replied, gently.

“Right now, we’ve got Wolves in the league. This club is top of the Premier League and every point matters.”

“But surely you’ve seen the chatter?” another piped in.

“Lorenzo Piatelli — some fans call him the second Izan. Thoughts?”

That got a firmer pause.

He met the reporter’s gaze calmly.

“Piatelli’s doing great. I’ve seen the highlights. He deserves the praise,” Izan said.

“But calling him ‘the second Izan’ isn’t fair. To him. Or to what he’s building. He’s my senior in age so I think calling him the second Izan or second-anything is rude. Every player wants to craft his own legacy so I think the names should stop.”

“It’s not a compliment?” someone else asked.

“It’s lazy,” Izan said, gently but clearly.

“He’s not me. And that’s the point. He’s himself. Different style, different path. If anything, he’s the first Lorenzo Piatelli.”

That hung in the air momentarily — not confrontational, just decisive.

The kind of clarity that pulled pens from paper and rewrote headlines.

“And your personal emotions heading back to Mestalla?”

Another pause, then a slow shake of the head.

“I’ll let you know how I feel… after Wolves.”

He glanced toward the moderator, a subtle ask.

“One more question,” she said.

The final hand: Sky Sports.

“If you win at Wolves, you will continue to be nine points clear at the top supposing Liverpool matches your win. UCL Round of 16 likely secured. How do you balance both without burning out?”

Izan exhaled softly.

“By staying here,” he said, tapping the crest on his chest.

“With this group. This coach. This shirt. We take it one game at a time. And if we do that right…”

He let the sentence hang, a slight grin playing at the edge of his mouth.

“…We might just have a season to remember.”

Clicks went off as the reporters tried to get their last bits of Izan before the latter nodded and stood, the media liaison following behind him.

…….

The morning after the Zagreb match, the energy online didn’t sleep.

If anything — it evolved.

Across group chats, fan forums, and timeline threads long enough to rival epic poetry, the debate had already taken shape.

Not about Arsenal’s win.

Not about Izan’s brace and assist.

That was expected now, almost routine.

What kept the world buzzing was what came next.

Valencia vs Arsenal.

Piatelli vs Izan.

The Copy vs The Original.

The web pulsed with it.

On phones and tablets.

In cafés, office breaks, and school corridors.

It was all anyone could talk about.

Some Arsenal fans came with scripture — tongue-in-cheek but said with reverence:

“It’s written in the football bible. Izan returns to Mestalla and leaves with a win. Page 10, Verse 17 — ‘Thou shalt not compete with the chosen one.'”

Others quoted numbers like they were commandments.

Th𝘪𝙨 𝓬h𝕒p𝐭ℯr ɩ𝘴 p𝕠𝖘𝐭𝙚𝙙 b𝗒 Ḱ𝙞†𝕖𝐧0𝕧𝗲𝑙

“30 Goals. 13 assists. In 22 games. Please. Lorenzo’s doing good — but he’s not doing that.”

A tweet that gained over 3 million views in three hours read:

“You know how cold you gotta be for fans to start calling someone the ‘second you’ while you’re still 17?”

Under it, the reply:

“After Messi and Ronaldo, I thought maybe it was going to be players like Neymar who would take over but then Haaland and Mbappe came along. They staked their claim but damn, since the euros, Izan has been the best player in the world. Not fair to Piatelli and a lot of players like Yamal tbh. He’s solid. Just unlucky to be peaking during the Izan Era.”

The back-and-forth burned fast and fierce.

Some tried to inject balance:

“Piatelli’s not a shadow. He’s his own light. But comparing anyone to Izan right now is asking to get torched.”

One particularly viral clip had Arsenal fans breaking down footage of both players side-by-side — Izan’s hat trick vs Villa compared to Piatelli’s vs Villarreal.

The caption was simple:

“Same match ball. Different gravity.”

There was pushback too — especially from La Liga purists.

“Izan left. Lorenzo came. That should matter.”

“He may not be ‘that guy’ — but he’s ours. And that counts more in Mestalla.”

But that argument didn’t catch fire.

The wave — whether fair or not — tilted red and white.

The narrative didn’t wait for the ball to roll.

It was already spinning.

And somewhere between London and Valencia, where one boy had built a legacy and another had stepped into the vacuum it left behind, football was doing what it always did best:

Brewing a storm.

And this time, the world would be watching.

……..

[3 Days later]

The floodlights at Molineux burned through the misty Midlands evening, slicing the cold January air into bright rectangles of tension.

Sky Sports coverage hummed softly before the voice of Jim Beglin, crisp as ever, cut through,

“Well, Arsenal have travelled well tonight. And they had to. It’s Wolves away — never a friendly fixture — and with Liverpool winning their game earlier in the day. The lead has been cut to just 6 points. Should they win, it goes back to nine but should they lose or draw, Liverpool gain more momentum.”

Beside him, co-commentator Alan Smith added, “This time last season, this is where title charges wobbled. Molineux under lights? Ask any player — it drains you. And Arsenal know a draw isn’t good enough.”

The camera tracked the players as they emerged from the tunnel.

Arsenal in red and Wolverhampton Wanderers in that deep gold, like armour under siege.

Rice and Ødegaard led the line while Izan followed them at the end of the line, gloves on, collar slightly turned up, eyes sharp and locked in as jeers from the home fans rained down.

“Here come the teams,” Beglin continued.

“And the volume’s rising. You can feel what this means.”

Bukayo Saka offered a quick handshake to João Gomes while Ødegaard nodded toward the Wolves captain, Mario Lemina.

The referee went through the motions — coin toss, wrist checks, pleasantries.

All standard.

From the stands, Arsenal’s travelling supporters raised their scarves and voices in sync, chanting the club anthem through the cold, trying to cut into the sound of hostility.

The camera panned to Izan for a moment.

Eyes closed. Just for a second.

Then opened again, with focus drawn in them.

“Final checks being made,” Smith said.

“And it’s Arsenal to kick off. The away end is packed — they know what a win tonight does.”

“And Izan,” Beglin added, “sits just one goal away from thirty-one in the league and 6 away from equalling Haaland’s record set a couple of season’s ago. He’s averaging more than a goal a game. It’s ridiculous. But this — this is where it gets harder. This is matchday 23 of the 2024/25 Premier League season and it’s Arsenal, facing Wolverhampton Wanderers here in the Molineux!”

The whistle blew and the match began.

A/N: First of the day. Just woke up even. Have fun reading and I’ll see you in a bit with the last of the day.