God Of football

Izan stretched out on his couch, a bowl of grapes next to him, as he watched Arsenal's preseason match unfold.

He hadn't expected fireworks—just a routine runout for the younger players, a bit of fitness work, and maybe a few nice moments.

Instead, what he was watching was… absolute chaos.

The scoreboard in the top-left corner of the screen didn't lie.

Leyton Orient 2 - 0 Arsenal

Izan exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head. What am I even watching?

He barely had time to process the first goal—a scrappy one from a corner—before Arsenal got caught out by a long throw from the Leyton Orient keeper.

A long throw. Not a counterattack, not a clever move, but a goalkeeper launching the ball like prime Rory Delap, catching the entire backline asleep.

He blinked at the screen.

Did we just concede a goal straight out of Sunday League?

His phone buzzed beside him. The Arsenal squad's group chat was already on fire.

Saka:

Leyton Orient are doing us like this? This is a new low-low.

Martinelli:

2-0 down in 20 minutes? Against LEYTON ORIENT? Brother…

Izan exhaled sharply through his nose, suppressing a laugh. He could already picture Saka's face: phone in one hand, shaking his head in disbelief.

Another message popped up.

Trossard:

Nah but what was that goal? The keeper launched a whole missile and we got caught like that?

—

Izan shook his head, scrolling through the reactions. The roasting had begun.

—

Saliba:

Kiwior and Gabriel looking at each other like "Bro, I thought you had him."

Ødegaard:

We are getting humbled by hard work and vibes.

Ramsdale:

Arteta watching this in 4K like: [GIF: Pep rubbing his forehead in frustration.]

Izan burst into laughter. He could feel Arteta's disappointment from his living room.

If there was one thing Arteta hated, it was chaotic football, and right now, Arsenal were playing like they had collectively forgotten they were professionals.

He scrolled down. The memes were rolling in now.

Nelson:

Carlos Cuesta's(Arsenal's Assistant Coach) blood pressure is through the roof right now. Man's gonna need a minute.

Trossard:

Nah someone check if he's breathing on the touchline.

—

Izan nearly dropped his phone laughing. He took a breath, wiped a tear from the corner of his eye, and grabbed a grape from the bowl next to him.

Arsenal were getting humbled. But preseason or not, the banter was top-tier.

...…..

Leyton Orient's fans were loving every second of it.

Their chants echoed around the stadium, their players feeding off the energy of the crowd.

A two-goal lead against Arsenal, even a preseason version, was not something that happened every day.

Meanwhile, Arsenal's players looked stunned. A few of them exchanged awkward glances, as if silently asking, Did we just let that happen?

But there was no time to dwell on it. The moment the ball was placed back at the center circle, Arsenal kicked off with new urgency.

Lewis-Skelly immediately darted forward, demanding the ball. Sagoe Jr spread his arms, calling for control. They needed to respond—fast.

The intensity shifted in an instant. Suddenly, Leyton Orient's defenders had no breathing room.

Arsenal moved the ball quickly, no longer waiting for opportunities but forcing them.

Charles Sagoe Jr twisted past one defender, gliding down the right before whipping a cross into the box.

The keeper flapped at it, the ball dropping to Nwaneri—he swung a boot at it, but a last-ditch block sent it out for a corner.

Close.

Lewis-Skelly picked up possession near the halfway line, turned, and drove forward. The Leyton Orient midfield backed off slightly, but that was a mistake.

The young midfielder accelerated, shrugging off a challenge before sliding a pass to Marquinhos.

The winger took a touch and let fly—a curler aiming for the far post—only for the goalkeeper to leap across and palm it away.

Another corner.

The pressure was suffocating now. Leyton Orient had started with confidence, but Arsenal were reminding them who they were.

The corner was taken short— Sagoe Jr to Sousa, who delivered a teasing ball into the box.

Bit of pinball. A scramble. The ball fell to Nwaneri again, and he rifled a shot—blocked!

Leyton Orient's defenders threw themselves at everything. Arsenal were relentless, but their opponents refused to crack.

And then—

Just as Arsenal looked moments away from scoring, disaster struck for the third time.

After getting a foul, Arsenal were caught off-guard again by a fast restart from a Leyton player who sent the ball towards the other half.

One bounce. Two. The ball skipped past Walters, and suddenly, Leyton Orient had a three-on-two break.

The stadium roared as their forward sprinted into space. The Arsenal defenders scrambled to recover, but it was too late. A sharp cut inside, followed by a low-driven shot saw the net ripple.

GOAL!

Leyton Orient 3 - 0 Arsenal.

Complete shock.

Arsenal's bench sat frozen. The Leyton Orient bench exploded in celebration. Their fans went ballistic.

...…

Izan leaned back on his couch, one hand resting over his mouth as he tried—and failed—to suppress a smirk.

Arsenal, a team that had spent the last season competing at the highest level, were 3-0 down to Leyton Orient.

The group chat was in shambles.

[Saka:] Nahhh, no way this is real life.

[Martinelli:] I left my phone for two minutes and came back to 3-0. What happened?

[Saliba:] A horror movie

[Odegaard:] Mikel watching this from the stands like somebody sucked the life out of him.

Izan finally let out a laugh. He had expected rust, sure. Maybe a sloppy goal conceded. But this? This was a disaster class.

[Raya:] I think we should be worried about the new formation, lads…

[Rice:] Forget the formation, bro. They just got countered off a THROW-IN.

Saka wasted no time.

[Saka:] We have to start asking questions about Walters at the back

[Martinelli:] Nwaneri's gonna deactivate his socials after this

The messages kept coming. More GIFs, more memes. Someone—probably Ramsdale—sent a screenshot of the live score with the caption: "Is this your club?"

Izan was about to reply when a new message popped up from Arteta.

[Arteta:] I see you all have time to joke. Enjoy it while you can. See you at training.

Silence.

For a few seconds, nobody typed. Then, cautiously—

[Tomiyasu:] Good game, Leyton Orient.

...

The whistle blew, and the young Arsenal players sprinted off the pitch—not in excitement, but in pure desperation to get away from the mess that had unfolded.

Leyton Orient fans cheered them off in a way that felt more like mocking than respect. 3-0 down at halftime to a League Two side? This was bad.

Kiwior shook his head as he walked into the tunnel, glancing at Hein. "That was awful."

Hein muttered, "We got run through."

Ethan Nwaneri wasn't even speaking. He was just staring at the ground, probably replaying the second goal in his mind.

The one where Leyton's keeper launched a bomb of a throw, caught them out, and they got hit on the counter like a Sunday league team.

Myles Lewis-Skelly sighed, shaking his head as he took a deep breath. The boys needed a reset.

And the worst part? Arteta was already waiting at the entrance of the tunnel. Arms folded. Not moving.

This was about to be a long halftime talk.

.....

If the first half was a nightmare, the start of the second was a statement.

Whatever Arteta said in that dressing room? It worked.

Arsenal exploded out of the gates. The energy was different. The passes were crisp. The pressing was ruthless.

And within three minutes—boom.

3-1.

A slick move through midfield saw Lewis-Skelly break forward and release Nwaneri, who slid the ball across goal for Sousa to finish cleanly.

No celebrations. No over-the-top reactions. Just business.

The restart wasn't even fully settled when Arsenal struck again.

Another dangerous attack, another scramble in the box, and this time, Sagoe Jr smashed it home.

3-2.

Commentator: "Well, well, well. Arsenal looked dead and buried in the first half, but now? Now they're alive."

Leyton Orient looked stunned. Their solid shape? Gone. Arsenal were hunting them down, pressing them into mistake after mistake.

And then, Arteta made his move.

Arteta signaled to the bench. Fresh legs were coming on.

Arsenal were going all in.

Leyton Orient were desperate now, dropping deeper and deeper to protect their lead. But Arsenal weren't letting up.

And then, in the 70th minute, the moment arrived.

A long-range shot was parried, and the rebound fell straight to Nwaneri. He didn't hesitate. Bang.

3-3.

Arsenal had done it.

Commentator: "WHAT A TURNAROUND! From 3-0 down to 3-3, this young Arsenal team has shown unbelievable fight!"

Leyton Orient's confidence was shattered. And Arsenal? They weren't finished.

Arteta's side kept pushing. A quick counterattack saw youth striker, Khayon Edwards released again.

He took a touch, steadied himself, and curled the ball past the keeper.

4-3.

The Arsenal bench erupted. Arteta clapped twice but remained calm—he wanted them to keep going.

And they did.

Leyton Orient threw everything forward in desperation, but they left themselves open.

And Arsenal punished them.

In the 89th minute, a perfect through ball from Nwaneri found Myles Lewis-Skelly, who skipped past a last-ditch challenge and slotted home.

5-3. Game over.

A/n: Okay so let's speed things up a bit. I won't dwell much on the preseason so don't worry