FORESIGHT Chapter 336 336: Spurs vs Gunners End

"Naughton's struggling now," Martin Taylor observed on Sky Sports. "Sánchez keeps driving at him, and Tottenham are having to shuffle across."

Alan Smith agreed. "He needs help. You can't leave him one-on-one every ti."

Sánchez accelerated again—a sharp drop of the shoulder, then a sudden spin.

"Marseille turn, brilliant skill," said Martin Taylor as the winger burst into the area.

White Hart Lane gasped as one. Naughton had been left behind, flat-footed.

Sánchez adjusted his stride, shaping to shoot, but from the side, Jan Vertonghen launched into a sliding challenge. The man and the ball went down together.

The whistle shrilled. Arsenal players sprinted in, Tottenham players pushed back, and for a brief mont, the scene threatened to boil over. Herb Dean forced space between them and pointed firmly to the spot.

A penalty.

The ho crowd erupted in fury.

"That's a dive!"

"Never a penalty!"

"The is gone."

The referee remained unmoved. He showed Vertonghen a yellow card, then glanced toward the stands with a stern expression that suggested enough was enough.

Up the pitch, Kai helped Sánchez to his feet.

"You alright?" Kai asked, steady and calm.

Sánchez rotated his ankle slightly. "A bit sore. Nothing serious."

He looked at Kai with a clear ssage in his eyes.

Kai smiled faintly. "Wait here."

He retrieved the ball and returned, placing it into Sánchez's hands. "You take it."

Sánchez gave a small nod. He had won it. He would take responsibility.

Martin Taylor comnted, "Sánchez stepping up for the penalty he earned himself."

Alan Smith added, "Big mont in the derby."

In goal, Hugo Lloris tried every trick. He spoke constantly, shifting side to side, attempting to unsettle the taker.

Kanté, watching from the edge of the box, muttered to Mustafi in his soft voice, "He talks too much."

Sánchez said nothing. He stepped back, eyes fixed on the ball.

The whistle blew.

"Sánchez begins his run," Martin Taylor called.

A firm strike toward the bottom left corner.

"Saved!" Alan Smith reacted instantly.

Lloris had guessed correctly, pushing the ball away. The stadium leapt in relief, but only for a second.

The rebound spun loose inside the box. Vertonghen reached it first and swung his foot to clear. The ball cannoned straight into the advancing Sánchez.

It struck his forehead and looped back toward the goal.

Lloris, still scrambling on the turf, clawed desperately at the ball, stretching every inch. He could not reach it.

It crossed the line.

Martin Taylor's voice rose. "It's in. Would you believe that?"

Alan Smith laughed in disbelief. "Extraordinary. Saved the penalty, and then it goes in off Sánchez."

Arsenal supporters erupted. Tottenham fans stood frozen, hands on heads.

Kai and the rest rushed to Sánchez, hauling him up from the ground. He looked dazed, blinking as if unsure what had happened.

Through the stadium speakers ca the replay comntary: "Off his face and into the net."

Sánchez protested imdiately. "It was my forehead. My forehead, not my entire face."

His teammates laughed.

"You scored, that's what matters."

"I used my forehead," Sánchez insisted, pointing at his reddening forehead. "Look, it's red."

Kai patted him on the shoulder. "Alright. We believe you. Good header."

Sánchez tried to keep a straight face, then finally smiled. However it went in, it counted.

"In the 69th minute, Arsenal double their lead," Martin Taylor said. "Tottenham now has a mountain to climb."

On the touchline, Mauricio Pochettino exhaled slowly. From early on, the balance had favoured Arsenal. Spurs were still rebuilding, still short in key areas. This was not yet the squad he wanted.

He introduced Harry Kane for Adebayor and made changes on both flanks, searching for energy and movent. Arsenal responded with adjustnts of their own.

The pattern did not shift. Tottenham struggled to establish control. Arsenal, perhaps mindful of the upcoming Champions League fixture, eased their pressing but never lost their structure.

Pochettino knew the result was slipping away. Losing was painful; losing to Arsenal at ho was sothing else entirely. The reaction from the supporters would be fierce.

At full ti, the scoreboard read 2-0.

Arsenal had won the North London Derby and made it six straight league victories. The away end celebrated long after the whistle.

There was more good news. Chelsea had been held by Manchester City, aning Arsenal climbed to the top of the Premier League table after six rounds.

On Sky Sports, Martin Taylor reflected, "Six wins from six. That's as strong a start as they could have hoped for."

Alan Smith nodded. "They look more mature this season. When they're ahead, they control the ga. When they're under pressure, they don't panic."

Across the dia, the headlines followed quickly.

Spurs Turned Into Barbeque At Ho.

—> The Sun

Arsenal Boss Spurs At White Hart Lane

—>Daily Mail

Observers searched for weaknesses but found few. This was not simply a revival after last season's Champions League triumph. It felt like progression.

So were already whispering about replicating the unbeaten campaign of 2003 to 2004. So Arsenal fans also thought of that as immature and didn't want expectations weighing on the players.

Whether that would happen remained to be seen. What was clear, however, was that this Arsenal side was not content with recovery.

. . .

Beating Tottenham always carried extra weight.

Arsenal might publicly downplay the rivalry, but inside the dressing room, there was a clear sense of satisfaction. The supporters felt it too.

All week, they had listened to noise from the other side of North London. Now they were the ones celebrating openly, while many Tottenham supporters kept a low profile.

Still, most Arsenal fans kept their celebrations asured. In their eyes, Arsenal were a major club. They did not need to trade insults for days on end.

Across town, the mood was very different.

Questions were already being asked about Mauricio Pochettino. So supporters had run out of patience after the derby defeat. In reality, he had only just taken charge and was still shaping the squad. Fans, however, rarely think in long tilines. They want imdiate signs of progress.

The club issued statents backing him while also calming the fanbase. Internally, they believed he had the ability to elevate Tottenham. He simply needed ti and the right reinforcents.

As for losing the derby, so executives shrugged privately. It was painful, yes, but not unprecedented. In previous seasons, when Arsenal were struggling, Tottenham had enjoyed the upper hand. Now the balance had shifted.

. . .

Four days later, attention turned to Europe.

On October 2nd, the Emirates Stadium was lively again for the second Champions League group match. Ticket prices had edged upward, prompting mild complaints, but with the team in strong form, most supporters accepted it. Watching high-level football felt worth the expense.

Arsenal faced Galatasaray and wasted little ti.

Five minutes in, Ángel Di María slipped a precise pass into Luis Suárez, who finished calmly. The move was built almost entirely by the front line. Sánchez, Suárez, and Di María combined sharply. Kai and Cazorla were barely involved in the sequence.

Eighteen minutes later, Santi Cazorla struck from distance. The shot flew into the corner, leaving the goalkeeper stranded.

At 2-0 before the half hour, the stadium relaxed. The result already felt secure.

Kai's performance that night was understated. He was not absent, but he was not central to the spectacle either. Galatasaray struggled to build attacks, which allowed Arsenal to dominate possession. Kai stayed disciplined in deeper areas, recycling the ball and keeping structure intact.

In the second half, Arsenal accelerated again.

Cazorla weaved past two defenders inside the box and finished from a tight angle. Later, Suárez nodded a cross back across the goal, and Di María volleyed ho for 4-0.

With the lead secure, substitutions followed. Kai, Cazorla, and Suárez were withdrawn to rest. Arsenal still created chances, though they did not add to the tally.

Galatasaray managed a late consolation through a swift counterattack in the 87th minute.

Final score, 4-1.

Cazorla earned a perfect rating and Man of the Match honours. Kai received a solid 7.5, reflecting a controlled, professional display.

Confidence within the squad rose quickly.

After training one afternoon, Sánchez joked loudly in the dressing room, "If we were in that Champions League final, we beat Barcelona, no problem."

Several teammates laughed and agreed.

Kai remained quiet. He understood how strong FC Barcelona had been. Even if they had a good chance, victory would never have been guaranteed.

Later that day, as players changed after an internal training match, there was a knock on the locker room door.

Martin Hughes stepped in, holding a white envelope sealed with a crest featuring a lion and a unicorn.

He walked directly to Kai. "This is for you."

Kai examined the seal. "Who even sends letters anymore?"

Wilshere leaned closer, eyes widening. "That's the Royal Arms. That's from the Royal Family."

The room filled instantly.

"Is it real?"

"Open it, Captain."

Kai sighed, half amused, and broke the seal.

Inside was a handwritten letter and a gold invitation card.

The card formally invited him to the birthday celebration of His Royal Highness Henry Charles Albert David Mountbatten-Windsor.

Kai looked up. "Who?"

Martin Hughes answered carefully, "Prince Henry. Prince Harry."

Realisation dawned.

Kai unfolded the handwritten note. It was signed by ghan, Duchess of Sussex.

She wrote that her husband was a loyal supporter of his and that his presence at the birthday celebration would an a great deal.

Kai tilted his head. "So I'm the birthday present?"

The room erupted in laughter.

Martin Hughes straightened his posture. "This is an honour."

Wilshere nodded seriously. "In England, the Royal Family matters. You should go."

Kai looked around at the eager faces.

He scratched his head. "Do I have a choice?"

Martin Hughes gave him a firm look. "You understand the answer."

Kai exhaled slowly, staring again at the golden invitation.

His football schedule was intense. Now, apparently, it included royalty.

. . .

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