A preseason match against Manchester United ant headlines, no matter the stakes.
Even if it was just another friendly, the fans would turn it into sothing bigger.
Across the aisle, Gabriel Jesus, who had been half-listening, suddenly perked up.
"You think Erik ten Hag is sweating yet?" he joked.
Saka smirked. "Probably writing a whole tactical analysis for a preseason ga."
Izan chuckled, shaking his head as the conversation continued.
Outside the window, the sun was beginning to set against the clouds.
A few more hours, and they'd be in the U.S.
......
The long flight finally touched down in Los Angeles, the first stop of Arsenal's preseason tour.
As the players stepped off the plane, the warm Californian air hit them imdiately. Even though it was late evening, the temperature was nothing like London.
"Damn," Reiss Nelson muttered, stretching as he walked onto the jet bridge. "It's like stepping into an oven."
Ben White gave him a blank look. "You've never been here?"
"Course I have, but it's still mad."
Izan adjusted his hoodie and followed the rest of the team through the airport.
Security and club staff moved quickly, guiding them through private exits to avoid the crowd waiting outside.
Even though it was just a preseason tour, Arsenal's fanbase in the U.S. was huge.
Through the glass doors, hundreds of fans were already gathered, holding up scarves, jerseys, and even signs with his na on them.
"Yo, Izan!" Martinelli nudged him, pointing at a sign that read: IZAN, CAN I HAVE YOUR SHIRT?
Izan smirked. "You want to hand it over right here?"
Martinelli laughed. "Better than . I saw a guy with a sign that says, 'Gabi, sign my forehead.'"
Saka, overhearing, cracked up. "Do it. Imagine the pictures."
Security led them outside, where they waved and signed a few things quickly before boarding the team bus.
Izan didn't mind the fans, but the exhaustion from travel was setting in.
Jet lag was real, and their first training session was in less than 24 hours.
As they sat down, Declan Rice tapped Izan's shoulder.
"Feeling the ti difference yet?"
Izan sighed. "I already wanna sleep."
Rice chuckled. "Welco to preseason, mate."
The team was staying at a high-end hotel in Beverly Hills and as expected, their arrival didn't go unnoticed—reporters and fans had already gathered outside.
Izan barely had ti to put his bags down before he was sent off for dia duties with a few other players.
The club had organized a quick welco video for social dia.
"First ti in the U.S.?" a staff mber asked, holding up a cara.
Izan shook his head. "Nah, but first ti here as a player."
"What are you looking forward to most?"
He thought for a second. "The gas. But also the food. And the fans. The energy here's different."
After a few more clips, they were finally free. Izan headed up to his room, crashing onto the bed with a groan. The mont his head hit the pillow, his phone buzzed.
Miranda.
Miranda: You landed?
Izan: Yeah. Jet lag already kicking in.
Miranda: Get used to it. You've got a whole tour ahead.
Miranda: Also, STAY MARKETABLE.
Miranda: You haven't posted anything since arriving.
Izan: I literally just got here.
Miranda: Exactly. Start strong.
Izan rolled his eyes, but he did open Instagram. 15.7 million followers now. His numbers kept climbing after the Euros.
He scrolled for a bit before finally taking a quick picture from his hotel window—the LA skyline at night, captioned simply:
"Preseason."
Satisfied, he tossed his phone aside and let sleep take over.
Tomorrow, the preseason tour really began.
.....
Izan woke up groggily to the sound of his alarm blaring at 7 AM.
He squinted at the screen before realizing it wasn't his alarm—it was Saka, calling him.
He answered with a groan. "What?"
Saka's laugh ca through the phone. "Jet lag got you, huh?"
Izan sat up, rubbing his face. "Bro, what do you want?"
"We're heading down for breakfast. You better not be late, or Arteta's gonna start talking about 'non-negotiables' again."
Izan sighed but got up. Preseason was all about rhythm—training, eating, recovery.
He showered quickly, threw on his training gear, and headed downstairs. The hotel's private dining area was filled with the squad.
So were already eating, others were half-asleep, and a few—like Martinelli—were way too awake for this hour.
"Morning, superstar," Martinelli grinned as Izan sat down. "How's the jet lag?"
"Terrible," Izan muttered, grabbing so eggs and toast.
Declan Rice sat across from him, scrolling through his phone. "You see what the fans are saying?"
Izan raised an eyebrow. "About what?"
Rice turned his phone, showing a tweet:
"Arsenal landed in LA last night. Can't wait for our first ga—also, why does Izan look like he's questioning life in that airport video?"
Izan laughed. "That was the mont I realized we still had training today."
The table chuckled, but their conversation was cut short as Arteta walked in.
"All right, guys," he called, clapping his hands. "Enjoy your food, because we have a long day ahead."
The players quieted down after that and focused on keeping their heads out of their als as so were still dozing off.
Instead of their usual training ground, Arteta took them to Griffith Park for a morning session.
The idea was to get moving, shake off the jet lag, and adjust to the ti difference.
The warm-up started simple—short jogs, stretches, light ball work—but it quickly turned into sothing else.
"Small-sided gas," Arteta announced. "3v3, tight spaces. I want intensity."
Izan was paired with Trossard and Tomiyasu, going up against Havertz, Nwaneri, and Kiwior.
The ball rolled, and imdiately, the chaos started.
Havertz nutgged Tomiyasu straight away. "Oops," he grinned.
"Oi," Tomiyasu groaned. "No need for that."
Izan, determined not to be shown up, pressed high, stealing the ball from Nwaneri before flicking it past Kiwior and scoring.
"Too easy," Izan smirked.
"Let's see you do it again," Kiwior challenged.
The gas went on, the competition fierce, but Arteta didn't let them go full intensity for long.
After an hour, they wrapped up and headed back to the hotel for recovery.
Back at the hotel, so players hit the ice baths, while others got massages.
Izan, though, was once again pulled for more dia duties—a sit-down interview for Arsenal's social channels.
The interviewer smiled. "So, first preseason tour with Arsenal. How's it going so far?"
"Good," Izan nodded. "Jet lag is real, though."
"Excited for the matches?"
"Of course," he said. "We're playing against strong teams. It's good preparation for the season."
The interviewer smiled. "Lastly, fans want to know—when are we getting an Izan masterclass?"
Izan laughed. "Whenever I get on the pitch."
The interview wrapped up, and as soon as he was free, Izan flopped onto a couch in the players' lounge, exhausted.
Saka and Martinelli sat nearby, scrolling through their phones.
"Yo, Izan," Saka said. "You see this?"
He turned his phone, showing a video of Arsenal fans outside their hotel, chanting his na.
Izan shook his head, smiling. Preseason had barely started, and the hype was already there.
Tomorrow, the real gas began.
...…..
The buzz around Arsenal vs. Manchester United in New York was unreal.
Even though it was just a preseason ga, the stadium was packed with both English and Arican fans, the rivalry stretching across continents.
Izan, however, was on the bench—again.
As the players ward up, he stood near the touchline, rolling his shoulders, stretching his legs, feeling that familiar itch to play.
"You're looking ready," Declan Rice smirked as he passed by.
"I am ready," Izan muttered, bouncing on his toes.
Arteta had called this ga a "step-up in intensity," and for Izan, that only made him want to prove himself even more.
But once again, he wasn't in the starting lineup. As soon as the lineup was released, social dia exploded.
@ManUnitedFan98: "Izan begging Arteta to keep him on the bench because he knows Casemiro would fold him in half."
@RedDevilForever: "Arsenal's most prized possession and he's hiding. Arteta is hiding him. I'd be scared too."
@FootballTalkUK: "Interesting that Izan still hasn't played a single minute since preseason started. Arsenal fans, thoughts?"
The Arsenal fans however didn't take too kindly to their criticism.
@Gooner4Life: "The way United fans are acting like preseason ans anything LMAO. You lot are treating this like a Champions League final."
@AFC_Tactics: "Arteta is literally easing him in. So of you need to touch grass."
@IzanFC: "Y'all wanted him to start against Leyton Orient too. Let the guy breathe."
Sitting on the bench as the ga kicked off, Izan glanced at his phone one last ti before putting it away.
"Anything good?" Martinelli asked, leaning over.
"United fans think I begged Arteta not to play," Izan smirked.
Martinelli snorted. "Yeah, because you seem like the type to not want to play."
Izan just shook his head, leaning back as the ga started under the lights of tLife Stadium.
He wasn't on the pitch yet, but he could feel it—it was only a matter of ti before he made a mark.
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