Vs Chelsea (2)
Lately Arsenal had been tearing through the league on a seven-game winning streak, playing with blistering form.
Build-up play, finishing, tactics—whatever the category, nothing was missing. The team was simply peaking, water rising to the brim.
Early-season stumbles still left them sitting third in the table, yet every Arsenal supporter knew that ranking told only a fraction of the story.
Perhaps it was the results and the rising expectation that filled every last seat. Sixty thousand packed the stands without a single empty spot.
It’s always like this for me.
From my very first match the stadium had been full, so the difference never really registered. Still, one fact stood out crystal clear.
“Arsenal!”
The sea of red shirts filling the stands would weigh heavily on any visiting side—especially Chelsea, here on the road.
Before kickoff the Arsenal faithful launched into their anthem.
“North London forever!”
“….”
It hit me again: these people were our fans. My chest swelled. Playing poorly in front of them would be unforgivable, yet the nerves never quite overtook the thrill. Today I was in the starting eleven, and the excitement of performing for this many eyes burned hotter than any pressure.
The simple joy of playing football in front of a crowd like this. Everyone watching every touch I made.
Jia noona said she’s coming today, right?
She’d been too busy lately to make it to the ground, but she’d cleared her schedule for this one.
Better make it count, then.
I’d been averaging more than an attacking contribution a game since day one, yet in front of her I always wanted to be better.
Emirates Stadium. Arsenal versus Chelsea.
“Wooooo!!!”
“Arsenal!”
Even under the boos that had been raining down long before the whistle, Chelsea kicked off.
Their striker laid it back to a midfielder. Arsenal’s attackers snapped into coordinated pressure, forcing the ball all the way to the goalkeeper. Seaman and Baek Yujin closed him down together; the keeper had no choice but to boot it long.
Wright and Chelsea’s forward, Berg, rose for the dropping ball. Even after a header won possession, fresh bodies swarmed in at once. The midfield battle was ferocious from the opening seconds.
The tempo stayed blistering. Neither side held the ball for more than a few minutes before it was ripped away again—an unusual, almost frantic pattern. In other words: pure war.
“Score a goal!!”
“Chelsea!! Let’s go!!”
“Don’t you dare lose to Chelsea!”
Players weren’t the only ones on their feet. Sections of the crowd had already risen, whole bodies thrown into the chanting.
The electric football and the crowd’s roar had the stadium announcer shouting at full volume.
Wright made the quick decision and found Hong Seoin dropping deep to receive.
“Hey! Yujin!”
Arsenal slipped into their familiar passing patterns, circulating the ball with liquid ease until the pressure broke. The ball arrived at Baek Yujin’s feet.
Even on a pitch that felt more like a battlefield, Baek Yujin’s first touch still glittered. A ripple ran through the stands.
He received, scanned, and released the ball to Hong Seoin surging through midfield. Clean combination. Then he and Seaman arrived level at the edge of the box, both ready to receive. Davies, wide, drove a pass into the middle.
Baek Yujin, looking certain to claim it first, saw the defenders collapsing and simply let the ball run.
“…!”
“…!”
One dummy created a one-on-one. The crowd half-rose, hips already lifting off seats.
Thump—!
But maybe the recent talk of retirement had finally caught up with Seaman. Realizing his body was aging, the veteran hesitated a fraction too long under the mental weight. The keeper rushed out and smothered it.
A golden chance snuffed out. Instant counter.
Adrian produced another otherworldly save to keep the sheet clean.
“Damn it! Focus!”
Only after the second ball was won and Arsenal were awarded possession did the fans finally exhale.
No time to breathe. Chelsea stripped the ball again and threatened immediately—tight combination play, then a cut-back a half-beat early.
“Seoin!!”
Wright, reading the lane, stepped in, cut the cut-back, and launched a pinpoint long ball toward Hong Seoin.
Hong Seoin’s long legs claimed it first. He shielded, drove forward.
A counter doesn’t always need pure speed. Sometimes too much pace makes the path predictable and easy to cut. Hong Seoin managed the tempo, then released the pass a fraction earlier than the recovering midfielders could close—perfectly weighted.
Three options. The ball went to Seaman. This time the veteran decided instantly and laid it off to Baek Yujin.
This time the Arsenal end truly believed. Most of the home crowd rose as one.
The ending was exactly the one Chelsea fans dreaded.
“Waaaaaaaaaah!!!”
Baek Yujin’s opener.
“Yujin! Yujin!”
“I knew you’d score!”
“My God, that was beautiful!”
At the corner flag Baek Yujin celebrated, eyes sweeping the stands, making sure he met as many faces as possible before jogging back into position.
Including Lee Jia, who had been watching with a quiet smile the entire time.
Not a single person left out.
After Baek Yujin’s goal the first half drifted to a close without further drama.
Half-time flew by on pure anticipation. Then the second half.
Barely three minutes in, Chelsea equalized.
Level again, both sides threw everything forward trying to retake the lead.
Alexandro’s substitution looked inspired; the match only grew hotter.