From Arsenal to the Ball God

The more success they achieved, the more his resentment grew.

"Pat pat...!" Beside him, Pique seemed to see the hatred in his eyes and patted his shoulder, "Team interests come first, don’t worry, we’ll come back next year."

"I was never worried." As soon as Fabregas spoke, his emotions couldn’t help but rise, "This season we have won the Audi Cup, Spanish Super Cup, and European Super Cup consecutively."

"And there’s a chance to compete for the King’s Cup championship, possibly achieving a quadruple crown; why should I envy them?"

His voice was loud, his tone was obviously off, and what he said was inexplicable, leaving everyone in the locker room almost all looking at him.

Pique exchanged a glance with Guardiola sitting in the front row, signaling him to come over and offer some comfort.

Guardiola originally did not want to move; he disliked players showing a defeated posture, preferring to interact with only the best because he was also among the best.

But considering the admiration Fabregas expressed for him on multiple public occasions, he still got up and went over to Xiaofa.

However, when he wanted to speak, he didn’t know what to say; comforting Fabregas in this situation was indeed challenging.

He pursed his lips and had to say, "You are in the best place now, with players in the team who can score 70+ goals, provide 30+ assists, and create over 100 goals in a single season.

"There’s no need to pay attention to others, focus on our team, and give it your all to pursue even greater success together.

"As strong as Arsenal is, they can’t win 6 titles in one year, understand? You should be proud of the badge on your chest."

"Understood." Fabregas nodded, feeling a bit better, but still silently praying for Norwich to successfully defeat Arsenal.

...

London, outside the Emirates Stadium.

It’s the last half-hour before the game begins, and the atmosphere is already very heated here.

"We are Arsenal...unbeatable! Olé olé...!"

"Norwich! Canary...! Norwich! Canary...!"

Fans from both sides are singing team songs, parading around the stadium with loud drums, and the surrounding streets are already empty.

The tense feeling before the battle is overwhelming the Arsenal fans, but the Norwich fans aren’t provoking any hostility.

They smile and cheer for the team, seemingly wanting to finish this season lightly without holding their breath before the final match.

Many Canary fans even proactively approached the Arsenal fan area, taking photos with Arsenal fans, drinking and celebrating, bridging the gap between the two sides.

From any angle, this is a special match... Fans from both teams entered the Emirates Stadium with special feelings.

Outside, on the bar street, Jones and old friends were sitting at a familiar round table drinking beer.

They didn’t get match tickets today, planning to watch inside the tavern.

"This bar has been jokingly called Jones Bar by the fans, why not also name this round table as Jones Table?"

The bar owner, carrying beers, came over looking in a good mood, "Once you cash in the prize, set up a Twitter account with the tag ’Earned 250,000 pounds by betting on Ma’el’, and promote your story with this table.

"You’ll definitely be a hit, I guarantee; the Jones Table will also be a hit!

"Then you can invest in a factory, specifically producing Jones Tables, and promote that these tables bring ’luck’, it was influenced by this table that you bet on Ma’el.

"Then everyone will follow your bets, you’ll earn a fortune!"

"Aha...!" The suggestion got recognition from many Jones devotees on site, raising their hands in cheers.

Jones smiled slightly, thought for a while, and realized it might actually be a viable business opportunity.

Before this, he had never heard of any ordinary fan making 250,000 pounds from a football bet with just over 10,000 pounds.

Might try!

He made up his mind, looking at the bar owner, thinking if it worked out, he must share a portion with the owner and also share some with Ma’el who helped him with the initial accumulation.

"Jones!"

Someone called his name, laughed, "Did you bring your betting slip today? After this match ends, the Golden Boot Award and Best Player Award will be announced; it’ll be time to cash in!"

"Of course I brought it."

Under the eager eyes of the crowd, Jones proudly reached for his pocket, his face suddenly changed as he fumbled more quickly through his pocket.

Everyone on site: "..."

Their mood grew tense, fearing Jones might lose the betting slip, leading to some untoward incident.

"Haha...!"

Jones’ laugh then sounded, and his right hand stopped rummaging, directly taking out the betting slip.

It was obvious he was just joking, giving everyone a scare.

"Tch...!" This triggered the dissatisfaction of many, with complaints and gestures, while many looked at those betting slips with reverent expressions as if worshipping.

Are those pure betting slips... they are Jones’ myth, the belief of gamblers!

"14,500 pounds invested!"

Jones held the betting slip high, shouting as if calling ’All-in’: "254,000 pounds income! Come on...!!"

"Oh.....!" Everyone on site fired up, many also took out their betting slips, boasting to the people next to them.

Some boasted openly, while others felt embarrassedly Versailles, "Betting too little, look, only 200 pounds, compared to Jones, it’s so far off.