From Arsenal to the Ball God

"This time, I’m here to assist my father in completing this achievement.

"I believe we can do it, and don’t think it’s a ridiculous goal...

"Without grand pursuits, we wouldn’t set high standards for ourselves, wouldn’t strive for perfection, and naturally wouldn’t succeed!"

Philip saw the desire in his eyes; compared to his father, Little Krenke seemed to be more idealistic, perhaps not yet realizing how difficult it is to manage a football club.

But as he said, aim high and you achieve middling success; aim for the middle and you achieve below-average; aim low and achieve nothing. The team needs ambition.

On this point, he and the other party can reach a consensus, and he feels that as long as the team aspires, with his ability and growth speed, he can definitely help the team achieve its goals!

They should aim high and achieve high, aim for the middle and achieve middle... Exceeding expectations, never below them!

"I share the same thought as you."

Philip smiled again and shook hands with the other person, then decided not to continue this topic, "Next season, we can sit down and have a good chat. For now, let’s cherish this moment of celebration."

Little Krenke nodded, leaned back on the bus railing, enjoyed the breeze on his face, and savored the taste of honor.

Philip moved to the center of the bus, picked up two bottles of beer, opened them, handed one to him, and took one for himself to drink.

Shortly afterward, the bus entered a special stretch of road where noticeably more fans gathered than in other places, requiring additional security personnel.

The scene was crowded; fans leaned on all the lampposts and traffic lights, excitedly waving their hands at them.

"Shush... Shush...!" As if seeing them coming, dozens of smoke grenades went off simultaneously, turning the area into a haze but also intensifying the heated atmosphere.

"Ole ole ole... Ole ole..."

Countless flags fluttered in the wind; tens of thousands of fans craned their necks towards the bus, seemingly wanting to get a close look at the championship trophy.

Philip raised the Premier League championship trophy, while Van Persie raised the English League Cup championship trophy, and they stood opposite each other, sharing smiles.

"Arsenal...! Arsenal...!"

"Champions...!! Champions...!! Ahaaaa...!!"

Philip listened to the sounds coming from all directions; his hands holding the trophy trembled slightly. He passed the trophy to Ramsey beside him, exchanged a glance with Little Krenke, and began to dance joyously arm in arm.

"Arsenal...! Arsenal...!"

There were no particular words anymore; all they could do at this moment was repeatedly chant the club’s name, then, together with the fans on site, reminisce about everything this season encompassed and share a knowing smile.

"Ma’el! Ma’el!!"

As the bus moved further forward, the fans once again chanted the name of Ma’el, who won four major awards this season; undoubtedly, he was the greatest hero of the season.

Philip stood at the front corner of the vehicle, laughing all the way, sticking out his head, and waving his right arm, continuing until his arm grew a little numb and then switched to jumping and singing—celebrating in various ways.

He knew that Arsenal fans had waited a long time for such a glorious moment!

He also knew this team was still one Champions League trophy short!

Next season, they must win more, then cause an even greater sensation, attracting more people out to the streets to celebrate their victories!

"Wenger! Wenger!!"

After another stretch, people on the street began chanting the name of the team’s manager, Wenger, which moved the old coach emotionally.

Recalling the end of last season, fans held signs asking for his dismissal, even planning a campaign to force him out.

But look at now; he stands at the peak again, basking in their most admiring gaze and the most fervent cheers!

This damn life—it’s truly amazing... For some reason, Wenger suddenly felt a strong desire to leave a photograph here; he picked up the trophy, stood by the bus, and squeezed out a smile.

"Click click!" The team’s photographer took a few shots of him; he hadn’t put the trophy down as if hesitating over something.

"Ma’el!"

Wenger suddenly called out Ma’el’s name, "Come over and take a photo for me! I want you to capture this moment!"

Philip, hearing this, smiled and walked over, stood in front of the camera, found the shutter button, and looked at Wenger, "Are you ready? Anything you want to say?"

"I want to say..." Wenger pondered for a moment, his eyes welling up with emotions but soon buried them under laughter, "Thank you for everything you’ve done!"

"Click!"

Philip pressed the shutter button, capturing this moment with Wenger holding the trophy high, grinning widely, against the backdrop of North London’s residential buildings and thousands of Arsenal fans waving the team’s flags.

Feeling the old coach’s inner conflicts thoroughly resolved, his heart also welled up with emotion, staring at the photograph for a long time.

"Want to join in for a picture?" Wenger hadn’t had enough pictures taken; he seemed eager to capture more classic moments with Philip, "I’ll ask Hans on the other side to bring the trophy over!"

He shouted towards the front-side bus, drawing much attention with this move.

Old Krenke and Philip among others glanced over, noticing Wenger’s eager demeanor, and they showed heartfelt smiles—this moment was too wonderful.

"Why not?" Old Krenke had an idea; he walked to the camera, "Should I take this picture for the season’s two biggest heroes?"

"May I?"

Philip raised his hand at this moment; his emotions seemed a bit off, as theoretically, he shouldn’t be competing with the team’s owner for this opportunity.