From Arsenal to the Ball God

"Beep! Beep! Beep--!"

When the final whistle blew, the score for the match was finally settled at three to one, with Arsenal decisively beating Liverpool at home and regaining their winning momentum.

"Clap clap clap.....!" After the match, applause in the stadium was ceaseless, as Arsenal fans reignited their confidence in winning the championship.

points!

This is already the highest score in the past seven seasons, and the team achieved it in just 31 rounds!

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

Ma’el then joined his teammates in the die-hard fan zone, shoulder to shoulder, calling out the team name while jumping.

His face beamed with a joyous smile; the match was won so easily, almost surprisingly easy.

Not long after, Wenger and several coaching staff members joined the celebration, jumping along with the players, and eventually raised their hands, alternating in upward and downward jumps.

"Ma’el!"

Wenger turned his head, smiling as he asked, "About to score the 35th goal, how do you plan to celebrate?"

Many players also looked at Ma’el, as it was a significant moment, and it was necessary to plan the celebration moves in advance.

"Sliding knee?"

"Or somersault?"

"No, no, I think the clown jump is more appropriate, it has a sense of irony."

"Don’t make everything ironic, it doesn’t mean anything; I think it’s better to embrace yourself."

"Both hands pointing to the sky!"

Everyone was giving Ma’el ideas, and they were enthusiastic about it, as if they were about to break the record themselves.

The championship team is not about you and me, but at the moment of nearing the championship or winning it, the team’s cohesion reaches its peak, and they become unprecedentedly united.

If they couldn’t achieve this, they wouldn’t be in this position now.

"Let me think." Ma’el deliberated, and soon came up with an idea, stepping in front of everyone, "How about we do it together? I’ll mimic a Wild West cowboy pretending to hold a revolver."

He pretended to draw two guns from his waist, aimed at everyone, "As soon as I move, you all fall, how’s that?"

"Haha.....!"

"Ah... I get it!"

Arsenal’s players laughed, such celebrations are not unheard of in football, and indeed very stylish, enough to leave a lasting impression.

"Alright!"

"If it were someone else, I’d refuse, but who doesn’t want to grant a request from someone who’s about to break the Premier League scoring record?"

"Haha, I’m in too!"

"Make sure we all agree; no one forgets by then, that would be awkward."

Everyone chimed in, and Sagna directed his gaze towards Van Persie, "You absolutely have to fall last, and struggle a bit, add some drama."

"Why?" Van Persie looked puzzled, not understanding why he was being singled out.

"Because you’re one of the most famous forwards in the Premier League." Sagna replied with a smile, "Isn’t it easy to understand? He takes you out last, just like taking out all Premier League forwards."

"Not just the active ones, but also those who have retired..... don’t you think it’s creative?"

"Nailed it!" Many felt the idea had merit, giving Sagna a thumbs up, "This is good, this is good! Let’s do it!"

"Haha....." Van Persie laughed helplessly; deep down, he didn’t want to be the ’example.’

But seeing Ma’el’s expression and considering his contributions this season, he raised an eyebrow and nodded, "Alright then, remember to take me out last."

"Yeah...!" Arsenal players shouted together, as if they had accomplished something important.

Ma’el jumped more joyfully, delighted that everyone was willing to cooperate with him.

Now, it’s the wait for the final 35th goal, in the next match, he’ll have the chance to achieve this accomplishment!

After celebrating with the fans, the crowd didn’t rush back to the dressing room but instead waited on the pitch with their phones, checking the results of two other matches.

Some Arsenal fans also stayed, with a mutual understanding, awaiting for a better end to March.

"What’s the score?" Ma’el took out his phone to search, noticing Arteta had already opened it, couldn’t help but ask.

"Manchester United one to zero Fulham."

Arteta replied briefly, and after sliding his finger a few times, "Manchester City and Swansea are level, no goals on either side."

"There’s suspense." Ma’el’s expression brightened, quickly opening the broadcast, and earnestly watching from the bench.

"Oh..."

After watching for a while, he heard faint cheers and looked around, found some fans holding up their phones in celebration.

Who scored?

Are there developments on either squad?!

Expectation swept over his eyes, as the broadcast delay on the phone varied; either way, he hadn’t refreshed yet.

"Ah...!" A shout erupted beside him; he saw Arteta rise from his seat, holding his phone and jumping with both feet off the ground.

The other focused his gaze on him swiftly, pulling his arm, "Fulham scored, United’s going to draw!"

Ma’el glanced down and saw Fulham’s forward dive to crash in a goal right away, spotting Ferguson beside the field grabbing the fourth official to argue anxiously.

Checking the time, they were already at the 81st minute!

Indeed, it’s a draw!

"Aaahhhh.....!" A massive wave of sound swept through Emirates Stadium, everyone saw the goal.

Ma’el didn’t celebrate too excessively, he knew the match wasn’t over, and things could change..... Nevertheless, he couldn’t quite suppress the corners of his mouth.

If Manchester United lost those two points, it would basically mean they’re bidding farewell to the championship contention early, left with only a slim theoretical possibility.