If you want to read 20 Chapters ahead and more, be sure to check out my P-Tang12!!!
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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!
Also everyone I have a new novel named "From Couch To The Inquisitor", be sure to check it out and I also could say that my Fallout 4 novel have ended (in the P-Tang12))
...
This had been the first real test of what England were capable of when the tournament became unforgiving.
As the celebration had barely begun to settle when a member of the FIFA media team approached Francesco near the edge of the pitch.
"Francesco?"
He turned.
The man was wearing an accreditation badge and carrying a small headset.
"Sorry to interrupt. We need you for the post-match interview."
Francesco looked toward Kane, who was still talking with Henderson.
Kane noticed.
"Go on," he called. "You've earned it."
Francesco laughed softly.
"Apparently."
He followed the FIFA staff member toward the interview area.
The closer they got, the more cameras appeared.
Television crews stood behind barriers.
Reporters held microphones.
Photographers waited with long lenses.
The England supporters were still singing somewhere behind them, their voices carrying across the stadium.
Francesco stopped beneath the lights.
A microphone was placed in front of him.
The interviewer smiled.
"Francesco, congratulations. England are through to the quarter-final. Two goals, one assist, and a comeback victory. How are you feeling?"
Francesco took a breath.
"Honestly?"
He glanced back toward the pitch.
"Exhausted."
The interviewer laughed.
"I think everyone can see that."
Francesco smiled.
"But happy. Very happy."
He looked toward the England supporters.
"We knew this was going to be completely different from the group stage. Japan made it difficult for us. They scored first, and for a few minutes we had to really stay together."
"You were wearing the captain's armband tonight. Did that change the way you approached the match?"
Francesco thought for a moment.
"Maybe a little."
He looked down briefly.
"You feel responsible for everyone. When we conceded, I knew the important thing was not to let anyone panic. We still had a lot of football to play."
"And your equalising assist?"
"Kane made the run."
He smiled.
"I just tried to give him the ball at the right moment."
"And then your second goal?"
Francesco laughed.
"I don't know."
The interviewer raised an eyebrow.
"You don't know?"
"I just kept going."
That earned another laugh from the nearby reporters.
"Sometimes you get into those moments where you don't really think. You just react."
His expression became more serious.
"But the most important thing is the team. We came back from one-nil down. That's what matters."
The final question came.
"England are now into the quarter-final. What does that mean?"
Francesco looked toward the pitch again.
"It means we're still here."
He smiled.
"But we can't celebrate forever. The tournament keeps moving."
He paused.
"We'll enjoy tonight. Then we prepare for whatever comes next."
The interviewer thanked him.
Francesco stepped away.
He had barely taken three steps when another FIFA official approached.
"One more thing."
Francesco stopped.
The official was holding a small presentation case.
"You've been selected as the Man of the Match."
For a moment, Francesco simply stared at him.
"Really?"
The official smiled.
"Two goals and an assist."
Francesco shook his head with a quiet laugh.
"Wow."
The award was placed into his hands.
A photographer immediately stepped forward.
"Francesco, over here."
He turned toward the cameras.
Flash.
Another.
Flash.
He held the award against his chest, still looking slightly stunned by the entire situation.
From the pitch, England players began noticing.
Kane was the first to shout.
"Look at him!"
Lingard laughed.
"He's collecting everything tonight!"
Francesco turned toward them.
Rooney applauded.
Alli raised both hands.
The England supporters responded with another wave of noise.
Francesco smiled.
Then Kane walked over.
"Man of the Match."
Francesco shook his head.
"Don't start."
"You scored twice."
"And you scored one."
"Exactly."
Kane grinned.
"Teamwork."
Alli joined them.
"Don't forget my assist."
Francesco pointed at him.
"Never."
Rooney came across next, still without the armband now that he had returned it.
"Not bad for your first knockout game as captain."
Francesco smiled.
"You took over and survived the last twenty minutes."
"That's because I had the easy part."
"Of course."
The four laughed.
For a few seconds, the award stopped being an individual achievement.
It became another piece of the evening they had shared together.
Eventually the squad began moving toward the dressing room.
Francesco carried the award with him.
Inside, the atmosphere was completely different from the quiet concentration before the match.
Music was playing.
Players were laughing.
Someone shouted across the room.
"Three-one!"
Another voice answered.
"Quarter-final!"
The result seemed to have made everyone forget how tired they were.
Maguire was replaying the opening goal with Stones.
"We gave them that."
Stones nodded.
"Too much space."
"But we fixed it."
Henderson sat nearby, removing his boots.
"That's what matters."
Lingard looked toward Francesco.
"Your second goal."
Francesco glanced over.
"What about it?"
"You know exactly what about it."
Lingard stood and mimicked the movement.
"Left. Right. Left. Everyone gone."
The room erupted.
Francesco laughed.
"I wasn't even sure where I was going."
"Neither were the defenders."
Kane sat down beside him.
"That was the difference."
Francesco looked at him.
"What?"
"You didn't stop."
Kane leaned back.
"You just kept attacking them."
Francesco nodded.
"That's what Southgate wanted."
The conversation slowly turned toward the match.
Japan's opening goal.
The equaliser.
The second goal.
The solo run.
The substitutions.
The final whistle.
Everyone had a different moment they remembered most.
Eventually the room began to quiet.
The adrenaline was fading.
Francesco headed toward the showers.
Hot water ran over his shoulders as he finally allowed himself to relax.
For the first time all evening, there was no crowd.
No camera.
No opponent.
No tactical instruction.
Just silence.
He closed his eyes.
Japan.
Three-one.
Quarter-final.
Brazil.
The last thought made him open his eyes again.
Brazil.
He finished his shower and changed into the official England jumpsuit.
The Man of the Match award was packed carefully with his belongings.
When he returned to the corridor, several players were already heading toward the bus.
The stadium was beginning to empty.
The great noise that had surrounded them earlier was fading into scattered conversations and distant footsteps.
England supporters were still gathered outside, singing as the players passed.
Francesco raised a hand.
"Thank you!"
The response came immediately.
The players climbed aboard.
They waited.
Eventually Southgate appeared.
He had just finished his post-match press conference.
As he stepped onto the bus, the players applauded.
Southgate laughed.
"Thank you."
He moved down the aisle.
"Good job."
Henderson reached out.
"Congratulations, boss."
Southgate shook his hand.
"Congratulations to you."
He eventually reached the front.
The bus doors closed.
For a moment he remained standing.
"You deserved that tonight."
The players listened.
"We conceded first. That's never easy in a knockout match."
He looked around.
"But the response was excellent."
His eyes briefly found Francesco.
"You didn't panic."
Then the rest of the team.
"Everyone contributed."
He paused.
"Now, unfortunately, the tournament doesn't give us much time to enjoy it."
A few players exchanged glances.
Southgate continued.
"Our next match is the quarter-final."
The bus became quieter.
"We play Brazil."
Silence.
Not complete silence.
But close.
Rooney leaned back slowly.
Kane looked toward Henderson.
Lingard stopped smiling.
Trippier exhaled.
Francesco stared forward.
Brazil.
One of the strongest teams remaining.
The challenge had arrived almost immediately.
Southgate nodded.
"That's for later. Tonight, enjoy what you've achieved."
The bus began moving.
"Tomorrow, we recover."
He returned to his seat.
The players gradually settled.
Some replayed the match on their phones.
Others showed each other clips.
Vardy was laughing at something Sterling had said.
Rooney watched the final minutes again.
Kane leaned back with his eyes closed.
Francesco sat by the window.
Rostov Arena disappeared behind them.
The city lights moved past.
Japan was already becoming part of the past.
Brazil had replaced them.
At the airport, the squad moved through the familiar routine.
Bags.
Security.
Boarding.
Eventually the aircraft lifted into the night.
Francesco sat beside the window again.
Below him, Rostov-on-Don became a collection of lights.
He thought about the evening.
The goal at fifty-seven.
The second at sixty-three.
The assist.
The award sitting safely in his luggage.
The captain's armband.
The final whistle.
And then Brazil.
He smiled faintly.
What a tournament this was becoming.
Around him, the aircraft settled into darkness.
Some players slept almost immediately.
Others watched films.
Lingard listened to music.
Henderson spoke quietly with Rooney before putting his headphones on.
Kane slept with his head against the seat.
Francesco eventually closed his eyes too.
The flight continued through the night.
Hours later, the aircraft descended toward Kazan.
When Francesco looked outside, the city was unfamiliar.
Different lights.
Different roads.
Another World Cup city.
Another temporary home.
The players collected their luggage and followed staff through the airport.
The waiting bus stood outside.
They climbed aboard.
The journey to the hotel was quiet.
Most players were too tired to speak much.
Francesco watched Kazan through the glass.
The city looked peaceful at this hour.
Streetlights reflected off the windows.
Buildings passed in silence.
Eventually they arrived at the hotel.
The squad entered the lobby carrying bags and equipment.
Southgate gathered everyone before they could disappear upstairs.
"Right."
The players turned toward him.
"Tomorrow is a full day off."
A few heads lifted.
"No training."
A few smiles appeared.
"No tactical meetings."
Lingard quietly whispered something to Trippier.
Southgate heard it.
"And no mandatory football activities."
That earned genuine laughter.
"You need to recover. Physically and mentally."
He paused.
"Enjoy the day."
Then his tone became more serious.
"After that, we begin again."
He looked around.
"Training resumes at FC Sokol Kazan."
The players nodded.
"Brazil will require everything from us. So take tomorrow. Rest properly. Enjoy the city if you want to. Spend time together."
He smiled faintly.
"But when we return to training, we're working."
The players dispersed.
Francesco entered his room and placed his bag down.
The award went onto the desk.
He stared at it for a moment.
Man of the Match.
It felt strange.
Only hours earlier, he had been walking out for his first World Cup knockout game.
Now he was a quarter-finalist.
And Brazil was waiting.
He changed, climbed into bed and stared toward the ceiling.
The tournament had changed almost overnight.
The group stage had been about qualification.
Now every match could end everything.
Eventually sleep found him.
Morning came without a training alarm.
That alone felt strange.
Francesco woke naturally.
For several seconds he wondered what time it was.
Then he remembered.
Day off.
He smiled.
Downstairs, the atmosphere was completely different.
Players appeared in casual clothes.
No tracksuits.
No boots.
No tactical boards.
Lingard walked in wearing a simple shirt and trainers.
He looked toward Francesco.
"Today feels illegal."
Francesco laughed.
"No training?"
"No training."
Rooney entered behind them.
"Enjoy it while you can."
Lingard pointed at him.
"Captain speaking?"
Rooney groaned.
"Don't start."
Francesco smiled.
"You enjoyed it."
"Twenty minutes."
"Still counts."
Soon groups began forming.
Some wanted to walk around the city.
Others planned to find cafés.
A few simply wanted somewhere quiet.
Francesco joined Kane, Lingard, Trippier, Henderson and several others as they headed out.
Kazan felt alive in the daylight.
The players walked through public areas, taking in the architecture and the mixture of old and modern surroundings.
Supporters recognised them quickly.
"England!"
Francesco turned.
A group of fans waved.
The players stopped.
Photographs were taken.
A few shirts were signed.
Children asked for autographs.
Kane smiled patiently.
Trippier joked with one supporter.
Lingard posed dramatically for another photograph.
Francesco laughed.
"This is your serious face?"
Lingard replied immediately.
"Always serious."
"No chance."
They continued through the city.
They stopped at a café.
Coffee.
Food.
Conversation.
No coaches.
No tactical instructions.
No stopwatch.
The players talked about Japan.
The goal.
The celebrations.
The flight.
Then Brazil.
Henderson leaned back.
"They're going to be difficult."
Rooney nodded.
"Very."
Lingard looked at Francesco.
"You think you're scoring three against them too?"
Francesco laughed.
"I'll take one."
"One?"
"Maybe two."
Everyone laughed.
Kane shook his head.
"That's more like you."
Francesco looked across the table.
Despite the jokes, everyone knew what was coming.
Their freedom was temporary.
Tomorrow, the boots would return.
The training ground would wait.
The tactical meetings would return.
And Brazil would become the centre of everything.
For now, though, they were allowed to be ordinary.
They walked through Kazan.
They took photographs.
They laughed.
They enjoyed the rare freedom of a World Cup day without football.
Francesco looked around at his teammates and smiled.
The journey had started with three comfortable group-stage victories.
Then Japan had tested them.
They had been behind.
They had responded.
Now the quarter-final awaited.
Brazil.
The thought remained somewhere in the back of his mind throughout the day.
But he didn't let it take away the moment.
Not yet.
There would be plenty of time for Brazil tomorrow.
For today, Francesco simply walked beside his teammates through the streets of Kazan, laughing as Rooney was teased about his brief spell as captain, listening to Kane tell the story of the equaliser for the third time, and enjoying the feeling of having survived the first true knockout battle.
Then the following morning felt different.
There was no lingering sense of holiday in the England camp.
No lazy conversations over breakfast.
No jokes about having survived Japan.
The day off had done exactly what Southgate wanted it to do. The players had rested, laughed, walked through Kazan and allowed their minds to breathe.
But now it was over.
Brazil was waiting.
By the time the team bus arrived at FC Sokol Kazan's training ground, the mood had already changed.
The players stepped off wearing England training gear, carrying boots and water bottles, their expressions noticeably sharper than they had been twenty-four hours earlier.
Francesco paused briefly beside the bus.
The morning air was cool.
Ahead of him, the training pitches stretched across the complex, still damp from the early hours.
Kane walked past.
"Back to work."
Francesco nodded.
"Back to work."
There was no complaint.
Nobody needed reminding why they were here.
Brazil.
That single word had become the centre of everything.
Inside the dressing room, the atmosphere was quiet but not tense.
Focused.
Henderson sat tying his boots.
Trippier adjusted the tape around his wrist.
Maguire was talking quietly with Stones.
Lingard walked past Francesco and tapped him on the shoulder.
"Ready?"
Francesco looked at him.
"As ready as I can be."
Lingard nodded.
"Good answer."
The door opened.
One of the conditioning coaches stepped inside.
"Five minutes."
The players began moving.
The first session was deliberately demanding.
Southgate and his staff had no intention of allowing the players to drift into the quarter-final believing that recovery alone was preparation.
But they also knew they could not simply punish the squad with endless running.
The match against Japan had taken energy from everyone.
The quarter-final was approaching quickly.
There was no value in arriving exhausted.
Everything had to be measured.
The conditioning staff began with dynamic movement.
Short jogs.
Mobility exercises.
Changes of direction.
Then acceleration work.
Five metres.
Ten.
Fifteen.
Recover.
Repeat.
Francesco sprinted beside Kane before easing back into a walk.
The coach watched his movements carefully.
"Good. Don't overdo it."
Francesco nodded.
The next exercise involved quick changes of direction.
The players reacted to signals, accelerating, stopping and turning before moving again.
It looked simple.
It wasn't.
Every movement was designed to prepare the body for the demands of the match without emptying the players' energy reserves.
After several repetitions, the coaching staff called them together.
"Water."
The players immediately moved toward the bottles.
Kane leaned forward with his hands on his knees.
"That's harder than it looks."
Francesco laughed.
"Everything is harder when you're tired."
Kane looked at him.
"Especially against Brazil."
Francesco's smile faded slightly.
"Exactly."
The ball work began afterward.
Passing triangles.
Two-touch combinations.
One-touch sequences.
Receive.
Turn.
Release.
Move.
The tempo gradually increased.
Henderson controlled the centre of one group while Alli and Lingard moved around him.
Trippier and Rose worked on receiving wide before quickly feeding the ball inside.
Francesco moved constantly.
He checked toward the ball.
Dropped away.
Spun behind.
Came short again.
The coaches stopped the exercise several times.
"Again."
"Quicker."
"Look before you receive."
"Don't wait for the pass."
The last instruction stayed with Francesco.
Don't wait for the pass.
Against Brazil, there would be no time to stand still.
The tactical session followed later.
The players gathered inside the analysis room.
The lights dimmed.
A large screen came alive.
Brazil appeared.
Their yellow shirts filled the screen.
Tite stood on the touchline.
The footage began.
Brazil building from the back.
The centre-backs spreading.
Casemiro dropping into positions that gave his defenders options.
Full-backs moving higher.
Midfielders rotating.
Neymar drifting inside.
Firmino moving away from the centre-backs.
The ball moved quickly.
Southgate paused the footage.
"Look at the structure."
Everyone watched.
"They don't need many passes to hurt you."
The screen resumed.
Brazil moved the ball across the pitch.
England's players watched carefully.
"They build patiently," Southgate continued. "But don't mistake patience for safety. They're waiting for you to make one mistake."
Another sequence appeared.
Brazil lost possession.
Immediately, several yellow shirts reacted.
The nearest players pressed.
The others narrowed the passing lanes.
Southgate stopped the video again.
"This."
He pointed at the screen.
"The first five seconds after they lose the ball."
Henderson leaned forward.
"They press immediately."
"Exactly."
Southgate nodded.
"If we give the ball away carelessly, we may not get the chance to recover our shape."
The coaches moved through different examples.
Brazil's rotations.
Their possession.
Their pressing.
Their transitions.
Their ability to move defenders away from one area before attacking another.
Every detail mattered.
Then Neymar appeared.
The room became even quieter.
The footage showed him receiving between midfield and defence.
One touch.
A feint.
A change of direction.
Two defenders moved toward him.
He slipped between them.
Shot.
Goal.
The video stopped.
"Neymar," Southgate said.
Nobody needed an introduction.
"He'll move."
Southgate pointed at the screen.
"He'll come inside. He'll drift wide. He'll appear between the lines. If we follow him everywhere, we'll destroy our own shape."
The players nodded.
"You cannot give him freedom," Southgate continued. "But you also cannot abandon your position simply because he's moved."
Francesco watched closely.
The next clip showed Neymar receiving under pressure and turning.
Another showed him creating an opportunity with a single pass.
Another showed him finishing.
"Creativity," Southgate said. "Dribbling. Movement. Final pass. Finishing."
He paused.
"And he's comfortable when the game becomes chaotic."
The next player appeared.
Casemiro.
The Brazilian midfielder won possession with a strong tackle before immediately playing forward.
The clip changed.
Casemiro intercepted another pass.
Then another.
"He protects their defence," Southgate explained.
"He reads danger early. He's physical. He wins the ball. And once he has it, he can start their attack immediately."
Henderson glanced toward Francesco.
Francesco noticed.
Both understood the battle waiting in midfield.
Then came Firmino.
The screen showed him pressing a centre-back.
He forced a hurried pass.
Brazil recovered.
The next clip showed Firmino dropping deep.
A defender followed.
That movement opened space for a teammate.
Southgate paused.
"Firmino is not going to stand where you expect a striker to stand."
He looked around the room.
"He'll press. He'll drop. He'll combine. He'll drag defenders away."
The screen showed another example.
Firmino moved toward the ball.
A centre-back followed him.
Neymar immediately attacked the space behind.
Southgate pointed at it.
"This is why you cannot focus on one player."
The room stayed silent.
"They'll punish you somewhere else."
Francesco leaned back slightly.
He was already thinking.
As captain, he couldn't simply think about his own matchup.
He had to help the team remain connected.
If he dropped too deep, Kane might become isolated.
If he stayed too high, Brazil's midfield could dominate.
If England lost possession, he had to react.
Every decision would matter.
Southgate eventually looked directly toward him.
"Francesco."
"Yes?"
"Your movement will be important."
Francesco nodded.
"They'll expect you and Kane to stay high."
"Exactly."
Southgate clicked to another sequence.
"If you can move their defenders without losing our structure, we can create opportunities."
Francesco watched the screen.
"And if they press us?"
"Then we play through them."
Southgate smiled faintly.
"Not every time. But when the opportunity is there."
The meeting continued for nearly two hours.
There were no dramatic speeches.
No attempt to make Brazil seem unbeatable.
The message was simpler.
Respect them.
Understand them.
Then play.
By the time the players returned to the pitch, the sun was higher.
The next exercises were tactical.
Defensive transitions.
The coaching staff deliberately created situations where England lost possession and had to react immediately.
"Five seconds!"
"Recover!"
"Compact!"
The players sprinted back into shape.
Again.
And again.
Then attacking combinations.
Kane and Francesco worked together.
Kane dropped.
Francesco ran beyond.
Then they reversed it.
Francesco came short.
Kane moved behind.
Alli and Lingard joined the combinations.
Henderson provided the deeper pass.
Trippier delivered from wide.
Rose attacked the opposite channel.
Sometimes the move ended with a shot.
Sometimes the coaches stopped them.
"Too slow."
Again.
The players reset.
Again.
"Better."
Francesco remained after one sequence.
He looked toward Kane.
"If I drop, you go."
Kane nodded.
"And if you drop?"
"I go."
Kane smiled.
"Simple."
"Until Brazil makes it difficult."
"That's their job."
They laughed briefly before returning to the exercise.
The days that followed became a rhythm.
Morning physical preparation.
Ball work.
Passing.
Attacking combinations.
Defensive transitions.
Finishing.
Set pieces.
Recovery.
Then video analysis.
The schedule was intense, but carefully controlled.
Some sessions were physically demanding.
Others were shorter and more tactical.
The conditioning staff monitored the players closely.
Nobody was allowed to burn themselves out simply for the sake of appearing hardworking.
Recovery became part of the preparation.
Stretching.
Treatment.
Ice.
Mobility.
Rest.
Then back to work.
Francesco spent extra time on finishing.
Not because he needed to prove anything after Japan.
Because against Brazil, chances might be rare.
One opportunity could decide the match.
He worked on first-time finishes.
Low shots.
Headers.
Receiving under pressure.
Turning quickly.
He worked with Kane on their movement.
He worked with Alli and Lingard on passes into the channels.
He worked with Henderson on timing his deeper runs.
He spoke regularly with Walker, Stones and Maguire.
Everyone had to understand where everyone else would be.
There was no room for eleven individuals.
Brazil would expose that immediately.
Meanwhile, outside FC Sokol Kazan, the world was becoming increasingly interested.
The media presence around the England camp grew every day.
Television trucks arrived.
Cameras waited behind barriers.
Reporters stood outside hoping for comments.
The quarter-final was becoming one of the biggest stories of the tournament.
England had already exceeded many expectations.
Now they were facing Brazil.
One of the favourites.
Former players appeared on television programmes discussing the matchup.
Some praised England's organisation.
Others questioned whether England could handle Brazil's technical quality.
Analysts replayed the Japan match.
Francesco's first goal was shown repeatedly.
Then his second.
The solo run became one of the most discussed moments of the knockout stage.
His assist for Kane was shown too.
The numbers were impossible to ignore.
Two goals.
One assist.
Man of the Match.
Captain.
Quarter-final.
Brazilian television programmes began discussing how to stop him.
Some analysts argued that Brazil needed to prevent him from receiving between the lines.
Others focused on Kane.
Others insisted the danger came from England's midfield movement.
Brazilian commentators studied Francesco's positioning.
English pundits debated whether Southgate should attack aggressively from the beginning or remain cautious.
Former players offered predictions.
Some said England should press.
Others warned that pressing Brazil recklessly could be suicidal.
Everywhere Francesco looked, someone had an opinion.
One afternoon, he walked past a television in the training facility.
His own face appeared on the screen.
A pundit was talking about him.
Francesco stopped.
Lingard noticed.
"That's you."
"I can see that."
"They're saying you're going to score against Brazil."
Francesco laughed.
"That's dangerous."
"Why?"
"Because now if I don't, you'll all blame me."
Lingard grinned.
"Absolutely."
Francesco shook his head and kept walking.
The attention was impossible to avoid.
But Southgate made sure it never entered the training sessions.
One afternoon, after a particularly intense tactical practice, he gathered the players.
"Listen."
Everyone stopped.
"You'll hear a lot over the next few days."
Nobody spoke.
"People will tell you what Brazil will do. They'll tell you what we should do. They'll predict the score. They'll debate the lineup."
He paused.
"They don't know what happens on that pitch."
Southgate looked around.
"Television doesn't decide matches."
He pointed toward the training ground.
"Newspapers don't decide matches."
Then toward the players.
"You do."
Francesco listened carefully.
"So ignore the noise."
Southgate's voice softened.
"We've got our work. That's enough."
The players nodded.
The next exercise began.
And the noise disappeared again.
Pass.
Move.
Press.
Recover.
Finish.
Over the following days, the intensity increased.
Not recklessly.
Purposefully.
The coaching staff demanded sharper decisions.
Quicker movement.
Better communication.
More discipline.
Francesco could feel the difference.
The day off in Kazan already seemed distant.
The laughter in the cafés.
The photographs.
The jokes about Rooney's brief captaincy.
Now the boots were back on.
The tactical boards were full.
Brazil occupied every discussion.
At the end of one session, Francesco stood near the centre circle, hands resting on his hips.
The pitch was quieting.
Players were walking toward the dressing room.
Henderson passed him.
"Tomorrow."
Francesco nodded.
"Getting close."
"Very."
Kane joined them.
"Feels like the whole world is talking about it."
Francesco looked toward the empty stands.
"Let them."
Kane smiled.
"We've got work to do."
They walked back together.
Behind them, the coaching staff were still gathering equipment.
Ahead waited another video session.
Another tactical discussion.
Another chance to prepare.
Kazan itself seemed to feel the coming match now.
England flags appeared more frequently.
Brazil shirts began appearing among supporters.
Cameras gathered outside hotels.
The streets carried conversations about the quarter-final.
Everyone seemed to know what was coming.
England versus Brazil.
A place in the World Cup semi-final at stake.
For Francesco, the thought had become both exciting and heavy.
Japan had taught them something.
A knockout match could turn in seconds.
Brazil could do the same.
Perhaps even faster.
He understood that now.
And so did everyone else.
The squad continued walking toward the dressing room.
Nobody said much.
There was no need.
The preparation had entered its most important stage.
The group victories were distant memories.
The comeback against Japan was already becoming history.
Brazil was no longer a name on a screen.
It was the opponent waiting at the end of the next few days.
And with every training session, every tactical repetition, every sprint and every conversation, England moved closer toward the moment when all of their preparation would finally be tested.
__________________________________________________
Name : Francesco Lee
Age : 19 (2017)
Birthplace : London, England
Football Club : Arsenal First Team
Championship History : 2014/2015 Premier League, 2014/2015 FA Cup, 2015/2016 Community Shield, 2016/2017 Premier League, 2015/2016 Champions League, Euro 2016, Premier League Champion 2016/2017, FA Cup 2016/2017, 2016/2017 Champions League, 2017/2018 Carabao Cup, Premier League 2017/2018, FA Cup 2017/2018, and Champions League 2017/2018.
Season 17/18 stats:
Arsenal:
Match: 59
Goal: 76
Assist: 6
MOTM: 7
POTM: 0
England:
Match: 8
Goal: 9
Assist: 1
MOTM: 4
Season 16/17 stats:
Arsenal:
Match: 55
Goal: 87
Assist: 5
MOTM: 14
POTM: 1
England:
Match: 1
Goal: 1
Assist: 0
MOTM: 0
Season 15/16 stats:
Arsenal:
Match Played: 60
Goal: 82
Assist: 10
MOTM: 9
POTM: 1
England:
Match Played: 2
Goal: 4
Assist: 0
Euro 2016
Match Played: 6
Goal: 13
Assist: 4
MOTM: 6
Season 14/15 stats:
Match Played: 35
Goal: 45
Assist: 12
MOTM: 9