The home dressing room was immaculate — Arsenal red from wall to wall, the club crest stitched into every surface that mattered.
Kits were already hung on the rails, socks and training tops were folded at each player's seat. Izan's name and number sat waiting for him like a calling card.
He changed into his warm-up gear in a jiffy, compression top, shorts, socks — then tied his laces tight before standing up and rolling his shoulders once.
"Ten minutes," one of the staff called clipboard in hand.
The Players began to filter out into the hallway toward the pitch access tunnel.
Izan followed behind Rice and Saliba, footsteps echoing softly off the concrete as the light at the end of the corridor grew wider and brighter.
...
The moment Izan stepped onto the pitch at the Emirates, the change in atmosphere was immediate.
The stillness of the stadium seemed to hang in the air just for a second, and then the murmur of excitement rippled through the crowd.
