"Professor," Antoine said, grinning. He shook Alex's hand.

"Magician," Alex said.

"Today, we are not partners," Antoine said. "Today, I am the storm. You are just... a small umbrella."

"We will see," Alex said.

The game started.

France was good. Very good. They had Mbappe. They had Antoine. They were fast and strong.

England was good too. Kane scored early. A classic striker's goal.

But then Mbappe scored. He ran so fast he was a blur.

One one.

The game was tight. It was a chess match between two giants.

Antoine was running the show for France. He was dropping deep, finding space. The England midfielders couldn't catch him.

Gareth, the England manager, looked frustrated.

He looked down the bench.

"Alex," Gareth said. "Warm up."

Alex's heart jumped. He ran down the sideline.

The crowd saw him. A ripple of applause went around Wembley. They knew him now. He was their Professor.

Sixtieth minute.

Gareth called him back.

"Okay," Gareth said. "Antoine is the problem. He is finding too much space. He knows our midfielders are chasing him. He is too smart."

He put a hand on Alex's shoulder.

"He knows them. But... he knows you better. And you know him."

"Yes, boss," Alex said.

"Go on. Be the Shield. Stop the Magic. And if you can... find Harry."

Alex ran onto the pitch. He was replacing a tired midfielder.

He ran straight to the center circle.

Antoine saw him coming. He stopped. He put his hands on his hips.

He smiled.

"Finally," Antoine said. "The student comes to teach the master."

"Class is in session," Alex said.

The game restarted.

Antoine got the ball. He tried his signature spin.

Alex did not bite. He knew the spin. He knew Antoine dipped his shoulder before he turned.

Alex just... stepped back. He waited.

Antoine spun... into nothing. Alex was standing right there, waiting for the ball.

Alex took it. Stable. Simple.

He passed it to Foden.

Antoine looked surprised. "Okay. You have been watching."

Five minutes later. Antoine got the ball again. He looked for a pass.

Alex knew Antoine liked to look one way and pass the other. The "No Look".

Antoine looked left.

Alex moved right.

Antoine passed right... straight to Alex's foot.

Interception.

"Get out of my head, Professor!" Antoine laughed, chasing him.

Alex was winning the battle. He was neutralizing the Magician.

But it was still 1-1.

Eighty-fifth minute.

Alex won the ball from a French midfielder. He was deep in his own half.

He looked up.

He saw Harry Kane.

Kane was tired. He was marked by a giant French defender.

There was no space for a through ball. There was no space for a run.

But Alex saw something else.

He saw Kane point. Not to the space behind. But to his feet.

Hold up play.

Alex hit a hard, low pass. Right to Kane's feet.

Kane trapped it. He held off the defender. He was a wall.

Alex did not stand still.

He ran.

He ran past Kane. Ideally, a "third man run".

Kane saw him. He flicked the ball around the corner.

Alex ran onto it. He was in space.

He was at the edge of the French box.

Defenders were closing in. Mbappe was chasing him.

Alex looked up.

He saw the far post.

He saw a flash of white.

It was Sterling. The winger.

Alex wound up his left foot. The one Mark had made him practice.

He whipped a cross.

It was perfect. It curled away from the goalkeeper.

Sterling was there. He dove.

He headed it.

GOAL!

Two one. England.

The stadium erupted. "THREE LIONS ON A SHIRT!"

Sterling ran away celebrating.

Alex just stood there, panting.

He felt a hand on his head.

It was Harry Kane.

"That," Kane said, "was high probability. Great run, Alex."

"Great flick, Harry," Alex grinned.

The final whistle blew. England won. 2-1.

Alex walked around the pitch, clapping the fans.

Antoine walked up to him. He looked tired. He swapped shirts with Alex.

"You are annoying," Antoine said, handing over his blue jersey. "You know all my tricks."

"I watch a lot of video," Alex said.

"We will see you in the Euros," Antoine promised. "And next time... I will have a new trick."

"I will be waiting," Alex said.

He walked down the tunnel.

He had his first England win. He had an assist. He had Antoine's shirt.

He checked his phone in the locker room.

A text from Mark.

"I saw the cross. It was okay. My header would have been better. But... good job, Professor. You didn't look like a duck."

Alex laughed.

He looked at the England badge on his chest. The warm-up was over. The Euros were starting.

***

The plane touched down on the tarmac in Berlin.

It was not just a landing. It felt like the start of an invasion.

Alex looked out the small window. He saw thousands of people. They were all wearing white. They were waving flags with the red cross.

They were here for England. They were here for him.

"Ready, Roommate?"

Alex turned. Harry Kane was sitting next to him. The England captain looked calm. He had done this before. World Cups. Euros. He was used to the madness.

"It is... a lot of people," Alex whispered.

"It is a whole country, Alex," Harry smiled. "No pressure. Just... try not to trip coming off the stairs. The cameras are everywhere."

Alex nodded. Do not trip. Stable.

They took a bus to the team base. It was not a hotel. It was a castle. A literal, stone, German castle in the middle of a forest.

"Wow," James, the Chelsea striker, said as they got off the bus. "This is... fancy. Do we get swords?"

"No swords," Coach Gareth said, stepping off the bus. "Just beds. And a training pitch. Get some rest. Tomorrow... we work."

Alex walked into his room. It was huge. It had a view of the forest.

He unpacked his bag. He put his white England shirt on the hanger. Number 26.

He put his white boots on the shelf. The ones with the gold brain.

His phone buzzed. It was Milo.

"A CASTLE! ALEX! THIS IS PERFECT! IT IS VERY 'GAME OF THRONES'! I AM SENDING YOU A NEW SUIT! IT IS VELVET! WEAR IT TO DINNER!"

Alex turned off his phone. He was not wearing velvet.

He lay on the bed. He closed his eyes.

Tomorrow was the first group game.

Against Croatia.

And against Luka. The Maestro.

The best midfielder of the last ten years. A man Alex had studied more than he had studied for his math exams.

This was the final exam.

The stadium in Munich was a cauldron.

Seventy thousand fans. Half English. Half Croatian.

The noise was different from the Premier League. It was deeper. It was national pride. It was drums and trumpets.

Alex stood in the tunnel. The England kit felt light.

He looked to his left.

There he was. Luka.

He was small. He looked tired. His hair was tied back in a headband. He did not look like an athlete. He looked like a poet who had lost his pen.

But Alex knew the truth. That small man was a monster. A genius.

Luka looked at Alex. He did not smile. He did not frown. He just... observed. His eyes were scanning Alex like a computer scanner.

"Professor," Harry whispered, nudging Alex. "Stop staring. He will hypnotize you."

"I am just... analyzing," Alex whispered back.

"Analyze later," Harry said. "Play now."

They walked out. The anthems played. God Save the King.

Alex sang. He felt the vibration in his chest.

The whistle blew.

The game started.

And Alex learned a very hard lesson very quickly.

Sergio was fire. He attacked you. He tried to break you.

Luka... was water.

He did not run. He did not tackle. He just... drifted.

Alex tried to mark him. He ran to where Luka was.

By the time Alex got there, the ball was gone. Zip.

And Luka was gone too. He had moved three yards to the left. Into space.

Alex chased him.

Luka passed. Zip.

Alex ran back.

Luka was somewhere else.

It was exhausting. It was like trying to catch smoke with your hands.

England could not get the ball. Croatia kept it. Tick. Tock.

Luka was conducting an orchestra. And Alex was playing the wrong instrument.

"Alex!" Gareth yelled from the sideline. "Stop chasing! You are leaving gaps!"

Alex stopped. He stood in the center circle. He was sweating. He was frustrated.

He looked at Luka.

Luka was walking. He was literally walking. He had the ball. He looked bored.

He saw Alex looking. He just raised an eyebrow.

Come and get it, kid.

Alex did not go.

No. That is the trap. If I go, he passes behind me.

Alex stayed. He held his position. He was the shield.

Luka waited. He did not pass.

The game slowed down. It became a staring contest.

The crowd got quiet.

Luka smiled. A tiny, knowing smile.

He flicked his foot. A pass Alex did not even see.

It went right through Alexs legs.

The nutmeg.

The crowd gasped.

The Croatian striker ran onto it. He shot.

Jordan Pickford, the England keeper, made a great save.

"WAKE UP!" Pickford screamed.

Alex felt his face burn. He had been schooled. By a man who was walking.

Halftime. Zero zero.

The locker room was tense.

"We cannot get near him," Declan, the other midfielder, said, wiping his face. "He is a ghost."

Gareth stood in the middle.

"He is controlling the tempo," Gareth said. "He is making us run. We are England. We do not chase. We dictate."

He looked at Alex.

"Professor. You are letting him teach you. Stop being a student."

"He is... he is always one step ahead, coach," Alex admitted.

"Then stop looking at his feet," Gareth said. "His feet lie. Look at his eyes."

Harry Kane spoke up. "He is right, Alex. Luka looks where he wants you to go. He never looks where he passes."

Alex thought about it. The data. The videos.

Yes. Luka always used his eyes to trick defenders.

"Okay," Alex said. "I stop watching the ball. I watch the eyes."

"And," Harry said, "when you win it... do not look for me. Just hit it. I will be running."

"Got it," Alex said.

The second half started.

Alex changed his view.

He did not look at the ball. He looked at Lukas face.

Luka got the ball. He looked left. He stared left. His whole body said left.

The old Alex would have moved left.

The new Alex... the Professor... stayed still.

Luka passed.

Right.

Straight into Alexs chest.

Thud.

Alex controlled it.

Luka looked surprised. For the first time all game, the poet looked confused.

Alex did not wait.

He saw Harry Kane. Kane was not looking. He was just running. He was trusting.

Alex hit the pass. The white boots connected perfectly.

A fifty yard laser.

It split the Croatian defense.

Kane ran onto it. He was strong. He held off the defender.

He was one on one.

Kane did not miss. He smashed it into the bottom corner.

GOAL!

One zero. England.

The stadium erupted. Beer flew into the air in the stands.

Kane ran to the corner. He did his jump and punch celebration.

Alex just stood in the midfield. He looked at Luka.

Luka was looking at him. He nodded. A small, respectful nod.

You learned.

The game changed.

Croatia had to attack. They stopped walking. They started running.

This suited Alex.

He was the rock. He was stable.

He won a tackle against the Croatian winger.

He intercepted a cross.

He was stable. He was boring. He was perfect.

Eighty fifth minute.

Luka got the ball one last time. He was desperate.

He tried a magic turn.

Alex was there. He did not bite. He waited.

Luka turned into Alexs chest.

Alex took the ball. He shielded it. He turned away.

He kept the ball.

The whistle blew.

England 1. Croatia 0.

They had won the opener.

Alex fell to his knees. He was exhausted. His brain hurt more than his legs.

Playing against a genius was hard work.

He felt a hand on his shoulder.

It was Luka.

The legend looked down at him.

"You," Luka said. His English was perfect. "You are the Arsenal boy. The Professor."

"Yes," Alex said, standing up.

"You are smart," Luka said. "You stopped looking at the ball. Most players... they never learn that. You learned in forty five minutes."

Luka took off his shirt. The checkered red and white shirt. A legend's shirt.

"Take it," Luka said. "You will be a good player. If you keep watching the eyes."

Alex took the shirt. He gave Luka his England jersey.

"Thank you," Alex whispered.

"Good luck," Luka said. "Maybe we see you in the final."

He walked away.

Harry Kane ran over. He hugged Alex.

"High probability!" Harry laughed. "I told you! You get me the ball, we win!"

"You were running," Alex smiled. "I just... hit it."

"That is all I need," Harry said. "Come on. Lets go wave at the fans. They love you."

Alex walked around the pitch. The fans were singing.

"FINCH! FINCH! FINCH!"

He held Luka's shirt in his hand.

He had passed the test. He had graduated from student to master.

He walked into the tunnel.

His phone buzzed.

A text from Mark.

"I saw the nutmeg. You looked like a duck. A very confused duck. BUT THE PASS! THE PASS WAS GOOD! I am running in the garden right now. I am ready. When do I get called up? I am bored."

Alex laughed.

He typed back.

"Soon, Speed. Soon."

He got on the bus. He sat next to Harry.

"One down," Harry said, closing his eyes.

"One down," Alex agreed.

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