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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
...
The next training session and next ninety minutes, with the England shirt on his back.
As several more days passed at Stadium Spartak with the same relentless rhythm.
Morning sessions.
Tactical meetings.
Video analysis.
Recovery.
Then another session.
The Belgium victory was still talked about occasionally, usually when someone replayed a particular moment or teased Rooney about his goal, but nobody allowed the result to dominate the atmosphere anymore.
Southgate had made that clear from the beginning.
Belgium was history.
Panama was the job.
By the time the final training session in Saint Petersburg ended, the squad could feel another transition approaching.
The following morning, England left Saint Petersburg.
The team bus carried them toward the airport while the players sat in varying degrees of silence. Some were already wearing headphones. Others talked quietly. A few stared through the windows as the familiar city disappeared behind them.
Francesco sat beside the window.
He had become accustomed to the strange rhythm of tournament travel.
One city.
One hotel.
One training ground.
One stadium.
Then everything changed again.
He looked down at his phone.
The next destination was Nizhny Novgorod.
Another World Cup city.
Another match.
Another ninety minutes.
When the aircraft eventually lifted away from Saint Petersburg, Francesco leaned back and closed his eyes.
He wasn't nervous.
Not in the way he had been before Belgium.
That first match had carried the unknown.
Now he understood what a World Cup match felt like.
The anthem.
The crowd.
The pressure.
The speed.
The feeling of an entire country watching.
Panama would bring something different.
And England needed to be ready for it.
Nizhny Novgorod welcomed them beneath a pale sky.
After landing, the squad collected their luggage and equipment cases before moving through the airport with staff and security surrounding them.
Outside, another line of team vehicles waited.
The players climbed aboard.
As the bus pulled away, Francesco looked through the window.
The city unfolded around them.
Buildings, roads, passing cars and World Cup decorations appeared one after another.
The tournament had transformed every place they visited.
Football seemed to be everywhere.
When they finally reached their designated hotel, the players checked into their rooms and dropped off their belongings.
There wasn't much time for sightseeing.
Southgate gathered everyone together soon afterward.
He stood in front of the squad with his hands loosely clasped.
"Training starts tomorrow morning."
A few tired groans came from the back.
Southgate smiled.
"I know."
Walker raised a hand.
"Can't we just have one day?"
"No."
The room laughed.
Southgate shook his head.
"Pobeda Nizhny Novgorod training ground. Eight-thirty."
Walker lowered his hand.
"Worth asking."
"It wasn't."
Another laugh.
Then Southgate's expression became more serious.
"We're close now. The preparation we've done matters. Keep your recovery right tonight. Eat properly. Sleep."
His eyes moved around the room.
"We're going to work."
And they did.
The following morning, the England squad arrived at the Pobeda Nizhny Novgorod training ground.
The grass was immaculate.
The familiar arrangement of cones, mannequins and small goals waited for them.
The first session began with recovery movements before gradually becoming more demanding.
Southgate and his coaching staff had built the preparation around Panama's characteristics.
The difference from Belgium was obvious.
Belgium had possessed players capable of changing a match with one moment of individual brilliance.
Panama presented a different challenge.
They were organised.
They could defend deep.
They could make the pitch feel small.
England would have to be patient.
The midfield worked on moving the ball from side to side.
Henderson repeatedly dropped between the centre-backs during certain patterns while Alli and Lingard moved into the half-spaces.
Francesco worked on receiving wide before cutting inside.
Then the pattern changed.
He stayed high.
Then dropped.
Then switched positions with Lingard.
Again.
Again.
"Don't stand next to each other," Southgate called.
Francesco immediately moved wider.
Lingard adjusted.
The passing sequence continued.
"Better."
Attacking patterns became increasingly detailed.
Crosses.
Cutbacks.
Runs toward the near post.
Movements designed to drag defenders away.
Then finishing.
Kane took several shots.
Sterling worked on attacking the far side.
Francesco repeatedly received the ball before cutting onto his stronger foot.
The defenders had their own work.
Compactness.
Cover.
Communication.
Recovery runs.
Then set pieces.
Corners.
Free kicks.
Defensive positioning.
Everything was repeated until it became instinct.
There were also long video sessions.
Panama's defensive structure appeared on the screens.
Southgate paused clips.
"Here."
The players leaned forward.
"This is where the space appears."
Another clip.
"Here."
He paused again.
"If we move the ball quickly enough, they'll have to shift."
Henderson nodded.
"What if they stay deep?"
"Then we stay patient."
Southgate looked around.
"We don't force passes because we're frustrated."
Francesco understood.
The match against Belgium had taught them how important patience could be.
Panama would test it in another way.
The days passed.
The closer matchday came, the quieter the jokes became.
The players knew the routine now.
They knew what awaited them.
Eventually, matchday arrived.
Then the England team bus approached Nizhny Novgorod Stadium beneath a sky that seemed to hold the entire city in anticipation.
Supporters filled the surrounding streets.
England shirts.
Panama colours.
Flags.
Scarves.
Phones held above heads.
The noise grew as the bus approached.
Inside, the players were quieter.
Francesco sat with his headphones around his neck, looking through the window.
Kane sat several rows ahead.
Henderson spoke quietly with Alli.
Walker stared outside.
Nobody needed reminding what was at stake.
Three more points.
Another step toward the knockout stage.
The bus finally stopped.
The players stepped down and disappeared into the stadium.
Inside the dressing room, their equipment had already been arranged.
Shirts.
Shorts.
Socks.
Boots.
The captain's armband waited for Francesco.
He picked it up briefly before placing it beside his shirt.
The routine continued.
They changed into their England training kits and headed onto the pitch.
The stadium was already filling.
The roar came in waves.
Francesco moved through the warm-up with Kane, Lingard and Alli.
Passing drills.
Movement exercises.
Finishing.
Stretching.
Short sprints.
The coaching staff watched carefully.
No wasted movement.
No unnecessary intensity.
Everything was designed to prepare the players without exhausting them.
Eventually, the warm-up ended.
The players returned inside.
Showers.
Fresh clothes.
Final preparations.
Boots tightened.
Shirts pulled on.
Francesco stood in front of his locker for a moment.
England.
Again.
The same shirt.
A different night.
The door opened.
Southgate entered.
The room quietened immediately.
He held the tactical sheet.
"We're staying with the same team."
Nobody looked surprised.
Southgate began.
"Jordan."
Pickford nodded.
"Danny. John. Harry. Kyle."
Rose.
Stones.
Maguire.
Walker.
Then midfield.
"Jordan Henderson. Dele Alli. Jesse Lingard."
Finally, the attack.
"Francesco on the left. Raheem on the right."
He looked toward Kane.
"And Harry through the middle."
Francesco tightened his boots.
Southgate turned toward the board.
"Panama are expected to use a four-one-four-one."
He went through their players.
"Jaime Penedo in goal."
Then the defence.
"Davis. Fidel Escobar. Torres. Murillo."
The midfield anchor.
"Gómez."
Then four across midfield.
"Rodríguez. Godoy. Cooper. Bárcenas."
And finally the striker.
"Gabriel Torres."
Southgate paused.
"They're going to work hard."
His eyes moved across the room.
"They'll defend their shape. They'll make us work for every opening."
He pointed toward the tactical board.
"So we remain disciplined."
Then he looked toward the forwards.
"Patient."
And finally, his voice sharpened.
"But aggressive."
Nobody moved.
"Don't underestimate them because of the result we had against Belgium."
Southgate's gaze settled on each player.
"Different opponent. Different game."
He paused.
"We control what we can control. We play our football. We stay together."
Francesco looked around the dressing room.
Every player was listening.
Southgate nodded.
"Let's go."
The squad rose together.
As the tunnel was already crowded when England emerged from the dressing room.
Panama stood opposite them.
The players exchanged quiet looks.
Francesco stepped forward.
A young mascot stood beside him.
The boy looked up.
Francesco smiled.
"You ready?"
The child nodded.
Francesco held out his hand.
The boy took it.
The tunnel began moving.
Together, they walked toward the pitch.
The noise grew with every step.
Then they emerged.
The stadium exploded.
England and Panama moved into their lines.
The players stood shoulder-to-shoulder.
The national anthems began.
England's players stood proudly.
Francesco looked toward the stands.
Thousands of supporters.
Flags moving.
Voices rising.
The anthem ended.
Panama's followed.
Then came the handshakes.
Players greeted opponents.
Officials moved along the line.
The starting XI photographs were taken.
Francesco stood among his teammates.
Another photograph.
Another memory.
Then he and Panama captain Torres approached the referee.
The coin was held between them.
"Call it."
Francesco looked at the coin.
"Right."
The referee tossed it.
England won.
"Kick off?"
Francesco nodded.
"Yes."
He shook Torres's hand.
"Good luck."
"You too."
Francesco walked back toward his teammates.
The referee checked his watch.
The stadium fell into a strange anticipation.
Then the whistle sounded.
England's second World Cup match had begun.
From the opening seconds, England imposed themselves.
The ball moved quickly.
Henderson found Alli.
Alli shifted it toward Lingard.
Lingard played wide.
Francesco received.
One touch.
Back inside.
Panama's players moved together.
They defended as a unit, trying to keep their lines close.
But England refused to rush.
Stones and Maguire remained almost untouched at the back.
Walker and Rose managed the wide areas.
Henderson controlled the space in midfield.
Pickford barely had anything to do.
Francesco repeatedly drifted inward.
He combined with Lingard.
Then Alli.
Then Kane.
One sequence nearly opened the Panama defence.
Kane dropped toward the ball.
Francesco moved beyond him.
Kane's touch went toward Lingard.
Lingard returned it.
Francesco looked up.
Panama recovered.
"Keep going!" Southgate shouted.
England did.
The pressure continued.
Then, in the seventeenth minute, the opening finally appeared.
Lingard received the ball in a pocket.
He turned.
For a moment, Panama's defensive line hesitated.
Francesco saw it.
So did Lingard.
The midfielder looked up.
Francesco began his run.
Not too early.
Not too late.
Perfectly timed.
The pass arrived.
Francesco accelerated into the space.
Penedo stepped forward.
One touch from Francesco.
The goalkeeper committed.
Francesco opened his body.
Then finished.
The ball flew beyond Penedo.
Into the net.
The stadium erupted.
Francesco stopped for half a second.
Then the emotion hit him.
"YES!"
Lingard reached him first.
"You knew!"
Francesco grabbed him.
"I saw you!"
Kane arrived next.
Then Sterling.
Alli.
Henderson.
Walker.
The group surrounded Francesco.
Another World Cup goal.
Another England celebration.
Francesco laughed as Kane grabbed his shoulders.
"Two games!"
Francesco shook his head.
"Keep counting."
Kane grinned.
England led 1–0.
Southgate applauded from the technical area.
But he immediately pointed toward the players.
"Back in position!"
The message was clear.
The match wasn't over, as Panama tried to respond.
They pushed slightly higher.
Perez looked for opportunities.
Rodríguez attempted to carry the ball forward.
But England's structure remained firm.
Stones intercepted one attempted pass.
Maguire cleared another.
Walker tracked a run toward the right.
Rose prevented a cross.
Henderson collected the second ball.
England recovered.
Then they attacked again.
In the twenty-eighth minute, England earned a corner.
Francesco walked toward the edge of the penalty area while Henderson prepared the delivery.
The ball was swung into the danger zone.
Bodies collided.
Panama tried to clear.
But Stones had already found the space.
He rose above the defenders.
His forehead met the ball cleanly.
Powerfully.
The header flew downward.
Penedo reacted.
Too late.
The net rippled.
"COME ON!"
Stones landed and immediately looked stunned.
For a second, he simply stared.
Then Kane grabbed him.
Walker arrived.
Francesco was laughing as he ran toward the group.
"John!"
Stones grinned.
"I'll take that!"
Southgate applauded from the touchline.
Then immediately raised a hand.
"Focus!"
Stones pointed toward him.
"I know!"
England had doubled their advantage.
2–0.
The supporters were beginning to believe.
But England didn't stop.
They continued circulating possession.
Panama struggled to get near Pickford.
The England goalkeeper spent long stretches simply watching the match from his area.
That was exactly how Southgate wanted it.
The back line remained composed.
Henderson kept the midfield balanced.
Francesco continued drifting inside.
Lingard and Alli rotated positions.
Kane moved across the front line.
England were beginning to find rhythm.
Then, in the forty-first minute, another opening appeared.
Henderson won the ball.
Alli received.
He turned and found Lingard.
Lingard carried it forward.
Francesco pulled a defender toward the left.
That created space centrally.
Kane saw it immediately.
He moved into it.
The pass arrived.
Kane controlled.
One touch.
Then another.
The Panama defenders closed.
Kane didn't panic.
He simply waited for the smallest gap.
There.
He struck.
The finish was clean.
Penedo dived.
But the ball was already beyond him.
The net moved.
3–0.
Kane turned away.
His arms opened.
The England supporters erupted again.
Francesco ran toward him.
"Harry!"
Kane laughed as they embraced.
"Good enough?"
"Very."
Walker arrived moments later.
"Mine was better."
Kane looked at him.
"Here we go again."
Francesco laughed.
"Not now!"
Henderson joined them.
"Three-nil. Just enjoy it."
They did.
But Southgate remained measured.
He stood near the technical area, applauding before pointing toward the players.
"Stay focused!"
The match continued.
Panama tried to avoid conceding again before halftime.
They dropped deeper.
England controlled possession.
The tempo slowed.
There was no reason to force anything.
Francesco moved into space and received the ball.
He looked toward Kane.
The striker gestured for patience.
England passed sideways.
Then backward.
Then forward.
Panama stayed compact.
The final minutes became controlled.
England had the advantage.
Panama had no answer.
Eventually the referee looked at his watch.
The whistle sounded.
Halftime.
England walked toward the tunnel with a 3–0 lead.
Francesco breathed deeply as he followed his teammates inside.
Another goal.
Another strong performance.
But Southgate was already waiting.
The players gathered around him.
He looked at the scoreboard briefly.
Then back at them.
"Good."
A few nods.
"We've been disciplined."
He paused.
"But we're not finished."
The room quietened.
"Three-nil doesn't change the job."
He pointed toward the tactical board.
"Don't become complacent."
Francesco listened carefully.
Southgate continued.
"Keep the intensity."
Then toward the attacking players.
"Keep attacking with purpose."
His voice became firmer.
"We've created opportunities. We can create more."
He looked around the room.
"Second half, we keep working."
Francesco tightened his captain's armband.
He looked at Kane.
Then Henderson.
Then the rest of the squad.
England had a commanding advantage.
But Southgate was right.
The match wasn't finished.
And the World Cup had already taught them that ninety minutes demanded concentration from beginning to end.
Then the second half began with England carrying the same purpose they had shown before the break.
There was no sense that the three-goal advantage had made them comfortable.
If anything, the players returned to the pitch with another level of determination.
Southgate had made his message clear.
The job wasn't finished.
The whistle sounded.
Henderson immediately moved toward the ball.
A short pass to Alli.
Then Lingard.
Then Francesco.
Panama tried to close the spaces, but England were already moving the ball before the defenders could settle.
One touch.
Two touches.
Switch.
Move.
Again.
The front three constantly changed their positions.
Francesco started wide on the left, then drifted inside.
Lingard moved beyond him.
Kane dropped deeper.
Alli suddenly appeared between Panama's midfield and defence.
It was difficult for Panama to know whom to follow.
"Keep moving!" Henderson shouted.
Francesco heard him.
He sprinted toward the left channel.
The ball followed.
A Panama defender came across.
Francesco immediately turned inside.
Kane was there.
One touch.
Back to Francesco.
The return pass was almost perfect.
A defender managed to get a foot to it.
The ball rolled loose.
England recovered.
The pressure continued.
Panama were struggling to escape their own half.
Every attempted clearance seemed to come straight back.
Stones stepped forward to intercept.
Maguire covered behind him.
Walker remained alert on the right.
Rose held his position on the opposite side.
And behind them, Pickford watched everything calmly.
The England goalkeeper had been largely protected throughout the match.
But he knew better than anyone that one moment of carelessness could still create unnecessary problems.
"Stay switched on!" he shouted.
Francesco glanced backward.
Pickford was already pointing toward the midfield.
Henderson nodded.
England continued.
The minutes passed.
Fifty-one.
Fifty-two.
Fifty-three.
Panama's defensive shape was beginning to stretch.
They were still trying to remain compact, but the constant movement was forcing them into decisions.
Step forward?
Follow the runner?
Hold the line?
Every hesitation gave England another opportunity.
Then, in the fifty-seventh minute, the opening arrived.
Henderson received possession near the centre circle.
He looked forward.
Alli had dropped toward him.
Francesco was wide.
Kane was between the centre-backs.
Lingard had slipped into the penalty area.
Henderson played the ball into Alli.
Alli's first touch took him away from pressure.
Then he returned it toward Lingard.
Lingard received inside the box.
For a moment, he was alone.
A Panama defender rushed toward him.
Lingard didn't panic.
He took one touch.
Looked up.
And calmly finished.
The ball slipped beyond Penedo.
Into the corner.
The stadium erupted again.
"YES!"
Lingard turned and sprinted toward the corner.
Francesco was already chasing him.
Kane reached him next.
Alli grabbed him around the shoulders.
Henderson came running from behind.
Lingard disappeared beneath a pile of England shirts.
"Jesse!"
"Brilliant!"
"You waited perfectly!"
Lingard was laughing.
"I thought I was going to miss!"
Kane shook his head.
"You didn't."
Francesco hugged him.
"That's four."
Lingard grinned.
"Four."
The England supporters were singing even louder now.
The scoreboard showed it clearly.
England 4–0 Panama.
But near the touchline, Southgate wasn't celebrating for long.
He clapped twice.
Then raised his hand.
"Focus!"
The players began returning toward their positions.
Southgate pointed toward Henderson.
"Keep the shape!"
Then toward the defenders.
"Don't switch off!"
Francesco understood.
There was still a long way to go.
Panama were wounded.
But wounded teams could become dangerous if given unnecessary opportunities.
The match restarted.
Panama tried to reorganise.
Their manager, Hernán Darío Gómez, immediately began looking toward his bench.
He needed something different.
Fresh legs.
Fresh energy.
Something capable of changing the rhythm.
In the sixty-sixth minute, the fourth official raised the board.
Two Panama players were coming off.
Godoy.
Bárcenas.
Ávila and Arroyo prepared to enter.
Gómez spoke quickly to them before they stepped onto the field.
"Energy," he told them.
The two substitutes nodded.
At almost the same time, Southgate turned toward his own bench.
Francesco saw him.
He already had an idea.
The manager called out.
"Marcus."
Rashford stood.
"Jamie."
Vardy rose.
Then Southgate looked toward Rooney.
"Wayne."
Rooney immediately stood.
Francesco looked at Kane.
Kane looked back.
They both understood.
The substitutions were coming.
Southgate then called toward the fourth official.
"Francesco. Harry. Dele."
Francesco exhaled slowly.
He had expected it.
England were 4–0 ahead.
His work was done.
But leaving the pitch still carried a strange feeling.
He looked toward the scoreboard.
Four goals.
Another World Cup performance.
Another England victory almost within reach.
He jogged toward the touchline.
Before crossing it, he looked toward Rooney.
The veteran was waiting.
Francesco reached for the captain's armband.
He carefully removed it.
For a second, he held it in his hands.
Then he placed it into Rooney's.
Rooney looked down at it.
Then smiled.
"Again?"
Francesco laughed.
"Keep it safe."
"I'll try."
Francesco stepped closer.
"You've got this."
Rooney gave him a brief embrace.
"Enjoy the rest of the game."
Francesco nodded.
"You too."
Then Rooney turned toward the pitch.
Francesco crossed the touchline.
The supporters applauded.
He raised one hand toward them.
The roar grew.
He had scored.
He had assisted nothing directly this time, but he had spent another hour creating movement, stretching the defence and helping England control the match.
Now he could watch.
Francesco walked toward the bench.
Southgate was waiting.
"Excellent."
"Thanks, boss."
"Good work."
Francesco smiled.
"You're letting me watch this one."
Southgate laughed.
"You've earned it."
Francesco sat down beside the substitutes.
Rashford, Vardy and Rooney had entered.
England's captaincy had once again moved onto Rooney's arm.
Francesco leaned back.
His legs were tired.
His shirt was damp.
His heartbeat was finally beginning to settle.
He watched the match.
For the first time that night, he didn't have to think about where he needed to run.
He could simply enjoy it.
Rooney then immediately took control.
He was constantly talking.
"Move it!"
"Keep the width!"
"Again!"
England hadn't lost their intensity.
If anything, the introduction of Rashford and Vardy gave them a different kind of threat.
Rashford immediately attacked the left side.
Vardy stayed high.
Sterling remained dangerous on the right.
Rooney moved between midfield and attack.
Panama struggled to cope.
Francesco applauded as Rashford chased a loose ball.
"Come on, Marcus!"
Rashford reached it and kept possession.
Vardy made a run behind.
The pass came.
A Panama defender recovered.
The England bench applauded anyway.
The match was beginning to feel almost inevitable.
But England refused to become careless.
Every time Panama tried to build from the back, Henderson closed the space.
Stones stepped forward when necessary.
Maguire remained behind him.
Walker and Rose protected the flanks.
The defensive structure hadn't disappeared simply because England were winning comfortably.
That pleased Southgate.
Francesco noticed the manager's expression.
Calm.
Focused.
Occasionally smiling.
Then, in the eighty-first minute, England found another opening.
Rooney received the ball in midfield.
He took one touch.
Then another.
His head lifted.
Sterling was moving.
The winger had spotted the space behind the Panama defence.
Rooney saw it too.
He waited.
Then delivered.
The pass was perfectly weighted.
Sterling accelerated onto it.
The ball arrived directly into his path.
One touch.
Sterling entered the penalty area.
Penedo came forward.
Sterling stayed composed.
He finished.
The ball crossed the line.
5–0.
The England bench exploded.
Francesco jumped to his feet.
"YES!"
He applauded furiously.
Rashford shouted.
Vardy punched the air.
The coaching staff celebrated.
Rooney pointed directly toward Sterling.
"That one's yours!"
Sterling turned toward him.
Then sprinted over.
His teammates surrounded him.
Francesco stood just behind the group, smiling.
Rooney had done it again.
He had taken responsibility.
He had worn the armband.
And now he had created England's fifth goal.
Sterling was laughing as he was embraced by Rashford.
Francesco clapped.
"Brilliant!"
Rooney eventually looked toward the bench.
He raised one hand.
Francesco raised his in return.
A small gesture.
But it said enough.
England were playing together.
Panama refused to completely surrender.
They attempted to create something.
Anything.
A consolation goal.
A moment to give their supporters something to celebrate.
Ávila tried to drive forward.
Arroyo looked for space.
Gabriel Torres moved across the defensive line.
But England remained organised.
One Panama attack reached the edge of the penalty area.
Pickford stepped forward.
The cross came.
Stones challenged.
The ball bounced loose.
Maguire cleared it.
Francesco applauded from the bench.
"Good!"
Walker immediately collected the second ball.
He passed inside.
Henderson received.
England slowed everything down.
They didn't need to chase a sixth.
But they also didn't need to simply retreat.
They continued moving the ball.
Pass.
Pass.
Switch.
The supporters began celebrating every successful sequence.
A tackle.
A clearance.
A clever pass.
A simple possession move.
Every touch was greeted with noise.
The stadium had become a celebration.
Francesco sat back and watched.
He looked around the bench.
Everyone was smiling.
Even the players who weren't on the pitch were completely engaged.
They shouted instructions.
Clapped.
Encouraged.
Nobody was simply waiting for the final whistle.
They were still part of it.
The minutes continued.
Eighty-four.
Eighty-five.
Eighty-six.
Panama's attacks became less frequent.
England's shape remained intact.
Pickford communicated with Stones and Maguire.
Walker and Rose stayed disciplined.
Henderson continued controlling the middle.
Rooney kept moving the ball.
Sterling and Rashford occasionally pressed forward.
Vardy chased every loose pass.
Southgate stood near the touchline.
There was no need for dramatic instructions anymore.
England knew what to do.
The supporters began singing.
"EN-GER-LAND!"
The chant rolled around the stadium.
Francesco joined the applause.
"EN-GER-LAND!"
The players on the pitch heard it.
Rooney turned briefly toward the stands.
Then back to the game.
The final minutes passed.
Panama managed one more attempt from distance.
The shot sailed over Pickford's crossbar.
Pickford looked up.
Then smiled.
"Thank you."
Stones laughed.
"Not worried?"
"No."
The England supporters laughed.
Southgate shook his head from the technical area.
Even he couldn't hide his smile now.
The clock moved toward ninety.
Francesco looked at the scoreboard.
5–0.
He leaned back.
Five goals.
Another clean performance.
Another three points.
The referee added a small amount of stoppage time.
Panama tried one last attack.
The ball moved down the left.
Walker tracked the runner.
He stayed on his feet.
Waited.
Then won the ball cleanly.
The supporters applauded.
Walker immediately passed forward.
England kept possession.
Rooney received.
He looked toward the referee.
Almost done.
Rooney played it sideways.
Henderson.
Then Stones.
Then back toward Walker.
No unnecessary risk.
No desperate attack.
Just control.
The referee checked his watch.
Francesco stood.
He knew.
One final whistle.
The sound came moments later.
Long.
Clear.
Final.
England had won.
England 5–0 Panama.
The players on the pitch immediately embraced one another.
Sterling was still smiling.
Rooney clapped toward the supporters.
Henderson hugged Stones.
Maguire raised both arms.
Walker turned toward the bench.
Francesco stood there applauding.
Then Rooney looked toward him.
The two exchanged smiles.
Francesco pointed toward the captain's armband.
Rooney looked down at it.
Then laughed.
He walked toward the bench.
"You keep giving me this thing."
Francesco laughed.
"You keep scoring or assisting when I do."
Rooney shook his head.
"Maybe you should keep giving it to me."
Francesco smiled.
"Don't get carried away."
They embraced.
Behind them, the rest of the squad gathered.
Francesco eventually stepped onto the pitch.
He hugged Kane.
"Another one."
Kane smiled.
"Five."
"Not bad."
Lingard came over.
"You saw mine."
"I did."
"Good one?"
"Very."
Stones joined them.
"You saw mine too."
Francesco laughed.
"Everyone wants credit tonight."
Stones grinned.
"I scored."
"And Jesse scored."
"And Harry scored."
"And Raheem."
Rooney interrupted.
"And I assisted."
Francesco pointed at him.
"There it is."
Everyone laughed.
The mood was light.
But beneath the jokes was something deeper.
England had done more than simply beat Panama.
They had shown they could approach a completely different opponent with the same concentration they had shown against Belgium.
They had been patient.
They had been aggressive when opportunities appeared.
They had defended properly.
They had shared responsibility.
And they had kept their shape even when the match became comfortable.
Francesco looked around at his teammates.
Five goals.
No goals conceded.
Another three points.
The England supporters were still singing.
Flags waved throughout the stands.
The players applauded them.
Francesco raised his hands toward the crowd.
The response came immediately.
He smiled.
From the bench, he had watched his teammates finish the job.
Now, standing among them, he felt the same pride he had felt after Belgium.
Maybe even more.
Because this time England had shown something different.
They had handled expectation.
They had handled being favourites.
They had handled a team sitting deep.
And they had refused to become complacent.
Southgate eventually walked onto the pitch.
He shook hands with several players.
"Good work."
Henderson nodded.
"Everyone stayed focused."
Southgate smiled.
"That was the important part."
He looked toward Francesco.
"You enjoyed watching?"
Francesco laughed.
"I enjoyed the five goals."
"Good."
Southgate looked around at the players.
"Enjoy tonight."
Then his expression became familiar again.
"Tomorrow we start thinking about the next one."
The players groaned.
Southgate laughed.
"I know."
Francesco shook his head.
"Never stops."
"No."
Southgate smiled.
"That's tournaments."
Francesco looked back toward the scoreboard.
5–0.
Two matches.
Two victories.
Six points.
England were now in an excellent position in their group.
But the tournament wasn't finished.
There were still challenges ahead.
Still work to do.
Still another match waiting beyond the celebration.
For tonight, though, none of that needed to dominate their thoughts.
Then the England squad gathered near the centre of the pitch, still laughing and talking as the stadium gradually began to empty.
__________________________________________________
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: 6
Goal: 6
Assist: 1
MOTM: 3
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