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Chapter 12 — Wenger's Eyes on Lynch
April 2003– FA Youth Cup Semi-Final, Second Leg – Riverside Stadium, Middlesbrough
The Riverside was cold, damp, and hostile. The Middlesbrough youth fans banged drums, whistled, and booed every Arsenal touch. For the Arsenal U18s, this was ninety minutes to seal their spot in the FA Youth Cup Final.
High in the stands, Arsène Wenger sat quietly, arms folded, eyes scanning the pitch as the boys warmed up. He wasn't here for everyone — he was here because of the whispers.
A kid. Fifteen years old. Flashy. A forward with swagger in his step. Lynch.
Wenger narrowed his eyes. "Who's that boy? The one juggling during warm-up instead of passing?"
Beside him, Liam Brady, head of Arsenal's academy, leaned forward. "That's Jeremy Lynch, boss. Came through on trial, and we decided to keep him on in the U18s. Bit of a character. Scores goals, though."
"Bit of a character," Wenger repeated, watching Jeremy flick the ball onto his neck, spin, and volley it into the net in warm-up, drawing laughter from a few teammates. "And discipline?"
Brady hesitated. "Work in progress. But he's got… something."
Wenger's lips twitched into a half-smile. "We will see."
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Kick-Off
Jeremy tugged his boots tight, heart buzzing. The Egoist System's voice echoed in his head, harsh and sharp, like a blade.
> Ding!
[Mission: Dominate the Semi-Final.]
Reward: +5 Ego, +10 Technique. Failure: -5 Instinct.
Ego is your weapon, Lynch. Become the diamond they cannot ignore.
Jeremy smirked, muttering under his breath, "Diamond, eh? More like the guy running this show." He looked around at his teammates. "Oi, lads, give me the ball today, yeah? I'll win this myself."
"Calm it, Lynch," one of the defenders muttered. "It's a team game."
"Mate," Jeremy grinned, "you'll thank me after."
The whistle blew. Arsenal in yellow, Boro in red.
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System Stats – Jeremy Lynch [Age 15]
Shooting: 74
Dribbling: 76 (+15 active boost: Ronaldinho Flair, 10 mins)
Technique: 70
Passing: 62
Defending: 38
Instinct: 68
Endurance: 65
Strength: 60
Speed: 77
Ego: 79
[Ronaldinho Flair Boost Active – 10:00]
System Stats – Jeremy Lynch [Age 15]
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First Half
From the start, Middlesbrough pressed hard. They tackled rough, kicked at ankles, leaned into shoulders. Jeremy felt the sting but shrugged it off.
"Come on then, mate," he muttered, shielding the ball, flicking it through one lad's legs. "Too easy."
The crowd jeered. "Showboater!"
Jeremy didn't care. On the tenth minute, the boost kicked in. His feet lit up, ball glued to his boots. A step-over, a feint, two Boro lads twisted the wrong way, and he burst into the box. Left foot, low strike, back of the net.
"Yessss, come on!" Jeremy slid on his knees, hands forming Cole Palmer's ice-cold celebration, face blank, eyes staring straight into the stands.
"Who does he think he is?" a Boro fan shouted.
Ding!
[Goal Scored. +2 Shooting, +1 Ego.]
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Wenger's View
In the stands, Wenger leaned forward, chin resting on his fist. "Hm."
"See?" Brady whispered. "A bit raw, but the talent's there."
"Raw, yes," Wenger murmured. "But… he plays with no fear. That is rare."
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Back on the Pitch
The first half turned into the Jeremy Lynch show. Even after the Ronaldinho boost wore off, confidence carried him. Nutmegs, flicks, and demanding the ball constantly.
At one point, Fabregas, playing a year up, called, "Pass it here, Jeremy!"
Jeremy looked, smirked, and shot instead from 25 yards. Just wide.
"Lynch!" Fabregas barked.
Jeremy shrugged. "Relax, Cesc. Nearly had it."
Ding!
[Warning: Ego Level Rising – Current: 80]
The System's voice rang cold:
> "Good. Keep taking. Keep stealing. They are not your friends. They are rivals wearing the same shirt."
Jeremy licked his lips. He liked that.
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Second Half
Arsenal were 1–0 up on the night, 3–1 on aggregate. But Boro pressed hard. Their striker equalised in the 55th minute, firing the Riverside into life.
The pressure mounted. Arsenal's defenders shouted at Jeremy to track back. He waved them off. "Nah, mate, I'm up here waiting. You lot handle that."
In the 70th minute, Arsenal broke. Ball into Jeremy's feet. He flicked it around one defender, body-feinted past another, and chipped the keeper. Goal.
Cole Palmer poses again. Ice-cold.
The Boro captain yelled at his teammates. "Someone smash him!"
Jeremy just laughed. "Too late, lad. Game's mine."
Ding!
[Goal Scored. +2 Dribbling, +1 Technique.]
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Final Whistle
Arsenal won 2–1, 4–2 on aggregate. Jeremy had bagged both goals. He jogged off, clapping to the away fans, soaking in every boo from the home crowd like fuel.
In the stands, Wenger didn't clap, didn't smile — but his mind was made.
"This boy," Wenger said quietly to Brady, "I want him training closer to the senior team soon. Keep watching him."
Brady nodded. "Understood."
Jeremy, down on the pitch, felt another ding.
> [Mission Complete: Dominate the Semi-Final.]
Reward Unlocked: System Shop Refresh – Rare Item Added.
He grinned. "Oh yeah. Lynch is going places, man."
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