CHAPTER 486: 1

The hotel room in Qatar was cold. The air conditioning was set to "Arctic".

Alex sat on his bed. He was looking at his phone.

On the screen was Mark.

Mark was sitting in a jacuzzi. He was wearing a snorkel mask and a beret. He was holding a block of cheese the size of a brick.

"Mark," Alex said. "Why are you eating cheese in a jacuzzi?"

"It is French culture!" Mark shouted through the phone. "I am absorbing the power of the fromage! We play Tunisia tomorrow. I need calcium for my bones. Strong bones mean fast running."

"You are going to sink," Alex said.

"I float!" Mark argued. "I am buoyant! Like a duck! A very fast duck!"

Mark took a huge bite of the cheese.

"So," Mark chewed loudly. "Wales next. The Dragon."

"Yes," Alex said. "Gareth Bale."

"The Golfer," Mark giggled. "Be careful, Professor. He hits the ball hard. If he hits you, you might end up in the sand trap."

"I will bring my wedge," Alex said.

"Good luck," Mark said. "If you win, I will buy you a croissant. If you lose, I will buy you a tissue."

"Thanks, Mark."

Alex hung up.

He looked at the other bed. Jude Bellingham was sleeping. Jude snored softly. It sounded like a purring cat.

Alex walked to the window.

The Battle of Britain. England vs Wales.

It was more than a game. It was a neighborhood fight.

His phone buzzed.

A text from Maya.

"Gareth Bale. Analysis complete. He generates maximum torque from his hips. He prefers the long shot. Do not give him space outside the box. Also, the probability of him thinking about golf during the match is 14 percent."

Alex smiled.

"Understood," Alex typed back. "No golf allowed."

Tuesday Night. Ahmed bin Ali Stadium.

The atmosphere was spicy.

The English fans were singing God Save the King.

The Welsh fans were singing Land of My Fathers.

It was a wall of sound. Red vs White.

Alex stood in the tunnel.

Gareth Bale stood next to him.

Bale was a legend. He had won five Champions Leagues. He had a man bun. He looked like a samurai who had retired to play golf but came back for one last fight.

Bale looked at Alex.

"The Wonderkid," Bale said. His voice was deep.

"The Dragon," Alex replied.

"You are young," Bale said. "You have legs. I have experience. Legs get tired. Experience never sleeps."

"Experience is just memory," Alex said. "I prefer the future."

Bale laughed. "Cheeky. I like it."

They walked out.

The stadium was shaking.

Milo was there. Of course he was.

Milo was standing near the corner flag.

He was wearing a full green dragon costume. It had a long tail and paper wings. He also had a fire extinguisher strapped to his back.

"I AM THE DRAGON SLAYER!" Milo shouted. "ALEX! I AM SELLING FIRE PROTECTION! IF THE DRAGON BREATHES FIRE, I SPRAY HIM! ONLY FIFTY POUNDS FOR A SQUIRT!"

"Milo, please do not spray Gareth Bale," Alex said.

"ONLY IF HE SCORES!" Milo promised. "SAFETY FIRST!"

The whistle blew.

The game started.

Wales sat deep. They built a red wall. They wanted to frustrate England.

And they had Bale.

In the tenth minute, England lost the ball.

Bale got it. He was forty yards out.

"SHOOT!" the Welsh fans screamed.

Bale did not run. He did not dribble. He just swung his left leg.

It was like a golf swing. Smooth. Powerful.

The ball flew. It moved in the air. It wobbled.

Pickford dived.

The ball hit the side netting.

The crowd gasped.

"Too close!" Jude yelled. "Close him down!"

Alex stood in the midfield.

He analyzed the problem.

Problem: Wales are defending with ten men. There is no space on the ground.

Solution: Go over them.

Alex looked at the grass. It was perfect. Like a putting green.

Thirty minutes passed. England passed the ball sideways. It was boring. The fans were getting restless.

"Do something!" a fan shouted.

Alex got the ball.

He saw Phil Foden making a run.

But there were three defenders in the way.

Alex remembered Mark joke.

The Sand Trap.

Alex did not pass the ball flat.

He dug his foot under the ball.

He hit a "Lob Wedge".

The ball went straight up into the air. High. Very high.

The defenders looked up. They lost the ball in the stadium lights.

The ball dropped out of the sky.

It landed perfectly in the path of Marcus Rashford.

Rashford did not have to break stride.

He controlled it. He shot.

Goal.

One zero. England.

Rashford ran to the corner. He pointed to his head.

Alex ran over.

"The Wedge!" Alex shouted.

"You put snow on that one!" Rashford laughed. "It came down with ice on it!"

Halftime. One zero.

Gareth Southgate was calm.

"The Dragon is sleeping," Gareth said. "Do not wake him up. Keep the ball. Tire them out."

Second half.

Wales had to attack. They needed a win.

This opened the game up.

Fifty first minute.

Alex won the ball from Ramsey.

He saw Phil Foden on the left.

Alex hit a low, hard pass.

Foden ran. He crossed.

Harry Kane missed it. But Rashford was there again.

He chopped inside. He shot.

Goal.

Two zero.

The game was over. The Dragon was tamed.

But Alex wanted one more moment. A moment for the Professor.

Sixty fifth minute.

England had a free kick.

It was in the exact same spot where Gareth Bale had scored so many famous goals.

Harry Kane picked up the ball.

"I will take it," Harry said.

"Captain," Alex said. "Let me try something."

"What?" Harry asked.

"The Knuckleball," Alex said. "I learned it from Ronaldo videos."

Harry looked at Alex. He smiled.

"Go on then. Show me."

Alex placed the ball.

He stepped back.

He looked at the goal.

He looked at Gareth Bale, who was standing in the wall.

Alex ran up.

He hit the ball with the laces. No spin.

The ball flew.

It looked like it was going over.

But then, the air resistance took over. The turbulence.

The ball danced. It went left. It went right.

The Welsh goalkeeper, Danny Ward, did not know where to move. He stood still.

The ball dipped.

It smashed into the top corner.

Goal.

Three zero.

The stadium erupted.

Alex stood there. He opened his arms.

Gareth Bale looked at him. Bale shook his head and clapped his hands once. Real recognized real.

The final whistle blew.

England 3. Wales 0.

They had won the Group.

Alex walked off the pitch.

Bale walked over.

"Nice shot," Bale said. "You hit it sweet."

"Thanks," Alex said. "Do you want to play golf sometime?"

Bale laughed loudly. "If you bring that free kick to the golf course, you will break the windows of the clubhouse. Good luck, kid. Go win the thing."

Bale walked away. A legend leaving the stage.

Milo ran onto the pitch. He had taken off the dragon head. He was sweating.

"THE DRAGON TAMER!" Milo shouted. "WE PUT OUT THE FIRE! ALEX! I AM SELLING DRAGON SCALES! THEY ARE JUST GREEN POTATO CHIPS! BUT THEY ARE CRUNCHY!"

"Milo, are you eating the merchandise?" Alex asked.

"I GOT HUNGRY!" Milo said, munching on a green chip.

They walked into the dressing room.

The mood was buzzing. They were in the Round of 16.

Alex sat down. He checked his phone.

The bracket had updated.

England vs Senegal.

The Lions of Teranga. The African Champions.

And on the other side...

France had won their group.

France vs Poland.

If England won... and if France won...

They would meet in the Quarter Finals.

Alex swallowed.

A text from Mark appeared.

"I SAW THE FREE KICK. IT WOBBLED LIKE JELLY. VERY NICE. BUT CAN YOU DO IT AGAINST ME?"

Alex typed back.

"I will try."

Mark replied.

"I WILL BE WAITING. BRING YOUR WEDGE. I WILL BRING MY TURBO."

Alex put the phone down.

Senegal first.

Sadio Mane was injured, but they were still strong. They had Koulibaly. They had Mendy.

"One game at a time," Alex whispered.

He looked at his boots.

He had conquered the group.

Now, it was knockout football.

Sudden death.

Win or go home.

Alex stood up.

"Hey Jude," Alex said.

"Yeah?"

"Do you like Lions?"

"I love Lions," Jude grinned, pointing to the badge on his chest. "We are the Lions."

"Good," Alex smiled. "Because we have a pride to fight."

He walked out of the stadium.

The desert air was cool.

But the heat was rising.

The Dynasty was moving forward.

And the Professor was writing history, one equation at a time.

"Next lesson," Alex said to the moon. "How to tame a Lion."

He got on the bus.

Milo was sitting in the back, trying to sell green potato chips to Harry Kane.

"THEY ARE SPICY!" Milo promised.

Alex laughed.

Life was good.

Football was good.

And the dream was very, very real.