CHAPTER 510: SIGNAL?

Alex sat in the front row. He was wearing his training kit. He looked at the screen. It showed a graph of "Social Media Engagement."

"Mr. Finch," Ms. Gloss asked. "If a journalist asks you about a refereeing mistake, what do you say?"

Alex thought for a moment.

"I say that the referee has a difficult job and we must respect the geometry of his perspective," Alex said.

Ms. Gloss sighed. "Too smart. You sound like a calculator. Try to sound more... human. Say ’We were unlucky’."

Mark sat next to Alex. Mark was wearing sunglasses indoors. He was also wearing a fake mustache.

"Mark," Ms. Gloss said. "Why are you wearing a disguise?"

"I am undercover!" Mark whispered loudly. "The paparazzi are everywhere. I must protect my identity. I am now... Juan. Juan the Baker."

"Mark, everyone knows it is you," Alex said. "You are wearing your Arsenal shirt with your name on the back."

"That is a decoy!" Mark insisted. "To confuse the enemy!"

Ms. Gloss shook her head. "Mark, if a journalist asks you what your secret to speed is, what do you say?"

"I say pizza," Mark replied instantly. "Pepperoni. Extra cheese. And maybe a little bit of rocket fuel."

"Do not say rocket fuel," Ms. Gloss rubbed her temples. "The anti-doping agency will test you every day."

"But I am fast like a rocket!" Mark argued. "Vroom vroom!"

The session ended.

Alex walked out.

"Media training is harder than physics," Alex said. "You have to lie without lying."

"I never lie," Mark grinned, peeling off his mustache. "I just exaggerate the truth. Like when I say I am the fastest man in the universe. It is true, but I have not raced the aliens yet."

They walked to the bus.

It was Champions League week. Matchday 2.

Napoli. Away.

The Stadio Diego Armando Maradona.

It was named after a god of football. The atmosphere there was legendary. It was fire. It was passion. It was loud.

Alex walked to the car park.

Milo was waiting.

Milo was dressed as... a Volcano Explorer.

He was wearing a silver heat-resistant suit that looked like oven foil. He had a helmet with a visor and a pair of thick gloves.

"DANGER!" Milo screamed. "HOT STUFF COMING THROUGH! ALEX! I AM THE VOLCANOLOGIST! WE ARE GOING TO NAPLES! THE HOME OF VESUVIUS! I AM SELLING LAVA INSURANCE!"

"Milo, the volcano has been dormant for years," Alex said.

"THAT IS WHAT IT WANTS YOU TO THINK!" Milo yelled. "IT IS SLEEPING! BUT I HAVE A WAKE UP CALL! I AM ALSO SELLING MAGMA MARSHMALLOWS! TOAST THEM ON THE PITCH!"

"Are those just regular marshmallows painted red?" Alex asked.

"THEY ARE SPICY!" Milo winked. "CHILI POWDER INFUSED!"

They drove to the airport.

Steve, the manager, was waiting.

"Napoli," Steve said. "They are chaos. They are emotion. They play with their hearts on their sleeves."

He pointed to the screen.

"Kvaratskhelia. Kvara. The Georgian Messi. He dribbles like he is dancing. And Osimhen. The masked striker. He runs like a gazelle."

He looked at Alex.

"Professor. The noise in that stadium will be deafening. You will not be able to hear me. You will not be able to hear each other. You must communicate with your eyes. Telepathy."

"I will connect the bluetooth," Alex joked.

"Connect everything," Steve said seriously.

Naples. Italy.

The city was beautiful and chaotic. Scooters zoomed everywhere. Flags hung from every balcony.

The stadium was a concrete bowl of noise.

Alex stood in the tunnel.

Osimhen stood next to him. He was wearing his black protective mask. He looked like a superhero.

"London Boy," Osimhen said. His voice was deep.

"Napoli Man," Alex replied.

"You like pizza?" Osimhen asked.

"My friend does," Alex pointed to Mark.

Mark was staring at Kvara.

"You have cool hair," Mark said to Kvara. "It is messy but stylish. Like a storm."

"Thanks," Kvara mumbled. "You run fast."

"I know," Mark beamed.

The whistle blew.

The game started.

It was deafening. The Napoli fans did not stop singing. It was a wall of sound.

Napoli started fast.

Kvara got the ball on the wing. He ran at Ben White.

Kvara dropped his shoulder. He went left. Then right. Then left again.

He twisted Ben White into a knot.

Kvara crossed.

Osimhen jumped. He jumped incredibly high.

He headed the ball.

Raya saved it. But the rebound fell to Politano.

Politano shot.

Goal.

One zero. Napoli.

The stadium erupted. It felt like the volcano actually had exploded. The ground shook.

"I cannot hear!" Rico yelled. "My ears are ringing!"

Alex stood in the center circle.

He looked at his teammates. They looked rattled. The noise was getting to them.

"Telepathy," Alex thought. "We need signals."

Arsenal restarted.

Alex stopped shouting for the ball. It was useless.

Instead, he used his hands. He pointed. He looked.

He made eye contact with Rice. He nodded.

Rice understood. He passed the ball.

Alex controlled it.

He saw Mark on the wing.

Mark was looking at him.

Alex did not wave. He just looked at the space behind the defender. A sharp look.

Mark understood.

Mark sprinted.

Alex hit the pass.

It was perfect.

Mark collected it. He was one on one with the defender, Di Lorenzo.

Mark pushed the ball past him.

"CIAO!" Mark yelled (but nobody heard him).

Mark crossed.

Saka was there.

Saka volleyed.

The goalkeeper, Meret, saved it.

"Close!" Alex thought. "But the connection is there."

Halftime. One zero.

The dressing room was quiet. Steve did not shout. He knew they could not hear him anyway if they went back out with ringing ears.

"Look at each other," Steve said. "Trust the system. You know where you should be. You do not need to speak."

He looked at Alex.

"Professor. You are the brain. Send the signals."

Second half.

Napoli pushed for a second goal. They were aggressive.

Sixtieth minute.

Kvara dribbled into the box. He fell over.

"Penalty!" the crowd screamed.

The referee waved his hands. No penalty.

The crowd booed so loud the stadium lights seemed to flicker.

Seventy fifth minute.

Alex had the ball deep in midfield.

He saw Rico.

Rico was standing still. He looked trapped.

Alex looked at Rico’s feet.

Rico did a tiny movement. He shifted his weight to the right.

Alex knew.

Alex passed to the left.

Rico spun left. The ball arrived exactly as he turned.

It was telepathy.

Rico drove forward.

He danced past Lobotka.

He saw Alex continuing his run.

Rico did a "No Look Pass". He looked at the crowd, but passed to Alex.

Alex collected it on the edge of the box.

He was surrounded.

He saw Mark.

Mark was making a run to the back post.

Alex did not pass. He faked the pass.

The defenders moved to cover Mark.

This opened a gap. A tiny gap in the center.

Alex drove into the gap.

He was twelve yards out.

He placed the ball.

Low. Hard. Corner.

Goal.

One one.

Alex put his fingers to his ears. "Block the noise."

The Arsenal fans in the top corner cheered.

Eighty fifth minute.

The game was tied. A draw in Naples was a good result.

But Alex wanted to win.

Napoli were tired. They had run on pure emotion.

Alex got the ball.

He saw the pattern. Napoli were leaving gaps in the transition.

He looked at Mark.

Mark was tired. He was breathing heavy.

Alex raised his hand. Two fingers.

Mark nodded.

The signal.

Alex hit a long ball. Not to Mark. But to the space where Mark would be in three seconds.

Mark ignited the last of his fuel.

He ran.

He beat the defender to the ball.

He was wide. The angle was tight.

Meret came out.

Mark looked up.

He saw Gabriel Jesus running into the box.

Mark crossed.

It was a perfect arc.

Jesus dived.

He headed the ball.

It hit the post.

And went in.

GOAL.

Two one. Arsenal.

The stadium went silent. The volcano was extinguished.

Mark ran to the corner. He pretended to eat a pizza.

"DELICIOUS!" Mark screamed. "MARGHERITA VICTORY!"

The final whistle blew.

Arsenal 2. Napoli 1.

A masterclass in communication.

Alex walked off the pitch.

Osimhen walked over. He swapped shirts with Alex.

"You are quiet," Osimhen said. "But you speak with the ball."

"The ball is the only language that matters," Alex smiled.

Milo ran onto the pitch. He was wearing a chef’s hat and holding a pizza box.

"THE PIZZA KING!" Milo screamed. "WE DELIVERED! ALEX! THE WIN! I AM SELLING SLICES OF VICTORY! PEPPERONI AND PASSION! ONLY TWENTY EUROS!"

"Milo, is there actually pizza in there?" Alex asked.

"NO!" Milo whispered. "IT IS CARDBOARD PAINTED RED! BUT IT LOOKS TASTY!"

They walked into the dressing room.

The team was happy.

Alex checked his phone.

A text from Maya.

"Signal-to-noise ratio analysis: Optimal. Despite 110 decibels of background noise, your pass completion was 95 percent. You successfully filtered out the interference. Also, Ms. Gloss called. She said your post-match interview was ’Adequate’ but you need to smile more."

Alex smiled at the phone.

He looked at Mark.

Mark was eating a real pizza now. He looked like the happiest person on earth.

"Hey Professor," Mark said, cheese stretching from his mouth.

"Yeah?"

"Did you see my signal?"

"What signal?" Alex asked.

"Before the goal," Mark said. "I winked at you. It meant ’I am going to run fast’."

"Mark," Alex laughed. "You always run fast."

"Exactly!" Mark grinned. "It is a consistent signal! Very reliable!"