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...
The programme continued into its next transfer segment, and the two of them remained there together, following the developing news as the winter window slowly began to take shape around Arsenal and the rest of the Premier League.
Then the following morning, London Colney had already returned to its familiar rhythm.
The winter air was cold enough to leave a thin chill on exposed hands, and the grass still carried the dampness of an early January morning. Staff moved between the buildings with equipment in their arms while coaches checked the pitch and prepared the areas that would be used during the session.
The players were already there.
The Fulham match was behind them now.
The result had been good, but nobody was treating it as something that needed to be celebrated again. Three points had been collected, the performance had been assessed, and attention had moved naturally toward the next phase of the season.
Francesco stood near the edge of the training pitch with a few of his teammates, dressed in Arsenal training gear and waiting for Wenger.
Alexis was talking with Gnabry.
Kanté was quietly stretching nearby.
Xhaka had a football at his feet, rolling it from one boot to the other while listening to something Robertson was saying.
Saka and Smith Rowe were standing together a little farther away, occasionally joining the conversation around them.
It looked like an ordinary morning.
That was until Bellerín glanced toward the training-ground building.
"Here he comes."
Francesco turned.
Wenger was walking toward them.
But he wasn't alone.
Beside him was a player Francesco had only seen in Arsenal colours on television.
Denis Suárez.
The Spaniard walked alongside Wenger carrying himself with a mixture of confidence and understandable caution. He was entering a dressing room where most of the players already knew one another intimately, and even an experienced footballer could feel the weight of being the new person in a group.
Wenger stopped near the players.
"Gentlemen."
The conversations faded.
Everyone gathered around.
Wenger looked toward Suárez.
"As you know, Denis has joined us on loan from Barcelona."
Suárez gave a small nod.
"He will be with the first team from now on. I expect everyone to make him feel welcome and help him settle as quickly as possible."
The players looked toward the new arrival.
Wenger then addressed something else.
"Matteo has also gone on loan to Hertha Berlin."
There were a few quiet nods.
"Matteo has decided that he needs more regular first-team football at this stage of his development. He wants to play more minutes, gain experience and continue progressing."
Wenger paused.
"This is not a negative decision. It is a development decision. Matteo remains part of our plans, and this opportunity should help him."
His tone remained matter-of-fact.
There was no drama attached to either move.
That was Wenger's way of presenting it.
A young player leaving temporarily did not mean the club had abandoned him. Another player arriving did not mean the existing squad had suddenly become inadequate.
Football was constantly changing.
Players needed different things at different stages.
"Make sure Denis understands how we work," Wenger added. "And Denis, you will learn quickly enough."
A small smile appeared on Suárez's face.
"I will."
Wenger stepped aside.
For a brief second, nobody moved.
Then Francesco did.
He walked forward first and held out his hand.
"Welcome to Arsenal."
Suárez shook it.
"Thank you."
"I'm Francesco."
Denis smiled.
"I know."
Francesco laughed.
"Fair enough."
The tension disappeared almost immediately.
"You'll be fine," Francesco said. "Just ask if you need anything."
"I appreciate that."
Francesco stepped back.
Alexis was next.
He gave Suárez a handshake before pulling him into a quick embrace.
"Welcome."
"Thank you."
Gnabry approached after him.
"Good to have you here."
Then Xhaka, Robertson, Kanté and the others followed in no particular order.
Some offered handshakes.
Some exchanged brief words.
A few simply smiled and introduced themselves.
There was nothing theatrical about it.
Denis wasn't being presented as a superstar arriving to change everything.
He was a new teammate.
That was enough.
Saka approached with Smith Rowe beside him.
"I'm Bukayo."
Denis smiled.
"I know."
Saka laughed.
"Everyone keeps saying that."
Smith Rowe grinned.
"It's probably because you're famous."
Saka looked at him.
"Thanks."
The small joke earned a few laughs.
Denis relaxed a little more.
The players began drifting back into their groups.
Wenger looked around.
"Good. Now let's work."
The introduction was over.
Football took its place.
The coaches began with a gradual warm-up.
The players moved through mobility exercises before progressing into dynamic movements across the pitch. Short accelerations followed, then changes of direction and controlled movement patterns.
Denis stayed within the group, watching carefully.
He wasn't trying to force himself into the session.
Instead, he seemed intent on understanding the rhythm.
When the coaches moved them into passing patterns, the difference became easier to notice.
The first exercise was simple.
Receive.
Open the body.
Play.
Move.
Receive again.
The ball travelled quickly between the players.
Denis's first few touches were quiet rather than spectacular.
But they were clean.
His first touch consistently took him away from pressure rather than toward it.
He rarely needed an extra touch.
When a pass arrived at an awkward angle, he adjusted his body before the ball reached him.
Kanté noticed it first.
The midfielder played the ball toward Denis with a little more pace.
Denis controlled it with his right foot and immediately returned it.
Kanté passed again.
Denis took one touch and played around the corner.
Kanté followed the ball and nodded.
"Nice."
Denis smiled.
"Again?"
"Again."
The tempo increased.
Francesco was positioned in the same passing circuit a few places away.
He watched Denis closely.
There was something very natural about the Spaniard's relationship with the ball.
Not flashy.
Efficient.
He seemed to know where his next pass was going before receiving the current one.
When Özil moved into the pattern, the two immediately understood one another.
Özil received.
Denis moved.
Özil returned the ball.
Denis played it first time into the next channel.
The sequence continued.
No one needed to explain it.
Francesco noticed.
He'd spent enough years around elite midfielders to recognize when someone processed the game quickly.
Denis wasn't physically imposing.
He didn't try to dominate the exercise through force.
Instead, he created small advantages through positioning.
A half-step toward the ball.
A glance over his shoulder.
A touch into space.
A pass before the defender could close.
The coaches soon increased the difficulty.
Two-touch possession became one-touch whenever possible.
Players had to scan before receiving.
The ball moved faster.
Mistakes appeared.
Bellerín misplaced one pass and immediately held up his hands.
"My fault."
Robertson laughed.
"Good start."
"It's January."
"That doesn't help you."
The ball was played again.
Denis received under pressure with Xhaka closing him down.
Rather than attempting to force the ball forward, he turned his body, used the sole of his boot to pull it slightly across himself and slipped a short pass behind Xhaka's pressing line.
Smith Rowe collected it.
"Good," one of the coaches called.
Denis continued moving.
Smith Rowe returned the ball.
Denis played it immediately to Francesco.
Francesco controlled it and looked up.
Denis had already moved into another pocket.
Francesco passed.
Denis received.
One touch.
Back to Francesco.
Another movement.
The striker smiled.
"You like playing quick."
Denis grinned.
"When it's there."
Francesco nodded.
"Fair answer."
The drill continued.
The difference between Denis and Guendouzi became increasingly apparent without anyone needing to say it.
Guendouzi had brought enormous energy, aggression and youthful confidence to midfield. His style was direct and often intense.
Denis offered something different.
His game was more polished in possession.
His movements were economical.
He seemed comfortable operating in tight spaces, especially when surrounded by players who wanted the ball back quickly.
That didn't make one better than the other.
They were simply different footballers.
And Denis's technical refinement was immediately noticeable.
The next exercise involved a possession game.
The squad was divided into groups, with the objective of keeping the ball under pressure while creating passing lanes through a smaller central zone.
The coaches demanded constant movement.
"Don't stand behind them!"
"Give him an angle!"
"Scan before the ball comes!"
"Move it!"
The players responded.
The tempo climbed.
Alexis pressed aggressively.
Gnabry tried to close down Xhaka.
Kanté moved between passing lanes.
Smith Rowe darted into space.
Denis remained composed.
At one point, he received the ball with two players closing from opposite sides.
He didn't panic.
One touch toward his left.
A slight body feint.
The nearest defender shifted.
Denis immediately played the ball through the gap.
Saka received it on the other side.
"Go!"
Saka accelerated away.
The move drew a whistle from one of the coaches.
"That's better!"
Denis jogged into position again.
Francesco watched him.
The Spaniard didn't celebrate the pass.
He simply repositioned himself.
That seemed to be the most impressive part.
The technical ability was obvious, but the mentality behind it was equally useful.
He wanted the ball.
Even after losing possession, he immediately looked for the next passing opportunity.
During the next sequence, Francesco found himself directly involved.
He dropped into midfield to offer an option.
Denis moved toward him.
Francesco passed.
Denis took the ball on the half-turn and returned it immediately.
Francesco continued forward.
Denis followed.
The striker slowed slightly, allowing a defender to move toward him.
He then slipped the ball back.
Denis had anticipated it.
One touch.
Through pass.
Francesco reached it.
The coach blew his whistle.
"Good combination."
Francesco looked back at Denis.
"Again?"
Denis nodded.
"Again."
They repeated it.
This time the defender closed the space earlier.
Francesco adjusted his run.
Denis recognized it and changed his pass.
The ball arrived exactly where Francesco wanted it.
He finished the movement with a controlled touch toward the next player.
No goal.
No celebration.
Just a good piece of training.
That was how Denis gradually began finding his place.
Not through a big entrance.
Not through speeches.
Through football.
As the session progressed, the exercises became more demanding.
The squad worked through possession patterns that required quick circulation and constant repositioning. Denis began communicating more with the players around him, calling for passes and pointing toward spaces.
His voice became more confident.
His movements became less cautious.
At first, he had been checking where everyone was.
Now he seemed to know.
Özil occasionally exchanged a few words with him in Spanish, which helped break up the more formal nature of the session.
Alexis teased him after one misplaced pass.
"Finally."
Denis laughed.
"Finally what?"
"You made a mistake."
Denis shook his head.
"I was being generous."
Alexis laughed.
"Good answer."
Nearby, Saka smiled.
The atmosphere was becoming normal.
That was exactly what Wenger wanted.
The session continued under the cold January sky.
The coaches adjusted the groups and kept demanding sharpness.
Every pass had purpose.
Every movement had a reason.
Nobody was treating Denis as a guest anymore.
He was beginning to look like another Arsenal player.
Francesco noticed that change too.
During another possession exercise, Denis received the ball near the touchline, drew pressure toward himself and calmly found an inside pass to Kanté.
Kanté returned it.
Denis immediately switched play toward Robertson.
Robertson took the ball and advanced.
The sequence continued without hesitation.
Francesco watched the movement unfold.
It was only one training session.
There was no reason to draw grand conclusions from a morning at London Colney.
But the signs were encouraging.
Denis had technical quality.
He understood quick combinations.
He moved intelligently.
And, most importantly, he was already beginning to understand the rhythm of the people around him.
Wenger stood several yards away, watching.
He didn't need to interrupt.
The football was speaking for itself.
Another ball was played into Denis.
He controlled it.
Looked up.
Moved it.
Then moved again.
Francesco called for the next pass.
Denis found him.
Francesco returned it.
The sequence carried on.
The new year had brought changes to the Arsenal squad, but there was no disruption in the team's purpose.
Matteo Guendouzi had temporarily left to gain the minutes he wanted.
Denis Suárez had arrived to offer another technical option.
And now, on a cold morning at London Colney, the practical part of that change had begun.
The players continued working.
Denis no longer looked like someone trying to find his place.
He looked increasingly like someone who was beginning to understand where it was.
And with the session still going, Wenger's voice carried across the pitch.
"Keep the tempo!"
The ball moved again.
Denis received it under pressure.
One touch.
A quick glance.
A short pass.
Then he was moving into space once more.
Francesco followed the movement and called for it.
The Spaniard looked up.
The next pass was already on its way.
Denis had seen Francesco's movement before most of the others had reacted to it.
Francesco had started toward the space between the defenders, then checked his run for half a second, waiting for the gap to open. Denis received the ball under pressure, lifted his head and, rather than playing the obvious pass along the ground, gently opened the angle of his foot.
The ball rose.
Not high.
Not dramatically.
Just enough.
A beautifully weighted chip sailed over the defensive pressure and dropped into the space Francesco had begun attacking.
Francesco read it immediately.
He adjusted his stride, watched the ball descend and, as it reached him, softened his first touch with the top of his boot.
The ball came down almost perfectly beneath him.
One touch.
Control.
No wasted movement.
He was through.
David Raya had already recognized the danger and stepped forward from his goal.
Francesco took another touch to bring the ball into his preferred position, waited for Raya to commit and then guided the finish beyond the goalkeeper and into the net.
The ball struck the inside of the post before settling in the back of the goal.
There was no wild celebration.
Francesco simply turned back toward Denis with a grin.
Denis was already smiling.
"Nice ball," Francesco called.
Denis pointed toward him.
"Better touch."
Francesco shook his head.
"You made it easy."
From nearby, Xhaka gave a small laugh.
"Don't start complimenting each other too much. We've got work to do."
A few players chuckled.
One of the coaches nodded appreciatively.
"That was very good. The pass and the movement."
Raya retrieved the ball from the net and tossed it toward the nearest player.
"Bit unfair," he said with a grin. "I wasn't expecting that."
Francesco laughed.
"You're the goalkeeper. You're supposed to expect everything."
"Next time I'll expect you to miss."
"Good luck."
The exchange earned another round of smiles before the coaches immediately moved the group back into position.
It was only a training goal.
Nobody was going to treat it as anything more.
But the quality of the sequence had been difficult to ignore.
Denis had seen the movement early.
Francesco had understood the pass.
The chip had been precise enough to clear the pressure without taking the ball away from the striker, and Francesco's first touch had removed the final difficulty before the finish.
That was the kind of understanding that could become useful over time.
Wenger watched from the edge of the pitch, hands tucked into his coat.
He offered no dramatic reaction.
Just a brief nod.
"Again," he called.
The players reset.
The exercise continued.
For Denis, however, something had changed.
He had already been accepted into the session, but moments like that helped him understand that the football itself could become his introduction. He did not need to force anything. If he continued making the right decisions, the relationships would develop naturally.
Across the pitch, Youri Tielemans had watched the entire sequence.
He applauded along with everyone else.
There was nothing insincere about it.
The pass had been excellent.
The finish had been better.
Still, as he moved back into position, Tielemans couldn't help thinking about what Denis's arrival meant for him.
Matteo Guendouzi's loan to Hertha Berlin had changed the midfield picture.
Tielemans had understood that immediately.
There would be more opportunities now.
More chances to play.
More occasions when Wenger might turn to him during a match, particularly when Arsenal needed fresh legs or another midfielder capable of contributing creatively.
He had never expected anything to be handed to him.
But the competition had appeared slightly more open.
Now Denis was here.
And Denis wasn't merely another squad player filling a space.
He was technically gifted, comfortable around the ball and capable of operating in the areas where Wenger sometimes needed another creative option.
Especially when Mesut Özil was withdrawn.
Especially when the manager wanted someone capable of connecting midfield with the attack without changing the team's basic rhythm.
Tielemans looked across at Denis.
The Spaniard was already speaking briefly with Özil before moving into the next position.
There was no resentment in Tielemans's expression.
Only calculation.
He knew what Arsenal was.
At a club competing at the highest level, nobody could assume that a vacancy remained vacant for long.
If one player left, another arrived.
If someone performed well, someone else had to perform better.
That was professional football.
Tielemans took a breath and concentrated on the next exercise.
Then show them what I can do.
He wasn't going to compete with Denis through words.
He would compete through his football.
The next phase demanded quicker transitions.
The coaches divided the players into smaller groups and asked them to move the ball from one area into another before the defending side could recover its shape.
Tielemans immediately became more involved.
He demanded the ball, played forward when the opportunity appeared and moved into useful positions after releasing it.
Denis noticed.
When Tielemans found him with a sharp pass, Denis returned it first time.
Tielemans continued his run.
Denis could have carried the ball himself, but instead slipped it into Tielemans's path.
Tielemans controlled it and played toward Saka.
The sequence worked.
"Good," Wenger called.
Tielemans glanced briefly toward Denis.
Denis gave him a small nod.
There was no rivalry in the gesture.
Only recognition.
That, perhaps, made the competition easier to accept.
They were teammates first.
Whatever happened with minutes and selections would be decided by Wenger.
The session continued for another hour.
The intensity remained high without becoming reckless. Arsenal's coaches rotated the groups, adjusted the exercises and continued demanding concentration from the players.
By the latter stages, the cold had become less noticeable.
Everyone was working hard enough to feel the difference.
Francesco remained heavily involved, but the focus was no longer solely on him. The session had become what Wenger wanted it to be: a normal day of preparation in which a new player was learning the team's habits while the established players continued competing for their own places.
Denis gradually became more vocal.
He called for the ball.
He pointed teammates into space.
He communicated with the players around him.
At one point, he and Tielemans found themselves on opposite sides of a small-sided exercise.
Tielemans pressed him aggressively.
Denis shifted the ball away.
Tielemans recovered and pressed again.
Denis eventually found an outlet.
Neither smiled.
Neither complained.
Both simply reset for the next sequence.
Francesco watched from nearby.
That was healthy competition.
Nothing more complicated was necessary.
Eventually, Wenger checked his watch.
The final exercise came to an end.
"Good work," he called. "That's enough."
The players slowed down.
Some bent forward with their hands on their knees.
Others walked toward the equipment area, collecting water bottles and towels.
The coaching staff began gathering the equipment while the players headed back toward the building.
Denis walked alongside Francesco.
"First day survived," Francesco said.
Denis laughed.
"Barely."
"You'll get used to it."
"I think so."
Francesco glanced at him.
"You played well."
"Thanks."
"And the chip was good."
Denis smiled.
"So was the finish."
"Obviously."
Denis laughed again.
By the time they reached the building, the morning had begun to feel less like Denis's first training session and more like an ordinary Arsenal training day.
Inside the changing room, conversation returned to normal.
Boots were removed.
Training tops were pulled off.
Showers started running.
Someone complained about the cold water.
Someone else immediately accused him of turning the wrong tap.
The usual noise of a football dressing room filled the space.
Denis sat at his place, listening and occasionally joining conversations.
He wasn't sitting apart anymore.
That mattered.
Francesco changed, collected his things and glanced around the room.
Then an idea occurred to him.
"Anyone doing anything after this?"
A few heads turned.
"Why?" Alexis asked suspiciously.
Francesco smiled.
"Food."
That got more attention.
"Restaurant?" Saka asked.
"Nearby."
Gnabry looked at Denis.
"New guy's first day. Captain has decided we're feeding him."
Denis laughed.
"I didn't ask for this."
"Too late," Xhaka said. "You're already involved."
Francesco looked around.
"Nothing formal. Just lunch. Whoever wants to come."
Nobody needed much convincing.
Within a few minutes, plans were made.
The group left London Colney together and headed toward a nearby restaurant.
There was no club bus, no official dinner arrangement and no staff itinerary.
It was simply teammates going out to eat.
That distinction mattered.
They arrived in small groups, entering the restaurant in jackets and casual clothes rather than Arsenal training gear.
The staff showed them toward a collection of tables that had been arranged together.
Francesco sat near the middle.
Denis ended up beside him.
Alexis, Xhaka, Özil, Gnabry, Saka, Smith Rowe, Tielemans, Robertson and several others settled around the tables, with players moving seats whenever they wanted to speak with someone.
Menus appeared.
The first discussion was predictable.
Food.
"What are you having?" Saka asked Smith Rowe.
"I don't know yet."
"You've been staring at the menu for five minutes."
"I'm thinking."
"You're reading."
"Same thing."
"It isn't."
Francesco laughed.
Across from them, Robertson was already debating with Xhaka about what counted as a proper lunch after training.
The conversation moved effortlessly between football and ordinary life.
Someone mentioned the new year.
Someone else talked about family plans.
There was discussion about television, cars, holidays, music and the strange schedules footballers kept.
Denis gradually spoke more.
He talked about Barcelona, about adapting to London, about the differences between training environments and about things he had noticed since arriving.
Nobody interrogated him.
They simply included him.
When the conversation shifted toward a story Denis hadn't heard, Francesco explained the context rather than allowing him to sit there confused.
When Saka made a joke that relied on something from earlier in the season, Smith Rowe filled Denis in.
The barriers disappeared little by little.
Food arrived.
Plates were passed across the table.
Drinks were poured.
The conversation became even more relaxed.
At one point, Denis leaned back after taking a sip of water.
"This is different from what I expected."
Francesco looked at him.
"What did you expect?"
"I don't know. A lot more serious."
Xhaka overheard.
"Give it time."
Everyone laughed.
Denis shook his head.
"I mean the team."
"We take football seriously," Francesco said. "The rest of the time, we're allowed to behave like normal people."
Alexis pointed toward him.
"Speak for yourself."
Francesco laughed.
The meal continued.
Eventually, while the others were involved in a conversation at the other end of the table, Francesco turned slightly toward Denis.
"There is one thing I wanted to mention."
Denis looked at him.
"What?"
"The physical side here."
Denis nodded.
"I've noticed."
Francesco smiled.
"You'll notice it more in matches."
Denis listened.
"The Premier League can be brutal physically. Not necessarily because everyone is trying to hurt you. It's just the speed, the challenges, the shoulder-to-shoulder contact. Defenders don't always give you the same time you might be used to elsewhere."
Denis nodded slowly.
"I know."
"I don't mean you need to become huge," Francesco continued. "Don't change the things that make you good. Your balance, your agility, your first touch, your ability to turn. Those are important."
Denis listened carefully.
"But strengthen your body," Francesco said. "Especially your core and your legs. Get yourself prepared for the contact."
Denis glanced down at his plate before looking back.
"Because of injuries?"
"Partly. More because you want your body to absorb the contact rather than letting every challenge take something out of you."
Francesco leaned back slightly.
"If a defender catches you with a hard shoulder, you want to stay balanced. If someone comes through you during a challenge, you want your body prepared for it. You don't need to bulk up until you lose your movement. Just get stronger in the right places."
Denis nodded.
"That makes sense."
"You're going to get kicked sometimes," Francesco added with a small smile. "That's football."
Denis laughed.
"I've played football before."
"I know."
"But England is different."
"Exactly."
Francesco's expression became more serious.
"I just want you available. That's all. Arsenal needs you on the pitch, not spending weeks recovering from something that could have been avoided with better preparation."
Denis appreciated the sincerity behind it.
"Thanks."
"I'm telling you because I've seen what this league can do to players."
Denis nodded.
"I'll work on it."
"Good."
There was no lecture after that.
The conversation returned naturally to the rest of the table.
Tielemans, who had caught part of the exchange from nearby, looked toward Denis.
He understood what Francesco was doing.
It wasn't simply welcoming a new teammate.
It was helping him adapt.
And Tielemans knew he would have to do the same in his own way to adapt, improve and prove that he belonged in the competition for minutes.
As the meal continued, the conversation became louder.
Alexis was telling a story that had Xhaka laughing.
Saka and Smith Rowe were arguing over something completely insignificant.
Robertson was defending his choice of food with remarkable seriousness.
Gnabry was trying to convince everyone that his decision had been the correct one.
Denis laughed more freely now.
He was no longer measuring every word.
The morning's carefulness had disappeared.
He was simply another player sitting among teammates.
Eventually, plates began to empty.
Glasses were cleared.
Players checked their phones and discussed plans for the rest of the afternoon.
Nobody rushed.
There was no need.
When they finally stood, the group gathered near the entrance.
Francesco waited until Denis had joined them.
"You coming?"
Denis smiled.
"Of course."
They stepped outside together.
The winter afternoon had settled over London, colder than it had been inside the restaurant.
The players separated gradually, some heading toward their cars, others continuing conversations as they walked.
Denis stood for a moment with Francesco.
"Thanks for today."
Francesco shrugged.
"It's what teammates do."
Denis smiled.
"I mean it."
"I know."
They shook hands.
Then Francesco gave him a brief pat on the shoulder.
"See you tomorrow."
"See you."
Denis walked away with the others.
Francesco watched him for a second before turning toward his own car.
The morning had begun with Denis Suárez as the newest face in the Arsenal dressing room.
By the afternoon, he was no longer simply the player who had arrived from Barcelona.
He was a teammate who had trained with them, competed with them, laughed with them, eaten with them and already started building the small relationships that mattered inside a football squad.
__________________________________________________
Name : Francesco Lee
Age : 20 (2018)
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, Champions League 2017/2018, 2018 World Cup, and 2018/2019 Community Shield.
Season 17/18 stats:
Arsenal:
Match: 27
Goal: 30
Assist: 1
MOTM: 0
POTM: 0
England:
Match: 2
Goal: 2
Assist: 0
MOTM: 0
Season 17/18 stats:
Arsenal:
Match: 59
Goal: 76
Assist: 6
MOTM: 7
POTM: 0
England:
Match: 11
Goal: 14
Assist: 1
MOTM: 7
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