The goal in the first half lifted the spirits of the Arsenal players.
Back in the locker room, Wenger clapped his hands, rallying the team for the second half with quiet determination.
He made no tactical adjustments. The first half had already revealed everything he needed to know—it was Leeds United who needed to adapt if they wanted to win.
Kai said nothing. He leaned back and tried to catch his breath.
This was the cost of his relentless running in the first half to cover the defensive spaces. Although he had a tank to run on, he was pacing himself with his breathing technique for good measure.
"Hey, catch."
Arshavin tossed him a hydration drink.
Kai caught it, took a sip, washed his mouth, and then spat it out.
Arshavin gave him a sideways look. "You went all out in the first half, huh?"
Some of the players nearby nodded quietly.
Strictly speaking, it was Kai's mad sprinting and defensive prowess that had been the turning point of the first half.
He was everywhere—defending, attacking, filling in the gaps.
No one dared say his run down the flank was meaningless. That kind of commitment often gave the strikers just enough room to operate.
And it wasn't just helpful. His movement disrupted Leeds' defensive shape.
Still, the real question was—could he keep it up in the second half?
Kai smiled. "Wanna bet? See who runs out of steam first—you or me?"
Arshavin raised an eyebrow. "What are we betting?"
Kai slapped his thigh and grinned. "You have to do the chicken dance and post it on social media. Deal?"
Arshavin stared at him, momentarily stunned.
Him? Dancing like a chicken? That was a stretch.
But by now, the locker room had caught on and the boos and chants began.
"Come on, Andrey, don't chicken out."
"Do it! Bet with him. We believe in you!"
"I'm backing you, a Russian getting gassed. No chance, mate."
Arshavin glared at his laughing teammates, then jabbed a finger at Kai. "Does this guy even have a social account? And if he does, who follows him?"
Kai waved him off. "Doesn't matter. Just answer the question—yes or no?"
Arshavin hesitated. Truthfully, he wasn't keen.
But with the entire locker room egging him on, he had no choice but to nod reluctantly.
The room erupted.
"Let's go, Andrey! Don't lose!"
"I want to see you shake it."
"Gotta put those arms to work, Hahaha!"
Arshavin chuckled, half amused and half exasperated. "Traitors! What if I win, huh?"
"Get ready to wiggle those hips, Arshie!"
"Don't worry—I'll share the video for you."
Arshavin rolled his eyes. "Thanks—but no thanks."
The locker room buzzed with laughter and energy.
Wenger leaned against the doorway, arms folded, watching the scene with a smile.
It had been a long time since the dressing room felt this lively.
Pat Rice wandered over and chuckled. "They're different, this group."
Wenger smirked. "A bunch of kids."
Then he tilted his head and asked, "Who do you want to see dance? Kai or Andre?"
Pat considered it for a moment, then grinned. "Andrey."
"Me too," Wenger replied with a Slight nod.
—
When the second half began, the teams had switched ends.
Leeds United made their move, adding another forward to the line-up.
Maik Taylor came on—slower than Townsend, but meant to draw Kai's attention away from him.
But adding more firepower up front weakened them elsewhere.
With just three midfielders, Leeds began to lose their grip in the centre of the pitch.
Arteta took full advantage, pressing high and cutting off passing lanes.
With the relentless pressure from Kai and Ramsey, supported by Chamberlain and Coquelin with overlapping runs, Leeds were forced backward. They couldn't break through the midfield wall.
When they resorted to long balls, Arsenal's numerical advantage nullified them quickly since Leeds were pinned in their box.
Still, Leeds weren't afraid to gamble. They launched aggressive attacks with short passes, trying to play through the press, knowing they needed to take risks if they wanted to win.
But Arsenal gave them no space to breathe.
Kai and Chamberlain closed in from both sides, stealing the ball clean off Maik.
Kai picked it up, and Arteta dropped back to offer support.
But Kai didn't pass. He looked past Arteta, scanning the pitch.
He saw Arsenal's strikers begin their runs.
Without a word, Kai planted his foot and fired a diagonal pass—forty metres through the air.
Arshavin sprinted into position. The ball curved perfectly, landing right at the angle for a cross.
A Leeds defender lunged to intercept.
But Arshavin reacted instantly, meeting the ball and whipping it across the box.
It flew toward the penalty area, where Henry had timed his run to perfection.
The Leeds keeper rushed forward, diving to cut off the angle.
Henry's right foot twitched ever so slightly, and chipped it clean over the keeper's head.
Straight into the net.
67th minute—Henry scored his second.
He ran toward the corner flag, cupped a hand to his ear, and faced the roaring crowd.
The Emirates erupted.
HENRY!!
HENRY!!
HENRY!!
"And Thierry Henry with the second goal to seal the win! Absolute class from the Frenchman," the commentator shouted.
In the stands, some fans were on their feet, stomping on their chair, completely unhinged with joy.
They were losing it.
Henry was once again shining as Arsenal's crown jewel.
The chants were deafening.
Henry! Henry! Henry!
He glanced over at his father.
Billy was shouting Henry's name like a madman.
Kevin pouted and mumbled, "But it was Kai's play…"
From the steal to the long diagonal pass—it had all started with Kai. Why was no one chanting his name?
Because he's new?
Kevin loved Arsenal, but he didn't feel the same connection to Henry as the others.
He hadn't grown up watching him.
To Kevin, Henry was like a figure from a school textbook. A legend, sure—but not his legend.
To him, the real change at Arsenal came with Kai.
No goals.
No assists.
But his impact was undeniable.
...
On the sidelines, Wenger rubbed his chin, a wry smile on his lips.
"The wait was worth it," he murmured.
He hadn't expected Kai to perform like this in his debut.
The stats said it all—three clean tackles, four interceptions, one key offensive contribution, and a goal setup.
Rare for any debutant.
But Kai had shown he had the heart for big matches.
Still, with Henry stealing the spotlight, Kai remained a supporting act.
Leeds' morale plummeted after the second goal.
No one scored again before full-time.
The whistle blew—Kai's first official appearance was over.
He followed the others back toward the tunnel.
There was some applause from the stands.
Kai didn't think much of it—he knew it wasn't for him.
But just as he stepped into the tunnel, the applause suddenly swelled.
Clap clap clap clap clap!
Kai froze.
He looked around—Henry had already gone in.
Yet the cheers stayed, mixed with whistles and shouts.
"Hey, mate! Brilliant performance!"
"Top-notch defending!"
"Number Four! I'll be back to watch your next match—keep it up!"
"You did that shirt proud! Never lose that steel and grit!"
Kai looked up—fans were leaning over the rails, applauding and cheering him.
It was Henry's night. It was supposed to be a forgettable debut.
But these fans had seen what he'd done.
Kai grinned, raised a fist, and pumped it toward the crowd.
The cheers intensified.
And Kai, bathed in applause, finally turned and walked down the tunnel.
—
2011/12 FA Cup – Third Round: Arsenal 2–0 Leeds United. Gunners advance.
....
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