He was reading a book titled The Art of the Blockbuster.
"Spectacle," Alex muttered. "Big budgets. Big explosions. The audience demands a show."
Mark stood next to him. He was wearing star-shaped sunglasses and a feather boa.
"I AM FAMOUS!" Mark shouted at a tour bus. "I AM THE EMPEROR OF HOLLYWOOD! TAKE MY PHOTO! NO, DO NOT TAKE MY PHOTO! I AM SHY! OKAY, TAKE ONE!"
"Mark," Alex said. "We are here for pre-season training. Not to win an Oscar."
"Why not both?" Mark asked, posing for a confused tourist. "I have the charisma. I have the speed. I am basically Tom Cruise but faster and with better knees."
"You are not Tom Cruise, Mark."
"I am Mark Cruise!" Mark yelled. "Mission Impossible? No! Mission: Pizza-sible!"
Alex shook his head.
School was finished. The exams were done. They were full-ti professionals now.
But the classroom had just changed location. Now, the world was their campus.
They were in Los Angeles. The City of Angels.
Tonight, they played the MLS All-Stars at the Rose Bowl.
And the All-Stars had a special captain.
Lionel ssi.
The Goat was waiting in Arica.
Alex walked back to the luxury SUV they had rented (well, Milo had rented it using a coupon he found).
Milo was waiting in the driver’s seat.
Milo was dressed as... a Film Producer.
He was wearing a linen suit, a scarf (in 30-degree heat), and holding a giant cigar that was actually a breadstick painted brown.
"BABY!" Milo scread. "YOU LOOK LIKE A BILLION DOLLARS! ALEX! I AM THE STUDIO HEAD! I AM SELLING SCRIPTS! ’THE WONDERKID GOES TO MARS’! ’THE WONDERKID EATS A SHARK’! BLOCKBUSTERS!"
"Milo, those sound like terrible movies," Alex said, climbing in.
"THEY ARE ART HOUSE!" Milo insisted. "I AM ALSO SELLING OSCARS! THEY ARE JUST CHOCOLATE SANTAS WRAPPED IN GOLD FOIL! BUT THEY TASTE LIKE VICTORY!"
They drove down Sunset Boulevard.
Steve, the manager, was waiting at the hotel. He looked relaxed. He was wearing shorts.
"Pre-season," Steve said. "It is about fitness. It is about expanding the brand."
He looked at the team.
"But we are the Invincibles. We do not lose. Not even in friendlies. Not even against ssi."
He looked at Alex.
"Professor. The Arican fans want a show. Give them fireworks. But do not get burned."
"Controlled explosions," Alex nodded.
The Rose Bowl. Pasadena.
It was huge. Ninety thousand seats.
The sun was setting, turning the sky pink and purple. It looked like a movie set.
Alex stood in the tunnel.
Lionel ssi stood next to him. He was wearing the pink kit of Miami (representing the All-Stars). He looked tanned. He looked happy.
"The World Champion," ssi smiled.
"The Goat," Alex replied.
"You followed here," ssi joked. "Can I not retire in peace?"
"You are not retired yet, Leo," Alex said. "I saw your goal last week. Top corner."
ssi shrugged. "Muscle mory."
Busquets and Alba stood behind ssi. The old guard.
Mark was staring at a young Arican winger with a mohawk.
"I like your hair," Mark said. "It looks like a shark fin. Does it make you swim faster through the air?"
The Arican looked confused. "Uh, thanks?"
"I am going to get a fin," Mark decided. "A speed fin."
The whistle blew.
The ga started.
It was an exhibition match. The tackling was light. The skills were high.
The Arican crowd cheered for everything. A pass? Cheer. A throw-in? Cheer. A bird landing on the pitch? Standing ovation.
In the tenth minute, ssi got the ball.
The crowd scread.
ssi didn’t run. He just walked with the ball.
Alex went to press him.
ssi dropped his shoulder.
It was the sa move as the World Cup Final.
But Alex had learned.
Alex didn’t move left. He stayed still.
ssi paused. He looked surprised.
"I studied the tape," Alex whispered.
ssi laughed. He passed backward to Busquets.
"Smart kid," ssi said as he jogged past.
Twenty minutes.
The MLS All-Stars were fun. They played with energy.
But Arsenal were a machine.
Rico got the ball. He was enjoying the LA vibe.
He did a "Rainbow Flick" over a defender.
He caught the ball on his chest.
He volleyed it to Mark.
Mark was running.
"ACTION!" Mark scread.
He sprinted past the defense.
He was one on one with the keeper.
Mark stopped.
He looked at the cara behind the goal.
He winked.
Then he backheeled the ball into the net.
Goal.
One zero. Arsenal.
Mark ran to the cara. He combed his hair with his hand.
"READY FOR MY CLOSE UP!" Mark yelled.
Alex ran over. "Mark, just score the goal!"
"I am building my brand!" Mark said. "I need followers!"
Halfti. One zero.
It was a relaxed atmosphere. Steve wasn’t shouting. He was eating a hot dog.
"Good show," Steve said. "Keep entertaining them. But don’t get injured."
He looked at Alex.
"Professor. ssi is waking up. Be careful."
Second half.
ssi decided to play.
Sixtieth minute.
ssi got the ball deep.
He played a pass that defied physics. It curved around three Arsenal defenders.
Suarez (who was also there, because why not) ran onto it.
Suarez volleyed.
Goal.
One one.
The crowd went insane. Fireworks went off behind the goal.
"They have pyrotechnics for a friendly?" Rice asked.
"This is Arica," Alex said. "Everything has pyrotechnics."
Seventy fifth minute.
The ga was tied.
Alex had the ball.
He felt the rhythm. It was a show match, but he wanted to win.
He saw Rico.
Rico was dancing near the corner flag.
Alex hit a long pass.
Rico controlled it. He crossed.
Saka headed it.
Saved.
The ball bounced out to Alex.
He was thirty yards out.
"Shoot!" the crowd chanted.
Alex looked at the goal.
He saw the top corner.
He rembered the book. The Art of the Blockbuster.
"Big explosion," Alex thought.
He hit the ball.
It was a knuckleball.
It wobbled. It dipped. It swerved.
It hit the crossbar.
CLANG.
The sound echoed around the stadium.
The ball bounced down. It didn’t go in.
"Awww!" the crowd groaned.
But Mark was there.
The Emperor of Speed.
Mark tried to head the rebound. But he mistid his jump.
The ball hit his shoulder. Then his knee. Then his face.
It rolled into the net.
Goal.
Two one. Arsenal.
Mark fell into the net. He lay there, tangled in the sh.
"I ANT TO DO THAT!" Mark shouted. "IT WAS A COMPLEX ALGORITHM OF BOUNCES!"
Alex ran over. He untangled Mark.
"The Face of God," Alex laughed.
"My nose is a magnet for glory!" Mark said, checking for blood. "Is it broken? Do I look tough?"
"You look like you fought a ball and lost," Alex said.
"Perfect for an action movie!" Mark grinned.
The final whistle blew.
Arsenal 2. MLS All-Stars 1.
A win in Hollywood.
Alex walked off the pitch.
ssi swapped shirts with him. Again.
"You collect these now?" ssi asked.
"I am building a museum," Alex smiled. "The Museum of Lessons."
"You teach good lessons," ssi said. "See you in the Club World Cup?"
"Count on it," Alex said.
Milo ran onto the pitch. He was wearing a gold tuxedo and holding a plastic statuette that looked vaguely like an Oscar.
"AND THE WINNER IS..." Milo paused for dramatic effect. "ALEX FINCH! FOR BEST ACTOR IN A FOOTBALL ROLE! I AM SELLING ACCEPTANCE SPEECHES! I WROTE THEM MYSELF! THEY ARE VERY TEARFUL! FIFTY DOLLARS!"
"Milo, I am not crying," Alex laughed.
"YOU WILL WHEN YOU SEE MY COMMISSION FEE!" Milo whispered.
They walked into the dressing room.
It was full of pizza. Arican pizza. Deep dish. Massive slices.
Mark’s eyes widened.
"It is... beautiful," Mark whispered. "It is a cake made of cheese."
He grabbed a slice. It was bigger than his head.
Alex sat down. He checked his phone.
A text from Maya.
"Pre-season analysis: Satisfactory. Mark’s goal was statistically categorized as ’Pure Fluke’. Your pass completion was 99%. Also, I have calculated the optimal route to Universal Studios tomorrow. We can hit the Harry Potter ride before the queues start. Be ready at 6 AM."
Alex smiled.
Harry Potter. Rollercoasters.
He was a professional footballer. A global superstar.
But tomorrow, he was just a kid going to a the park with his best friends.
"Mark," Alex said.
"Mmph?" Mark mumbled, cheese stringing from his mouth.
"Maya has a plan for tomorrow."
"Does it involve running?"
"No. It involves magic wands and butterbeer."
Mark dropped the pizza.
"I AM A WIZARD!" Mark shouted. "I KNEW IT! I WILL CAST A SPELL OF SPEED!"
Alex leaned back.
The pre-season was fun. The pressure was off. But soon, the real work would begin. The defense of the title. The quest for more gold.
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