Ti is relative. Einstein said that. But in football, ti is a blur.
One minute you are a teenager making your debut. The next, you are a veteran.
Alex Finch sat in his living room. It was bigger now. More modern. The view of London was still there, but the skyline had changed slightly.
He looked at the calendar.
It wasn't 2024 anymore. It was 2034.
Ten years had passed.
A decade of dominance.
He walked to the mirror.
He was 28 years old. He wasn't the "Wonderkid" anymore. He was the "King".
His hair was a bit shorter. His face was a bit sharper. He had a few grey hairs (probably from worrying about Mark).
He looked at the shelf. It was full. Overflowing.
Five Ballon d'Ors. Four World Cups (Okay, maybe two. Let's be realistic. Two World Cups is still insane). Seven Premier League titles. Five Champions Leagues.
And, most importantly, the "Pizza Trophy" Mark had made him out of tin foil in 2026. It was still there, gathering dust.
"Ten years," Alex whispered.
He heard a noise from the kitchen.
It was Mark.
Mark hadn't changed much. He still wore ridiculous clothes. Today, he was wearing a chef's hat and an apron that said SPEED COOKING.
"BREAKFAST!" Mark shouted. "I MADE PANCAKES! THEY ARE SHAPED LIKE FOOTBALLS! BUT THEY ARE SQUARE! BECAUSE I CANNOT DRAW CIRCLES WITH BATTER!"
"Mark," Alex said, walking into the kitchen. "You are 28 years old. Why are you still making square pancakes?"
"Geotry is a construct!" Mark argued. "Besides, square pancakes fit better in the box. I am launching a business. 'SQUARE ALS FOR FAST PEOPLE'!"
"How is the business going?"
"Slow," Mark admitted. "People like circles. They are traditionalists. But I will convert them!"
Rico walked in. He was wearing a suit. He looked very serious.
"Morning," Rico said. He checked his watch. "I have a board eting at 10 AM."
"Board eting?" Alex asked.
"I am the CEO of a dance school," Rico said. "Samba for Beginners. It is very popular. I teach people how to wiggle."
"You are a CEO who wiggles," Mark laughed.
"It is a serious business!" Rico insisted. "Wiggling is good for the core."
Alex smiled.
They had grown up. But they hadn't really changed.
They were still the sa kids who conquered the world.
"Big day today," Alex said.
"Huge," Mark nodded. "The testimonial."
Alex Finch's Testimonial Match. Arsenal Legends vs The World XI. The Emirates Stadium.
It was a celebration of ten years at the club. Ten years of the Professor.
"Who is playing?" Mark asked. "Is ssi coming? Is he bringing his dog?"
"ssi is retired, Mark. He is living on a beach in Miami."
"Is he bringing the beach?"
"No."
"Boring."
They drove to the stadium.
Milo was waiting.
Milo hadn't changed either. He was wearing a tuxedo made of gold sequins. He looked like a human disco ball.
"THE LEGEND!" Milo scread. "TEN YEARS! A DECADE OF DEALS! ALEX! I AM SELLING MORIES! I HAVE A JAR OF AIR FROM YOUR FIRST GA! I HAVE A BLADE OF GRASS FROM YOUR FIRST GOAL! I HAVE A SOCK YOU WORE ONCE! (It might be Mark's sock, but who cares!)."
"Milo, you are selling old socks?" Alex laughed.
"IT IS VINTAGE FABRIC!" Milo yelled. "COLLECTOR'S ITEM!"
They walked into the stadium.
It was packed. Sixty thousand fans wearing FINCH 8 shirts.
Steve, the manager, was waiting. He had grey hair now. He looked like a wise owl.
"Alex," Steve said. He hugged him. "Ten years."
"Ten years, Boss."
"You were a boy when you ca here," Steve said. "Now look at you."
"I am still learning," Alex said.
"Good," Steve smiled. "The day you stop learning is the day you retire."
The match was a party.
The World XI was full of stars. Mbappe (who was now playing in Saudi Arabia). Haaland (who was playing in Arica). Vinicius. Bellingham.
They all ca back. For Alex.
The ga started.
It wasn't serious. It was fun.
Mark ran around like a lunatic. He tried to race Mbappe.
"I AM STILL FASTER!" Mark yelled, puffing his cheeks out.
"You are older!" Mbappe laughed, jogging past him.
"AGE IS JUST A NUMBER!" Mark wheezed. "SPEED IS ETERNAL!"
In the thirtieth minute, Alex got the ball.
He looked around.
The stadium was singing his na.
There's only one Alex Finch...
He felt a lump in his throat.
He saw Rico. Rico did a little dance.
He saw Mark. Mark was waving.
Alex passed to Mark.
Mark controlled it. He was one on one with the goalkeeper (who was actually Milo, because the real keeper got 'injured' - aka went to get a hot dog).
Milo was wearing a giant pair of Mickey Mouse gloves.
"YOU SHALL NOT PASS!" Milo scread.
Mark shot.
Milo dived the wrong way (on purpose).
Goal.
One zero. Arsenal.
Mark ran to the corner. He did a cartwheel. But his back cracked.
"OW!" Mark yelled. "MY BACK! I AM OLD!"
Alex ran over. "Are you okay, Grandpa?"
"I need a massage!" Mark groaned. "And a pizza! dicinal pizza!"
The ga ended 5-5.
Every goal was cheered. Every trick was applauded.
At the end, Alex stood in the center circle.
They gave him a microphone.
The stadium went silent.
Alex looked at the crowd. He looked at his friends. He looked at his family.
He thought about the journey.
The reincarnated boy. The numbers. The system.
The system was quiet now. It rarely spoke. It knew he didn't need it anymore.
He had internalized the logic. He had beco the algorithm.
"Thank you," Alex said. His voice echoed.
"Ten years ago, I was just a kid with a dream. And a secret."
He paused.
"I thought football was about winning. About stats. About trophies."
He looked at the Ballon d'Ors lined up on the pitch.
"But it is not," Alex said. "Football is about this."
He pointed to Mark, who was trying to steal a corner flag.
He pointed to Rico, who was teaching the mascot how to samba.
He pointed to the fans.
"It is about the monts. The mories. The people."
The crowd cheered.
"I have lived three lives," Alex said (nobody understood this part, but they cheered anyway). "And this one... this one was the best."
He dropped the mic.
Mark ran over and picked it up.
"PIZZA PARTY AT MY HOUSE!" Mark scread.
The stadium erupted in laughter.
Later that night.
They were on the roof of Alex's penthouse.
The city lights twinkled below.
Alex, Mark, Rico, and Milo.
They were eating pizza. (Square pizza, from Mark's new company).
"It is actually good," Rico admitted. "The corners are crispy."
"I told you!" Mark said. "Geotry tastes good!"
Alex leaned against the railing.
He felt peaceful.
The career wasn't over. He had a few more years left. Maybe go to Arica. Maybe go to Italy.
But the main story? The story of the Wonderkid?
That was complete.
He had proven everyone wrong. He had proven himself right.
He looked at the sky.
He imagined Danein Blake looking down. The old ghost.
"We did it," Alex whispered.
"Did what?" Mark asked, mouth full of pepperoni.
"We won the ga," Alex said.
"Which ga?"
"The ga of life, Mark."
Mark thought about it.
"Did we get a high score?"
"The highest," Alex said.
"Good," Mark said. "Does that an we get extra lives?"
"I think three is enough," Alex laughed.
"True," Mark agreed. "Three is a good number. It is a triangle. Like a pizza slice."
They laughed.
The laughter floated up into the night air, mixing with the sounds of the city.
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