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Francesco glanced at the kids, who were still sneaking glances at him even as they ate. He realized then that he wasn't just a footballer to them—he was a symbol of something bigger. Hope. Inspiration. Proof that dreams could come true.
After the kids finished their snack, a few of them came running back over, eyes wide with excitement, as if afraid Francesco would disappear if they didn't hurry.
"Francesco! Can we play some more?" Adam asked, tugging at his sleeve.
Francesco checked the time—only about 1:30 in the afternoon. Plenty of time left. He looked over at Jorge, who was still reviewing photos on his phone.
"Guess we're not done yet," Francesco said with a grin, ruffling Adam's hair. "What do you guys want to do?"
The kids immediately began shouting suggestions, their enthusiasm infectious.
"Another match!"
"Penalty shootout!"
"Teach us some tricks!"
Francesco laughed, holding up his hands. "Alright, one at a time! How about we start with a little skills session? I'll teach you guys some tricks, and then we'll play another match later."
That idea was met with cheers, and soon, they were back on the field.
Francesco started simple, showing them basic dribbling techniques—how to keep the ball close to their feet, change direction quickly, and shield it from defenders. Some of the younger kids struggled at first, their tiny legs working overtime to keep up, but he made sure to encourage them.
"You don't have to be fast," he told a shy girl who kept losing control of the ball. "You just have to be smart. Watch the defender, move the ball where they can't reach it. Here, try again."
She nodded determinedly, and when she managed to keep the ball under control for a few steps longer than before, her face lit up.
"See? You got it!" Francesco said, giving her a high-five.
Then, at the kids' request, he moved on to some of the flashier moves—step-overs, feints, a simple rainbow flick.
"Alright, this one's tricky," he said, demonstrating the move in slow motion. "You use your back foot to roll the ball up your other leg, then flick it over your opponent."
The kids watched in awe as he pulled it off effortlessly.
"Now, don't get discouraged if you can't do it right away. Even I had to practice for years."
Of course, that didn't stop them from immediately trying. Most of them failed spectacularly, tripping over themselves or sending the ball flying in the wrong direction. Francesco laughed, stepping in to help adjust their movements.
Jorge, still off to the side, continued snapping photos, clearly pleased with how things were going.
After about an hour of drills, the kids were eager to move on to something more competitive.
"Penalty shootout time!" one of the older boys declared, bouncing on his toes.
Francesco grinned. "Alright, but I get to be the goalkeeper first."
That challenge got them even more excited.
Taking his position in front of the small goal, Francesco spread his arms wide. "Alright, let's see what you've got!"
One by one, the kids took their shots, some confident, some hesitant. Francesco made a show of diving dramatically—even when he could have easily caught the ball—to make it more fun for them.
"Oh no, too powerful!" he exaggerated when one of the smaller kids barely nudged the ball past him. "I had no chance!"
The little boy ran off celebrating like he'd just won the Champions League.
Jorge laughed from the sidelines. "You're really selling it, huh?"
"Gotta give them a confidence boost," Francesco replied, dusting himself off.
After every kid had taken a turn, they switched, and Francesco took some shots himself. He didn't go all out, of course, but he made sure to give them a challenge.
One of the older boys, clearly competitive, managed to save a shot and immediately celebrated by running around the field with his arms in the air.
"I stopped Francesco Lee!" he shouted triumphantly.
Francesco chuckled, jogging over to ruffle his hair. "Not bad, kid. Maybe you'll be Arsenal's keeper one day."
The boy beamed, clearly filing that moment away as one of the best of his life.
As the afternoon went on, they played more games—keep-away, a small-sided match, even a silly challenge where they had to dribble while balancing a cone on their heads. The kids laughed non-stop, and even the staff members watching from the sidelines couldn't help but smile.
At one point, a group of the smaller kids started climbing on Francesco's back, giggling as they tried to "take him down."
"Oh no, I'm under attack!" he cried dramatically, stumbling around while carrying three kids clinging to him.
Jorge, shaking with laughter, caught the entire thing on video.
"This is gold," he muttered.
Eventually, the kids tired themselves out, flopping onto the grass in exhaustion. Francesco joined them, lying on his back and staring up at the sky.
"Best. Day. Ever," Adam muttered breathlessly.
Francesco smiled, feeling a warmth in his chest. He hadn't expected to enjoy himself this much, but seeing the pure joy on these kids' faces made it all worth it.
One of the staff members checked her watch and called out, "Alright, kids, time to start wrapping things up!"
The kids groaned in disappointment, but they knew the day had to come to an end eventually.
Before leaving, Francesco gathered them around. "Listen, I had a great time today. You guys are amazing, and I want you to remember something."
The kids watched him intently.
"Football isn't just about talent. It's about hard work, teamwork, and most importantly, having fun. So no matter what—whether you become professional footballers or just play for fun—never stop enjoying the game, alright?"
They all nodded enthusiastically.
Francesco smiled. "Good. Now, one last thing…"
He reached into his bag and pulled out a surprise—brand-new footballs, each one signed by him.
The kids gasped.
"These are for you," he said, handing them out. "So you can keep practicing and keep dreaming."
The way their eyes lit up made his heart swell.
As he and Jorge finally made their way to the car, the kids lined up, waving and shouting their goodbyes.
"Come back soon, Francesco!"
"Thank you!"
"You're the best!"
Francesco waved back, feeling a strange lump in his throat.
Jorge, getting into the driver's seat, smirked. "So? Still think this was just PR work?"
Francesco shook his head, watching the orphanage disappear in the distance.
"No," he admitted softly. "This was something else."
Jorge nodded knowingly. "Good. Because these are the things people remember—the moments that actually mean something."
Francesco leaned back in his seat, exhausted but content. Yeah. This had definitely meant something.
As they pulled away from the orphanage, the afternoon sun casting long shadows across the city streets, Francesco leaned his head against the window, letting out a satisfied sigh. The day had been exhausting but in the best way possible. He could still hear the kids' laughter ringing in his ears, their excited shouts echoing in his mind. He knew he'd remember this day for a long time.
Jorge, ever the practical one, was already shifting gears—figuratively and literally—as he navigated the roads of London. He glanced at Francesco, who was still lost in thought, and smirked.
"You know, that was great," Jorge said, breaking the comfortable silence. "The kids loved you, the photos turned out amazing, and honestly, it's the kind of thing that makes people appreciate you more."
Francesco turned his head slightly, raising an eyebrow. "Appreciate me more? You mean the fans?"
Jorge nodded. "Yeah. This isn't just about football, you know. People love seeing players engage with the community. It makes them feel connected to you. And that's where social media comes in."
Francesco groaned, already sensing where this conversation was heading. "Ah, here we go…"
Jorge chuckled. "I'm serious, man. You barely post anything. Your Instagram is basically just matchday photos that Arsenal's media team tags you in. And maybe the occasional training picture. That's it."
Francesco shrugged. "I don't really care about all that. I'm here to play football, not be an influencer."
Jorge sighed, keeping his eyes on the road but clearly not dropping the subject. "I get it. But hear me out—social media isn't just about posting selfies or doing brand deals. It's about building your image, your connection with fans. Look at Ronaldo, Mbappé, Haaland—hell, even Saka. They all use it to show different sides of themselves."
Francesco frowned. He respected those players, no doubt. But he had never been one for the spotlight outside of football. He had always preferred to let his performances on the pitch do the talking.
Jorge, sensing his hesitation, kept pushing. "Think about today. Those kids are going to remember meeting you forever, right? Now imagine if you shared that with the world. Imagine how many more kids out there would see that and feel inspired. It's not just about you—it's about them, too."
Francesco exhaled, staring out the window. He couldn't deny that Jorge had a point. There was something special about connecting with people, especially young fans who saw him as more than just a footballer.
Jorge continued, his tone shifting slightly, becoming more persuasive. "Look, I'm not saying you need to post every meal you eat or every gym session you do. But a little more presence wouldn't hurt. Show people who Francesco Lee really is. Not just the footballer—the person."
Francesco stayed silent for a moment, weighing it all. He had always kept his personal life relatively private, not because he had anything to hide, but because he had never seen the need to share it. But maybe Jorge was right. Maybe there was something to be gained from letting people see more of his world.
After a while, he finally spoke. "Alright… I'll try."
Jorge nearly swerved the car in shock. "Wait, what? Did you just agree with me?"
Francesco chuckled. "Yeah, yeah. Don't make a big deal out of it."
Jorge grinned. "Oh, I'm definitely making a big deal out of it. This is historic. I need to document this moment."
He pretended to take a picture of Francesco's unimpressed face, making him roll his eyes.
"Relax," Francesco said, shaking his head. "I'm not about to start posting every hour. But maybe I'll be a little more active."
"That's all I ask," Jorge said, satisfied. "We'll start small. Maybe a post about today—something meaningful, not just 'Had fun at the orphanage' with a football emoji."
Francesco smirked. "I was thinking 'Kicked a ball around, made some kids happy. Cool day.'"
Jorge groaned. "Why do I even bother?"
They both laughed, the tension easing. Francesco knew Jorge had his best interests at heart, even if he could be a bit pushy about things.
As they pulled up to Francesco's apartment building, Jorge parked the car and turned to him. "Seriously, though. You're in a special position, man. You've got talent, charisma, and now a growing fanbase. People want to root for you, but they also want to know you. Let them."
Francesco nodded, appreciating the sentiment. "I hear you."
"Good," Jorge said. "Now, get inside, take a shower, and maybe—just maybe—make your first non-matchday Instagram post in months."
Francesco smirked. "No promises."
Jorge shook his head as Francesco grabbed his bag and stepped out of the car. "I'll be checking."
As Francesco headed into his apartment, he found himself thinking about everything Jorge had said. Maybe it was time to open up a little more. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to share a bit of his life beyond the pitch.
And as he sat down on his couch, scrolling through the pictures Jorge had sent him from the orphanage visit, he felt a small smile tug at his lips.
Francesco leaned back into his couch, phone in hand, still scrolling through the photos Jorge had sent him. Each picture captured the pure joy on the kids' faces—their laughter, their excitement, their admiration. He saw himself in those moments too, completely at ease, smiling more naturally than he ever did in front of cameras or during post-match interviews.
Jorge had a point. This day had been something special, and maybe it was worth sharing.
With a sigh, he tapped open Instagram. His last post was almost a month ago—a simple shot from a training session with a generic caption. His profile was exactly what Jorge had criticized it for being: all business, no personality.
Shaking his head, he went back to the photos, trying to pick the right one. There was a great shot of him kneeling with a group of kids, all of them beaming at the camera, some clutching the signed footballs he'd given them. Another picture showed him mid-laugh as a few of the younger ones clung to his arms, trying to 'take him down.' And then there was the shot Jorge had taken right before they left—the kids lined up, waving enthusiastically, some even jumping up and down.
It felt right.
He uploaded the image, fingers hovering over the caption box. He had never been great at this part. Jorge would probably suggest something deep and meaningful, but that wasn't his style. He wanted it to be real.
After a moment, he typed:
*"More than just football. Grateful for days like these."*
Then, almost as an afterthought, he added:
#charity #footballforall #grateful
Satisfied, he hit post.
Less than a minute later, his phone vibrated.
[Jorge: No way. You actually posted.]
Francesco rolled his eyes and sent back a single thumbs-up emoji.
A few seconds later—another buzz.
[Jorge: I'm proud of you, kid. Almost shed a tear.]
He chuckled but didn't respond. Instead, he refreshed his feed, watching as the likes started rolling in almost instantly. His notifications flooded with comments.
Some from teammates:
- "My guy finally posts something other than training photos. Love to see it." – Alex Oxlade-Chamberlain
- "Looking good out there, Lee. The kids probably have better dribbling than you though." – Aaron Ramsey
And from fans:
- "This is why we love you, Francesco!"
- "Such a class act. Arsenal has a real gem in you."
- "Footballers using their platform for good—respect."
Francesco stared at the screen for a while, absorbing the response. He hadn't expected this level of engagement, but seeing people appreciate the moment made him feel... good.
He put his phone down, running a hand through his hair. Maybe Jorge was onto something. Maybe there was more to this than just football.
A knock at the door snapped him out of his thoughts.
"Coming!" he called, stretching as he stood up.
When he opened the door, his neighbor, Jake, stood there holding a box.
"Package for you, mate. The delivery guy left it with me earlier."
"Thanks, man," Francesco said, taking the box.
Jake, a die-hard Arsenal fan, grinned. "Saw your post, by the way. Nice to see you doing stuff like that. Makes us fans proud."
Francesco nodded, feeling a strange sense of warmth at the words. "Appreciate it, mate."
As Jake walked off, Francesco carried the package inside, setting it down on the table. He had almost forgotten he ordered anything.
Curious, he grabbed a knife to cut the tape and flipped open the flaps. Inside was a brand-new pair of limited-edition football boots. He had been eyeing them for weeks but hadn't gotten around to ordering them until Jorge nagged him about needing more pairs for different pitch conditions.
He picked one up, turning it over in his hands. It was sleek, lightweight—built for speed.
His phone buzzed again. Another notification. Another comment. Another reminder that people were paying attention.
For the first time in a long time, that didn't feel like pressure. It felt like motivation.
Tomorrow, he'd be back on the training ground. Back to business. But tonight? Tonight, he let himself enjoy the moment.
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Name : Francesco Lee
Age : 16 (2014)
Birthplace : London, England
Football Club : Arsenal First Team
Championship History : None
Match Played: 20
Goal: 24
Assist: 12
MOTM: 7