World football system

The Emirates Stadium roared like never before. Floodlights bathed the pitch in pristine white, reflecting off the Arsenal crest as fans chanted one name louder than the rest:

"Tobi! Tobi! Tobi!"

Tobi Oliveira stood near the center circle, eyes closed, head tilted slightly toward the sky. The roar around him was deafening, but his heartbeat was louder. Not from nerves, but from pride. Just three days ago, he'd watched Emilia cradle their newborns—two boys, Noah and Elias, and two girls, Aria and Sienna. Four little miracles. His family. His world.

And now, as the whistle blew for kick-off, he knew this wasn't just football anymore. This was for them.

Arsenal led 2–1 from the first leg at the Bernabéu, but Real Madrid wasn't a team to underestimate. Tobi, now back in top form after his earlier injury, had trained for this moment with deadly focus.

The match exploded into intensity straight away. Vinícius Jr. darted down the left, forcing Ben White into a desperate slide. Jude Bellingham orchestrated Madrid's midfield like a maestro, but Arsenal's own engine — Declan Rice — pushed back with powerful drives and interceptions.

In the 18th minute, Tobi received the ball just inside his half. He turned, pirouetting past Camavinga and sending a beautiful long pass down the wing to Saka. The crowd erupted as Saka cut inside, passed to Ødegaard, who chipped it back into the box.

Tobi was there.

Left foot.

Volley.

GOOOOOAAALLLL!!!

3–1 on aggregate.

He didn't run to the corner flag. He didn't drop to his knees. Instead, he pulled out a folded paper from his sock— a tiny note Emilia had written the night before:

"No matter how loud they cheer, the babies will cheer louder for you."

He kissed it and looked straight into the stands, where Emilia, bandaged and glowing despite fatigue, sat holding a soft red scarf. The cameras caught the moment. A love story. A legacy in the making.

But Madrid wasn't done.

Second half.

51st minute.

A misjudged header by Saliba let in Joselu, and the Spanish striker tapped it home. 3–2 on aggregate.

Pressure rose. The crowd grew restless. A goal for Madrid would mean extra time. A mistake could kill the dream.

But Tobi wouldn't let that happen. Not tonight.

He dropped deeper, helped win balls in midfield, screamed instructions like a seasoned captain. Every touch, every dribble, every sprint — was done with the faces of his four babies etched in his mind.

77th minute. Counterattack.

Gabriel Jesus received the ball, flicked it around Nacho, and spotted Tobi running in behind Rüdiger. A slicing through-ball came in.

Tobi outran them all.

He feinted. Courtois dived.

Tobi calmly chipped.

GOAL. 4–2 on aggregate.

The Emirates trembled with noise. Emilia cried in the stands. Tobi blew kisses her way, then pointed upward.

"For them."

As the final whistle blew, the scoreboard read:

Arsenal 2 – 1 Real Madrid (4–2 on agg.)

Arsenal were going to the Champions League Final.

Tobi collapsed to the ground, overwhelmed. Teammates rushed him, but he had only one thought.

Four babies waiting at home.

One championship waiting in the future.

And a story — still being written.

The night before the Champions League final was always quiet—but this time, it was too quiet. For the second season in a row, Tobi Oliveira sat at the edge of his hotel bed, eyes scanning the city lights beyond the glass. The skyline of Berlin glittered under the stars, but his thoughts were rooted somewhere deeper. Somewhere between his newborn children and the weight of legacy.

He glanced down at his phone again. A photo of Emilia holding the four babies filled the screen—his entire world in one frame. Two boys, two girls. Elias, Mateo, Sofia, and Isla. Just days old. Tiny, fragile, miraculous.

He kissed the screen gently.

"I'm doing this for you," he whispered.

The knock on the door pulled him out of the moment.

It was Saka.

"You good?" Bukayo asked, stepping inside.

Tobi nodded. "Yeah. Just… thinking."

"Weird to be back here, innit?" Saka smiled, sinking into the chair opposite the bed. "Second final. Still feels unreal."

"Last year, we were hungry," Tobi said. "Now we're… being hunted."

"Still hungry," Saka replied. "Just… different. Like we know what it tastes like now."

Tobi chuckled softly. "Well, I want seconds."

They both laughed, tension momentarily easing. But they knew the truth: this wasn't just another game. This was the culmination of everything. Arsenal's resurgence. Tobi's rise. Their brotherhood.

Matchday: Olympiastadion, Berlin

The noise was thunderous. Arsenal fans painted one half of the stands red and white, flags waving, chants echoing. Across them, Manchester City supporters roared back—equally loud, equally passionate. This wasn't just a Premier League rematch. It was a European clash of titans.

Arteta paced quietly near the bench, his face calm but sharp. Tobi stood in the tunnel, glancing around at his teammates.

Martin Ødegaard looked focused, eyes locked ahead. Declan Rice adjusted his armband. Gabriel slapped Zinchenko's back, offering a silent boost. And Saka, ever the spark, caught Tobi's eye with a nod.

"Let's make history," Bukayo mouthed.

Tobi turned back. His own eyes caught the City players. Haaland. De Bruyne. Foden. Rodri. Familiar faces. Dangerous threats. And behind them, Pep Guardiola, arms folded, surveying like a general.

This wasn't going to be easy.

Kickoff

The ball rolled, and everything fell away.

All the nerves, all the noise, all the pressure—it vanished in that moment. It was just football now.

Arsenal moved quickly, their high press forcing City to play long early. Tobi found the ball in the sixth minute, linking with Ødegaard, who slid it forward for Jesus. A quick flick wide brought it to Saka, who tested Ederson from distance.

Saved. But it was a statement.

City answered in kind. De Bruyne broke through midfield with a slick turn and fed Haaland, but William Saliba shadowed him well, poking the ball clear. Ramsdale clutched it gratefully.

The tension was thick. Every touch mattered. Every mistake punished.

25th Minute – GOAL! Arsenal 1–0 Manchester City

It started with Tobi.

Dropping deep, he received the ball from Rice and turned sharply, gliding past Bernardo Silva. With vision only few in the world possessed, he released a looping through ball over City's line. Saka sprinted onto it, chesting it forward and cutting inside before lashing it past Ederson's near post.

The net rippled.

Berlin erupted.

Tobi didn't celebrate wildly. He stood, fists clenched, staring at the sky. One down. More to go.

Halftime

Arsenal 1 – 0 Manchester City

Inside the locker room, Arteta's voice was calm but direct.

"They're going to come hard now. Keep your shape. Keep your heads. No mistakes. The next goal is everything."

Tobi took a deep breath. His mind drifted briefly to Emilia and the kids. He imagined Elias and Mateo kicking mini balls one day. He imagined Sofia with a book in hand and Isla running wild. He had to finish this. Not just for himself. For them.

Second Half Begins

City turned the screws.

De Bruyne pulled the strings, dragging Rice and Partey all over the midfield. Foden's pace troubled Ben White down the right. A shot in the 52nd grazed the post. Another, three minutes later, forced a fingertip save from Ramsdale.

Tobi dropped deeper, trying to relieve pressure. He won a foul near the halfway line and rose gingerly, stretching his calf.

"You alright?" Ødegaard asked.

"Yeah," Tobi gritted. "Keep going."

63rd Minute – GOAL! Arsenal 2–0 Manchester City

A counterattack.

Jesus dispossessed Rodri near the center circle and immediately offloaded to Tobi. He took one touch—then another. He could feel Stones closing in from behind, Ederson positioning himself to anticipate.

He chipped it.

From thirty yards.

Time slowed as the ball arced beautifully over Ederson, dipping just beneath the crossbar.

The stadium exploded.

Even Arteta leaped off his seat.

Tobi sprinted toward the Arsenal fans, dropping to his knees and spreading his arms. His teammates mobbed him, all yelling at once.

"What the hell was that?!"

"You're not human!"

"That was f*cking outrageous!"

70th–85th Minute: Hold the Line

City pushed forward with desperation.

Haaland missed a close header. De Bruyne rattled the crossbar. Ramsdale made three saves in a five-minute stretch. Arsenal bent but did not break.

Tobi, now exhausted, pressed from the front, urging his teammates on with hand signals and barks.

He cramped in the 83rd. Physios ran on, but he waved them away. "I'm finishing this."

90+2 Minute – Substitution

Arteta tapped his shoulder. "You've given everything."

Tobi looked up. "Just a minute more."

Arteta hesitated, then nodded.

90+4 Minute – Final Whistle

The ball was cleared high into the night.

The referee blew.

Arsenal 2 – 0 Manchester City

Champions of Europe. Again.

Tobi collapsed onto the pitch, hands on his face. Not from pain. From joy. From relief. From everything.

Saka was the first to reach him, lifting him up and hugging him tight.

"You did it again, man," he said, voice cracking.

"We did it," Tobi replied, eyes glistening.

The medals came next. Then the trophy lift.

Ødegaard handed it to Tobi this time. "You deserve this moment."

Tobi looked around. The fans. His teammates. The sky.

Then he lifted the Champions League trophy high.

The Arsenal fans sang in unison. The red smoke, the flares, the cheers—they echoed into the Berlin night.

Post-Match: Video Call

Tobi sat quietly in the dressing room, shirt off, towel around his waist, medal around his neck.

He opened the call.

Emilia appeared, smiling despite looking exhausted.

The babies were asleep in the background, tucked together in tiny onesies.

"You did it," she whispered.

Tobi's eyes welled up. "We did."

He kissed the screen again.

His legacy wasn't just the trophy. It was the family watching from afar.

It was the journey.

It was the man he'd become.