World football system

The early morning light filtered through the gauzy white curtains of the Oliveira household, casting a soft golden hue over the nursery where four tiny cribs sat side by side. A gentle hush filled the air, broken only by the occasional sleepy gurgle or the swish of a rocking chair moving rhythmically back and forth. Emilia sat in it, one leg tucked underneath her, nursing little Luna while Liam dozed beside her on the bed, curled up with his plush giraffe.

Tobi stood by the window, shirtless, his muscular frame outlined in the faint glow of the rising sun. His hand rested lightly on the windowsill as he watched the sky bloom with color. His mind was split — half tethered to the beautiful chaos of fatherhood, the other already drifting into the storm that was coming.

Preseason.

He blinked slowly and looked over at his wife, still in her robe, hair loose around her shoulders, her eyes filled with the fatigue only new mothers knew, and yet, she smiled. Soft and tired and full of love. He couldn't help but smile back.

"Second shift is on me," he whispered, tiptoeing over to kiss her forehead. "You've earned a nap."

Emilia chuckled sleepily. "You say that every day and still end up staying awake with me."

"Well… maybe I just love watching you."

She rolled her eyes, but her cheeks pinkened. "Smooth, Mr. Arsenal."

He grinned as he reached down to pick up Thiago, who had just started to fuss. He cradled his son with practiced ease, bouncing lightly. "Come on, buddy. Let's not wake the whole house up this time, yeah?"

The Oliveira house had become a delicate symphony of schedules, feedings, lullabies, and diaper changes — each hour planned yet always prone to surprises. Ava had begun trying to roll over; Luna was the loudest; Liam the calmest; and Thiago had a way of staring into Tobi's eyes that made his heart stop. A new kind of pressure — not from football fans, not from managers — but from love.

By midday, Emilia was asleep on the couch, two babies nestled on her chest while Tobi had the other two with him in the garden. He wore a white Arsenal training shirt, sleeveless, shorts, and his cleats were sitting beside him untouched. He'd gotten clearance to delay joining the first few preseason training sessions, and though he appreciated Arteta's understanding, he knew the grace wouldn't last forever.

A soft chime buzzed on his phone beside him — a message from Saka.

Bukayo Saka: "Bro, they're already doing tactical warmups without you. Prepping for the US tour. Arteta said he'll give you until Monday. You good?"

Tobi tapped out a quick reply with one hand while rocking Thiago with the other.

Tobi: "Yeah, all good. Monday I'm there. Just getting in those dad minutes."

Saka: "Legend 😂 Bring those babies to training one day. We need mascots."

Tobi chuckled to himself and slipped the phone back into his pocket. The truth was, the pull of the game had started to claw at him again. He'd conquered so much — Champions League, Premier League, international accolades — and yet, this felt like a fresh beginning. A new season. New goals. New rivals.

That evening, he and Emilia finally managed to carve out an hour for just the two of them. The kids were asleep — mercifully — and they sat in the backyard, wrapped in a blanket, a glass of wine in her hand and sparkling water in his.

"What do you want this season?" she asked, softly.

He didn't answer right away. He looked up at the stars.

"I want to do it again. The double. And I want to captain the team."

Emilia tilted her head. "Arteta hasn't named a new captain since Ødegaard left…"

"I know." Tobi turned to face her, his eyes clear. "I think it's my time."

"You've already got the heart for it." She smiled, brushing a lock of hair from his brow. "But if you become captain, they'll expect even more. More press, more responsibility. More travel. Are you sure that's what you want right now… with the babies?"

His gaze softened. "I want to be the man they can look to on the pitch. And the man my kids look up to off it."

There was a pause. The crickets hummed. In the distance, sirens passed by on a nearby road, and a breeze rustled the leaves above.

"I believe in you," she said at last. "And I'll hold the fort down. We've got a team here too, remember?"

He leaned in and kissed her. Long, slow, grateful. "I love you."

She smiled against his lips. "Go lead them. But don't forget to change Thiago's diaper tomorrow at 3 a.m."

"Noted," he laughed.

As the weekend melted away, Monday morning arrived faster than either of them anticipated. Tobi stood in the hallway near the front door, gym bag slung over his shoulder, boots laced, and a confident spark in his eyes. Emilia walked him to the door, holding Ava on her hip, the baby half-asleep but clinging to her father's shirt.

Tobi bent down, kissed each of his children one by one, whispering something only a father could say to each of them. When he reached Emilia, he paused.

"Wish me luck?"

"You don't need luck," she murmured. "You're already their captain."

He smirked, gave her a final kiss, then turned toward the black Range Rover waiting outside. As he opened the door, he heard a faint coo behind him — Thiago's little hand raised in a wave.

Tobi froze.

A moment later, he waved back.

And then he was gone.

—

At London Colney, the training ground buzzed with energy. Players moved between drills, music blaring, footballs flying across the pitch. When Tobi arrived, all eyes turned. Conversations paused. Even the coaching staff lifted their heads.

"Look who finally showed up!" Saka called out with a grin.

Gabriel laughed. "He's got four babies now. Four! What's next, a whole academy?"

Tobi smiled and bumped fists with his teammates. He was back — but more than that, he was reborn. A father. A leader. A champion.

As Arteta approached, he offered a rare smile. "Welcome back, Oliveira."

"Good to be back, boss."

The manager handed him a red armband.

"For today's scrimmage. Let's see how it looks on you."

Tobi took it slowly, sliding it up his left bicep, feeling the weight settle on his skin — the kind of weight he welcomed.

He stepped onto the pitch, the sun high, the future wide open.