World football system

The summer morning sun filtered gently through the sheer curtains of their master bedroom, painting golden lines across the soft cream sheets. Tobi blinked awake slowly, his arm instinctively reaching to the side—only to find it empty. Emilia wasn't in bed.

His heart skipped, and for a brief second, panic gripped him. Then came the sound—faint giggles from the hallway and the unmistakable squeal of Thiago, their loudest little one. Tobi exhaled, his lips curving in a small smile. He rolled out of bed and padded barefoot across the hardwood floor, stretching slightly as he moved.

He found them in the living room.

Emilia was crouched on the floor in her robe, her long brown hair loosely tied, trying to juggle four energetic toddlers. Luna had somehow climbed onto the couch and was standing proudly with a plush dinosaur in hand. Ava and Liam were playing with building blocks, and Thiago—ever the rebel—was crawling toward the hallway with a pacifier in his mouth and mischief in his eyes.

"Morning, champ," Emilia said without turning around. She felt him before he even spoke. Tobi walked up behind her and kissed her cheek.

"You didn't wake me," he whispered.

"You looked like you needed the sleep. It's been training, press, training, press... nonstop. Thought you deserved a break."

Tobi knelt beside her, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "You're the one who deserves a break. These four are a full-time job."

"They're your mini squad," she chuckled. "Liam already kicked a ball at Luna's head this morning. He might be ready to debut for Arsenal U5."

Tobi laughed softly, pulling Liam into his arms and ruffling his curls. "You aiming for Daddy's spot already, huh?"

Later That Day — London Colney, Arsenal Training Ground

The drive to training was short, but in his mind, it felt like he was crossing worlds—from fatherhood to football. Tobi arrived early as always, the club's emblem gleaming on the gates as they swung open. Pre-season was in full swing. The squad had begun light fitness work, tactical drills, and conditioning.

Inside the facility, Mikel Arteta was waiting with his usual calm but sharp demeanor.

"Glad to see you're back in rhythm," Arteta greeted, patting Tobi on the back. "But don't think we're going easy just because you have four kids now."

Tobi grinned. "If anything, I'm sharper. I don't sleep anymore."

The locker room buzzed with familiar energy. His teammates greeted him with good-natured jokes—some calling him "Papa Tobi," others just asking how many nappies he'd changed that morning. Gabriel teased him relentlessly, while Saka brought him coffee, laughing at the exhaustion behind Tobi's eyes.

"You're really living the double life," Bukayo said. "Ballon d'Or contender and Dad of the Year."

"Gotta keep the balance," Tobi replied, tightening his laces.

The training itself was grueling. Arteta introduced a new high-pressing drill that left most of the squad gasping. But Tobi—surprisingly—felt sharper, lighter. He was in sync with the ball, his vision clean, his passing crisp. There was a calm inside him now, a grounding presence. Perhaps it was the knowledge that after every session, he'd go home to four smiling faces.

Evening — Home Again

Dinner was simple—roasted chicken, mashed potatoes, and Emilia's signature apple crumble for dessert. The kids were seated in their respective high chairs, making an absolute mess of everything in their reach. Ava had mashed potatoes in her hair, and Luna kept dropping her spoon on purpose.

Tobi, exhausted from training, still managed to help clean up after bath time. Then came bedtime—four stories, four lullabies, and four hugs.

As he finally collapsed on the couch beside Emilia, her head resting on his chest, he let out a deep sigh.

"How do you think this season will go?" she murmured, running her fingers gently over his arm.

Tobi paused. "I think we'll win again. But more than that... I think I'm finally figuring it out."

"Figuring what out?"

"How to be both the man I am on the pitch… and the man I want to be here, with you."

Emilia tilted her head up and kissed his jaw. "You already are, Tobi."

They sat in silence for a long time, wrapped in each other, the quiet broken only by the occasional cooing of one of the babies from the monitor. Tobi closed his eyes.

The season was coming. The trophies were there to fight for again.

But in this moment, with the love of his life by his side and the soft breaths of their children echoing in the baby monitors—he already felt like the world's greatest winner

Great! Continuing from the current

The smell of fresh grass mixed with the distant echoes of early morning birds as Tobi Oliveira stood alone at Arsenal's London Colney training pitch. It was still barely 7 a.m., but he'd been up since 5:30 — not out of obligation, but instinct. Life had shifted again. His mornings no longer belonged to just football, or early video sessions, or lifting routines. Now, they started with tiny feet on the hardwood floor, soft baby cries, and Emilia's sleepy voice whispering for a bottle or a blanket.

And still, here he was.

A light drizzle misted the air as Tobi jogged in small laps around the pitch, earbuds in, hoodie up. Inside the headphones, it was just him, silence, and the occasional quiet sigh. He wasn't escaping anything; if anything, he was absorbing it all. Arsenal's preseason was officially underway, but for someone like Tobi — who had tasted the heights of Champions League glory twice and lifted the Premier League trophy once — there was a deeper hunger now.

Not just to win. But to build something permanent.

After two consecutive summers filled with silverware, attention, and noise, this one was different. For the first time in his life, home came before everything. And yet, the fire inside him hadn't dimmed. If anything, fatherhood made it burn fiercer.

By the time the rest of the squad started to trickle into the training ground, Tobi had already clocked in half a session's worth of drills on his own. Mikel Arteta, ever observant, noticed from afar and didn't interrupt. He simply made a note, shared a small smile with one of his assistants, and left him to it.

Inside the dressing room, the mood was light.

"Oi, Papa Tobi!" Bukayo Saka grinned, walking in with a coffee in hand. "How are the Avengers doing?"

Tobi chuckled as he towel-dried his hair. "Multiplying. Ava's figured out how to roll onto Liam's back and scream until Emilia comes running. Thiago sleeps like a tank. Luna? She's got lungs. Real lungs."

The lads laughed. "Squad depth at home too, huh?" Declan Rice added.

It was strange. Despite everything — the pressure, the expectations — the Arsenal dressing room felt like a second home now. Maybe it was the camaraderie. Maybe it was the fact that Tobi wasn't just the wonderkid anymore. He was the face of the team. The leader. The man people looked to in tough moments. And strangely, it didn't scare him anymore.

Later that afternoon, as they moved from warm-ups to tactical drills, Mikel pulled Tobi aside.

"I need you to talk to Miguel," he said. "He's talented, but he's trying too hard. Wants to impress every session."

Miguel Estévez, the young Spanish forward signed from the academy, had drawn comparisons to Tobi — unfairly so. The pressure was eating him alive. Tobi had noticed, but hadn't said anything yet. Until now.

After training, Tobi found the boy near the hydro room.

"Walk with me," he said simply.

Miguel followed, silent, nervous.

"You remind me of myself at 17," Tobi began. "Always chasing, always proving. But you don't have to rush. It's not a race."

Miguel swallowed, clearly emotional. "But I'm not you."

"Exactly," Tobi nodded. "You're you. And that's good enough if you believe it."

The kid didn't respond, but the look in his eyes said it all. A seed planted. Another brick in the foundation of legacy.

Back home that night, Tobi barely stepped into the living room before Ava and Liam came crawling at warp speed, Luna squealing behind them while Thiago lay calmly in Emilia's arms.

"You're late," Emilia teased, but her smile was warm.

"Extra drills," he said, leaning down to kiss her forehead and gently lift Thiago into his arms.

For a brief moment, the chaos of football — the tactics, the formations, the headlines — melted away. It was just his family. His four reasons for everything.

He bounced Thiago lightly and looked at the others wrestling over a teething toy.

"Someday," he whispered, "you'll know just how hard Daddy worked for all this."