Cause and Effect

Twenty four

"It's been kinda crazy," I admitted, "But things have been getting better. I just... sometimes I feel like I'm the one that's just not quite on the same level out of the three of us. Like, they're both scoring so many goals, I'm just the one who's always struggling—"

"Nia," he chuckled, interrupting me. "Did you not hear me say you have ten assists? If you keep this up you'll beat the PL record! Anyway, Neymar is Neymar, he's ridiculous, so don't compare yourself to him. And honestly, you're more of a complete player than Alexis."

"You can't just say that though," I muttered.

"I'm being serious!" He grinned. "He really needs a creative midfielder to back him up, which thankfully he has that in Mesut. I pity him the day either one or the other of them decides to move on from Arsenal, he'll struggle to find someone with the same quality anywhere else, very few players are on Mesut's level, when he's in good form. But anyway, enough about them. Let's go kick some goals, you need to prove to yourself that you can do it."

"Okay," I nodded. "Thanks boss."

"You're welcome," he replied, giving me a smile.

"Hey, by the way," I wondered, as we left his office and began to walk down the corridor towards the open fields. "What is the record for most assists in a season?"

"Twenty," he said, nonchalantly.

"Oh," I responded, nodding. "Who holds it?"

"Me," he chuckled.

My eyes widened in realisation.

"03/04 season, of course. Well I can't beat it then."

"You can do whatever you set your mind to, if that means beating my record then so be it," he laughed. "I'm a manger now, I have new records to set. Come on now."

~.~.~.~

Juventus away, Allianz stadium, Turin, Italy.

Neymar did not travel with us, after his ankle issues in the United game Thierry decided to rest him, despite his protests that he was perfectly fine, thank you very much. But he was too important to risk aggravating a minor injury. It was strange lining up without him, he'd played in almost every game that season, but I tried not to give it too much thought, having more important things to think about.

"No pressure, but I'm expecting a goal from you today," Thierry said to me, as we left the dressing room.

"That's pressure," I pointed out, smiling at him.

"This is Champions League," he replied. "If you can't handle pressure you shouldn't be here."

"True," I nodded. "I'll score one for you."

"Don't care who you do it for, as long as you do it," he chuckled.

"I can do it for Tottenham?" I grinned at him cheekily.

"You would never," he snorted. "And what have I told you guys about swear words?"

"Right," I said. "Sorry boss. We're going to win today."

"Ah, don't be so sure, amiga," Said a voice, and I turned to see Paulo Dybala passing us in the tunnel, dressed in his zebra Juve kit.

He winked at me playfully, and I grinned.

"Esta en, amigo."

Four goals in thirty minutes was what the first half had reserved for us. Juventus were the first to score, through none other than Dybala, however we quickly equalised from a corner taken by Granit, and headed home by Sead Kolasinac. Then we pulled ahead, only to have them equalise again. After the first half was over, the game seemed to go quiet. Neither team could hold possession for very long, until a messy mistake between Mustafi and Cech cost us a goal. After conceding again, the team seemed to come to life again.