The Champions League trophy was safely in the trophy cabinet in London. The season was over.

"Peace," Alex whispered. "Finally."

"DIG!" a voice screamed.

A wave of wet sand flew through the air. It landed on Alex. It landed on his book. It landed in his lemonade.

Alex sighed. He slowly lowered his book.

Mark was standing three meters away. He was wearing neon orange swimming shorts, a life jacket (even though they were on dry land), and a snorkel mask. He was holding a yellow plastic shovel.

"Mark," Alex said calm. "Why are you burying yourself?"

"I AM NOT BURYING MYSELF!" Mark yelled through the snorkel. "I AM DIGGING TO CHINA! I HEAR THE NOODLES ARE FASTER THERE!"

"You cannot dig to China from Spain, Mark," Alex said. "Physics does not work like that."

"PHYSICS IS A SUGGESTION!" Mark shouted. He started digging again. Sand flew everywhere. A crab scuttled away in terror.

"I need a new best friend," Alex whispered.

"FRESH SAND!" a new voice bellowed.

Milo walked onto the beach.

Milo was not wearing swimming shorts. He was wearing a suit made entirely of beach towels. He looked like a colorful mummy.

"ALEX!" Milo shouted. "I AM THE SAND TYCOON! I AM SELLING 'CHAMPIONS SAND'! THIS SAND WAS SAT ON BY A CHAMPIONS LEAGUE WINNER! ONLY ONE HUNDRED EUROS A BUCKET!"

"Milo," Alex said. "We are on a public beach. The sand is free."

"NOT THIS SAND!" Milo insisted. "I HAVE CERTIFIED IT! LOOK!"

Milo held up a piece of paper. It had 'REAL SAND' written on it in crayon.

"You guys are impossible," Alex laughed.

He closed his book.

He looked at the ocean. It was blue and vast.

Being a champion felt good. But sitting still felt strange. His legs wanted to run. His brain wanted to calculate.

His phone buzzed on the little table.

It was a text from Steve, the manager.

Vacation is over. Report to London tomorrow. We have a Shield to win.

Alex smiled.

"Mark!" Alex yelled. "Stop digging!"

Mark popped his head out of the hole. "Did we find oil?"

"No," Alex said. "We found football."

Mark dropped the shovel. He ripped off his life jacket.

"RACE YOU TO THE AIRPORT!" Mark screamed.

He started running. He ran over a sandcastle. He ran into the water. He ran out of the water.

"Wrong way, Speed!" Alex shouted.

"I KNEW THAT!" Mark yelled, turning around.

London. The Training Ground.

It looked different.

There was a gold star painted on the wall of the reception. Champions of Europe.

But the air was not relaxed. It was tense.

Steve stood in the center of the pitch. He was not smiling.

"Welcome back," Steve said.

The players stood in a circle. They were tanned. They looked happy.

"You are champions," Steve said. "Congratulations."

The team smiled.

"But," Steve continued, his voice getting harder. "Yesterday is ash. Tomorrow is fire."

He pointed to the gold star.

"That star puts a target on your back. Last season, you were the hunters. This season, you are the prey. Every team wants to kill the King."

He looked at Alex.

"Professor. Do you think the test gets easier?"

"No, Boss," Alex said. "The variables change. The difficulty increases."

"Exactly," Steve said. "Liverpool are waiting. The Community Shield. Sunday. Wembley."

"Liverpool," Jude whispered. "Heavy Metal Football."

"They run," Steve said. "They press. They do not stop. If you are still on vacation mode... they will eat you."

Sunday. Wembley Stadium.

It was the traditional curtain raiser for the new season. The Community Shield.

Arsenal vs Liverpool.

The stadium was split in two. Red for Arsenal. Red for Liverpool. It was a sea of Red.

Alex stood in the tunnel.

Jurgen Klopp, the Liverpool manager, was standing near the door. He was huge. He had teeth as white as the moon and a smile that looked a bit scary.

"So," Klopp boomed. "The Wonderkids."

Alex looked up.

"Hello, Mr. Klopp," Alex said.

"Enjoy the trophy," Klopp grinned. "Because today, we bring the noise."

Behind Klopp stood Darwin Nunez. The Agent of Chaos.

Darwin was vibrating. He looked like he had drunk ten coffees. He was staring at Mark.

"I run fast," Darwin said to Mark.

"I run faster," Mark replied.

"I run through walls," Darwin said.

"I run over walls," Mark countered.

"I eat walls," Darwin said.

Mark paused. "Okay. You win. That is weird."

The whistle blew.

The game started.

Steve was right. Liverpool did not play football. They played a rock concert.

They pressed. They swarmed. They shouted.

Mohamed Salah ran down the wing. He was fast. He was sharp.

Trent Alexander Arnold stood in the midfield. He did not run. He just passed.

In the tenth minute, Trent got the ball.

He looked up.

He saw Darwin Nunez running.

Trent hit a pass. It was sixty yards long. It curved like a banana.

Darwin caught it. He did not control it. He just hit it.

Chaos.

The ball hit the post. It bounced off Ramsdale back. It hit the bar. It bounced on the line.

Gabriel cleared it.

"Safe!" Gabriel yelled.

But Liverpool kept coming.

They were suffocating.

Alex tried to control the tempo. Tick. Tock.

But Liverpool broke the clock.

In the thirtieth minute, Salah got the ball.

He cut inside.

He curled it into the top corner.

Goal.

One zero. Liverpool.

Klopp punched the air. He looked like he was fighting an invisible ghost.

"They are too loud!" Mark yelled. "I cannot hear my own thoughts! Not that I have many thoughts! But I cannot hear the empty space!"

Alex stood in the center circle.

"Calm down," Alex said. "Volume is just sound pressure. We lower the volume."

"How?" Jude asked.

"We unplug the speakers," Alex said.

The game restarted.

Alex looked at Trent Alexander Arnold. He was the source. The quarterback.

"Mark," Alex said. "Forget the wing. Mark him."

"Mark who?" Mark asked. "Mark me?"

"No. Mark Trent."

"Mark Trent?" Mark looked confused. "Is that a new name?"

"Just annoy the guy with the number 66," Alex sighed.

"On it!" Mark said.

Mark started chasing Trent.

Trent tried to pass. Mark jumped in front of him.

"HI!" Mark yelled.

Trent tried to move left. Mark moved left.

"DO YOU LIKE SAND?" Mark asked. "I HAVE A FRIEND WHO SELLS SAND!"

Trent looked annoyed. He could not make his long passes because Mark was buzzing around him like a bluebottle fly.

Without the long passes, Liverpool lost their rhythm.

Forty fifth minute.

Alex got the ball.

The Liverpool press came. Three players.

Alex waited.

He saw the pattern. They were aggressive. They left space behind.

Alex did a "No Look Pass".

He looked at the crowd. He passed to the left.

Antoine was there.

The Magician.

Antoine controlled it. He was in the box.

He chipped the goalkeeper.

Goal.

One one.

The Arsenal fans cheered. The noise was back.

Halftime.

"Good," Steve said in the dressing room. "You stopped the music. Now, play your own song."

He looked at Alex.

"Professor. They are tired. Darwin has run ten kilometers in forty five minutes. He will crash."

"Energy depletion," Alex nodded.

"Finish them."

Second half.

The sun came out. It was hot.

Liverpool slowed down. The Heavy Metal turned into slow jazz.

Seventy fifth minute.

The score was still 1-1.

Penalties were looming.

Alex hated penalties. They were statistically 50/50. He wanted certainty.

He had the ball deep in midfield.

He saw a flash of orange.

It was Mark's boots.

Mark was making a run. Not down the wing. Through the middle.

But Van Dijk was there. The mountain. The best defender in the world.

Mark could not beat Van Dijk with strength.

But maybe...

Alex remembered the beach. The digging.

The Earth is eating me.

Alex chipped the ball.

It was a low chip. It landed right in front of Van Dijk.

The ball spun. It kicked up off the grass.

It was a weird bounce.

Van Dijk tried to head it. He missed.

The ball went over the giant defender shoulder.

Mark was there.

Mark ran onto the ball.

He was one on one with Alisson.

"Don't think, Speed," Alex whispered.

Mark did not think.

He closed his eyes again. (Why did he keep doing that?).

He swung his leg.

He missed the ball with his foot.

He hit it with his knee.

The ball looped up. It went slow. So slow.

It went over Alisson head.

It bounced into the goal.

Goal.

Two one. Arsenal.

Mark opened his eyes.

"I MEANT TO DO THAT!" Mark screamed. "THE KNEE OF JUSTICE!"

Alex ran over. " The ugliest goal in history!" Alex laughed.

"A goal is a goal!" Mark shouted. "It counts!"

The final whistle blew.

Arsenal 2. Liverpool 1.

They had won the Community Shield.

Another trophy.

Alex walked up the steps. He lifted the silver shield. It looked like a giant dinner plate.

"Can we eat off this?" Mark asked, looking at the shield. "I bet it holds a lot of spaghetti."

"Maybe later," Alex smiled.

Milo appeared on the pitch.

He was wearing a suit made of... grass?

"THE TURF MASTER!" Milo shouted. "I AM CAMOUFLAGE! ALEX! I AM SELLING PIECES OF WEMBLEY! FRESHLY CUT! SMELLS LIKE VICTORY!"

"Milo, did you cut the pitch?" Alex asked.

"I BORROWED A LAWNMOWER!" Milo winked.

They walked a lap of honor.

The fans sang Alex name. The Professor. The Professor.

But Alex mind was already moving.

He looked at the calendar on his phone.

August. Premier League starts next week.

September. Champions League.

November.

The World Cup.

He put his phone away.

He looked at his friends. Mark was trying to slide on the shield like a sled. Jude was carrying Milo. Antoine was taking selfies with the crowd.

This was his team. His family.

But soon, they would be enemies.

France vs England.

Mark vs Alex.

"Enjoy the summer, boys," Alex whispered. "Because winter is coming."

He walked down the tunnel.

A text from Maya buzzed in his pocket.

"Shield velocity calculated. Optimal lifting angle achieved. By the way, I have analyzed the World Cup group stages. England has a 12.4 percent chance of winning. We need to improve those odds. Meet me in the library tomorrow. Bring a globe."

Alex laughed.

A globe.

He was ready to conquer the world.

But first, he needed to stop Mark from sliding down the stairs on the trophy.

"MARK! GET OFF THE SHIELD!"

"NEVER! I AM CAPTAIN AMERICA!"

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