When playing football, you should call it GOAT.

Chapter 151 Let's win the Champions League first.
On April 19, 2004, the night before the Champions League semi-final, the entire Arsenal team stayed at a hotel in Monaco.

Henry leaned against the headboard of the bed in the room and casually turned on the radio. He tuned to a familiar frequency, and the iconic opening music of "ROI Tactical Room" immediately came through his headphones.

Roy's pre-match analysis program has become one of the most popular sports radio programs in France during its time slot.

Although Roy himself is not a professional host, his sharp tactical analysis and humorous commentary style have led to a steady rise in listenership for this weekly special program before Champions League matches.

The program even launched a simultaneous interpretation version, which garnered a large audience in other parts of Europe.

"Good evening, football conspiracy theorists, welcome to the pre-Champions League tactical rant session."

Henry curled his lip; the opening remarks were still so exaggerated.

But his hand honestly turned the volume up two notches.

"We'll be hosting our London friends at the Louis II Stadium tomorrow."

"Let's take a look at Arsenal's defense. Lehmann is in goal, and this German goalkeeper has a special characteristic: he has to perform the 'how I flew out' stunt at least once in every game."

"In defense, Ashley Cole is fast enough to keep up with his own shadow, but the problem is that he often runs too far while chasing his shadow, causing the entire defense to drift off course."

"The central defensive pairing of Campbell and Toure is like a wall, one as strong as a wall and the other as fast as a gust of wind. But the problem is that when the wall wants to rush forward, the wind is often still strolling behind."

"Lauren is very dedicated at right-back, but sometimes he's too dedicated. He often forgets that he's a full-back and rushes forward without coming back."

"In midfield, Vieira and Gilberto are the perfect pairing. One is responsible for bringing down the opponents, and the other is responsible for winning the ball away. It's simple, brutal, but effective, like cracking a walnut with a hammer."

“Pirès is as elegant as a ballerina on the left wing, while Parlour is as fierce as a boxer on the right. Professor Wenger’s arrangement is brilliant! An art exhibition on the left, a fighting arena on the right.”

He paused for a moment, then suddenly added with feigned surprise, "Oh right, I almost forgot to ask—how's Wiltord doing lately? Has he found his jersey number yet?"

In the background, producer Gomez's suppressed laughter could be heard: "Roy, the director says we received a call from Wiltord in London."

"What do you mean? Did Arsenal forget about him at home?"

Roy immediately raised his voice dramatically: "Wow! Looks like our old friend is listening to the show! Wiltord, if you're listening, I've washed the number 11 jersey very clean, and you're welcome to visit the locker room anytime!"

"As for Henry, oh Thierry, my good brother. He runs so fast that even the cameras can't keep up. But from what I've observed, his celebrations after every goal are more spectacular than the goals themselves! I suggest Nike release a highlight reel of his celebrations next time."

"Arsenal's tactics are simple: press high in the back, pass in midfield, and get the ball to Henry in the front. Professor Wenger calls this style of play 'artistic football,' but to me, it's like setting a diamond in a shovel! It's extravagant, but it works."

Henry leaned against the headboard of the hotel bed, Roy's exaggerated voice coming through his headphones.

He couldn't help but roll his eyes when he heard "my good brother Thierry".

I heard the diamond set in the shovel.

Henry finally couldn't help but laugh out loud, and quickly covered his mouth with his fist, afraid that his teammates in the next room would hear him.

Although the metaphor was crude, it inexplicably made him feel comfortable.

He reached out and turned the radio volume up a bit more, then leaned back more comfortably against the pillow.

Host Gomez interjected, "Roy, from what you're saying, it seems you're quite wary of Henry?"

Roy immediately retorted, "Worried? Please, I'm a striker. If anyone should be worried about, it should be a defensive player like Lauren, okay?"

Gomez pressed further, "So, are you wary of Lauren?"

Roy replied firmly, "Of course not!!!"

A burst of laughter erupted from the audience.

Roy went on to explain, “Listen, respecting your opponent and being afraid of them are two different things. Henry is very strong, but Monaco’s defenders have long studied his habits. As for Lauren…”

He deliberately dragged out his words, "I suggested he bring an extra pair of sneakers tomorrow, since he'll be chasing me for 90 minutes."

Henry adjusted his headphones and heard the program soon transition to the audience call-in segment.

The first person to answer was an Arsenal fan with a distinct London accent:

"Roy, you think Monaco can beat Arsenal? Don't dream! Your lousy defense can't even keep up with half of Henry's speed!"

Roy's signature chuckle came through the radio: "Aha, the first caller from London seems quite eager. But let me remind you, this isn't Formula 1, even if Henry gets off to a faster start than a Ferrari!"

"If I score just one more goal than them, you'll all be crying your way back to London! You say our defense can't keep up with Henry? Fine, then I'll tell you a secret: Coach Deschamps has already approved my move to defense! Tomorrow I'll show you that Monte Carlo is way more thrilling than Silverstone!!!"

The producer's voice came through the background: "Roy, the director said this call is from North London."

"Wow!" Roy exclaimed dramatically, raising his voice. "Ha! We should applaud this loyal Gunner even more! Calling me in the middle of the night to berate me about the transfer? With that level of dedication, Professor Wenger should consider giving him a season ticket!"

"However, considering that Arsenal's management now even needs invoices to deduct taxes from toilet paper purchases, they're probably reluctant to give up this bonus. After all, every penny needs to be saved to pay for the new stadium!"

Henry couldn't help but laugh out loud.

Although he and Roy had some minor disagreements on the national team, it must be admitted that this kid's show is indeed very entertaining.

He adjusted his pillow and continued listening to this special pre-match "psychological warfare" talk.

The moment the call ended, the indicator light on the control panel lit up again.

Gomez interjected, "Roy, the next caller ID shows another number from London."

Roy sighed dramatically: "Oh God, when you hear an Englishman on the radio, you know there are countless fish and chips, rainy weather, and Arsenal fans queuing to make phone calls waiting for us across the Channel."

"Does Monaco attract players through its tax exemption policy?"

The voice of an Arsenal fan came through the phone, taunting, "Without tax exemption, who would go to your little town to play football?"

Roy chuckled: "We're better than you guys. At least we don't have to rely on selling Anelka to make a living! Remember 1999? You guys sold that French prodigy striker to Real Madrid for the sake of the team's finances and were overjoyed to make £2300 million."

"So what? We still have Henry!" the fan retorted defiantly.

"Yes, you have Henry now, of course you have him. Unless you need money for the new stadium someday. Should we contact Real Madrid for you in advance?"

"We Arsenal are undefeated now!" the fans shouted. Roy immediately chimed in, "What a coincidence, we Monaco have already won the title undefeated! We secured the championship eight rounds in advance, unlike you guys who are still counting points on your fingers after 34 rounds, afraid that Chelsea will catch up."

He deliberately lowered his voice and imitated the fans' tone, saying, "'Two more wins and we're in the bag, please don't let it slip away.'"

"You think your Ligue 5 can compare to our Premier League? We're five points ahead of Chelsea!" a fan quickly retorted.

"Wow! 5 points! Let me calculate. Oh right, you guys are playing Monaco next, then Tottenham and Birmingham. Seriously, should I help you contact a psychologist? The pressure in these last few rounds looks pretty high."

“Be careful not to crash,” Roy added, his tone suddenly becoming serious. “Honestly, you can come back for the Champions League next year if you get knocked out, but if you lose to Tottenham, they’ll etch the score on White Hart Lane. You’ll see that shameful scoreboard every time you play away.”

"We will not lose to Tottenham!" the fans retorted hastily.

"Yes, yes, just like you said last year that you wouldn't lose to Manchester United."

A burst of angry static came from the other end of the phone. Roy continued, "Don't worry, once you really win the championship, we Monaco would be happy to lend you some champagne to celebrate. We still have plenty left."

The phone kept ringing, all from Arsenal fans speaking with London accents, but Roy answered fluently, leaving each caller speechless.

"Roy! Monaco doesn't even have a decent stadium!"

"Yes, that's why our players never get lost in the locker room, unlike the designer of your new stadium, who I heard is still looking for the players' tunnel!"

"Your Ligue 1 is just a peasant league!"

"Farmers' League? So your Premier League is a bankers' league? No wonder British TV shows are already helping Arsenal get a loan to win the Champions League!"

"Henry could easily score against all five of you!"

"Five? Another financial transaction. But it doesn't matter. If he can't score, I can lend him one or two. However, I've hidden all the goals I lent to Henry inside Lehmann's goal. Go find them if you want them!"

"You Monaco people just rely on rich people to back you up!"

"It's better than relying on selling players to keep things afloat. Speaking of which, there have been a lot of transfer rumors surrounding Vieira lately. Are you guys ready? Keep a close eye on your captain."

The next caller said sarcastically, "Let's talk after you win the Champions League!"

"Let's talk after you win the Champions League!" Roy repeated perfectly, then added, "Arsenal fans have been saying this since 1998, it's practically a family heirloom!"

"Finally, a Monaco fan!"

Roy said warmly, "Mr. Claude, is there anything you'd like to say?"

Finally, French came through the phone: "First of all, Arsenal's defense is like Swiss cheese, full of holes! Campbell is as slow as a tank when turning, Lauren's defense relies entirely on fouls, and Cole is always thinking about sleeping with different women! Secondly, Monaco has ten wins against Arsenal! First, we have faster wingers; Roy and Giuly can tear Ashley Cole apart. Second, our midfield is more cohesive; Pedretti and Bernardi will make Vieira suffer. Third, our counter-attacks are sharper; Roy has scored more knockout stage goals in one season than Henry has in three Champions League knockout stage matches over three years."

Roy interjected, "Mr. Claude's analysis is very professional!"

"Fourth!" The voice on the other end of the phone continued, "Our set-piece tactics are more diverse; Squillaci can score five headers a season. Fifth, our goalkeeper Roma is more consistent; Lehmann is a ticking time bomb. Sixth, our coach Deschamps understands the Champions League better than Wenger. Seventh, our medical team won't turn our players into injury-prone individuals; just look at Ljungberg's groin!"

"eighth!"

The voice on the other end of the phone rose, "Our bench has more depth; either Ribery or Adebayor could wreak havoc on Arsenal's defense; ninth, our home atmosphere is better; Highbury is as quiet as a library; tenth..."

Roy couldn't help but interrupt: "Mr. Claude, you wouldn't happen to be a professional football player, would you?"

The person on the other end of the phone suddenly paused: "Uh, I mean... the tenth point is that our players are more eager to win! Those Arsenal guys are only thinking about their unbeaten record!"

"Aha!"

Roy laughed, "Your statement about 'being more eager to win' reminds me of an interview with a French defensive midfielder in the Premier League."

A panicked voice suddenly came from the other end of the phone: "Non, non, non! Of course not... uh... what does this have to do with Chelsea! Anyway, Monaco will win! Arsenal will lose!"

"Wait, I don't think I mentioned Chelsea. Why are you suddenly bringing up Chelsea?"

"I mean, Monaco is better than Chelsea. No! I mean Monaco is better than Arsenal!"

Roy suddenly raised his voice: "That's enough, Claude! Stop pretending! You think I won't recognize you just because you're speaking in a low voice like you have a cold?"

"Of course I'm not Makelele!"

The person on the other end of the phone blurted it out, then realized they'd let something slip and exclaimed in annoyance, "Merde!" (Damn it!)

He immediately hung up.

Roy smiled into the microphone: "It seems our 'Claude' has suddenly remembered that he is actually a Chelsea player today. Let's take the next call from a real fan."

"Damn Claude!"

Henry lay on the bed, cursing under his breath, "Has he forgotten who he is after just six months at Chelsea?"

On the evening of April 20, 2004, the area outside the Stade Louis II was already packed with Monaco fans.

They waved red and white flags and sang "Allez Monaco," their voices carried on the sea breeze into the locker room corridor.

Arsenal's team bus slowly drove in, escorted by police cars. Several local children clung to the barbed wire fence, shouting in English, "Henry! You'll regret coming home!"

Last night, Roy's words on the radio, "Arsenal should win the Champions League first!" stuck in his heart like a thorn.

The bus jolted, and Vieira nudged his shoulder: "Don't mind those kids."

Henry nodded, but his brow remained furrowed.

He took out his phone and saw a text message from Makelele that had been sent half an hour earlier: "Good luck, old friend."

The car stopped.

Henry tossed his phone back into his bag and looked out the window.

"We must win this time," he told himself, "for Arsenal, for the Champions League."

(End of this chapter)