Alex sat in the front row of the lecture hall at Imperial College.

"Superposition," Professor Clarke said, writing on the board. "A particle can exist in multiple states at once. It is here. And it is there. Until it is observed."

Alex rested his chin on his hand.

Superposition, he thought. That is my life. I am a student. And I am a footballer. I am a teenager. And I am a legend.

He checked his watch.

Training started in forty minutes. He had to be in two places at once.

"Mr. Finch?"

Alex looked up. "Yes, Professor?"

"Are you calculating the probability of an electron's position, or the probability of Arsenal retaining the title?"

"Both involve chaos, sir," Alex smiled.

"Well," the professor said. "Try to keep the chaos on the pitch. Your lab report is due Monday."

Alex walked out of the university.

It was raining in London. The sky was the color of a wet pavement.

Mark was waiting.

He was not in a car. He was not on a scooter.

He was standing next to... a rickshaw. But not a bicycle rickshaw.

It was a Tuk-Tuk. A bright, neon pink, motorized Tuk-Tuk.

It looked like a tropical bird lost in the grey city.

"GET IN, PROFESSOR!" Mark screamed over the noise of the tiny engine. "WE ARE GOING TO THAILAND! METAPHORICALLY!"

"Mark," Alex sighed, climbing into the back. "Where do you find these things?"

"Milo!" Mark grinned. "He says we need to appeal to the Asian market! Also, it has heated seats!"

"It has no doors," Alex pointed out as the rain hit his face.

"Aerodynamics!" Mark yelled, revving the engine. It sounded like an angry sewing machine. "TO THE COLOSSEUM!"

The training ground was wet.

Steve, the manager, was waiting. He looked at the pink Tuk-Tuk putting into the car park.

He didn't even blink. He was used to the circus.

"Park the toy, Speed," Steve said. "We have work."

They walked into the video room.

Steve clicked the remote.

A logo appeared. Black and white stripes.

"Juventus," Steve said.

The team nodded. The Old Lady. The giants of Italy.

"Champions League Group Stage," Steve said. "Matchday One. Away. In Turin."

He looked at the team.

"They are not fast. They are not flashy. They are... old."

"Old is good," Bastian grunted. "Old knows things."

"Exactly," Steve said. "They are experienced. They are cynical. They defend with eleven men. They play 'Catenaccio'. The Chain."

He looked at Alex.

"Professor. This is a puzzle. They will lock the door. They will board up the windows. They will turn off the lights. You have to find a way in."

"I will bring a torch," Alex said.

"Bring a hammer," Jude said, flexing his arm.

"Bring magic," Antoine whispered, checking his reflection in his phone.

The flight to Turin was bumpy.

Milo was there. He was wearing a suit made of... pasta? No, it was a fabric printed with giant macaroni shapes.

"ITALY!" Milo shouted. "THE LAND OF CARBS! ALEX! I HAVE A DEAL WITH A SPAGHETTI BRAND! 'THE FINCH NOODLE'! IT IS LONG AND CLEVER!"

"I am not a noodle, Milo," Alex said tiredly.

He sat next to Mark.

Mark was watching a documentary about cheetahs.

"They are fast," Mark whispered. "But they get tired. I do not get tired."

"You fell asleep during the warm-up last week," Alex reminded him.

"That was a tactical nap!" Mark argued.

The Allianz Stadium in Turin was dark and imposing.

The Juventus fans were loud. They whistled every time an Arsenal player touched the ball.

Alex stood in the tunnel.

The Juventus players looked like gladiators. Bremer, their center back, was a wall of muscle. Locatelli, their midfielder, looked intense.

Locatelli looked at Alex.

"School trip?" Locatelli asked in English.

"Business trip," Alex replied.

The whistle blew.

Steve was right. It was Catenaccio.

Juventus scored in the 5th minute. A corner. A header by Bremer.

One zero.

Then... they stopped playing football.

They built a wall. A black and white wall in front of their goal.

Arsenal had the ball. 80% possession.

But they couldn't get through.

Alex passed to Jude. Jude ran into a wall of three defenders.

Antoine tried a trick. He was fouled.

Mark tried to run in behind. There was no behind. The Juventus defense was standing on the goal line.

"There is no space!" Mark yelled, throwing his hands up. "It is a parking lot!"

Alex stood in the midfield. He was frustrated.

He looked at the Juventus shape. It was perfect. They shifted together. They moved like a single organism.

The Chain, Alex thought. If you pull one link, the whole chain moves.

Halftime. One zero.

The locker room was angry.

"They are anti-football!" Antoine complained. "They are destroying the art!"

"They are winning," Bastian said. "That is the only art that matters."

Steve stood in the middle.

"They are waiting for you to panic," Steve said. "They want you to shoot from distance. They want you to force the pass."

He looked at Alex.

"Professor. Break the chain."

"How?" Alex asked.

"They are disciplined," Steve said. "They follow the ball. So... stop using the ball."

Alex blinked.

"Use... the eyes," Steve said. "Use the lie."

Second half.

Alex got the ball.

He was thirty yards out.

Locatelli stepped up to close him down.

Alex looked right. He stared at Antoine. He shaped his body to pass to Antoine.

Locatelli moved right. The chain shifted.

Alex didn't pass.

He looked left. He stared at Jude.

Locatelli moved left. The chain shifted back.

Alex didn't pass.

He was playing puppeteer.

He did it again. Look right. Look left.

Locatelli hesitated. He was confused. Where is he going?

In that moment of hesitation... the chain broke. A tiny gap opened in the middle.

Alex saw it.

He didn't pass to a superstar.

He passed to Mark.

But Mark wasn't running away. He was running towards Alex.

Mark got the ball with his back to goal.

Bremer, the giant defender, was right behind him.

"Hold it!" Alex yelled.

Mark held it. He was strong. He used his "low center of gravity" (being short).

Bremer tried to go around him.

Mark spun.

The "Fake Fake".

He spun into Bremer. He rolled him.

Mark was free.

He was in the box.

He didn't shoot.

He saw Jude charging in like a runaway train.

Mark squared it.

Jude smashed it.

GOAL!

One one.

Jude roared. He picked up Mark.

"THE PIVOT!" Jude yelled. "YOU SPUN HIM LIKE A PIZZA!"

Juventus were angry. Their wall was broken.

They had to attack.

The game opened up.

75th minute.

Alex intercepted a pass.

He looked up.

The pitch was open.

He saw Antoine.

Antoine was running.

Alex hit the pass. The Hurricane.

Sixty yards.

It landed on Antoine's foot.

Antoine didn't run. He waited.

He waited for the defender to commit.

The defender slid.

Antoine chipped the ball over the sliding defender.

He caught it on the other side.

He volleyed it.

GOAL!

Two one. Arsenal.

It was magic. Pure French magic.

Antoine ran to the corner. He pretended to paint a picture in the air.

"THE MASTERPIECE!" Antoine shouted.

85th minute.

Juventus threw everything forward.

Alex was the Shield. He tackled. He blocked.

He was tired. His brain was tired from all the calculus and tactics.

But he held on.

93rd minute.

Juventus free kick. Edge of the box.

Vlahovic (who had transferred back to Juventus in the summer transfer window, apparently) stood over it.

He hit a rocket.

Ramsdale was beaten.

But Alex... Alex was on the line.

He jumped.

He headed it.

It hurt. It felt like heading a brick.

But the ball flew over the bar.

Corner.

The whistle blew.

Arsenal 2. Juventus 1.

They had broken the chain.

Alex sat on the goal line. He rubbed his head.

"Headache?" Bastian asked, offering a hand.

"Physics," Alex muttered. "Force equals mass times ouch."

Bastian laughed. "You are a tough nerd, Professor."

Alex walked off the pitch.

Milo was waiting. He was wearing... a gladiator costume. Plastic armor. A plastic sword.

"THE COLOSSEUM!" Milo screamed. "WE CAME! WE SAW! WE CONQUERED! ALEX! THE HEAD CLEARANCE! I AM SELLING HELMETS! 'THE FINCH FORTRESS'!"

"Milo," Alex sighed. "I just want to go home."

"TO THE CHARIOT!" Milo pointed at the Tuk-Tuk parked in the tunnel.

"We are not driving that to the airport," Alex said.

"FINE! THE BUS!"

On the plane, Alex sat next to Jude.

"Good win," Jude said. "Ugly. But good."

"We solved the puzzle," Alex said.

He opened his bag. He took out a textbook.

Quantum Physics: Advanced Theory.

"You are studying?" Jude asked, amazed. "We just beat Juventus."

"I have a lab report due," Alex said. "And... I think I figured something out."

"What?"

"Football," Alex said, looking at the diagram of an atom. "It is just like quantum mechanics. You can't predict where the particle is. You can only predict where it might be."

"You are weird," Jude laughed.

"I am the Professor," Alex smiled.

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