Chapter 281: Eden, Stand with Me at the Summit of World Football
"Ah! Flamini was a step too slow! Leon's slipped in the through ball—Hazard… what a slick move! The shot—it's in!"
This season, veteran commentator Jian Jun—who had moved from Sina Sports to PPTV—was practically pounding the studio desk in excitement as Leon and Hazard linked up for a brilliant goal.
Sitting beside him, his new regular co-commentator Zhang Lu let out his signature chuckle, familiar to long-time fans.
"When it comes to understanding each other's runs and passes, other than Leon and Ibra, it's gotta be Leon and Hazard, heh heh.
Before last season started, a lot of fans were saying that once Leon took control of the offense, Hazard's stats would drop hard.
But what happened? Hazard ended the season with 14 goals and 11 assists—what's bad about that?
I think his numbers could get even better this season, as long as he keeps playing off Leon. The data won't lie!"
Zhang Lu's comments were overflowing with praise for Leon's abilities.
And honestly, it wasn't just bias—any domestic fan watching the match and thinking about it carefully had to admit he had a point.
Back when Leon first transferred to Chelsea, many Chinese fans had speculated:
"Leon's numbers will go up, sure—but Hazard's and Lampard's will definitely take a hit."
Logically, that wasn't a baseless prediction.
After all, there are only so many players who can dominate possession and dictate the attack in a team.
Some organize the play, others need lots of touches to probe the defense and try things.
There aren't many modern players who can post elite numbers without the ball at their feet often.
To be a world-class star, most players need a decent share of the ball to maintain elite production.
So when Leon joined Chelsea in the summer of 2013, many Hazard fans were understandably uneasy.
Lampard's fans were more relaxed, mostly welcoming Leon's arrival but preparing themselves for a statistical drop in the legendary midfielder's final seasons.
And then Leon took control of Chelsea's offensive and defensive transitions—
But instead of pushing Hazard and Lampard aside, they actually played more freely and more efficiently than before.
By season's end, Hazard had posted 14 goals and 11 assists, while Lampard had 10 goals and 6 assists—
Both of which far exceeded even Chelsea fans' preseason expectations.
Shifting from leading the charge himself to playing around Leon didn't reduce their chances—it gave them more chances.
With two tactically sophisticated stars leading the line—so long as you weren't a lone wolf like Balotelli—anyone could find rhythm and comfort in the system.
Hazard, for one, was thrilled to have scored again today.
He was never overly ambitious—no matter how the outside world tried to hype him up, he felt more comfortable playing alongside Leon.
And to be honest, after a full season working together, Hazard had come to truly enjoy what it meant to fight for titles with a "big brother" leading the charge.
He didn't feel much pressure—the media firestorm was always absorbed by Mourinho or Leon.
And trophies? He wasn't short on those. His personal fame and recognition were rising fast, too.
He still remembered the summer of 2012, when he first arrived at Chelsea.
The English press had hyped him up as the future of the club's rebuild.
That season, he delivered—13 goals and 17 assists. Phenomenal numbers.
But he had to grind for those. He made 62 appearances in one season, playing nearly every match in the league and Europa League as long as he wasn't injured.
The workload, combined with the weight of expectations, was overwhelming.
After losing the Europa League final to Atlético Madrid, he felt mentally drained and emotionally exhausted.
Sure, Chelsea had done well that year—third in the Premier League and a European final appearance. It wasn't failure by any measure.
But the fact that they walked away empty-handed left a sour taste, and many in the media questioned Hazard's end product.
Which was ridiculous. Hazard had just arrived in the Premier League, and by 2012, he was already a Ligue 1 champion.
His ability was never in doubt.
But that's how the media is—they pile on when you're most vulnerable.
And back then, the club didn't step in to protect him either.
Why? Because Mourinho had just returned to Stamford Bridge and was too busy analyzing the squad and overseeing summer transfers.
He didn't have the bandwidth to pull Hazard aside for a heart-to-heart.
Then Leon arrived, which further disrupted Hazard's perception of his tactical role in the team.
Despite being a gifted player who had already made his name in France, Hazard wasn't the type to boast or express his feelings publicly.
He wasn't outspoken. He kept it all inside.
It wasn't until Leon personally told him what to do to gain the coaches' trust and earn more tactical weight,
and until Leon looked him in the eye and said, "I need your help to win the Champions League again,"
that Hazard finally let go of his doubts and threw himself fully into the team.
Last season, after helping Chelsea win the League Cup and then dominate their way to a Premier League title, Hazard had never felt happier.
This was the kind of team he had always dreamed of:
A world-class manager. Top-tier training and tactics.
A welcoming, supportive atmosphere. A reliable, big brother-type leader.
And a system that brought out the best in his talents.
He didn't have to carry the weight of expectations.
All he had to do was play his game and be himself.
And the honors, the achievements—they followed naturally.
Compared to that, being the "face of the franchise" or the center of media attention?
He really didn't care.
Back on the pitch, after wrapping up celebrations with the team, Hazard made his way toward Leon, who had deliberately waited for him, smiling and holding his arms wide.
"Well done, Eden!" Leon said, pulling him in for a tight hug. "Looking sharp today. Think you can bag another before the half's over?"
Hazard laughed, shrugging. "Relax. I never choke against Arsenal."
Hearing that, Leon couldn't help but recall a funny bit of trivia:
Some Arsenal fans once voted Drogba and Hazard as their most hated players of all time.
Ruffling Hazard's hair with a grin, Leon slung an arm over his shoulder and walked with him back to their half of the pitch.
Meanwhile, Gunners fans watching on their TVs were collectively fuming.
"Arsenal conceded way too early again! Maybe Wenger needs to reconsider leaving Toulalan as the deepest midfielder.
That setup works in most matches, but today…
Today, Arsenal might need to push that midfield line up just to try and contain Leon."
After the earlier excitement died down, the Sky Sports commentators returned to a more composed tone, gently offering advice from Arsenal's perspective.
The problem clearly wasn't Toulalan, who was sitting deep in defense. It was the other holding midfielder—the one positioned higher up the pitch—who was supposed to be doing the heavy lifting in midfield.
But openly saying that Flamini was underperforming wouldn't exactly align with the neutrality expected of a professional commentator.
So, they could only hint at it politely.
Of course, Arsenal fans knew full well what Flamini was capable of.
But what could they do? That same old problem had been glaringly obvious for years: Arsenal's midfield and backline lacked strength. But Wenger simply didn't have the money to fix it.
Last summer, after failing to compete with other clubs for Leon's signature, Wenger had set his sights on Blaise Matuidi.
Truth be told, had Wenger managed to bring Matuidi to the Emirates, half of Arsenal's midfield issues would've been solved on the spot.
Unfortunately, as one of the final gems Mourinho left behind at Real Madrid,
Matuidi was untouchable—especially before Casemiro fully blossomed.
His price wasn't outrageous, but Madrid wouldn't sell, and the player himself didn't want to leave.
Wenger had to abandon the pursuit and settle instead for a major splash on Cavani.
Was it a bad call? Not really. Wenger didn't regret bringing Cavani in last summer.
It was just unfortunate. When they had the opportunity to sign a solid holding mid, they couldn't afford it.
And when they could spend, all the best options were locked down elsewhere.
For today's match, Wenger had hoped that pairing Toulalan and Flamini could at least slow Leon down—delay his rhythm, if nothing else.
But Leon clearly understood Flamini's defensive flaws better than Wenger expected.
Out of options, Wenger made a simple adjustment: pushing Toulalan forward to put direct pressure on Leon.
Flamini was still tasked with holding the deeper line and distributing. But as the shield in front of the back four?
Wenger didn't truly trust Flamini in that role—but he didn't have a better choice.
As the match resumed, Leon saw Toulalan coming straight for him and instantly understood Wenger's plan.
He didn't force the issue. Instead, he signaled for his teammates to drop into a compact shape.
"Let them come," Leon ordered calmly. "Spread them out, pull their shape apart. Once they cross the halfway line, then we press."
It was a clear tactical directive—Chelsea's go-to counterattacking strategy from last season.
Arsenal fans, after watching Chelsea go toe-to-toe with City in a high-octane attacking game, had hoped this season would bring a tactical overhaul.
But now that Chelsea had fallen back into their familiar "take the lead and tighten the screw" setup,
Gunners fans were absolutely livid—unleashing their fury on Mourinho.
Wenger was frustrated too.
He didn't want to be the one storming Chelsea's parked bus. He wanted a fierce, open shootout.
But Mourinho and Leon had clearly decided to "play to the opponent."
And what could you do? Arsenal was playing real attacking football.
Some teams say they play beautiful football, then spend entire halves knocking the ball around their backline when they're ahead.
But not Arsenal. They truly wanted to play forward, to dominate with style.
And that very commitment was what Mourinho had always exploited when playing Wenger's teams.
Still, Wenger refused to sit back and counter.
Again and again, Chelsea punished Arsenal with the same game plan—but Wenger never wavered.
From that perspective, the veteran manager was a true tactical idealist—a martyr for his footballing philosophy.
He likely knew his style wouldn't win him major titles without significant financial backing.
But he chose to walk that road to the end, unwavering and uncompromising.
Leon had always admired coaches who genuinely believed in their philosophy.
Had he worn Arsenal's shirt, had he been fighting for Wenger,
he would have bled for the man's vision, thrown everything into it.
But fate didn't work that way.
Leon had no ties to Arsenal.
And as a player on Arsenal's greatest rival, someone who knew their tactics inside and out—
he was destined to build his legacy on top of Arsenal's repeated failures.
In the 24th minute of the first half, Leon drove forward and executed a one-two with the retreating Ibrahimović.
After breaking past Toulalan's interception attempt, he sent a fast diagonal pass out wide to the right, where De Bruyne had surged forward.
De Bruyne didn't hold onto the ball—he touched it forward to Ivanović, who had overlapped.
Ivanović carried it to the byline effortlessly.
Ibrahimović was just arriving in the box, moving centrally. Leon sprinted toward the near post.
Ivanović didn't hesitate—he sent in a driven cross.
Mertesacker tangled with Ibra in the middle.
Leon, tightly marked by Koscielny, leaped at the near post and nodded the ball on with a textbook header!
Inside Arsenal's box, Chelsea's two biggest aerial threats had drawn defenders—but both were decoys.
The ball flew toward the back post, where Hazard brought it down cleanly.
He faked a shot, juking past the recovering Flamini.
Then, just as he found the angle, Hazard let fly with a delicate chip.
The ball arced through the air like a rainbow—its curve left fans everywhere breathless.
At Stamford Bridge, thousands of Chelsea fans were already leaping up in anticipation.
As their jaws dropped and smiles spread across their faces,
the ball sailed just beyond Szczęsny's outstretched hand and buried itself into the top right corner of Arsenal's net.
In that moment, Stamford Bridge erupted in a thunderous roar—like a tidal wave of joy washing over the stands.
As commentators around the world shouted in admiration for Hazard's goal,
the camera cut to the Belgian star as he laughed and ran straight into Leon's arms.
"Well done, Eden! That was perfect!" Leon shouted as he hugged him tightly.
"This season, come stand with me at the top of the football world—we'll get there together!"
"Haha! You got it!"
——
(As I wrote this chapter, I saw the news of Hazard's retirement. My heart's in a weird place—happy, sad, nostalgic. I don't know what to say...)
I'm still waiting, Eden. Waiting for that official announcement—
That you're back in blue, wearing the No. 10 shirt, returning home to Stamford Bridge.
Maybe you're no longer able to flip a match on its head. Maybe you won't lead Chelsea back to glory.
But as long as you're part of the team, I'll gladly stay up deep into the night.
But Chelsea isn't that Chelsea anymore.
And you… you made the most shocking, yet most you decision possible.
Maybe all the best stories really do end in bittersweet regret.
The wind from the Persian Gulf brushes past—
And Eden… I'm starting to forget what you looked like at your peak.
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