"Lean back less," Eze said, his voice smooth. "If you keep your weight over the ball, the defender can't guess your next move."

"Style over everything," Eze whispered to himself, a small smirk playing on his lips.

That night, London felt electric. He decided to walk part of the way home, pulling his hoodie up. As he passed a local community pitch, he saw a kid—no older than ten—trying to replicate the "Eze shimmy" against a chain-link fence. The kid slipped, tumbling onto the asphalt.

Should we delve deeper into a or perhaps explore a fictional rivalry for Eze next?