Chapter 85– Eyes Watching
The noise didn't fade after Lille.
It sharpened
The next morning, the game wasn't replayed as a highlight.
It was studied.
Paused.
Rewound.
At the Robert Louis-Dreyfus Training Center, the squad sat in silence as clips rolled on the screen.
Kweku's touches, every one of them.
Early losses of possession, moments under pressure, the assist. Everything.
Coach Jean-Louis Gasset stood at the front, arms folded.
Click.
Pause.
Kweku receiving the ball in the first half—immediately closed down.
"What do you see?" Gasset asked.
No one answered at first.
Then Kondogbia spoke.
"They don't let him turn."
Gasset nodded.
Click.
Another clip.
Two defenders collapsing on Kweku.
"Again."
This time, Aubameyang answered.
"They're forcing him backwards."
Gasset turned slightly.
"And why?"
Silence.
Then—
"Because he's dangerous facing forward," Kweku said quietly.
Gasset looked at him.
Held the gaze for a moment.
Then nodded.
"Yes."
---
The clips continued.
Second half now.
Kweku wider.
Receiving.
Releasing quickly.
Moving.
Click.
Pause.
The assist.
Gasset let it play fully this time.
No interruption.
No commentary.
Just the movement.
The timing.
The decision.
Click.
Silence.
"That," Gasset said, "is the difference."
He stepped closer to the screen.
"First half—you fight the game."
Another step.
"Second half—you understand it."
No one spoke because everyone felt it.
---
After the session, players filtered out slowly.
Kweku stayed.
Gasset noticed.
"Walk with me," he said.
They moved out onto the training pitch.
Walking alone with the head coach is a different kind of pressure.
"You felt it, didn't you?" Gasset asked.
Kweku nodded.
"No space."
Gasset smiled slightly.
"There's always space."
Kweku frowned.
"There wasn't."
"There wasn't where you wanted it," Gasset corrected. "That's different, space is as you make it."
---
They stopped near the touchline.
Gasset pointed across the pitch.
"Football isn't about what they give you."
Pause.
"It's about what you take anyway."
Kweku listened closely.
"When they double you," Gasset continued, "you don't beat two players."
"So what do I do?"
"You make them useless."
Kweku blinked.
Gasset tapped his temple.
"Move the ball faster. Move yourself faster. If they come to you—someone else is free."
The realization settled slowly.
Not flashy but deep, he wasn't Messi or Neymar or even Ronaldinho, the current football system had killed off those players now he just had to be a really good part of a machine.
---
The session that followed was different.
Sharper, more focused.
Small-sided games with tight spaces and limited touches.
Every mistake punished immediately.
Kweku struggled at first.
Again.
Pressure.
Again.
Mistake.
"Quicker!" Gasset shouted.
"Don't wait for the game—be ahead of it!"
Then—
It clicked.
Not perfectly.
But enough.
Receive.
Pass.
Move.
Receive again.
This time, no hesitation.
No extra touch.
Flow.
Kondogbia noticed first.
"Better," he muttered as play continued.
Sarr nodded slightly.
It wasn't loud.
But it mattered.
---
Away from training, the world kept watching.
Pundits across France debated him.
"He's talented, no doubt."
"But can he do it consistently?"
"He was locked down for long periods."
"Yet he still decided the match."
Clips of his assist circulated now.
Not just the action—
But the decision.
The patience.
The air back home wss bubbling too, a new star was being made again.
---
Later that week, the fixture list sat on the wall again.
Another opponent.
Another challenge.
Another test.
Marseille were climbing.
Close to European spots now.
But not secure.
Not yet.
Kondogbia tapped the board lightly.
"We keep going," he said.
"We had setbacks but we're moving past that, next season has to be better and we'll make it better from now till the last matchday.
---
That night, Kweku sat alone again.
Phone in hand.
He didn't open social media this time.
Instead, he opened the match replay.
Watched the first half.
Every mistake.
Every lost ball.
He didn't skip them.
Then the second half.
Every adjustment.
Every smarter decision.
He paused at the assist.
Not at the cross.
Before it.
The moment he chose not to force it.
That was the real difference.
A smile crept up his face when suddenly, his phone buzzed.
Camille.
"You're improving."
He stared at the message.
Typed back:
"Still not enough."
Three dots appeared.
"Good, you're still humble."
He smirked slightly and continued their conversation through the night.
---
The next match was approaching fast.
Training intensity rising.
Expectations rising.
Everything rising.
As Kweku stepped onto the pitch the next day, one thing felt clear:
Teams would keep studying, targeting adapting to him.
So he had to learn how to stay ahead of them.
The days went by quickly, three days in football was not a long time.
The whistle blew.
No buildup.
No easing in.
Just intensity.
--
Across from them stood AS Monaco FC.
Fast.
Technical.
Dangerous in transition.
Players like Wissam Ben Yedder, Aleksandr Golovin, and Takumi Minamino were already moving before Marseille had even settled.
---
From the start of the game both teams went at it.
Marseille worked the ball wide quickly.
Kweku received near the touchline.
First touch—clean.
Second touch—
Pressure.
Immediate.
Caio Henrique stepped up aggressively, while Youssouf Fofana closed the inside lane.
"Mensah crowded out early again—Monaco clearly targeting him!"
Kweku didn't hesitate.
One touch back.
Move.
Reset.
---
The ball was nicked from Lafont and Monaco broke forward quickly
Golovin slipped a pass between lines.
Ben Yedder spun and swung without even looking at the goal.
Shot—
Saved by Pau López.
An early warning.
Marseille reset once more, passing the ball around in quick succession.
Ball to Kweku again.
Same pressure.
Same trap.
This time—
Different choice.
First-time pass inside.
Continue run.
Receive again.
"Much quicker from Mensah—he's learning fast."
He didn't force it.
Didn't fight the pressure.
He moved around it.
---
In the center, Geoffrey Kondogbia was locked in a physical duel with Fofana.
Every ball contested.
Every challenge heavy.
Minute 14.
Loose ball.
Kondogbia won it.
Drove forward.
Played it wide.
Kweku.
One defender.
He paused.
Shifted.
Accelerated.
Half a yard gained—
Cross.
Blocked by Caio Henrique.
Corner. It was taken quickly but punched away by the goalkeeper.
Monaco countered quickly.
Minamino drifted inside.
Quick one-two with Golovin.
Space opened but seeing the approaching players, he shot from distance—
Just wide.
"So close! Monaco carving through again!"
Kweku watched, tracking back hard.
Different game.
Different threat.
---
Marseille began to settle after that.
Passing quicker.
Sharper.
Kweku received wide.
Shielded the ball.
Drew Caio Henrique in.
Then slipped it inside at the last moment.
Simple.
Effective.
The defense shifted but that chance came to nothing as well.
---
Minute 27.
Same position.
This time, Kweku didn't wait.
Quick one-two.
Return ball perfect.
He drove forward.
Low cross—
Cleared just before Pierre-Emerick Aubameyang could reach it.
"That was excellent play—he's becoming a real problem!"
---
Monaco responded instantly.
Fofana drove forward.
Played wide.
Cross into the box—
Cleared late.
Ben Yedder lurking.
The ball fell kindly again to Lafont how played a slick pass to Kweku who found space again.
Cut inside.
Shot—
Deflected for a corner.
From the corner, Leonardo Balerdi rose highest—
Header just over.
"Marseille knocking now!"
Halftime
0–0.
But tense.
Balanced.
Danger on both sides and Kweku was growing into the game.
The whistle blew again and there was no drop in intensity.
Marseille pressed high.
Guendouzi won the ball.
Immediate pass wide.
Kweku.
Space.
"Here's Mensah—this is dangerous!"
He drove forward.
Caio Henrique backpedaling.
Kweku shaped to cross—
Cut inside.
Shot—
Saved.
Rebound cleared by Guillermo Maripán.
---
Marseille dominating possession now.
Kweku heavily involved.
Receiving.
Releasing.
Moving constantly.
He dropped deeper.
Collected the ball.
Turned sharply.
Drove through midfield.
Past Fofana.
"Brilliant run from Mensah!"
He released the ball wide.
Continued his run.
Return pass—
Just overhit.
Chance gone.
---
In the 63rd minute they had a chance to break through again.
Turnover in midfield.
Kondogbia again.
Forward quickly.
Aubameyang dropped deep.
Held it.
Waited.
Then—
Slip pass wide.
Harit. Kweku ran in the opposite direction drawing one defender away.
No cover ,the play slowed.
He slowed just enough to make sure Caio Henrique hesitated.
That was it.
Harit exploded beat him clean.
"Harit's past him—big chance!"
Then he passed it back to a now unmarked Kweku who hit a low driven cross into the box.
Maripán stretched—
Deflection.
Ball loose in the box.
Scramble.
Aubameyang reacted fastest.
Shot.
Goal.
1–0.
"GOAL! Marseille lead! And once again—it Mensah is involved!"
---
Monaco barely waited for the celebrations and got ready to restart believing there was still time to get back in the game.
They moved with more urgency, more risk.
Golovin dictating.
Minamino drifting dangerously.
Minute 74.
Through ball—
Ben Yedder in behind—
Saved again by Pau López.
---
Minute 78.
Marseille broke quickly.
Kweku leading the charge.
Three-on-two.
He carried the ball forward.
Drew the defender.
Then slipped it perfectly to Aubameyang.
Shot—
Saved by Philipp Köhn.
"So unselfish—he's making all the right decisions!"
---
The last couple minutes were hectic, nobody had the time to relax.
Minute 84.
Cross into the box—
Cleared by Balerdi.
Minute 87.
Shot from distance—
Over.
Minute 90.
Final push.
Corner to Monaco.
Ball whipped in—
Cleared again.
---
Full Time
1–0.
Another win.
Another step toward Europe.
As Kweku walked off, breathing heavy, one thing was undeniable:
Teams knew him now and maybe even prepared for him, targeted him but it didn't matter if they still couldn't stop him.