As first impressions go, it was the kind you might like to forget. The first time Francesc Fàbregas set foot in Highbury, in September 2003, he watched his new club get blown away by Inter Milan. He had signed that summer but missed much of the preseason while leading Spain to the final of the Under17 World Cup in Finland, where he was crowned the tournament’s best player and was the leading scorer.

As he watched the horror show unfold — Arsenal were 3-0 down by half-time — what thoughts ran through his mind? Was there at least a silver lining in the fact that Arsenal’s much-vaunted World Cup-winning midfield pairing — Patrick Vieira and Gilberto Silva — were so thoroughly outplayed that Fàbregas, despite his 16 years of age, believed he might get a shot at the first team sooner rather than later?

Not at all. “I certainly wasn’t thinking about it,” he says. “I knew they were great players, but I also never really thought of the first team at that point. I mean, I was there to play for the youth team, I never imagined I would have to worry about the first team’s midfield, let alone those two. I was 16 years old . . . normally players get a chance when they turn 22 or thereabouts. I thought it would be the same for me. I certainly did not imagine that, in less than a year, I’d be playing regularly alongside them.”

Of course, when it comes to developing youth players and launching them in the first team, Arsenal are hardly a “normal” club. Yet off the pitch his first year was no different from that of any other 16-year-old who lands at a top Premiership side with a duffel bag, a pair of boots and a heart full of hope.

Fàbregas lived in a bedsit in Barnet, Hertfordshire, run by a woman who looks after young players on behalf of the club. It was comfortable, but spartan, miles away from the “Footballers’ Pads” image.

“I had a stereo, some clothes, a computer, a tiny television which was hooked up to my PlayStation. In fact, it was so small I think I nearly went blind playing on it,” he says. “Philippe Senderos was there, too, though he had a much bigger room.”

At first, as with most things, everything seemed shiny, exciting and new. By the time winter set in, however, things began to change somewhat. “After four to six months it became tough,” he says. “Every day, the same routine, the same things. When I wasn’t training or going to my English lessons, I’d spend all day in my room, staring at the computer, not knowing what to do with myself. It was incredibly boring. And weekends were no better. The reserves played during the week, so on Saturday and Sunday, because I had no friends, I would just sit there.”

Little by little, he found things to do, usually with Senderos in tow. The shops of Barnet High Street — Block-buster in particular — became a welcome distraction. And occasionally, they would hop on the Tube into town, making a beeline for Niketown and Selfridges on Oxford Street. Standard teenage fare, albeit a world away from his friends back in Barcelona.

“I’d think about my friends back home, who were out clubbing and having a good time and there I was, all by myself, in front of the computer, wondering what the hell I was doing,” he says. “It was tough, but it was a choice I had made.

“Now, it’s different. My girlfriend is here studying, we’re more settled, we have a wide range of friends and interests. And I think most of all, I like doing different things now that I’m older.”

There is no trace of irony in Fàbregas’s expression as he describes himself as being “older”. When he speaks, he exudes a maturity and a confidence well beyond his years and you have to remind yourself constantly that he will not turn 20 until May.

He lives in a flat just inside the M25, down the street from Gilberto. Filling his free time is no problem these days. The internet and a Spanish satellite dish provide an umbilical cord back to Spain — “I guess if they didn’t exist I’d just be reading books and playing cards all day” — and he has developed a taste for British contemporary culture.

“ Little Britain is the best,” he says, reminding you that, perhaps, he really is 19 years old. “Did you know Matt Lucas is an Arsenal fan? They tell me he’s a regular at our matches, though I’ve never met him. That guy is so funny. And my girlfriend and I also love watching WAGS Boutique. We stumbled upon it one night and now we’re hooked.”

For all his consumption of television, video games and the web, one activity takes up most of his time: sleep. “I love it, I’ll sleep 9½ hours a night on average, and maybe up to 11 hours the night before a game,” he says. “I’d be tempted to take a nap between our pre-game meal and our warm-up, but then I might not wake up.”

So much for the stereotypes of young men with fat wallets and overstimulated libidos partying until dawn five nights a week. It is easy to see why Arséne Wenger puts so much faith in Fàbregas and his maturity and professionalism. “From day one, Wenger spoke to me only in English, though he does speak some Spanish,” he says. “It may have been a bit rough initially, but it helped me settle and fit in. Wenger likes to have a personal relationship with each of us. He occasionally talks to the team as a group, but in general he likes to take us aside, one by one, and speak to us individually.”

Others have shaped his path. One was Lauren, who showed him the benefits of doing extra training on his own and the tricks an older player uses to coax as much as possible from his body. Another was Vieira, the man he replaced in the heart of the Arsenal midfield. “I remember one day I played alongside him and I had an absolute stinker,” Fàbregas says. “It was a horror show, I was giving the ball away, I wasn’t getting involved. After the game I was upset and I think everybody knew just how down I was on the bus ride home. Vieira came up to me and I’ll never forget his words.

“He said that I was 17 years old and would have at least another 15 seasons as a professional and, most likely, I would have many other really bad games ahead of me. He said that it was impossible to perform at 100 per cent every match and that those outside football who demanded it did not understand the game. He said that what mattered was giving 100 per cent, knowing that you might not get 100 per cent back from your performance. And that I shouldn’t worry and beat myself up over it, but continue working hard.

“His words had a massive impact on me, not least because he was my captain and a guy who played in my position on the pitch.”

Vieira, of course, had been a teenage phenomenon himself. When he arrived at AC Milan in 1995 the side’s midfield featured the likes of Marcel Desailly and Demetrio Albertini. Perhaps, just as they had passed their trade secrets on to him, he was now handing the baton to Fàbregas.

As it happened, the two would meet — master versus apprentice — in the 2005-06 season, when Vieira’s Juventus visited Highbury in the quarter-finals of the Champions League. A few minutes into the match, Fàbregas caught Vieira with a scything tackle in midfield, a clash that showed that Arsenal’s midfield had a new general.

“The truth is that someone, I won’t say who, told me to go in hard and show Vieira that I was not going to be intimidated by him,” he says. “He was and remains one of my heroes, but, on the pitch, it was going to be all business. The tackle may have had that effect, but I can honestly say I would have done it anyway; it could have been Emerson, instead of Vieira, on the receiving end. The fact is that we were caught out by their counter-attack and they needed to be stopped. Besides, I’m not the kind of guy who plays the hard man in midfield. I mean, look at me . . . if I were built like Júlio Baptista, maybe I could get away with it, but with this body . . . ”

And yet “that body” has shown that it is not afraid to mix it, just ask Messrs Sheringham and Lampard.

“Gilberto says that he always has to come and defend me, but he’s a big liar,” Fàbregas jokes. “The truth is that I’ve learnt to take care of myself. A season or two ago I was perhaps a bit more lightweight and maybe some opponents took some liberties with me. Now I think I’m tougher and I need to be, because given the way we play now and the way our opponents play, I have a lot less space than before. Usually there’s a guy on me from the very first minute, so I had to stiffen up.”

As a skilful player, being able to withstand physical punishment is a necessary skill. Yet what about the mental wear and tear? Does the burden of being the midfield leader as a teenager ever get to him? “I can’t say I’ve ever been afraid on the pitch, no, but I have had nerves,” he says. “I was extremely nervous, for example, before we played Real Madrid at the Bernabéu last year. But then, the moment I stepped on the pitch, it all went away. I think you have to learn to channel those nerves.”

According to reports in the Spanish press yesterday, Real would like to make the Bernabéu Fàbregas’s new home, but the player maintains he is happy at Arsenal. Besides, he has already had to get used to one new ground this year, but is grateful that he had a chance to experience Highbury before the move to the Emirates Stadium.

“The new ground is different, you notice immediately for example that the pitch is bigger,” he says. “At Highbury everything was so small, so close, you could hear everything. I would get goosebumps hearing the fans sing about Vieira or Thierry Henry. The new ground isn’t like that, not yet, and it’s normal that it will take some time. Highbury is full of memories, including the first time I heard the fans singing my name.”

Well, it wasn’t really his name, was it? “Yes, that’s another thing,” he says with a smile. “We were beating Blackburn, 3-0, I had scored a goal and the manager substituted me with five minutes to go. I heard everyone singing ‘Fàbregas, Fàbregas’ and, for a minute, it sounded weird. What were they on about? I’ve always been Cesc, Fàbregas is my dad. Then, I realised what was going on and it was wonderful.”

Fàbregas’s old room now belongs to another gifted young midfield player, a few months removed from Barcelona’s youth academy. As he emerges from his room late one winter afternoon — shoeless, hair dishevelled, half-asleep — Fran Merida looks like any teenager might after a few months away from parental supervision. He is where Fàbregas was, facing the same bewildering blend of language, homesickness and long, boring days between training sessions.

The expression on Fàbregas’s face says it all: that was him three years ago.