The team bus crawled through the sea of black and yellow that had engulfed the streets around the Westfalenstadion, each meter of progress accompanied by the thunderous roar of Dortmund supporters who had been waiting months for this moment.
From his window seat, Mateo watched thousands of fans streaming toward the stadium like pilgrims approaching a sacred shrine, their faces painted with fierce devotion, their voices already hoarse from hours of pre-match singing.
This wasn't just football this was Der Klassiker, the defining rivalry of German football, and today it carried the added weight of silverware and the promise of psychological supremacy heading into the new season.
"Look at them," Sebastian Kehl said softly, his voice carrying the weight of a decade's worth of battles against the Bavarian giants. "They've been dreaming of this moment since May. Bayern thinks they own German football, but today we remind them that champions are forged in fire, not bought in boardrooms."
