On the opening matchday of the Bundesliga, the Hoffenheim team set off for their home stadium. Oliver leaned back in his seat, his fingertips unconsciously stroking the club crest on his jersey sleeve. Beside him, Amiri was resting with his eyes closed and headphones on, the tactical manual spread across his knees fluttering slightly in the breeze. A restrained excitement filled the bus; occasionally, someone spoke in low tones, but most stared silently out the window.
This was the first round of the Bundesliga, Hoffenheim at home against Werder Bremen, and no one wanted to mess up this start.
"Hey, rookie." Captain Vogt suddenly turned around from the front row and tossed over a piece of chocolate.
"Don't look so tense. You usually seem quite relaxed to me. Why so serious today? Has our Robot switched to combat mode?"
At the mention of the Robot joke, the bus erupted in another round of laughter. Oliver took the chocolate, and his expression finally softened.
"Yes, Captain. One hundred percent combat mode."
As the bus entered the stadium's perimeter, fans wearing blue and white jerseys had already gathered along both sides of the road. Someone pounded on the window, shouting, "Get those Northerners!"
Amiri took off his headphones and squinted at the crowd. "It seems last season's fourth-place finish has whetted our fans' appetites."
Oliver followed his gaze and saw a young boy in a knit hat holding a crooked sign that had "17 OLIVER" scrawled on it in highlighter.
His heart suddenly skipped a beat. He actually had a fan? Once the players reached the locker room, Nagelsmann was the last to enter. He tapped the whiteboard with his tactical board, a sound that brought all chatter to an immediate halt. The coach was wearing a slim-fit black suit today, but his tie hung loosely, looking as if he were ready to rip it off and throw it on the floor at any moment.
"Do you know what news I heard before the match?" He paced to the center of the locker room.
"The media says we'll fall apart after losing to Liverpool, that a small-town team like ours doesn't deserve a spot in the Champions League qualifiers."
Kramarić suddenly slammed his towel onto the floor. "To hell with the media!"
"Exactly, screw them!" Nagelsmann's voice suddenly rose, the veins in his neck bulging.
"But cursing isn't enough; we have to let the score do the talking. Bremen finished tenth last year, and they'll be snapping at us like mad dogs today because everyone wants to prove themselves by stepping on Hoffenheim!" He grabbed a bottle of mineral water and took two gulps, droplets running down his chin onto his shirt.
"Listen, I want you to remember two things: first, our link-up play in the half-spaces is sharper than most Bundesliga teams; second, there are thirty thousand fans in that stadium today waiting for your performance."
He pointed out the window, where the muffled sound of fans singing the club anthem drifted in. Oliver looked down to tie his laces and noticed his fingers were still trembling slightly.
Nagelsmann noticed him and addressed him again: "Oliver, do you know why I chose you to start?"
He looked up into Nagelsmann's hawk-like eyes and didn't speak, waiting for the coach to elaborate.
"Because I want to show those old guys at Bremen that a 17-year-old kid from Hoffenheim can run their defense ragged."
"That's right! Our killing Robot!"
"Take them all down, Oliver!"
"It's the Terminator Robot!!"
The locker room erupted in whistles and cheers. Someone slapped him hard on the back; everyone was cheering on Oliver for his upcoming debut. As the light from the player tunnel pierced his vision, the roar of the crowd made Oliver's eardrums ache. This was the first time he had seen the grand spectacle of his team's home ground.
The stands of the Rhein-Neckar Arena loomed over like steep cliffs. The die-hard fans in the North Stand were waving a giant tifo, featuring a roaring blue lion—the Hoffenheim crest. He took a deep breath. The scent of turf mixed with popcorn and beer flooded his nose; to a footballer, this was the "smell of gunpowder."
"Whoa, Oliver, look over there. You've got fans." Amiri nudged him with his elbow.
Oliver looked in that direction. Scattered across the Southeast Stand were a few number 17 support signs; one boy with glasses was even wearing his knock-off jersey. Because the sponsor's logo on the number was printed crookedly, it was obvious at a glance it wasn't official.
Gnabry teased from behind, "Looks like you have more fans than Kramarić."
Oliver pretended not to hear, but he couldn't suppress the smile on his face. As the officiating crew checked their socks, the two teams drew close.
Bremen captain Moisander eyed Oliver sideways and whispered: "Is Hoffenheim starting kindergarteners now?"
Oliver was about to retort, but Amiri had already stepped in front of him:
"Moisander, I suggest you memorize this handsome face now. In a bit, he's going to have you crying for your mommy."
Oliver and Amiri shared a knowing fist bump. The stadium announcer began reading the starting lineup. When the name "Oliver" rang through the stadium in a clumsy pronunciation, He heard a few tentative cheers from the stands, which were quickly drowned out by a larger wave of sound. Actually, it was only fair. Oliver didn't expect to be remembered by all the Hoffenheim fans just because of one German Cup debut. A Bundesliga debut was like streaking; you either earned applause through your performance or were torn apart by boos. It was that simple.
The final moments before the match.
"Everyone, over here!" Nagelsmann spread his arms in front of the bench as if to bind everyone into a single heartbeat,
"Remember, we're not here to play football. We're here to..."
"...go to war!" the whole team roared the second half of the sentence.
Amidst the collective roar, Oliver's voice was no quieter than the others. He had prepared a lot for this match. He had another expectation in his heart: if he performed well in this match, there was a high probability the coach would start him in the next Champions League qualifier.
With a blast of the referee's whistle, the match officially began.
Hoffenheim's 4-3-3 formation immediately applied pressure. Shortly after the start, the Bremen backline was forced to pass back to their goalkeeper, Pavlenka. Oliver made a high-speed run up the right flank, arms spread to signal for a pass, but the ball was switched to Gnabry on the left. The German winger shook off his defender with a feint, cut inside, and unleashed a long-range shot that went just over the crossbar.
"A real pity for Gnabry! That was inches away!" The Commentator's voice echoed through the stadium speakers.
"Hoffenheim showed their attacking intent right from the start. Their wing play has left the Bremen defense looking a bit rattled! This tempo is somewhat unfamiliar; I don't remember Hoffenheim playing this fast last season," said the Commentator.
Bremen still tried to stabilize the rhythm. Delaney had the ball in midfield to organize, but Grillitsch immediately pressed him closely, forcing the Dane into a hurried back-pass. However, Hoffenheim's high press made it very difficult for Bremen to move the ball comfortably. The first ten minutes were played almost entirely in Bremen's half.
Around the 11th minute, Oliver truly began to see the ball. After Amiri broke free from his marker in midfield, he played a diagonal ball into the space on the right. The moment Oliver received the ball, Bremen's left-back Augustinsson was already upon him. He had already noticed the man coming from behind in his peripheral vision, but he didn't blindly try to break through. Instead, he cut the ball back with his right foot to the overlapping Kaderabek and quickly made an inward run. Kaderabek understood perfectly and played a through ball into the half-space of the box. Oliver poked a shot from a tight angle before Moisander could block it, but Pavlenka dove and blocked the ball out for a corner with his leg.
"That decision was damn beautiful!" Even Nagelsmann couldn't help but curse in praise of Oliver.
With a young player like Oliver—disciplined, selfless, possessing great vision and potential—what coach wouldn't love him?
"Oliver! He was so close to replicating his magical performance from the German Cup!" the Commentator shouted excitedly.
"Allow me to reintroduce him to the audience: this 17-year-old British-Chinese youngster scored four goals on his German Cup debut. That was an away game, so many Hoffenheim fans hadn't seen him. Today is his first Bundesliga home debut! Hoffenheim fans, remember this name!"
A round of applause broke out in the stands, mixed with a few cheers. Oliver didn't overthink it and returned to his position. He knew he needed more performances to conquer this stadium.
In the 17th minute, Hoffenheim broke the deadlock. Gnabry had the ball on the left. Facing Bremen's right-back Gebre Selassie, he suddenly changed direction to cut inside, drawing the center-back Veljković over to cover. Simultaneously, left-back Schulz made a high-speed overlapping run. Gnabry flicked the ball with his heel, and Schulz sent a cross in from the byline! Inside the box, Uth made a dummy run at the near post, intentionally letting the ball roll through to the far post. Kramarić leaped high at the back post, out-jumping Moisander to head the ball back into the center. The experienced Uth had already adjusted his stride. Without waiting for the ball to hit the ground, he struck it with a direct volley! Pavlenka couldn't make the save in time, and the ball flew straight into the net!
1-0!
"Uth!!! Hoffenheim leads 1-0! A perfect team goal!" The Commentator nearly jumped out of his seat.
"Gnabry cuts in to draw the defense, Schulz's cross perfectly finds the back post, Kramarić's headed layoff was outrageously good, and Uth's finish was clinical!
Bremen's double pivot completely failed to protect the edge of the box, and Moisander's marking error doomed the defense!"
The Rhein-Neckar Arena instantly erupted as blue and white flags waved frantically in the stands. Nagelsmann roared with clenched fists on the touchline, then turned to give his assistant coach a hard high-five.
Oliver ran over to celebrate with Uth, who laughed and ruffled his hair:
"You're next, kid!"
After taking the lead, Hoffenheim played with even more composure. Bremen tried to fight back, but their attack lacked sharpness. Yuya Osako was isolated up front, and his few attempts to break through were easily neutralized by Vogt and Hübner.
In the 35th minute, Oliver's debut Bundesliga goal arrived. Delaney tried to drive forward with the ball in midfield, but Grillitsch suddenly stepped up and made a clean tackle! The Austrian midfielder didn't hesitate for a second, playing a direct through ball that pierced the Bremen defense! Oliver took off instantly on the right, tearing through the Bremen defense like a bolt of blue lightning. It wasn't that Oliver was exceptionally fast—his speed wasn't particularly outstanding—but his timing of the run was handled perfectly. For the first time, the Bremen defenders experienced this kid's positional awareness.
"Augustinsson, catch him!!!" Captain Moisander shouted.
Augustinsson chased back desperately, but because Oliver had started his run early, his advantage was more pronounced. He drove into the right side of the box, having already spotted Vogt making a late run from midfield in his peripheral vision.
"Oliver! A one-on-one chance!" The Commentator's voice rose sharply. "Will he shoot directly? No! He chose a cut-back!"
Just as Augustinsson thought he was going to cross, Oliver cut back with his right foot, suddenly changing direction to open up an angle, and then swept the ball across toward the penalty spot with his left foot. Vogt met the ball with a powerful shot. Pavlenka dove and parried it, but the ball fell right in front of Oliver! In a flash, Oliver didn't hesitate. With a push from the instep of his right foot, the ball rolled under Pavlenka's arm and into the net!
2-0!
"Oliver!!! 2-0! Hoffenheim extends their lead! The 17-year-old has scored his first Bundesliga goal!" The Commentator's voice almost broke,
"Grillitsch's tackle was crucial, and Oliver's speed and decision-making were a perfect combination! He first used his explosiveness to lose Augustinsson, then calmly observed his teammate's run to find Vogt with the cut-back. Although Pavlenka saved the first shot, Oliver's follow-up showed the instinct of a killer!"
The entire stadium instantly exploded. Fans in the stands waved their scarves wildly, and several young people wearing number 17 jerseys hugged each other in excitement. Nagelsmann raised both arms on the sideline, then turned and shouted to the bench: "See that? That's why I chose him to start!"
Oliver rushed toward the corner flag and celebrated with a knee slide, turf flying everywhere.
His teammates swarmed him with hugs. Amiri laughed and put an arm around his shoulder: "Kid! Your first Bundesliga goal!!"
Uth also patted him on the back: "Welcome to the Bundesliga!"
The Bremen players looked at each other, their expressions toward Moisander very sour. They never expected that this 17-year-old boy could so calmly and easily tear their defense to shreds. He just made a few runs, and that's a goal?
For the remainder of the first half, Hoffenheim continued to control the game. Oliver became increasingly confident on the right, attempting several cut-ins for shots and crosses. Although his teammates failed to score again, the fans' cheers grew louder and louder.
When the referee blew the whistle for halftime, the Rhein-Neckar Arena erupted in prolonged applause. As Oliver walked toward the player tunnel, he looked up at the scoreboard: 2-0. His Bundesliga debut, so far, was looking pretty good.