The morning sun cast its rays upon the streets of Sinsheim, and outside Rhein-Neckar Arena, Hoffenheim's home ground, crowds had already gathered. Hours before the match was set to begin, fans were already impatiently flooding into the shops surrounding the stadium, with the official jersey sales area being the most popular.
"I want a Oliver number 17!" a young fan shouted excitedly as he pushed his way to the counter.
"Me too! Print his name on it!" another fan waved his money, afraid he would miss out if he was even a second late.
The staff were swamped, as Oliver's jerseys on the shelves were almost completely sold out. Just a few weeks ago, this jersey had quietly hung in a corner, with mediocre sales, even going unnoticed. But ever since the astonishing comeback and last-minute winner against Liverpool away from home, everything had changed. Oliver's name began to spread locally, and his jersey sales skyrocketed, even surpassing those of team veterans Kramarić and Vogt.
There was no other reason; it was all because Oliver had sent the team into the Champions League group stage with a single shot. He was now a hero in the hearts of Hoffenheim fans. The Head of Marketing wiped his sweat, watching the fans clamor for jerseys, and said to his colleague.
"If I had known they would sell so well, I wouldn't have stocked so few. For the next match, we definitely need to arrange another dedicated counter for Oliver."
Fans were not only buying Oliver's jerseys but also those of other players. Hoffenheim team scarves, hats, flags, and even custom T-shirts emblazoned with "Wunderkind Oliver" all became hot commodities. The club even temporarily printed a batch of Oliver posters, which were swept clean from the shelves as soon as they were put out.
"This kid is our new cash cow now," a staff member said with a chuckle and a shake of his head, "Who would have thought that a few months ago he was still an unknown?"
As kickoff approached, the atmosphere inside the stadium gradually heated up. In the stands, more and more fans wore Oliver's number 17 jersey, some even holding up banners that read:
"The Terminator Oliver!"
This nickname was voted on and chosen in the Hoffenheim fan forum after he scored the winning goal against Liverpool. Initially, some suggested calling him "Rocket" or "Oriental Magician," but ultimately, "Der Terminator" won by an overwhelming margin.
Gnabry, hearing the fans' cheers, teased, "That's a pretty fierce nickname, but it suits you, after all, you always manage to solve problems at the last moment."
Oliver himself was quite calm, even a little embarrassed. He didn't feel he deserved such an exaggerated title, but the fans' enthusiasm made it impossible for him to refuse.
The match was about to begin. In the player tunnel, Oliver stood in line, taking deep breaths to adjust his mindset. He could hear the thunderous shouts from outside, and when the stadium announcer called his name, the roar of the entire stadium instantly surged even higher.
"OLIVER! OLIVER! OLIVER!"
"TERMINATOR!"
Cheers surged like a tide, Oliver looked up at the stands, countless arms waving, countless faces flushed with excitement. He waved back gently, a slight, unconscious smile playing on his lips; this feeling was truly wonderful.
"Looks like you're the star here now," Captain Vogt said from behind Oliver, patting his shoulder, "Kid, don't let them down."
"Of course, Captain, every goal of mine is for the team and the fans. I'll perform well in this match," Oliver said.
The fans' fervor was not only due to his performance but also because they saw hope in this team. From a small village club to now being able to enter the Champions League stage. Hoffenheim was rising at an astonishing speed, and Oliver himself had become the symbol of this new hope. The moment he stepped out of the tunnel, the sunlight was dazzling, and the roar of the crowd washed over him. Oliver squinted, adjusting to the light, then stepped onto the pitch. He could feel the turf beneath his feet trembling slightly, as if the entire stadium was buzzing for this match.
In the stands, a huge tifo slowly unfurled, depicting Oliver kneeling in celebration after his winning goal at Anfield, with the German words beside it:
"Wir Schreiben Geschichte!"
This large TIFO was not just for their own fans, but also for the Bayern players and fans playing away. Only a strong rival like Bayern, a powerhouse, deserved the TIFO spontaneously made by Hoffenheim fans. Oliver looked at the fans' large TIFO, took a deep breath, and felt a slight warmth in his chest.
...
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Today's match was not just an ordinary Bundesliga clash; to exaggerate, this match was as important as the last one against Liverpool, and he had to do everything right. Bayern's players were also lined up, their eyes filled with scrutiny, especially the full-back Alaba, whose gaze remained fixed on Oliver.
"You have to be careful today, Oliver, they've definitely studied you," Gnabry whispered.
Oliver nodded at Gnabry, fist-bumped him, and said, "You too, let's work hard together."
On the other side of the pitch, Wagner, stood in Bayern's half, his gaze unconsciously sweeping towards the familiar blue and white figures on the opposite side. A few months ago, he too wore Hoffenheim's jersey and ran on this pitch, high-fived Captain Vogt to celebrate goals, and discussed tactical details with Nagelsmann. But now, he had returned as an opponent. This feeling was strange, like walking into his former home only to find the locks had been changed.
"Hey, Wagner," Muller, chuckled as he nudged him with his elbow, "Nervous? Don't go soft on your old club later."
Wagner tugged at the corner of his mouth, feigning nonchalance as he retorted, "You worry about yourself, Thomas, don't let me steal your thunder."
Muller laughed heartily and patted his back: "Don't worry, everyone will go easy, we won't let Hoffenheim lose too badly."
Kimmich interjected, "Hoffenheim isn't weak this season, especially that one."
At the mention of Oliver's name, Muller's eyes lit up: "Ah, yes, that number 17! A last-minute winner against Liverpool on his Champions League debut, pretty ruthless!"
He turned to Wagner,
"Wagner, did you train with him when you were at Hoffenheim? Was he that fierce in the youth academy too?"
Wagner shook his head: "No, Thomas, he had just joined Hoffenheim when I left, we never crossed paths. But I heard he trains very hard, and Nagelsmann likes him a lot."
Captain Lahm cleared his throat, interrupting their small talk from behind: "Everyone, focus, the match is about to begin."
His gaze swept over everyone, finally settling on Wagner, "Alex Sandro, you are key today, don't overthink it, just play like you do in training."
Wagner nodded, taking a deep breath. Professional football was like this; teammates fighting side by side today could become fierce opponents tomorrow. Emotions aside, the moment they stepped onto the pitch, everyone had only one goal: to win the match.
The referee's whistle blew, and the match officially began. Wagner stood in the center circle, looking at the familiar Kramarić opposite him. The moment their eyes met, they both gave a slight nod in greeting. There was no extra small talk, but in that instant, both were saying: "Each for his own club, give it our all."
Muller stood beside him, suddenly lowering his voice and saying: "Seriously, if you score later, don't celebrate too wildly, be careful you don't get booed by the Hoffenheim fans."
Wagner smiled: "Don't worry, I know my limits."
In the stands, Hoffenheim fans had already begun their chants. Wagner could hear the familiar melody of the team song, only this time, those songs were no longer sung for him. His gaze unconsciously drifted to Oliver.
The young number 17 was looking down, gently treading on the turf, scrutinizing Bayern's entire lineup. Wagner narrowed his eyes, deep in thought: "This kid really has a different kind of aura."
The referee blew the kickoff whistle. The ball rolled towards Bayern's half, and Wagner stepped forward, charging into the battlefield he once knew so well. This time, his mission was to breach the goal defended by his old teammates.