At Weser Stadium, the German Cup semi-finals were underway. For the German Cup semi-final against Werder Bremen, Nagelsmann implemented his long-prepared "half-rotation" strategy.
Today, Oliver's agile number 17 could not be seen on the field, nor could Gnabry's rapid sprints down the wing; Maguire and De Jong, the two anchors of the midfield and defense, also sat comfortably on the bench. In their place were players like Demirbay, Szalai, Ochs, and Nordtveit, who were not usually absolute starters, as well as more rotational faces eager to prove themselves.
Although the field was dimly lit, Nagelsmann's eyes on the sideline were focused. Opponent Bremen was not a pushover, and the match was not easy. From the start, Bremen showed stubborn resistance, their midfield constantly attacking Hoffenheim's defense.
But this time, Nagelsmann had done his homework thoroughly, even more so than in the home and away League matches against Bremen. He had a extremely thorough understanding of Bremen's usual attacking routines and key players.
More crucially, the team's current unstoppable high morale became the second layer of solid defense. The first half was deadlocked for a time, until a set-piece opportunity. Demirbay, the defensive midfielder who came on as a rotation but bore heavy responsibility, showed his worth by catching a cleared ball at the edge of the penalty area. After a keen observation, without waiting for the ball to land, he used a clean, crisp flick to precisely send the ball to Szalai, who was lurking at the edge of the six-yard box. Szalai held off the defender and, with a standard center-forward's turn and shot, slammed the ball into the net!
1-0!
This goal ignited the Hoffenheim fans who traveled with the team and stabilized the slightly nervous home team.
In the second half, Bremen launched a full-scale counterattack, and right-back Nordtveit became the key player. Before a highly threatening cross from the opponent's wing, he made a textbook sliding tackle interception, precisely clearing the ball out of bounds, defusing a dangerous situation in front of the goal. This crucial defense was invaluable.
Hoffenheim then extended their lead with a goal from another rotational player. Although Bremen pulled one back in the final moments, it did not affect the overall outcome. Ultimately, thanks to the excellent performance of the rotational players and the flashes of brilliance from key figures, Hoffenheim defeated Bremen 2-1, proudly advancing to this season's German Cup final!
At the final whistle, Hoffenheim's bench and the fans in the stands erupted in enthusiastic cheers. The players and fans embraced each other, celebrating this hard-won final spot.\ This season was not only their best Champions League performance, but also their best German Cup performance; this was Hoffenheim's first time reaching the German Cup final.
While everyone was celebrating, Nagelsmann just clapped a few times vigorously, his expression calm with a hint of relief. His gaze seemed to penetrate the celebrating crowd, looking further afield. As for the final opponent they would face, whether it was Bayern Munich, or the theoretically threatening Wolfsburg.
Nagelsmann's heart was already calm. What if it was Bayern? That Bayern is powerful is a fact, but on the stage of the German Cup final, under the spotlight of all eyes, any gap could be instantly bridged by determination and serendipity. Not to mention they had already defeated Bayern once.
He would not shrink back, nor would he fear. Because at this moment, the huge stone that had been weighing on his heart finally fell; his most concerned battlefield could finally be approached with all his heart and soul, without reservation!
At the beginning of this season, Hoffenheim's management set the team the task of reaching the German Cup semi-finals. Now that they had reached the German Cup final, the task was considered to have been overfulfilled. Now, Nagelsmann could finally, completely and wholeheartedly, stake his and the entire coaching staff's souls on the upcoming peak battle of European football, which would be played at home:
UEFA Champions League semi-final first leg, Hoffenheim at home against Real Madrid! The German Cup promotion celebration was very short, one could even say barely celebrated.
Upon returning to Sinsheim that evening, Nagelsmann issued clear instructions to the entire team: From this moment on, every breath, every drop of sweat, every thought, is only for Real Madrid! Training began the next day, and the intensity suddenly increased. The air was filled with an unprecedented, almost suffocating sense of focus. In front of the tactics board, Nagelsmann's voice, hoarse but undeniable in its power, repeatedly analyzed every detail of Real Madrid.
On the training ground, the intensity of pressing in group drills was close to real match conditions, and the sounds of physical collisions rose and fell. The players' shouts were no longer just encouragement, but more like instinctive roars erupting when facing a strong enemy.
Amidst the intense tactical drills, a crucial change quietly occurred: Yes, Nagelsmann put Oliver back in his right-winger position. Although his midfield talent had been fully revealed in previous matches, showing the Prototype of a future playmaking core, Nagelsmann did not hesitate in this major decision.
"Oliver," Nagelsmann said bluntly in a brief conversation after training, "Your midfield potential and vision will undoubtedly shine in the future. But next, we are facing the midfield combination of Modric, Casemiro, and Kroos. Going head-to-head with them, establishing an advantage in that level of midfield battle? That's not a risk, that's suicide."
He pointed to the video of Real Madrid's three midfielders on the training ground; the smooth and coordinated passing, wide coverage, and ability to instantly accelerate and tear apart defenses on the screen were indeed heart-stopping.
"We need you here." He heavily pointed his finger at the combined area of Real Madrid's left-back Marcelo and left-center-back Ramos.
"At the same time, push your position forward, return to your most threatening essence—that deadly burst of speed, that ghostly penetrating run, that final pass that tears the defense apart, or that calm shot! I want you here," he drew a circle in Real Madrid's left half on the tactics board, "When Casemiro doesn't have time to shift over and cover, when Marcelo pushes up and can't get back, drive in hard! Use your most familiar way to create the biggest chaos for Real Madrid!"
This was a cold judgment based on reality and rationality. No matter how Nagelsmann's arrangements changed, his beloved disciple's position remained his tactical focus. Oliver nodded heavily; he knew the coach was right. His task was to maximize his destructive power on the right wing in the attacking third, not to fill a midfield gap that would be difficult to bridge no matter how hard he tried. He could play in midfield, but his current midfield level was completely dwarfed by the flourishing "Ceremonial Midfield Trio."
In the following days, while the players trained, Nagelsmann almost completely secluded himself in the tactical room. Thick piles of data covered his desk and the floor, and the large screen repeatedly played videos of Real Madrid's key battles from recent seasons: Champions League knockout stages, Club World Cup, El Clásico, crucial League matches, Real Madrid's main players' national team games, and so on…
Cristiano Ronaldo's height and timing of sprinting and jumping in the penalty area, Benzema's tricky positions when drifting wide to support, Isco's habitual dribbling routes, Carvajal's signals for overlapping runs, Ramos's heading inertia and Varane's coverage during set pieces, Casemiro's coverage radius and key tackling spots…
To what extent was Nagelsmann dedicated? He was now just short of studying Real Madrid with a microscope. Based on these almost masochistic studies, combined with his own players' abilities and the only possible advantage they might have, he painstakingly constructed a completely new tactical system. It was no longer the fluid, flowing passing and possession of the past, but more like a precisely structured, layered trap network and counter-attacking device.
Every run was designed, every possible passing lane simulated a thousand times. His goal was, at the moment of winning the ball, to exploit the temporary spaces exposed when Real Madrid's formation pushed forward, and to deliver the ball to the most dangerous areas—especially the side Oliver was tasked with attacking—in the fastest, most direct way.
On the training ground, the players repeatedly practiced these complex running routes and instant-start combinations. Mistakes were frequent, and communication problems constantly arose. Nagelsmann roared loudly from the sidelines, then immediately called a halt, repeatedly explaining the intention behind each movement.
"Position! Watch your position! Start 0.5 seconds late, and Modric will block that passing lane!"
"Track back! The first moment the ball is lost, you must track back! Don't let them transition easily in midfield!"
"Don't go soft in challenges! Whoever goes soft first will be eliminated first!"
The training process was rigorous, but Nagelsmann still felt that this tactic was somewhat fragile. Or rather, it wasn't that the tactic was fragile, but that Real Madrid was too strong. Facing the experienced Real Madrid, their chances of success might only be twenty percent, or even lower; he was now like walking a tightrope, searching for the only viable foothold.
After training, as the players left, dragging their tired bodies, Nagelsmann stood alone in the center of the empty field, gazing up at the night sky above the training ground. A huge sense of fatigue and helpless heaviness washed over him, almost drowning him. He rubbed his bloodshot eyes.
"Is this… really the limit of what I can do?" This season, he had asked himself this question more than once.
Yes, this was the limit. Nagelsmann had poured all his wisdom, foresight, and courage into crafting a somewhat tragic answer for this almost unbeatable royal team. Time, like the hands of a countdown clock, advanced relentlessly. Amidst the suffocatingly tense training atmosphere, the mood in Sinsheim was quietly warming up. During these training days, in this warm little town, more and more Hoffenheim flags were hung up.
On the windows of the corner bars, huge posters featuring Real Madrid as a target and "Number 17 Oliver" were plastered. The number 17 jerseys in the fan shop were once again sold out. Children excitedly imitated Oliver's spin dribbles and his shooting actions in open spaces.
"Come on! Beat them!"
"A miracle will happen on our doorstep!"
"Hey, next round I'm wearing number 17!"
Flames of hope and anxiety intertwined, burning in the heart of every person in Hoffenheim.
…
The date of the first leg finally arrived. The Rhein-Neckar Arena was more boisterous than ever, with every seat filled! A red ocean surged, and a giant "TSG Hoffenheim" banner covered the entire South Stand of the stadium.
A little excited, and a little tragic.
In the locker room before the match, Nagelsmann looked at the young faces in front of him, taut with tension and anticipation, and at the calmly burning flame in Oliver's dark eyes. He did not deliver a lengthy speech.
"Guys," his voice was not loud, but it clearly cut through the rapid heartbeats in the locker room, "We've practiced what's on the tactics board countless times, now, forget it."
The players looked up, somewhat surprised.
"Forget Real Madrid's star-studded names and intimidating resumes! They are stepping onto our turf! The turf we've worn down our studs on again and again for victory! Here, there is only room for one voice, the roar from Hoffenheim! The voice from yourselves!"
His gaze swept over everyone, finally settling on Oliver: "Run! Run with every last drop of strength in your bodies! Use your shoulders, chests, foreheads, to smash open even the slightest gap! Let the whole world see who we are! Why we can stand here, for nothing else! For Hoffenheim! For yourselves! Show the courage of warriors! Go fight!"
Roar!!! A beast-like roar erupted in the locker room! All the unease and fear seemed to be instantly ignited at this moment, transforming into the most primal fighting spirit! The locker room door was violently pushed open!
In the player tunnel, Real Madrid's black-blue figures descended like deities, carrying an inherent aura. Cristiano Ronaldo was expressionlessly adjusting his cuffs, and Ramos's sharp eyes scanned the surroundings. Oliver stood at the front of the Hoffenheim line today, his blue and white figure appearing somewhat small but unusually upright in the face of the black-blue pressure. He looked up, his gaze meeting Cristiano Ronaldo's, who had just looked over, in the air.
"You're very good, kid." Cristiano Ronaldo showed his signature wide, white-toothed smile and greeted Oliver beside him in English.
"Thank you, Mr. Cristiano, can we exchange jerseys after the game? I'm your fan." Oliver asked with a smile.
"Of course, come find me after the game."
Amidst deafening cheers, the players of both teams stepped onto the boiling green battlefield, like an arena. The Rhein-Neckar Arena reached the peak of its sound wave. The huge screen lit up with the emblems of the opposing teams: Hoffenheim vs. Real Madrid. Nagelsmann took a deep breath and stood at the very front of the sideline technical area.
The whistle blew.
The match began!
...
If you want to read upto chapter 125 with daily uploads and to support me subscribe to my P*tr+-n below
p*tr+-n.com/Not_Thor
( *=a ; -=o ; +=e )
...
Lets make a deal,
Every 50 powerstone or 3 five star reviews= extra chapter 🤭🤭
Count resets every week.
...