The last day of the holiday.
This morning, the air in Birmingham was so cold it felt like it would solidify.Oliver put the last folded sportswear into his suitcase, zipping it up with a "click."
"All packed?" Jules asked, leaning against the door frame.
"Yep, all done." Oliver picked up the suitcase, and with his other hand, he grabbed the large backpack containing his professional training gear; it was quite heavy.
Shuwen walked over with a brand-new, thick down jacket: "Take this with you. It's cold in Germany. I heard the wind on the connecting bridge at Frankfurt airport is like a knife..."
"Mom, our team issues down jackets. I can't wear this one." Oliver smiled, dodging the jacket that was almost put on him.
"Oh, honey! It's better to wear it than to freeze! Stuff it in the suitcase..."
"Alright, alright, I'll stuff it." Oliver couldn't refuse, so he took the fluffy down jacket and painstakingly stuffed it into the side of the suitcase, making the suitcase bulge.
He hugged his parents and bid them a brief farewell: "I'm off, Mom and Dad, take care. Don't worry, nothing's wrong. I'll train as usual, and win as usual."
As soon as he stepped out of the house, the outdoor chill instantly enveloped Oliver, invigorating him.He pulled up his jacket zipper and strode quickly towards the taxi waiting by the roadside. His brief but fulfilling holiday was over, and the Terminator's work mode was reactivated.
...
When the plane landed in Stuttgart, the German land outside the window was covered with a thin layer of snow. He tightened the collar of his jacket, dragging his suitcase through the passage, as the familiar crisp, cold air hit him. The slight dizziness from several hours of flying was dispelled the moment he stepped out of the airport by a familiar feeling of "being back." The warm yellow lights of his Birmingham home and his parents' proud yet reluctant faces were already far behind. Now, he was still Hoffenheim's "Terminator," the Bundesliga's top scorer for the first half of the season, and an indispensable core for the team's pursuit of glory.
After hailing a taxi, he headed straight for the apartment next to the Hoffenheim Training Base. Oliver didn't have much sentimentality about returning home; instead, he was more eager to get started.n As he pushed open the familiar glass door of the training base dormitory building, a warm current, a mixture of disinfectant, leather freshener, and bustling human activity, enveloped him.
"Yo! Back for maintenance?" The dormitory door was open, and the first person to see him was Grillitsch, who was grimacing, trying to force his new, tight football boots onto his feet.
"If not, then who'll score goals for you guys?" Oliver put his luggage in a corner, retorted with a smile, and skillfully pulled open the door of his locker.
The locker was clean and tidy, just as he had left it, with only his training clothes neatly folded on the top shelf. This was his style.
"Oliver, how was your holiday?" Vogt's voice was deeper; he was wrapping a bandage around his calf.
"Much more tiring than training, Captain," Oliver took off his heavy jacket, revealing the training T-shirt underneath, and bent down to take out his training gear. "When I say tiring, I mean constantly dealing with my parents' 'do you want to eat something?' at home. That's much harder than dealing with defenders."
"Hahahahahahaha..."
This remark drew a chorus of understanding laughter. Teammates were gradually switching back from holiday mode, and their spirits were generally good.
...
After a day of rest, the entire Hoffenheim team had returned to their training and match rhythm. The locker room was filled with the chatter of long-awaited reunions, the playful teasing of teammates, and the loud reminders from the equipment manager to gather for training on time in the afternoon. The atmosphere was lively and harmonious. The familiar teammates and familiar environment instantly gave Oliver a sense of belonging.
In the afternoon, when all the players appeared on the training ground in their neat white training kits with sky-blue stripes, everyone's expressions became focused. The thin snow on the ground had been cleared to create running tracks and training areas, and the green artificial turf stood out vividly in the bleak winter landscape.
Coach Nagelsmann appeared on the sidelines, with his characteristic upright posture. His assistant coaches followed behind him, accompanying two new faces. Oliver looked at these two new faces. One of them had a young face, a slender build, blonde hair, and a hint of youthful shyness but steady eyes; the other was exceptionally burly, with a particularly prominent head, broad shoulders, and a thick back, standing there with an undeniable presence. Nagelsmann clapped his hands, drawing everyone's attention to him.
"Alright, lads, the holiday's over! I'm glad to see you all back on time and in good shape."
He paused, his gaze sharply sweeping over everyone.
"First, let's welcome two new friends to our team. For the rest of the season, they will fight alongside us."
He stepped aside, revealing the young player behind him: "Frenkie De Jong, from Ajax. A versatile midfielder, with very delicate footwork and excellent vision."
De Jong seemed unaccustomed to speaking in front of so many people. He just smiled shyly and said thank you in Dutch, then added in somewhat broken German: "I'm excited to join Hoffenheim, and I will continue to work hard."
His teammates responded with warm applause, and many veteran players looked at De Jong with a mix of scrutiny and anticipation. De Jong was a technical midfielder, which would be a great addition to Hoffenheim's tactical system, which emphasizes ground passing.
Nagelsmann's gaze shifted to the other player: "This is Harry Maguire, from Leicester City, a rock on the defense, excellent in aerial duels, strong in one-on-one defending, and..."
Nagelsmann deliberately paused, a slight smile playing on his lips, "He can add a significant threat for us in set-piece attacks."
Maguire, on the other hand, appeared much more at ease, flashing a hearty smile and saying in a booming German: "Hello everyone, I'm very happy to be here. Hoffenheim's performance this season has been amazing, and I hope to contribute my strength!"
His German had a strong English accent. As he spoke, his gaze seemed to intentionally or unintentionally sweep over Oliver, who nodded and smiled in response to Maguire.
"Clap, clap, clap..."
The welcoming applause grew warmer, mixed with a few whistles. Maguire's physique looked incredibly imposing. Seeing him, one could almost envision the stability of the defense and the lethality of set-piece tactics.
Uth even shouted at him: "Hey! Big guy, go easy on me during headers!"
This prompted another round of laughter from everyone. De Jong and Maguire also seemed to relax considerably amidst the looks and laughter of the crowd. Once the applause subsided, Nagelsmann's expression returned to seriousness. He walked a few steps forward, and the players naturally gathered around him, forming a semicircle.
"Gentlemen, the addition of new members brings fresh blood, but more importantly," Nagelsmann's voice was not loud, yet every word was clear, cutting through the cold wind,
"Our goals for the rest of the season are clearer and more challenging than in the first half!"
He surveyed the young and mature, yet all focused, faces before him.
"We are currently in second place in the League standings, and although it's only second, we are only 4 points behind Bayern! What does 4 points mean?"
He held up four fingers.
"This means every match is crucial. It means we cannot have any complacency, any slackness. In the Bundesliga, there are never easy matches. But we, Hoffenheim, have the strength to challenge for the title! What we need to do is turn this strength, point by point, match by match, into reality! Until the very end!"
Nagelsmann clenched his fist. The players' eyes also became fervent. The words "Bundesliga Champions" used to be an absolutely unattainable dream for Hoffenheim, this "country club." But now, this dream seemed to flicker before their eyes, within reach, and the thrill and excitement made everyone's breathing quicken slightly.
"But that's not all!" Nagelsmann's tone suddenly rose, carrying a more ambitious penetrative power,
"Two weeks from now, the Champions League! The knockout stage is about to begin!"
These two words held completely different magic. They represented a higher-level stage, stronger opponents, more intense competition, and... The supreme glory of being at the pinnacle of Europe.
"Next, in the knockout stage, clubs with world-renowned names will become our opponents. This will be very difficult, right?" Nagelsmann's lips curved into that familiar expression again,
"Of course it's difficult! But how did we get to where we are today? It's from every hard-fought Bundesliga match, from topping Sevilla in the group stage, from breaking out of Russia! We even defeated Liverpool in the qualifiers!"
His gaze, like a torch, swept over every core player: Amiri's midfield orchestration, Vogt's leadership, Grillitsch's omnipresence, Uth's pivot role... Finally, it landed on his beloved disciple, Oliver.
"Oliver, tell everyone, how many goals did you score in the Champions League group stage?"
Oliver, caught off guard, instinctively stood straighter and answered clearly: "Coach, I played 5 matches in the group stage and scored 12 goals."
Even he found this statistic somewhat incredible as he spoke it.
"12 goals!" Nagelsmann practically roared, clapping his hands forcefully, "Group stage top scorer! Who would have thought? A 17-year-old player from Hoffenheim could score 12 goals on the Champions League stage! So, what about the knockout stage? Facing Real Madrid, Barça, Bayern, Juve..., will you all be afraid?"
"No!" The players' roar was uniform and powerful, exploding in the cold wind with the sharp edge characteristic of a young team.
"Good! That's the state we want!" Nagelsmann nodded in satisfaction.
Nagelsmann's eyes became even brighter, looking as if an unseen fire was burning, his voice not loud but carrying a power that penetrated the heart: "Lads, I know, the dream of winning the championship might sound far away and very difficult. Perhaps many people will say we are too young, lack experience, lack squad depth, or... Our opponents are those powerhouse monsters with centuries of glory, spending hundreds of millions to build their teams every year! Many people say that Hoffenheim getting this far is already a miracle, and making it to the knockout stage has already exceeded expectations."
Nagelsmann paused, his gaze like a torch sweeping across the field, taking in the subtle unwillingness or solemnity on everyone's faces.
"Let them talk!" Nagelsmann's voice suddenly rose, resolute and decisive,
"I stand here to tell you, in my eyes, in the eyes of everyone who puts on this jersey, steps onto this training ground, and enters that stadium to fight for Hoffenheim, We are here in the Champions League knockout stage not to tell them 'we've done well to get this far,' but to win! To go further! To fight until the last second! To tell everyone, why can't Hoffenheim have a dream?!"
"The Bundesliga title is also our goal," he continued, his voice steadying,
"A 4-point difference is not an insurmountable gap. Bayern will make mistakes, and we will seize every opportunity. As for the Champions League..."
He paused, a slight smile playing on his lips: "Even if others see it as our unrealistic daydream, I will demand that in every coming day, every training session, every analysis class, and every match, you give me two hundred percent effort to weave this dream! Weave the process of this dream to be as exciting, as intense, and as regret-free as possible!"
"Yes, Coach!!!" Vogt was the first to shout out excitedly.
"Let's go for it!"
"Let's do this!"
Shouts, applause, and the sound of forceful stomping instantly erupted! Oliver's eyes burned with soaring fighting spirit, and the veterans' tense faces relaxed, revealing smiles of determination and approval. Maguire vigorously clenched his fist, his face flushed; De Jong also pressed his lips together, his eyes filled with eager anticipation. Nagelsmann looked at the completely ignited team, and that sharp gaze finally revealed a hint of satisfaction behind his fatigue.
He raised his hand to calm them: "Alright. Now, go prepare your training gear. In half an hour, meet on the training ground! Anyone who's late will have extra training! Dismissed!"
The team quickly dispersed, the oppressive atmosphere vanishing, replaced by a restless energy eager to dive into training and prove themselves. Players walked quickly back to the locker room in twos and threes, still excitedly discussing the coach's words as they went.
"The coach is so good at talking!" Amiri said, putting his arm around Oliver's shoulder. "It made my hair stand on end! The damned Champions League knockout stage is really here!"
"Of course, Amiri, since we're in the Champions League knockout stage, we have to go all the way." Oliver's tone was calm, but a fire had already ignited in his heart.
...
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