Good news: Borussia Dortmund had won two consecutive matches, grabbing six crucial points and defeating their direct rival Wolfsburg in a head-to-head encounter. With those results, Borussia Dortmund had climbed back into fourth place in the Bundesliga table.
Bad news: The point gap with Schalke 04 had not narrowed significantly.
Borussia Dortmund was winning, yes—but Schalke 04 was winning too. Their bitter rivals from Gelsenkirchen had first beaten Hamburg 1-0 in a tight, disciplined performance, then followed it up with a 1-1 draw against Hannover 96. Schalke 04, sitting stubbornly in third place, remained six points clear of Borussia Dortmund with precious little time left to close the gap.
There were only two rounds remaining in the Bundesliga season. One of those matches was against Bayern Munich. And sandwiched in between the league fixtures, there was also a DFB-Pokal final—against Bayern Munich as well.
This meant Borussia Dortmund would have to navigate a grueling schedule of two matches per week, facing one of Europe's strongest sides twice in quick succession. And even if they somehow managed to win both encounters, they still needed Schalke 04 to lose both of their remaining matches. Only then could Dortmund truly rely on goal difference to leapfrog into third place and secure Champions League qualification.
It was a tall order. An almost impossible one.
"We only have one Bayern Munich in the Bundesliga," Nuri Şahin sighed. "It would be nice if our Champions League coefficient were higher."
"Yeah," Hummels agreed, staring at the ceiling. "The Premier League and Serie A are just too strong right now. La Liga at least has Real Madrid and Barça carrying the flag, but our Bundesliga can't compare to them. I'm afraid it's going to be the same for the next ten years."
They were in the spa area of the training base. Jin Hayes, Nuri Şahin, Mats Hummels, and Marco Reus had just finished a punishing training session and were now lying in the heated massage pool in their swimming trunks, floating like four melancholy seals, staring up at the ceiling and contemplating the cruel mathematics of the Bundesliga table.
They had charged all the way from thirteenth place in the league to fourth. After playing seriously for a half season, giving everything they had week after week, who would have thought that in the end they might not even touch Champions League qualification?
Perhaps after this season ended, when the summer sun rose and a new campaign began, everyone would simply forget this near-miss and focus on playing seriously in the Europa League. But in the quiet moments, in the dead of night when sleep wouldn't come, it was hard not to feel the sting of regret. They were just one step away. If they had pushed a little harder back in November, if they had held on for one more win in February, wouldn't the Champions League be so much better than the Europa League?
To be fair, Borussia Dortmund's recent history had been turbulent. The club's form had been poor in previous seasons, they were mired in a lingering financial crisis, and the management and operations team had been in chaos. But at least they used to be wealthy. At least they used to be big spenders. The evidence was all around them—whether it was the pristine training facilities or the state-of-the-art massage tubs in the spa area, everything was top-of-the-line equipment. The warm water jets were working magic on Jin Hayes's tired muscles, almost lulling him to sleep.
"No," Jin Hayes said suddenly, his voice cutting through the steam. "The Bundesliga will definitely rise. In the future, there will be four Champions League spots for Germany. German football will rise too, and one day, they'll win the World Cup."
Jin Hayes, who had been enjoying the massage with his eyes closed, said this so offhandedly that the other three exchanged skeptical glances. It sounded like he was talking in his sleep.
"Jin, wake up," Reus said, splashing a little water in his direction. "Stop dreaming."
"I'm serious." Jin Hayes opened his eyes and sat up in the tub, his expression earnest.
"Italy has just gone through the Calciopoli scandal, and with their broader economic decline, it's going to affect football directly. In a few years, Serie A's football market and competitive results will both slide. After a brief period of lingering brilliance, it will eventually settle into being a second-tier league. By then, our Bundesliga will have those four Champions League spots."
He paused, letting the words sink in.
"And didn't the German Football Association launch a comprehensive revival plan back in 2000? In recent years, as the older generation of veterans gradually retires and the new generation of players emerges from the academies, German football's results will improve. My friends, you are the backbone of that revival plan."
"Us?" The other three couldn't quite believe it. They were just first-year regulars who had only recently established themselves in the Bundesliga. Reus, for that matter, had only played a handful of first-team matches.
"That's right. Mats, for example..." Jin Hayes pointed at Hummels. "I have a feeling about you. A premonition. You're going to score the winning goal for Germany in a World Cup knockout match one day. I'm sure of it."
He turned to Reus. "Marco, you'll be the sharpest attacking dagger Germany has. But there's a catch—you have to pay attention to your training loads and do everything you can to avoid injuries. Your body needs to hold up."
"And we've got a kid in our youth setup," Jin Hayes continued, "Mario Götze. I'm telling you, he's going to become a key player in a World Cup final someday. Write it down."
He glanced at Şahin and shrugged apologetically. "As for Nuri... you're committed to the Turkish national team, so I won't make any predictions for you just now."
The three of them just assumed Jin Hayes had let the hot water soak into his brain. They chuckled and shook their heads, filing his words away as the idle ramblings of a tired teammate. They didn't take his predictions to heart—not yet, anyway. It wouldn't be until the 2014 World Cup in Brazil that Mats Hummels would feel a sudden chill run down his spine, remembering this exact conversation in the spa.
"Let's focus on the immediate situation," Şahin said, steering the conversation back to reality. "Are we really only going to play in the Europa League this season?"
"No," Jin Hayes replied, his voice firm. "The initiative is still in our hands."
He had a strong premonition about how the final weeks would unfold. Look at the remaining fixtures. The second-to-last round featured Schalke 04 against Borussia Dortmund—a direct six-pointer in the Ruhr Derby. The final round would see Bayern Munich host Borussia Dortmund, while Werder Bremen faced Schalke 04. Dortmund had a hellish schedule, no doubt about it. But Schalke 04's path was just as treacherous. As long as Borussia Dortmund could withstand the pressure and defeat strong opponents in consecutive matches, Schalke 04 might very well crumble under the weight of their own expectations.
Jin Hayes held his breath and slid beneath the surface of the pool, letting the warm water envelop him completely. He closed his eyes and allowed the darkness to take over. The noisy bubbling of the jets faded into a vague, distorted hum.
…
"Whoosh—ho—"
The noise in his ears was deafening, like a jet plane screaming low overhead. The air was thick with a cacophony of boos, whistles, and guttural shouts. Jin Hayes opened his eyes.
Familiar green grass stretched out beneath him. The stadium blazed under the harsh glare of floodlights. He was surrounded by Schalke 04 players in their royal blue jerseys and his Borussia Dortmund teammates in their black away kits. The Veltins-Arena was alive with the crackling hostility of the Ruhr Derby.
"Jin, are you okay?" Hummels was standing over him, extending a hand.
"It's fine. Pull me up."
"You want to fight?! Huh?! A bunch of pigs!" someone was shouting nearby.
"Who are you calling a pig?! Come on then! Make a move!" a Schalke player shot back.
Beep—
"Back off! All of you! Do you want a card?!" the referee barked, shoving bodies apart. "Idiots!"
Jin Hayes looked up at the stadium scoreboard.
72:39
S04 (2-2) BVB
The scoreline was tense, just like the volatile atmosphere of the Ruhr Derby. The last time Jin Hayes had participated in this fixture was at Borussia Dortmund's home ground, the Westfalenstadion. There, he had only felt the crazy, uplifting cheers of the home fans—the entire team had been bathed in a courage buff that carried them forward. But this time, Jin Hayes was finally experiencing the other side of the derby. The dark side.
Schalke 04's Veltins-Arena was one of Germany's most intimidating grounds, a true hell for visiting teams. It had once recorded a noise level of 129 decibels—louder than a jet engine at takeoff. After seventy minutes of playing in this cauldron, anyone who wasn't partially deaf was probably superhuman.
Jin Hayes had just been knocked to the turf by Schalke 04's bruising defensive midfielder Fabian Ernst. His head was still ringing, and he felt slightly dazed as he tried to piece together how the 2-2 scoreline had come about.
The memories rushed back.
….
In this crucial derby, Jin Hayes had earned the trust of head coach Dick Fuhren and was named in the starting eleven. The manager had also shown faith in the club's young core—Hummels, Nuri Şahin, and Marco Reus all started as well. Young players brought energy and impact; they were fearless and good at creating opportunities. But young players also had moments of rashness and impulsivity, their inexperience sometimes bubbling over in the heat of a fierce contest.
In the twenty-fifth minute of the first half, Nuri Şahin's overeager forward pressing left a dangerous gap in midfield, and Schalke's defensive midfielder Ivan Rakitić seized upon it ruthlessly. The Croatian delivered a precise, defense-splitting through ball that sliced through Dortmund's midfield structure. The pass had a touch of the flair and vision Rakitić would later display in his prime at Barcelona—perfectly weighted, perfectly angled. The football bypassed Şahin entirely and found star striker Kevin Kurányi lurking in the penalty area. Kurányi finished with clinical ease, slotting the ball past a helpless Roman Weidenfeller. The Borussia Dortmund goalkeeper had no chance.
"What are you doing?! Concentrate! Concentrate!" the notoriously fiery Weidenfeller screamed at his backline, his face contorted with frustration.
Nuri Şahin, fully aware that the mistake was his, raised a hand and apologized with frantic gestures. But to his credit, he was determined to make amends—and he did so almost immediately.
Just five minutes later, Şahin produced a moment of brilliance from midfield. Spotting Jin Hayes's intelligent run, he delivered a highly penetrating through ball of his own, one that instantly pierced through both of Schalke 04's defensive lines. The ball arrived perfectly for Jin Hayes, who was cutting inside dangerously just outside the penalty area.
Facing the tight marking of Brazilian full-back Rafinha, Jin Hayes did not slow down to wait for the ball as he might have done in a more conventional situation. With his back to the incoming pass, he executed a deft, improvised flick with his heel. The moment the football kissed the grass, it was chipped delicately over his own head, arcing past the bewildered defender in one seamless motion.
Rafinha never even saw the movement clearly. He had been anticipating a simple interception, thinking he could step around Jin Hayes and claim possession. He stretched out his leg, expecting to make contact—but found only empty air. Where was the ball? By the time he spun around in confusion, Jin Hayes had already nudged it forward with a subtle header and was dribbling unchallenged into the penalty area. The young Brazilian defender had been utterly turned inside out.
Commentator Berenberg couldn't resist a wry observation from the broadcast booth: "Hayes has just produced a piece of skill that left Rafinha completely stranded! That was improvisation of the highest order—a flick and a chip that turned the defender inside out! Absolutely magnificent!"
Jin Hayes, now bearing down on goal, entered his "Heartfelt Pass" state with practiced ease. He scanned the box and calmly delivered a low, driven cross into the danger zone. Star striker Alexander Frei, freshly returned from his injury layoff and hungry for goals, met the ball first-time with a crisp strike that bulged the back of the net. It was Frei's nineteenth Bundesliga goal of the campaign. The only lingering regret was that his three-week absence had allowed Bayern Munich's Luca Toni to pull further ahead in the scoring charts—the Italian target man had already notched twenty-two goals.
But Schalke 04 were far from finished. Before the first half could draw to a close, in the forty-third minute, the home side struck again. The pacy forward Gerald Asamoah exploited a pocket of space behind Mats Hummels on a lightning counter-attack. Bearing down on Weidenfeller, Asamoah kept his composure and finished coolly one-on-one.
2-1! The home team Schalke 04 had retaken the lead, and the Veltins-Arena erupted in a deafening roar of royal blue celebration.
But what nearly caused the home fans a collective heart attack was what happened next. Jin Hayes, it seemed, was determined to become Schalke 04's recurring nightmare.
In stoppage time before the halftime whistle, Jin Hayes collected the ball near the edge of the penalty area. He used his body to absorb a heavy, crunching collision from Schalke's bruising defensive midfielder Fabian Ernst—staying on his feet through sheer will—and then unleashed two consecutive Marseille turns, his feet moving like a blur as he glided past three desperate defenders.
"He is simply dancing on the field!" Berenberg roared into his microphone, struggling to contain his excitement. "The green pitch is his stage, and this fiery Ruhr Derby has suddenly been infused with a touch of pure artistry!"
After slaloming his way to the arc of the penalty area, a familiar flash of inspiration sparked in Jin Hayes's mind. He felt himself slip into that ethereal, almost transcendental state once again.
The "Causality Shot Enhancement" had triggered.
Take the shot. Don't think. Just strike.
Jin Hayes didn't hesitate. He lifted his leg and fired.
Seeing Jin Hayes winding up to shoot, the Schalke players felt a brief, instinctive flicker of relief. The pre-match scout report had been emphatic on one point: Jin Hayes's shooting posed no conventional threat. It was erratic, unpredictable, and rarely clean. Center-back Heiko Westermann instinctively stuck out a leg, intending to make a routine block.
The football struck his outstretched foot directly—and deflected viciously.
Goalkeeper Manuel Neuer, already regarded as one of Germany's brightest young shot-stoppers, had read the initial trajectory perfectly. He had even begun to shift his weight, preparing to collect what looked like a straightforward save. But the cruel deflection sent the ball spinning and looping into the far corner of the net, leaving Neuer frozen in place. His positioning, so assured a moment earlier, suddenly looked clumsy and futile.
"Gooooooooal!!! Jin Hayesssss—"
"Before the end of the first half, Jin Hayes's incredible, deflected strike has equalized the score!!"
"The suspense of the Ruhr Derby lives on!"
That was how the 2-2 scoreline had come to be. In the second half, Schalke 04 tightened their defensive structure and ramped up the physical intensity of every duel. The two fierce rivals waged a brutal battle for control in midfield, neither side willing to blink, neither able to land a decisive blow. The stalemate held firm, the tension mounting with every passing minute.
…J
in Hayes stood up, brushed the grass clippings from his black away jersey, and shook off the lingering fog in his head. His focus was returning, sharp and clear.
To qualify for the Champions League, a draw was not enough. 2-2 would not do. Not against them.
Only by defeating third-place Schalke 04 head-on, in their own cauldron of a stadium, could Dortmund snatch that precious Champions League spot from their bitter rivals' grasp.
Bring it on.