The Schalke 04 players were beginning to realize, with mounting frustration, that their pre-match scout reports appeared to be wildly inaccurate.
The scouting dossier had repeatedly emphasized that Jin Hayes's shooting accuracy was abysmal—so poor, in fact, that he reportedly refused to shoot even from inside the six-yard box. It had also stressed that his physique was fragile, suggesting that even moderate physical contact would be enough to disrupt his dribbling rhythm and knock him off the ball. The previous Ruhr Derby, played at the Westfalenstadion, had seemingly confirmed these assessments.
So Schalke 04 defended Jin Hayes strictly according to the intelligence they had been given. They didn't bother to close down his shooting angles with any urgency, and they committed heavily to physical challenges whenever he received possession.
The result? Jin Hayes had scored a deflected, world-class strike from distance that left Manuel Neuer grasping at air. And in the physical battles, he had not only held his own—he had thrived. He used the defenders' own momentum against them, exploiting their unstable center of gravity after shoulder-to-shoulder challenges to slip through gaps, execute nutmegs, and then explode away with that devastating acceleration of his.
In the final ten minutes of the match, Schalke 04's penalty area had been under near-constant threat, and the source of that chaos was unmistakably Jin Hayes. The home fans responded in the only way a hostile crowd knows how: they directed their boos overwhelmingly at him. Every time he touched the ball, a thunderous cascade of jeers rained down from over fifty thousand throats.
"That doesn't make any sense!" commentator Berenberg protested from the broadcast booth. "Jin hasn't done anything wrong! He's just a young, technical player trying to express himself on the pitch. Why are they booing him like this?"
"Exactly! Why?!"
In front of the television, the entire Heinrich household was beside themselves with worry. Jin Hayes had been heavily marked by Schalke players throughout the entire match, subjected to kicks, grabs, and cynical fouls. And on top of that, he had to endure the venomous boos of tens of thousands of opposing supporters.
He was still just a kid, barely sixteen years old. What had he possibly done to deserve this kind of treatment? Had he broken some unwritten law of the game?
Aunt Maria complained indignantly, her voice rising with maternal concern. "These Schalke supporters! A bunch of absolute—"
The fiery old man Fritz was even less restrained, his curses considerably more colorful and his vocabulary decidedly more military in nature. If he had been transported back to a different era, one might have imagined him reaching for something considerably more dangerous than a remote control.
Uncle Hans, however, remained the picture of calm. He sat comfortably on the sofa, a bottle of beer balanced on his knee, a knowing smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
"This is a good thing for Jin," he said evenly. "It means he's already regarded as a heavyweight star. They don't waste boos on players they don't fear."
"Being fouled and booed is a good thing?" Aunt Maria looked at him as if he'd lost his mind.
"Of course!" Hans took a slow sip of his beer and leaned forward. "Think about the world-class superstars. Kaká. Cristiano Ronaldo, who's been tearing up the Premier League this season. Ronaldinho at Barcelona. Messi, even at his age. Michael Ballack. These players are targeted in every possible way by opponents, aren't they? They're fouled, they're booed, they're verbally abused from the stands."
He gestured toward the television screen. "This is the only path to becoming a genuine world-class talent. If you can't withstand this kind of test—if the pressure and hostility break you—then you have no business playing at the highest level. Football is cruel. It's war in a civilized society, plain and simple."
Hans's voice softened. "I believe Jin has a big heart. I don't think he cares about the boos or the kicks. If anything, they'll only make him stronger."
"But still..." Aunt Maria remained deeply concerned.
Fortunately, the television director chose that moment to cut to a close-up shot. Jin Hayes had just been hacked down by a Schalke player near the touchline. As his teammates helped him to his feet, brushing grass from his black away kit, Jin didn't display a trace of anger. Instead, he wore the easy, elegant smile of a young man who was thoroughly enjoying himself. It was the kind of expression that reminded viewers of the joyful football of Ronaldinho or the graceful composure of Kaká.
"See?" Hans said, pointing at the screen. "He's enjoying the game. He's even enjoying the boos."
Anna, who had been sitting quietly on the sofa with her legs curled beneath her, only her pale feet visible peeking out from under a blanket, watched the close-up intently. She saw that smile and felt a complicated flutter in her chest.
"Hmph!" she muttered under her breath. "He doesn't even know how to protect himself properly. He's just a glutton for punishment!"
She herself couldn't quite understand why she had been feeling so irritable and resentful toward Jin Hayes lately. It was confusing and annoying in equal measure. After a moment of internal struggle, she silently corrected herself, her lips moving in a barely audible whisper:
Come on. You can win this.
….
In truth, Jin Hayes's ears had long since gone numb.
The boos of over fifty thousand people had been raining down on him for the better part of ninety minutes. At a certain point, the sheer volume and consistency of the jeering had transformed into a kind of white noise, a background hum that his brain had learned to automatically filter out. It was just... there. Like the wind. Like the hum of the floodlights.
Dortmund had won a free kick in a dangerous position. This was a golden opportunity.
With only a handful of minutes remaining in the match, Schalke 04 had pragmatically adopted a more conservative defensive posture, clearly prioritizing the avoidance of a late defeat over chasing a winner. Dortmund's attacking patterns, by contrast, had grown somewhat chaotic as fatigue set in. Their offensive tactics still relied heavily on individual moments of brilliance rather than a cohesive, well-drilled system. Jin Hayes's numerous dribbling breakthroughs and incisive passes had created several half-chances for his teammates, but nothing had quite fallen into place.
This free kick in the attacking third, however, was different. This was a set-piece situation—a chance to execute something planned.
"Nuri..." Jin Hayes jogged over to Nuri Şahin, who was standing over the ball and preparing to take the free kick. He leaned in close and whispered a few words into his teammate's ear.
Şahin raised an eyebrow, a flicker of surprise crossing his features. "Are you sure about this?"
"Of course. Trust me."
"Alright," Şahin nodded slowly. "Let's do it."
The Schalke 04 players were busy organizing their defensive wall, jostling for position and making sure they had the angle covered. But as they settled into place, they noticed something deeply peculiar. Jin Hayes had quietly positioned himself at the very edge of their wall, standing shoulder to shoulder with the Schalke defenders as if he belonged there.
A wave of confusion rippled through the royal blue shirts.
What is he doing? Did he wander over to the wrong spot?
"Hey!" Fabian Ernst, the bruising defensive midfielder stationed in the wall, glared at Jin Hayes. "What do you think you're doing?"
"I think this position works well for me," Jin Hayes replied in fluent, unbothered German. "Is there a problem?"
Ernst was immediately flustered. He turned toward the referee, gesturing animatedly. "Ref! This guy—he's committing a foul, right? He can't stand there!"
The referee glanced over, assessed the situation, and shook his head. "No foul. He's allowed to stand there."
The official found it unusual, certainly, but there was nothing in the Laws of the Game that prohibited an attacking player from positioning himself adjacent to the defending team's wall. It was unorthodox, not illegal.
The sudden, strange development left the commentators scrambling for an explanation.
"Wait a moment," Berenberg said, leaning toward his monitor. "We're seeing something quite unusual here. Jin Hayes of Dortmund has positioned himself directly next to the Schalke wall. Is he... is he planning to help defend the free kick?"
"No..." Guest commentator Oliver Bierhoff's voice was thoughtful, his brow furrowed. "I don't think that's it. Perhaps this is a new tactical wrinkle Dortmund has been working on?"
Even head coach Dick Fuhren, watching from the technical area with his arms crossed, had no idea what Jin Hayes was up to. The kid hadn't mentioned anything about this in the pre-match preparations.
"This boy," Fuhren muttered under his breath, shaking his head. "He has more tricks up his sleeve than a magician."
Under the disgusted and thoroughly confused gazes of the Schalke 04 players, Jin Hayes stood placidly at the edge of the wall, looking entirely out of place. At this point in football's tactical evolution, the concept of positioning an attacker in the wall to disrupt it or create a passing lane was not yet widely adopted. The fans in the stadium and watching at home all felt a profound sense of bewilderment.
Only Nuri Şahin, standing over the ball, was struggling to suppress a grin. Just thinking about what was about to happen made him want to laugh out loud.
Şahin took several measured steps backward, his body language telegraphing his intent: he was preparing to curl a shot directly at goal. The angle was favorable, and Neuer would have to respect the threat.
Schalke 04's legendary goalkeeper Manuel Neuer was locked in, his focus absolute. As the heir apparent to Oliver Kahn's throne and the emerging first-choice keeper for the German national team, Neuer felt a profound obligation to drag his club across the finish line in this damn Ruhr Derby.
Beep—
The referee's whistle pierced the air. The free kick was live.
Şahin began his approach, his movement and body shape screaming curling shot. The players in the wall braced themselves and began to jump, attempting to block the anticipated effort. Jin Hayes, however, remained perfectly still.
Just as Şahin's boot made contact with the ball, he flicked his ankle subtly, changing the trajectory entirely. Instead of an aerial curler, he drove a low, flat pass along the ground. The ball zipped precisely alongside Jin Hayes's position at the edge of the wall.
Jin Hayes, having anticipated the delivery perfectly, spun on his heel and darted after the ball.
"Brilliant free-kick tactical cooperation!! Jin Hayes is through! He's in the penalty area!"
Despite knowing—or at least suspecting—that Jin Hayes was up to something, the Schalke 04 players were caught completely flat-footed at the critical moment. By the time Jin Hayes had turned and collected the ball inside the box, the defense was in full panic mode.
Center-back Heiko Westermann scrambled over desperately, his positioning compromised.
"Jin!! He's past the defender!!"
The Veltins-Arena dissolved into chaos. Schalke's defensive structure had completely collapsed. Jin Hayes only needed a simple feint—a fake shot that sent Westermann sliding past harmlessly—to create the space he needed. As goalkeeper Neuer charged off his line to close the angle and center-back Abel converged from the opposite side, Jin Hayes threaded a perfectly weighted pass through the narrow gap toward the far post.
Profound Meaning: Ordinary Short Pass.
After sweating through an entire season of relentless training, Jin Hayes no longer needed to rely on his "Heartfelt Pass" ability in every single situation. In moments like this, when the geometry of the pitch was clear and his teammates' movements were predictable, his own technical foundation was more than enough to deliver the ball precisely where it needed to go.
The rest was elementary.
"Frei!!!! He taps it into an empty net!!!"
Alexander Frei, Dortmund's talismanic striker, had ghosted into the perfect position and simply couldn't miss. He applied the finishing touch with the composure of a veteran marksman.
"Dortmund's clever set-piece routine has given them the lead!!!"
"This is Frei's twentieth Bundesliga goal of the campaign! And remarkably, it's Jin Hayes's twenty-sixth assist in the Bundesliga this season! He continues to extend his own assist record!"
"My word, this is truly staggering! A Bundesliga rookie, in his debut season, has established himself as the assist leader across all of Europe's top leagues! In the same period, Premier League assist leader Cesc Fàbregas has managed sixteen assists this season. Serie A's Alessandro Del Piero has recorded twelve. In La Liga, Real Madrid's Guti sits atop the chart with only fourteen."
"Twenty-plus assists in a single top-flight season is the stuff of fantasy! But here in the Bundesliga, this young loanee has actually done it! And this is merely his first season at this level!"
"It's difficult not to wonder what heights Jin Hayes might reach next season. If this is just the beginning, the rest of Europe had better start paying attention."