After the team bus arrived at the club, Nagelsmann didn't waste a moment; he didn't even let everyone go to the locker room to drop off their luggage first, but personally led Oliver to the medical center inside the base.
He was very anxious now, burning with impatience.
"Urgent," Nagelsmann said to Marcus, the medical director who came to meet him.
"Give Oliver a comprehensive examination, focusing on his chest and abdomen, and also his right ribs where he was hit. I want the fastest, most complete report." His tone was beyond doubt; although he tried his best to maintain calmness on his face, his slightly tensed jawline still betrayed his anxiety.
The tackle on Oliver was too fierce; before the consequences were clear, Nagelsmann's heart remained in his throat.
Oliver was led into a meticulously arranged, brightly lit examination room.
At the doctor's instruction, he took off his shirt, and the shocking bruise on his ribs was revealed.
The bruise was on his right ribs, near the center, and the skin in that area showed a mottled mix of deep purple, dark red, and dull yellow, swollen in a patch with irregular edges.
The doctor carefully guided him to move in front of various instruments, with gentle movements.
First, an X-ray machine scanned his bones, followed by a Magnetic Resonance Imaging (MRI).
Each time the cold, oppressive sensation touched the bruise, a sharp stinging pain would make Oliver instinctively frown and gasp.
The doctor, with gloved hands, very cautiously pressed and examined his ribs without touching the center of the bruise, asking about the nature of the pain.
Oliver truthfully replied: "Sir, especially when I inhale deeply, my ribs pull and it aches dully there, but I can still take a deep breath, it's not to the point of suffocation;
Coughing hurts, but it's not unbearable; when pressed, it's a clear dull pain, with no radiation, no numbness."
After the long examination, came the anxious wait for the results.
Although the time wasn't actually very long, Nagelsmann sat in a chair opposite Dr. Marcus's desk, his fingers unconsciously tapping his knee.
He had never been this anxious before.
Marcus stared intently at the computer screen, enlarging the complex tomographic scan images, analyzing them frame by frame.
Finally, he let out a long breath, a relaxed expression appearing on his face.
"Julian," Marcus called up the final report, pointing at the screen as he spoke to Nagelsmann,
"Thankfully, this kid's bones are fine. X-ray, CT, and MRI all confirmed it; his ninth and tenth ribs are perfectly intact, and there's no dislocation or contusion of the joints."
Nagelsmann's shoulders visibly relaxed by half an inch: "Then this injury..."
"It's mainly a contusion of the intercostal muscles, superficial subcutaneous tissue, and subcutaneous hemorrhage," Marcus explained, "You saw the bruise, it's quite severe, it's soft tissue damage and capillary rupture caused by that impact. This kind of injury looks scary and truly hurts, but essentially, it's a superficial wound."
He brought up an image of tissue structure,
"The MRI shows some edema and localized tiny tears in the deep muscle bundles, but the scope is very limited, and it hasn't affected organs or important nerves. It just needs time for the bruising to slowly absorb, for the swelling to go down, and to recover."
Then, Marcus turned to Oliver and said, "Young man, take a deep breath, try to hold it for a few seconds."
Oliver tried his best to take a deep breath, then slowly exhaled, and held it.
"Very good," the doctor nodded, "Your lung expansion is not restricted, and you didn't experience any inability to hold your breath, which indicates that your diaphragm and respiratory muscle groups were not significantly affected. This is the clearest indication."
He closed the electronic medical record and continued to Nagelsmann: "The diagnostic conclusion is: soft tissue contusion, estimated to require a 7-10 day recovery period, which may fluctuate depending on the individual.
However, these next few days, the training load must be strictly controlled, take a complete rest for a few days, and only engage in completely non-contact restorative activities."
The tension on Nagelsmann's face finally melted away like ice and snow, even revealing an almost radiant smile.
He suddenly stood up, strode over to Oliver, avoiding the glaring bruise, and placed his hands with appropriate force on Oliver's shoulders, giving them a squeeze: "That's great! You rascal, you really scared us to death! It's good that you're fine! Did you hear what the doctor said? Rest well! These next few days, your only task is to be a resting mascot!"
The lightness and joy in Nagelsmann's tone were something he had never experienced even after a victory; it was a deeper sense of relief, like something lost and then found.
This joy of relief hit him harder than the 5:0 big win itself.
The news that Oliver was fine spread like wildfire throughout the entire team.
In the weight room and on the training ground that afternoon, the atmosphere was much more relaxed.
Oliver was wearing a loose training jacket today, not even daring to fully button it.
He had just finished an extremely simple "recovery training" limited to slow walking and light stretching, and was now sitting in a corner of the equipment area, watching everyone sweat profusely.
"Hey! Hero!" Gnabry, after finishing a set of sprint shuttle runs, came over, sweating profusely, with a mischievous smile on his face, "I heard someone's bones were so hard they numbed the legs of the Moscow Spartak thug?"
He tried to playfully nudge Oliver with his elbow as usual, but halfway through, his hand naturally curved, symbolically "hitting" his left arm instead,
"How is it? Still grimacing in pain? Old man Marcus said you're going to be a model for a few days, showing us an art exhibition of human body bruises?"
"Get lost," Oliver retorted with a laugh, but didn't dare to make any large movements, "My bruise art exhibition tickets are too expensive, you can't afford them. I'm much better now, I just can't laugh too hard, and I can't be bumped into by an idiot like you."
"Hahahahahahaha..." Gnabry burst into laughter when he heard Oliver say that.
Schulz also walked over, this honest left-back looking even more concerned: "Tsk tsk, Oliver, it really looks quite serious... Your breathing feels okay, right? Be careful when you sleep tonight, you can put a soft pillow to gently lean on."
Vogt also finished his strength training, wiping sweat with a towel, and looked at Oliver seriously, without any extra jokes, just nodding steadily: "Oliver, Marcus is experienced, listen to his arrangements. If you need anything or can't do something, just say so anytime."
He patted the side of his own muscular chest and pointed to Oliver's right rib area: "Don't underestimate an injury here, you must protect it well."
Baumann also joined in with a loud voice: "Hey! Oliver! Next time that bastard is ten meters away from you, I'll rush out and yell at him! I guarantee I'll scare him to death! Rest well these next few days! Don't worry about training!"
The teammates' chattering concern was full of kindness and warmth, and that sense of camaraderie was intensified after the injury was confirmed to be harmless.
Everyone deliberately avoided the injured area, and their interactions and gestures carried an unspoken carefulness. This subtle consideration made Oliver feel especially warm.
After training, Oliver returned to his apartment room.
The dull pain in his body reminded him that it was time to let his parents know he was safe; his parents must have watched his match.
He dialed a video call.
On the screen, almost at the first ring, his father's face appeared, with the warm yellow glow of a bedside lamp in the background.
His mother immediately leaned in too, both their faces showing undisguised anxiety, with somewhat heavy eye bags.
"Son! Back in Germany? How are you feeling?" Oliver's Father's voice was hoarse with urgency.
"Son, are the examination results out?" His mom's voice sounded almost simultaneously, her eyes seemingly a little red.
Oliver quickly flashed a big smile, specifically straightening his back a bit, trying his best to look energetic:
"Dad, Mom, don't worry! I'm at the base, and I've finished the examination, just now. Nothing's wrong! Really!"
He pulled his phone camera back, first filmed his own face, then slowly and carefully showed the bulging right rib area that was visible even through his clothes,
"You see, it's just a big bruise on the surface. The doctor said it's called soft tissue contusion. They took over a dozen X-rays, and my bones are perfectly fine, like they're made of iron. My internal organs are completely fine, and my breathing is normal! It just looks scary and hurts a bit to touch."
As he spoke, he operated his phone, taking screenshots of the key pages from Dr. Feldman's simplified electronic report and sending them to the family chat group: "I've sent the report to the group, see, these are the conclusions. The doctor said it will be completely gone in at most ten days to half a month, not a single trace left!"
On the screen, Olivers Father and OliverMom's tense shoulders visibly relaxed.
Olivers Father let out a long sigh, repeatedly zooming in on the image to read those few crucial diagnostic conclusions.
OliverMom gently patted her chest, her eyes redder, this time from the relief mixed with lingering fear: "God bless... Thank goodness... It's good that he's fine... It's good that he's fine... That video almost scared the soul out of me..."
She leaned closer to the screen, carefully examining her son's complexion, "Does the bruise hurt badly? Be careful, avoid water, and definitely don't bump it again. What do you want to eat? Mom will look up some dietary remedies for you. Pig liver and spinach are good for blood. Do you want me to send you some food?"
Oliver reassured his mother again, vowing that he was fine.
Jules's gaze shifted from the report on the screen back to his son's face, his expression relieved, and he began to share his experience as a veteran fan with his son:
"It's good that you're fine, what a blessing, kid. Bones and internal organs are the most important. As footballers, you especially need to take care of your bodies."
His tone became more serious, carrying a heavy weight, "This incident has served as a warning for you. Football is good, and intense competition is inevitable, but protecting yourself is the top priority! Especially when the opposing team is far behind!"
He seemed to be recalling his own experiences watching games back in the day, and also drawing lessons from his son's recent encounter:
"Especially those opponents who are desperate to equalize or catch up, seeing no hope of winning, and being too humiliated, can easily lose their composure and become enraged! That guy from Moscow Spartak is a typical example!
Remember, son, make sure to use protective movements when playing! Be more decisive in your passing! If you feel a malicious foul coming, either dodge it or get rid of the ball, but never try to withstand it like this time!
Even getting a card and being suspended is better than a serious injury! Your body is your capital for playing football, remember that?"
His father's words were earnest and impactful, full of both paternal concern and practical wisdom for the field.
Oliver looked at his father's worried yet earnest face on the screen and nodded seriously, his voice solemn: "Dad, Mom, both of you can rest assured. I've remembered it. I've truly learned my lesson this time. In the future, when I encounter such situations, I will be extra careful and protect myself. Don't worry, I'm really fine! The doctor said I'll be bouncing around in a few days!"
After comforting his parents, Oliver hung up the video call, and silence returned to the apartment.
Outside the window was the streetscape of Hoffenheim sinking into dusk, and the streetlights came on. Oliver lay on his uninjured side and fell asleep.
He slept very soundly.
...
Oliver was asleep, but the five major Leagues couldn't sleep.
The raging fire ignited by this 17-year-old in this season's Champions League had already caused too many people to lose sleep.
A chilling Champions League goal count was circulating in European football:
Let's look at the latest top scorer list:
• 1. Oliver (Hoffenheim): 8 goals (group stage) / 10 goals (including qualifiers)
• 2. Cristiano Ronaldo (Real Madrid): 7 goals
• 3. Edin Dzeko (Roma): 6 goals
...
Cristiano Ronaldo, the legendary goal-scoring machine, now ranked second on the list, and top strikers like Dzeko could only manage third.
And ahead of them was a 17-year-old from the German mid-table club Hoffenheim, who was making his debut in the Champions League main competition, perhaps with a hint of youthfulness still on his face!
This was more than just a supernova; it was an explosion like a comet hitting Earth!
The fan forums instantly erupted, with various languages clashing fiercely.
"My God! 17 years old, four Champions League matches, 10 goals?! I couldn't even start on my high school team when I was 17!" exclaimed one fan.
"Calm down! Look at Hoffenheim's group, Sevilla… their form this year is indeed very erratic, right? Moscow Spartak? Very limited Champions League experience, this is definitely one of the weakest groups in history! Oliver is good, but these stats are somewhat 'inflated'! Most likely a system player!" A skeptical fan immediately retorted, believing Oliver's goals lacked true quality and were too inflated.
"Inflated? Watch the video again, is a hat-trick that easy to get? Weren't the two away goals against Liverpool a tough battle? A 17-year-old kid can consistently perform at this intensity, and you're telling me it's luck? System player? Tell me which system can achieve such offensive efficiency in the Champions League?!" another fan countered.
"I think you guys are missing the key point: he's only 17! This terrifying physical quality, goal-scoring instinct, shooting accuracy, and calm demeanor under pressure—can a system cultivate that? The Golden Boy award is a no-brainer this year. The question now is, how long can Hoffenheim, this small temple, keep this kid?" Someone had already seen Oliver's further future.
"Exactly, oh, and he's also an English-Chinese! An England passport plus the Chinese market, the Premier League giants are really going to go crazy now, aren't they?!"
"@Manchester United, @Manchester City, @Chelsea, @Arsenal… what are you waiting for? Winter window! Splash the cash! Buy the cornerstone for the next ten years!" Enthusiastic Premier League fans had already started offering suggestions.
There were also some Ligue 1 fans "whipping the corpse" of Paris Saint-Germain:
"I heard this kid was released by you for free? First Coman, now Oliver, well, well, your youth academy department is doing great."
At this moment, in London, in Manchester, in Munich, in Madrid, in Milan… the scout and analysis departments of many top giants were lit up all night.
The same figure was repeatedly played on huge screens: Oliver's clean ball control, lightning-fast acceleration, calmly ruthless shooting, and the scene where he was tackled after completing a hat-trick against Moscow Spartak.
Every time the video played, the burning light in the scouts' eyes grew more intense.
Oliver's personal data report was rapidly circulating among the giant clubs:
Transfer Target: Oliver
Nationality: England
Position: Right Winger
Club: Hoffenheim
Age: 17 years and 188 days
Champions League Goals this season: 10 goals (including 2 qualifying goals)
Group Stage Goals: 8 goals (currently top of Champions League top scorer list)
Potential Rating: High Potential
Core Value Assessment: Super high football IQ, top-tier awareness, perfect combination of big-picture view and technique, big-game temperament emerging, huge age advantage, immense market value.
Latest Transfermarkt Value: €71 million
...
The Manchester United director wrote heavily in his private notes: "Explosive talent, essentially surpasses all talents of the same age. Top-tier football IQ, top-tier ball control, but needs to strengthen physicality and aerial ability. Needs further observation of his physical recovery ability. Has entered the primary scouting target list for the winter window."
In Bayern's office, the bigwigs were embroiled in debate: "Although this kid doesn't have a German passport, he is currently developing in Germany. Can he come to Bayern in the future? Can the Germany national team naturalize him? His awareness and technical characteristics can definitely integrate.
But Hoffenheim is in the same League as us… we need to be cautious with our approach to avoid damaging relations. Maintain high-intensity tracking. If there's any movement in the winter window, we must join the competition."
Arsenal also sparked internal discussions: "Elegant style, spiritual, possesses a killer instinct, the type of talented player the professor loves most, fits a technical playstyle, young, has the potential to become a core player, and holds an England passport. We need to be prepared to bid against other giants."
Chelsea's attention, however, was more drawn to his efficiency: "Highly efficient scorer, excellent big-picture view, can deliver output without much possession, meets the owner's requirements for a winning machine, immense commercial value. We have our checkbook ready."
Not only the Premier League powerhouses, but also Serie A's Juventus, the Milan clubs, and even super-carriers like Real Madrid and Barcelona, who usually focus on bigger-name stars, were startled by this dazzling light.
They began to adjust their observation lists, investing considerable resources into tracking and analyzing the "Hoffenheim phenomenon."
Club representatives and super agents had already begun preparations, and their networks were rapidly activated.
A consensus gradually formed amidst these undercurrents: If Oliver could recover smoothly and maintain this explosive form until the winter transfer window opened this year…
Then these football hunters spread across Europe would certainly not let go of this 17-year-old prodigy from Hoffenheim.
He would become the eye of the storm, the focal point of attention for all of European football this winter.
...
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