The match against Dortmund was completely over. Oliver stood in the center of the battle-scarred pitch, his vest completely soaked and clinging to his skin, his heavy breathing not yet fully subsided. After celebrating with his teammates, he looked into the distance, where the retreating figures of the Dortmund players were etched with desolation. Oliver's gaze pierced through the celebrating crowd, landing on that tall figure: Aubameyang. The striker, known for his speed, was walking slowly towards the player tunnel, his head bowed.
Oliver took a deep breath and walked in that direction. There were scattered Dortmund fans roaring or silent, but when they noticed the young player who had just dealt their team a heavy blow walking directly towards Aubameyang, they were filled with a mix of curiosity and complex emotions.
"Pierre," Oliver called out to Aubameyang, his voice clear.
Aubameyang stopped and turned his head, his face showing the lingering fatigue and frustration of defeat, but more so the pure exhaustion from the match itself.
Oliver extended his hand: "You played very well today. Can we exchange jerseys?" His eyes were sincere, conveying respect for a top striker.
Aubameyang was visibly stunned for a moment. Exchanging jerseys after a loss?But as he looked at Oliver's face, devoid of any provocation, only sincerity and respect, and then at the other's jersey, equally soaked with sweat, the tense lines on his face gradually relaxed. A hint of helpless, accepting-reality smile appeared at the corner of his mouth. He nodded and, without a word, quickly and decisively took off his jersey.
"You also played exceptionally well," Aubameyang said in accented German, his voice a little hoarse, "Those two counterattacks, you ran so fast, and your judgment for the final shot was excellent."
"Thank you, Pierre." Oliver also took off his jersey and handed it over. The two jerseys, covered in sweat and mud, represented a kind of reconciliation and acknowledgment after an intense confrontation.
"I was very happy to compete with you. I'm already looking forward to seeing you next time," Oliver extended his hand.
Aubameyang also extended his hand, and their hands, covered in grass clippings and sweat, clasped firmly together. There were no more words between them, but a feeling of mutual appreciation, unique to competitive sports, flowed between the two. Aubameyang nodded to Oliver and silently turned to walk towards the tunnel. Nearby, Reus, who was having his knee examined by the team doctor, witnessed this scene. When Oliver approached him with Aubameyang's jersey, Reus's face already showed a hint of relief.
"Hey, Mr. Big Occasion," Reus spoke first, a wry smile on his face, but admiration in his eyes.
"Marco," Oliver smiled as he squatted beside Reus, "How do you feel? Is your knee okay?" He was referring to Reus's knee, which had been slightly bumped.
"It's nothing, no problem," Reus shook his head, patted his knee, "That solo run of yours… if I were two years younger, I could probably do it too." He said it in a teasing tone,
"So, don't get too carried away, kid." He laughed himself.
Facing this young man who had frustrated him on the wing and then became the finisher in a crucial counterattack, Reus displayed the magnanimity of a top player. Reus took the phone handed to him by the assistant coach and said, "Come on, winner, let's take a photo and bask in your glory." He called over Götze and Papa, who had also walked over. The few of them gathered closer, Oliver and Reus stood in the middle, smiling at the camera.
Then, Oliver opened his social media: "Shall we follow each other? I need to keep a close eye on the star players in the Bundesliga."
They all searched for each other's names and quickly clicked 'follow'. At this moment, opponents who had been locked in a fierce battle on the field were connected after the match by a respect among players that transcended victory and defeat. The live broadcast camera captured this scene, and the commentator on TV appropriately said, "Oliver interacts with opposing players after almost every match. I have to say, he's a young man with high emotional intelligence and is very likable. I can feel his goodwill."
Carrying the precious exchanged jersey and the memory of his first encounter with a top star, Oliver returned to the locker room with the team.
...
A few days later, at the Rhein-Neckar-Arena, the German Cup third round, Hoffenheim hosted Schalke 04. Unlike the intense, grinding League showdown at Westfalen, the Cup match atmosphere was much more relaxed, but certainly not lacking in intensity. Nagelsmann made minor rotations, allowing some key players to rest. Oliver remained the starting right winger. This match was played relatively steadily and smoothly. Schalke 04 had considerable overall strength and tried to press early on.
In the 16th minute, Oliver received the ball on the right wing, facing the defense of Schalke's left-back, Oczipka. He feigned an inside cut with a dip of his upper body, causing Oczipka to shift his weight to the left. Oliver then swiftly flicked the ball outwards with the outside of his left foot, simultaneously tensing his core muscles and exerting force—this was the result of continuous extra training focused on lower body and core strength over many days. That explosive burst and dribble created a slight space, pushing Oczipka, who had intended to crowd him, away. Oliver exploited this momentary gap, gaining half a step, and delivered a precise low cross with his right foot! The ball, with a slight curve, sped towards the goal!
Schalke goalkeeper Fährmann's vision was obstructed. Uth at the near post attracted Todibo's tight marking, but it was just a feint. Amiri, surging through the middle, was unmarked! He easily met the ball and tapped it into an empty net!
1-0!
Oliver with the assist!
In the subsequent match, both teams had their chances. Schalke 04 equalized in the second half through Harit, but with ten minutes left in regular time, Hoffenheim took the lead again thanks to Kramarić's opportunistic tap-in from inside the box. The 2-1 scoreline held until the final whistle. Oliver played the full match, and in addition to his assist, he continued to create threats on the wing. At the same time, in the second half, during Schalke's all-out counterattack phase, he also tracked back multiple times to help defend, demonstrating excellent positioning and tenacious running.
In the post-match ratings, he was also among the team's top performers. On the evening the Cup match ended, the locker room atmosphere was even more relaxed and joyful. At this point, the assistant coach announced the new plan: "Guys, the international break is here! Players without national team duties and those with minor injuries not requiring treatment or training will get three days off! Report back before noon on Wednesday! Get some good rest!"
Before he had even finished speaking, a burst of cheers erupted in the locker room. Gnabry, Amiri, Kramarić, Uth, and a few others immediately began enthusiastically discussing their respective national team duties, preparing to report to their national teams. Oliver quietly organized his gear nearby. Since he had not yet received any invitations from any country, his name would naturally not appear on any national team training roster. Once the international break arrived, Oliver became Hoffenheim's "village guardian."
Nagelsmann specifically walked over to him and said, "Oliver, arrange your holiday well too. Rest and adjust, completely relax. Don't think about anything related to training. We'll resume basic training on Thursday after some of your teammates return."
"No problem, Coach." Oliver nodded affirmatively.
Oliver's good friends gradually left the club, some going home for vacation, others participating in national team training camps. They said goodbye to each other, promising to meet again later. After everyone left, the entire Hoffenheim base quickly quieted down, and Oliver became the only remaining "village guardian."
He organized his training backpack, checked his boots again. Outside the base, it was much emptier, with only scattered vehicles belonging to club staff under the glow of the streetlights.
"To be honest, it really does feel a bit... lonely, sigh..." Looking at the scene, Oliver sighed softly.
The three-day holiday began. Hoffenheim, this quiet and prosperous small town on the Neckar River, became even more peaceful due to the arrival of the international break, combined with it being a rest period after a match day. Oliver greatly enjoyed this rare tranquility. Although returning to Birmingham was not difficult, he did not make plans to go home, choosing instead to stay in Hoffenheim and truly experience this town that felt like "home."
On the first day of his holiday, Oliver woke up naturally, a luxury he hadn't had in a long time. A long-lost, pure sense of relaxation enveloped him. After a quick wash-up, he changed into a comfortable hoodie and sweatpants, put on a baseball cap, and decided to walk out for a breakfast he wouldn't have to check the calorie count for. The familiar "Old Oak" bakery on the corner was where Hoffenheim players often came to grab breakfast. There weren't many customers today. Oliver pushed the door open, and the familiar scent of toasted bread wafted towards him.
"Good morning! Still a milk coffee and a double whole-grain bread with cheese and ham?" Mr. Hofmann, the white-haired owner wearing an apron behind the counter, greeted him with a smile in German.
As an old shop near the team's training base, Hans knew the players' preferences by heart.
Oliver was also a familiar face in his shop.
"Good morning, Mr. Hofmann, yes, the usual," Oliver responded with a smile in German, "The weather is really nice today."
"Yes, it's a rare holiday, young man," Hofmann quickly packed the order, and specifically put an extra freshly baked apple pie into the bag.
"This one's on the house, congratulations on beating Dortmund, that was a tough match!" The old shop owner's eyes gleamed with a fan's genuine excitement, "When I was watching the live broadcast, especially your last goal, I jumped up!"
"Hahahahaha… Thank you, sir," Oliver was a little embarrassed but very happy to take the bag, and then paid for an extra cup of coffee, "Please give me another cappuccino, sir."
"Hey, kid! I said it's on the house!" Hofmann pretended to be angry and waved his hand.
"Alright, then the coffee's on me," Oliver insisted on putting the money on the counter, "Thank you so much for your support."
Leaving the bakery, Oliver strolled along the clean street, the sunlight warm on his skin. He saw a small community park, with a few benches and some children playing on the slides and swings. Walking over, he sat down on a bench, opened the bag, broke off a piece of bread, and enjoyed his leisurely outdoor breakfast with the warm milk coffee. A gentle breeze blew by, bringing the laughter of children from afar and the scent of the Neckar River.
Today, there was no thought of matches, no physical training, only the satisfaction brought by simple food and a sense of familiarity with this peaceful little town. In the afternoon, he went to the pedestrian street in the town center, where shops lined the streets and life was bustling. He needed to buy some daily necessities. As soon as he walked into a shop, he heard a surprised, deliberately lowered but still excited girl's voice: "Oh my goodness! It's Oliver!"
Behind the counter, a blonde girl who looked like a part-time university student covered her mouth, her face instantly turning red, and another girl also wearing an employee apron leaned over to look.
(Note: This is just a regular passerby, not the female lead)
Oliver smiled gently at them: "Hello." He walked over, ready to pay.
"Ollie! I… I'm your fan! I also went to watch the match against Schalke 04 the day before yesterday!" The blonde girl said excitedly, her hands trembling slightly as she picked up the scanner to scan the facial cleanser and shampoo Oliver had placed down.
"Your performance was amazing! And against Dortmund… Oh my goodness!" She was so excited she was a little incoherent, "Can… can you sign an autograph for me? Here!" She fumbled under the counter for a small notebook.
"Of course," Oliver took the pen and notebook handed to him, and carefully signed his name and jersey number on a blank page. "Danke," he said, thanking them, and then handed back the notebook and pen.
"No, we should thank you! For bringing us such an exciting match!" The older female shop assistant next to her also said with a smile, "Keep up the good work! Hoffenheim needs you!"
"I will, madam," Oliver smiled, took his things, and left. As he walked out the door, he could still hear the excited chatter of the two shop assistants inside. While browsing a sports goods store to buy sports socks and protective gear, a middle-aged man with a child recognized him and politely asked for a photo, which Oliver patiently agreed to. While grocery shopping at the supermarket, an old lady pushing a shopping cart recognized him and smiled, saying, "Young man, I saw you on TV the other day, you run so fast, just like a little deer in the forest! Remember to eat more meat!"
This made Oliver laugh, and he repeatedly thanked her. These chance encounters of warmth were different from the deafening cheers inside the stadium. They were quiet and subtle, like small pebbles dropped into a calm lake, creating subtle but real ripples. Oliver was being accepted and loved by more and more locals. Tranquility was enjoyable, but self-discipline was a habit ingrained in his bones.
On the first day after the holiday, his routine returned to its usual "terrifying" state, still waking up at 6:30 AM. After breakfast, he would change into his sportswear, do a full warm-up in his dorm room before going out, and then practice two sets of Aikido. The more Oliver practiced Aikido, the more he understood that it was definitely not just for show. It had become one of his important ways to regulate his breath, sense subtle changes in his body, stabilize his center of gravity, and maintain his body's proprioception. Each time he sank his shoulders and dropped his elbows, rotated his waist and hips, it gave him a stronger sense of control over his body, and also gave him more insight into using confrontation and balance during matches.
After practicing his forms, he would sometimes add a few sets of push-ups, crunches, and planks, at a moderate intensity, just to maintain a basic activated state. After lunch, his body relaxed, but his brain did not. This period was mainly used for reviewing notes and watching match footage. He brewed a cup of black tea, flipping through his notebook, as well as the additional notes his mentor had given him, watching the downloaded match clips without missing a single detail. He particularly re-watched several successful one-on-one defensive clips of himself defending other players, analyzing the basis for his successful predictions. He also reviewed highlight reels of several players known for their explosive play on the wings, observing how they combined rhythm and technique with body shielding.
In the evening, he made a simple meal for dinner. Although Ollie was a good cook, he didn't make his own meals rich and delicious. He made himself vegetable salads, chicken breast, and so on. The taste was indeed ordinary, even a bit hard to swallow, leaving only the nutritional balance. But there was no other way; this was also part of a professional athlete's life.
Occasionally, if he was truly craving something, Ollie would heat up the braised meat and flatbread sent by his mother and enjoy his favorite hamburger, which was enough to satisfy his craving. After dinner, it was his unshakeable core strength and confrontation training time. Although there were no strength machines in the apartment, he had dumbbells and resistance bands. After clearing a small space in the living room, Oliver fixed one end of the resistance band to the doorknob. He stood with his back to the door, holding the other end of the resistance band tightly in front of his body with both hands.
He lowered his body, slightly bent his knees, and assumed a posture similar to shielding the ball with his back on a football field. Then, he began to exert force, his core, waist, and lower back, as well as his posterior chain muscles, working together against the strong resistance of the resistance band behind him, simulating the force exerted when a defender presses from behind in a real match.
"Ugh…" With each exertion of force against the resistance, his core, waist, abdomen, and even his glutes and thighs tightened like wound springs, emitting a low, strained grunt, and sweat trickled down his taut neck. Sometimes he would try half-turn ball-shielding movements during the resistance training, with core strength serving as the foundation for stabilizing his body and supporting his movements. He could clearly feel that, after the targeted strengthening in the previous period and the current persistent maintenance training, his "base" was indeed more stable. The stability of his body's center of gravity improved during confrontation, making him less likely to be easily knocked off balance, and even able to maintain the ability to link movements after reasonable physical contact.
After several sets of confrontation training, he would also use dumbbells to strengthen his upper body, shoulders, and back. Bench presses, flyes, rows, etc., with standard movements and focused breathing. Sweat dripped onto the towel spread on the floor. Late at night, with only the faint glow of streetlights outside, only his heavy breathing and the occasional soft clink of equipment echoed in the small space. After completing all of this, Ollie washed away his fatigue.
Although the daily life of a "village guardian" was somewhat uninteresting, Oliver would still approach these "uninteresting" days with the same attitude as his usual routine.
...
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