(A/n: So as you can see, I am back. We are now back on schedule as mentioned on synopsis.)
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Tonight is the Champions League semi-final draw. The meeting room at Rhein-Neckar Arena was brightly lit. In this room, all the first-team players of Hoffenheim, the club's senior management, Chairman Hopp, Coach Julian Nagelsmann, and Sporting Director Rosen were all present. On the huge screen, a live broadcast of the UEFA Champions League semi-final draw ceremony was playing, accompanied by solemn, even somewhat chilling, music.
Usually, this music sounds impactful, but today, the more they listened, the more nervous it made them feel. Now, above the large screen in the draw room, four striking team crests were displayed side by side: Real Madrid, Bayern Munich, AS Roma, Hoffenheim.
No need to elaborate on the first three; each of their names represents a glorious history, deep heritage, and countless classic battles in the annals of European competition. But only the name Hoffenheim seemed so novel here. Even a bit out of place.
If some new Real Madrid fans saw Hoffenheim's crest listed alongside their home team tonight, they would surely blurt out: "What is this thing?"
For European football, and even for Hoffenheim itself, an unknown team making it to the semi-finals was already somewhat magical realism. The draw began. Director Rosen clasped his hands tightly together, leaning slightly forward. He was praying, trying to project his willpower into the screen to influence the draw results.
Rosen seemed to be muttering something under his breath, his eyes filled with anxiety. The camera occasionally panned over the well-dressed dignitaries at the draw event, but Rosen's gaze seemed to pierce through them, eagerly searching for that small ball that would decide their fate.
"Not Real Madrid… Not Real Madrid… Not Real Madrid…" He prayed almost devoutly, and the senior executives beside him were also infected by the tension, their breathing becoming much lighter.
"Please, not Real Madrid… Even Bayern would be fine… At least they're from our League, and we even beat them once at home…" Rosen's self-comfort seemed so pale in the face of the huge gap in strength, yet so real.
Nagelsmann sat in the very center of the front row, his hands resting on his knees, his posture appearing much calmer than Rosen's. Nagelsmann was also tense, but he wasn't praying; his unblinking gaze fixed on the screen betrayed the intense turmoil within him.
His mind raced through various tactical plans and analyses of player form, but in the shadow of Real Madrid, any plan seemed to dim instantly. Everyone present could lose their composure, but he, Nagelsmann, had to remain calm. Because he was the Coach of the team.
The Hoffenheim lads were even more restless. They huddled together, some continuously rubbing their hands, some unconsciously tapping the carpet with their toes, some biting their nails, their eyes fixed on the transparent glass bowl on the screen filled with small balls, as if they could clearly see every name marked inside.
Grillitsch whispered to Kramarić next to him, "Do you dare to look at the result? I feel like my heart is about to explode…"
Kramarić swallowed hard, not daring to take his eyes off the screen, only nodding slightly. Oliver sat not far behind Nagelsmann, slightly hunched, with his arms crossed over his chest. His cheeks were also tightly drawn, and his usually confident and optimistic eyes now held a rare blankness and anxiety.
He could clearly hear his heart beating heavily in his chest, each thump striking his taut nerves. He didn't need to look around to feel the suffocating tension and subtle unease that permeated the entire room. The long fingers of the draw guest reached into the glass bowl.
Then, the first ball was opened, unfolded, and a close-up shot clearly showed:
[Real Madrid]
With a "buzz…" sound, it was as if someone had sucked all the air out of the meeting room. Everyone's gaze instantly froze. Immediately after, the second ball was opened. The guest responsible for the draw glanced at the slip of paper and clearly announced:
[Hoffenheim]
These two simple words, like a giant stone thrown into still water, were met not with exclamations in the meeting room, but with a unified, collective, intake of breath, a "hiss…" sound. An instant of absolute silence. The air completely froze; Hoffenheim could had saved on its air conditioning bill.
Director Rosen closed his eyes, leaning heavily back against the chair, as if all his strength had been drained in an instant; all his prayers had turned to dust, leaving only an incredible sense of frustration. Chairman Hopp, sitting beside him, an old man who had witnessed the club's journey from obscurity to today, seemed to have deeper wrinkles on his face, sighing softly and shaking his head.
"Sigh…"
The players' expressions were indescribably complex. Some instantly widened their eyes, as if seeing the end of the world; some frowned, their disappointment unconcealed; others looked blankly towards the Coach, seeking some guidance or comfort.
Schulz, sitting in the back row, even couldn't help but curse under his breath: "Scheisse!" He then realized the setting and quickly covered his mouth. Nagelsmann's body also stiffened for a moment. His almost frozen gaze shifted back and forth between the names "Real Madrid" and "Hoffenheim" several times.
He was also somewhat speechless. In the past, no matter the opponent, he could always quickly ignite his fighting spirit and at least say some encouraging words to everyone. But tonight, he was truly silenced by this draw result. Whether it was advancing from the group stage or the quarter-finals, he had always been the one to lead the way, believing in miracles.
But this time, facing that Galacticos team that had just achieved an incredible two consecutive Champions League titles, with a luxurious and strong squad, even a star-studded bench, and experience so rich it would intimidate any non-top-tier giant, Nagelsmann opened his mouth, seemingly wanting to say something to everyone, but ultimately just raised his hand and unconsciously rubbed his brow.
The Coach's silence, more oppressive than any sigh, enveloped the entire room. Oliver, meanwhile, felt as if his brain had been struck by a frozen hammer. The words "Hoffenheim vs. Real Madrid" on the screen were particularly glaring. Real Madrid… Bernabéu… Zidane… Cristiano Ronaldo… Ramos… That string of resounding names and countless glorious images flashed and exploded in his mind instantly. They were about to face Real Madrid, a team at its peak, aiming for an unprecedented third consecutive Champions League title!
The team's overall strength, squad depth, European experience… On every level, these were gaps that the current Hoffenheim could hardly hope to bridge. Oliver was almost dizzy. The glory of the top scorer title, with sixteen Champions League goals, seemed to feel light and insignificant at this moment. After the draw ceremony, the meeting room remained silent for a long time.
Finally, Nagelsmann took a deep breath, stood up, and faced his troops. He tried hard to adjust his expression, still wanting to say something to them.
"Alright, lads." Nagelsmann's voice today sounded lower than usual, trying to remain steady.
"The draw result is out. Real Madrid, a powerful opponent, perhaps the strongest opponent in the world right now." He paused, his gaze sweeping over faces filled with complex emotions. "I know what you're thinking. Everyone outside, almost everyone, will believe our Champions League journey ends here."
His words were direct, without sugarcoating.
"Listen," he raised his voice slightly, with a hint of stubbornness, "To have come this far, to stand among the four strongest teams in Europe, this in itself proves your ability, proves the strength of our team. Regardless of the outcome, we have already created a small miracle for this club, and perhaps for all of European football! Don't forget who we defeated to stand here!"
The room remained quiet, but a subtle shift could be felt. Nagelsmann did not continue to force an overly enthusiastic speech. He changed his tone, adopting a pragmatic approach:
"Now, we need to face reality. Real Madrid is very strong, there's no doubt about that. In the coming weeks, the training ground will be our battlefield. I will still thoroughly study them, looking for every possible opportunity. At the same time," he changed tack, his gaze becoming more severe, "The League title race is also at its most crucial moment! We are closely chasing Bayern! I demand that everyone, from this moment on, must be absolutely focused! Do not be drowned out by the external voices of pessimism! Focus on our own tasks! Meeting adjourned. Get some good rest. See you at the training ground tomorrow."
He waved to his lads, ending this heavy and brief "mobilization." This mobilization was the least like a mobilization. The players silently got up, filed out, their steps heavy, talking in low voices. Gone was the usual pre-match clamor and laughter, only a solemn atmosphere permeated the corridor. Just as the Hoffenheim club was immersed in complex thoughts, the entire Europe had already exploded with reactions to the draw result.
The headlines of major sports media almost uniformly pointed to Hoffenheim's "death sentence".
Bild's headline was merciless: [Champions League Fairy Tale Ends! Hoffenheim's Champions League Journey Stops at Bernabéu.]
Marca didn't even mention Hoffenheim: [Best Draw! On the Road to a Third Consecutive Champions League Title, Real Madrid's Last Obstacle is Only Bayern.]
Sky Sports' column article was rationally cruel: [Huge Gap in Strength, Hoffenheim Cannot Shake the Champions League King, But the Semi-finals are a Phenomenal Achievement, No Regrets Needed.]
A BBC football commentator wrote in a column: [For young Hoffenheim and Nagelsmann, this season's Champions League journey may end at Bernabéu. But they have brought back dignity, experience, and applause from around the world. This dream journey has been beautiful enough.]
Undoubtedly, over 90% of media voices clearly indicated: Hoffenheim's "dark horse" journey was officially ended by the draw, against the almost unbeatable Real Madrid.
Their core view was consistent: Hoffenheim's stopping here is not a failure, because the semi-finals are already a surprise for them. Beyond these mainstream voices, a few scattered media outlets focused on Oliver.
Kicker analyzed: "Oliver's 16 Champions League goals are astonishing, leading Cristiano Ronaldo by 3 goals in the top scorer list, but can he maintain his hot scoring form against Real Madrid's strong defense? A direct confrontation with the 'Champions League Mr.' will be the most severe test of Oliver 's professional career."
The online football analysis website Spox predicted somewhat pessimistically: "Hoffenheim Oliver's individual feat can hardly change the huge gap in the team's overall strength. This may be the first time this hot European Golden Boy candidate deeply experiences the limits of 'individual heroism' in a top League."
There were also a very small number of voices supporting the "dark horse to the end," but more often they expressed a faint hope rather than confidence.
A reporter for The Independent wrote: "Don't forget how Hoffenheim has repeatedly created surprises this season when not favored. Their fast-paced attack and high-pressing are weapons, Nagelsmann is a tactical genius. Although the probability of a miracle is extremely small, football is round!"
Portugal's A Bola carried a hint of schadenfreude: "Real Madrid drew theoretically the weakest opponent? Don't forget Hoffenheim advanced by stepping on the shoulders of Portuguese League Porto! They proved they can beat us, maybe they can make the White Army sweat again."
On other Bundesliga teams' fan forums and social media, the voices were more direct and even slightly pragmatic.
An anonymous Bayern fan forum post read: "Good, Hoffenheim drew Real Madrid, Bayern's chance has come! I personally think this season's Hoffenheim is tougher to deal with than Real Madrid."
A Borussia Dortmund fan account also commented: "Although as a Bundesliga fan, I still hope Hoffenheim goes further in the Champions League. But realistically, they're highly unlikely to get past Real Madrid. It's better to strategically give up and go all out for the Bundesliga title! Winning a salad bowl would also be a historic breakthrough!"
There is true emotion in the world. In stark contrast to the general pessimism of the European media and the "rational advice" of other Bundesliga fans, was the warmly moving reaction of Hoffenheim's own fans. On Hoffenheim's own fan forum, and below the players' personal social media accounts, almost all the voices were of understanding, gratitude, and pride.
Old fan Hofmann spat at the luxurious Real Madrid squad on the TV screen in the pub, then smiled: "Hey, what do those people know? Our lads have come this far, to be able to go head-to-head with Real Madrid twice, this is something I never even dared to dream of! Lose? Losing is normal! Winning would be a gift from God! We are already very satisfied this season!"
The fan forum administrator pinned a post: "Proud of our heroes! Semi-finals! This is the moment Hoffenheim's name resounds across Europe! No matter what the scoreboard at Bernabéu ultimately shows, you have already created an indelible legend! Keep your heads up, fight to the end! We are always here!"
Below Oliver's latest Instagram post celebrating their advancement, the most liked comment was: "Oliver, go for the Golden Boot!"
Another highly liked comment also expressed the feelings of many fans: "Being able to play Real Madrid in the Champions League semi-finals is a holiday that our family's three generations of fans never dared to dream of! Go enjoy it! Hoffenheim, don't be afraid!"
While all of Europe was buzzing. The executives were thinking about the future in their respective offices, Rosen was still worried about how to face the pressure from the board; Nagelsmann stayed with his team in the tactical room tonight, the screen frozen on key moments from Real Madrid's recent matches. Beyond his sternness, a spark of defiance gradually reignited in his eyes.
Study, he must study!To find that one in ten thousand possibility in the almost impossible!
Oliver had also finished training. He didn't do any extra practice today but sat alone in the stands of the training ground, watching the distant lights of the small town twinkling.
His silhouette was a bit lonely. This night, for young Hoffenheim, for young Oliver, was destined to be long.
Will the fairy tale have a sequel?
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