Champs

Luka's mind was still buzzing from his conversation with Mendes as he tried to settle back into his routine. The Leverkusen game came and went, with Luka watching from the bench as Dortmund battled to a 3-3 draw. It was frustrating to sit out, but he knew the rest was probably necessary.

Four games into the Bundesliga season, Dortmund had managed two wins and this draw along with another. Not a bad start, but not exactly setting the league on fire either. As Luka scrolled through the standings on his phone, he couldn't help but ponder his future.

"Dortmund's been good to me," he mused, "but it's not like they're building a dynasty here."

Haaland would be off at the end of the season to Manchester City, with Bellingham suit not long after to Madrid. Then the next season Reus would retire. The club didn't seem to be making big moves to strengthen the squad either.

"Man United would be a nightmare right now," Luka muttered, thinking of his childhood favorite club. "Sure, I could probably help turn things around, but do I really want that headache?"

His thoughts drifted to other possibilities. Real Madrid held a special place in his heart because of Ronaldo, and the allure of the Bernabéu was undeniable. But surprisingly, he found himself thinking about Manchester City.

"It's a bit weird, given the United connection," Luka chuckled to himself. "But playing with De Bruyne? Learning from Pep? That could be something special."

He shook his head, trying to clear these thoughts. "January," he reminded himself. "I'll deal with all this in January."

Seeking a distraction, Luka booted up his PlayStation. FIFA 22 ratings were due to drop soon, and the realization that he'd actually be in the game this year hit him.

"Wonder what they'll give me," he mused. "Knowing EA, probably a 70 at most. Though with my performances, they might bump me up to 75 in Jan. Still, better not get my hopes up."

Later that evening, Luka found himself staring at his kitchen, feeling a bit lost. The club nutritionist had been providing most of his meals, but he knew he needed to learn to fend for himself eventually.

"I can see the future of football, but I can't cook a simple meal," he laughed, shaking his head.

With a sigh, he settled for a protein shake and some fruit, making a mental note to maybe look up some simple recipes or cooking classes. As he prepared an ice bath in his bathroom - another aspect of recovery he was still getting used to - Luka couldn't help but reflect on the contrast between his life on the pitch and off it.

"Guess I've still got a lot to learn," he said to himself as he gingerly lowered himself into the frigid water. "About football, about life... about everything."

<>

As the team bus wound its way through the streets of Istanbul, Luka felt his heart racing with anticipation. This was it - his Champions League debut. The journey that had begun in his childhood bedroom, listening to the anthem through tinny computer speakers, was about to become reality.

The bus slowed to a crawl as it approached Vodafone Park. Through the tinted windows, Luka could see throngs of passionate Beşiktaş supporters, their black and white flags waving frenetically in the evening air. The atmosphere was electric, bordering on intimidating.

"Welcome to hell," Marco Reus said with a grin, noticing Luka's wide-eyed expression. "Nothing quite like Champions League nights in Istanbul."

As they disembarked, the noise hit Luka like a physical force. Chants, drums, and whistles created a wall of sound that seemed to vibrate through his very bones. The walk from the bus to the stadium entrance felt like running a gauntlet, with fans pressed against barriers on either side, some offering encouragement, others hurling insults.

Inside the stadium, the relative quiet of the dressing room was almost jarring. Luka went through his pre-match routine in a daze, his mind racing with thoughts of what was to come. As he laced up his boots, he couldn't help but think back to his previous life, to the countless times he'd watched Champions League matches on TV, dreaming of one day being part of it all.

"You ready, kid?" Mats Hummels asked, snapping Luka out of his reverie.

Luka nodded, trying to project more confidence than he felt. "Born ready," he replied with a smile.

As the team made their way through the tunnel, the muffled roar of the crowd grew louder with each step. Luka's heart pounded in his chest, a mix of nerves and excitement threatening to overwhelm him.

And then, it began. The first notes of the Champions League anthem rang out, and Luka felt goosebumps rise on his arms.

"Die Meister! Die Besten! Les grandes équipes! The champions!"

As the familiar melody filled the stadium, Luka closed his eyes for a moment, letting the magnitude of the occasion wash over him. He was here, living his dream, about to play in the most prestigious club competition in the world.

"Une grande réunion! Eine grosse sportliche Veranstaltung! The main event!"

Opening his eyes, Luka took in the scene around him. The floodlights seemed brighter than usual, illuminating the sea of black and white in the stands. The Beşiktaş supporters were in full voice, creating an atmosphere that was both thrilling and somewhat terrifying.

"Ils sont les meilleurs! Sie sind die Besten! These are the champions!"

As the anthem reached its crescendo, Luka felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Marco Reus, the captain, offering a reassuring smile. "Enjoy it," he said simply. Luka nodded, taking a deep breath to steady himself.

The teams lined up for the pre-match handshakes, and Luka found himself face-to-face with seasoned Champions League veterans. He wasn't just playing with the big boys now, he was one of them.

As they took their positions on the pitch, Luka heard the commentators' voices echoing around the stadium:

"Good evening and welcome to Istanbul, where Beşiktaş host Borussia Dortmund in this opening Group C encounter. I'm John Smith, joined tonight by former Dortmund player Karl-Heinz Riedle."

"Thanks, John. What a night we have in store. Vodafone Park is absolutely rocking, as you'd expect for a Champions League night in Istanbul."

"Indeed it is, Karl. And we have an intriguing lineup for Dortmund tonight. Marco Rose has opted for a 4-3-3 formation, with the exciting young talent Luka Zorić starting on the left wing. Karl, what can you tell us about this 17-year-old Croatian sensation?"

"Well, John, Zorić has been nothing short of a revelation since joining Dortmund on loan from Manchester United. His performances for both club and country have been outstanding. Tonight marks his Champions League debut, and what a place to make it - in this cauldron of noise in Istanbul."

"For those just joining us, here's a rundown of the Dortmund lineup: In goal, we have Kobel. The back four consists of Meunier, Akanji, Hummels, and Guerreiro. In midfield, we have Dahoud, Bellingham, and captain, Maro Reus. Up front, Haaland leads the line, flanked by Donyell Malen on the right and the aforementioned Luka Zorić on the left."

"It's a strong lineup, John, but they'll need to be at their best tonight. Beşiktaş in Istanbul is never an easy proposition, especially in the Champions League."

"Absolutely right, Karl. Beşiktaş have a formidable record here at Vodafone Park. In fact, they've lost just one of their last 10 home games in European competition."

"And let's not forget the history between these two sides, John. Their only previous meetings came in the 1989-90 European Cup Winners' Cup first round. Dortmund won 2-1 on aggregate, but both games were tight affairs."

As the commentators continued their pre-match analysis, Luka took his position on the left wing. The referee's whistle was moments away. The roar of the crowd reached a fever pitch, with the famous "Come to Beşiktaş" chant echoing around the stadium.

As the referee's whistle pierced the air, the match burst into life. The opening minutes were a frenetic affair, with both teams eager to establish dominance. Beşiktaş, pressed high up the pitch, looking to unsettle Dortmund's rhythm.

As the first quarter-hour passed, statistics showed Dortmund dominating possession with 62%, but struggling to create clear-cut chances against a well-organized Beşiktaş defense. The Turkish side, content to play on the counter, had managed two shots on target to Dortmund's none.

In the 18th minute, a moment of concern for Dortmund as Haaland went down clutching his ankle after a challenge. The Norwegian, however, was soon back on his feet, much to the relief of the traveling supporters.

As the game settled into a rhythm, Luka found himself having to drop deeper to get involved, like always.

In one such instance, Luka received the ball from Guerreiro near the halfway line. With a deft first touch, he turned away from his marker and immediately played a one-two with Dahoud. As the ball returned to him, Luka flicked it first-time around the corner to Bellingham, who had made a darting run into space. The quick succession of passes left the Beşiktaş midfield chasing shadows.

However, the game's physicality was beginning to take its toll. In the 27th minute, as Luka challenged for a high ball near the touchline, he was caught by a stray elbow from Beşiktaş defender Welinton. The impact sent Luka to the ground, blood trickling from a split lip.

As Luka lay on the turf, his ears ringing from the blow, he could hear the nearby Beşiktaş fans hurling insults. "Go home, pretty boy!" one shouted in broken English. "You can't handle real football!" yelled another. Luka tried to block out the noise, focusing instead on the throbbing pain in his lip.

Jude Bellingham, seeing his teammate down, immediately confronted Welinton. He shoved the Beşiktaş defender, sparking a brief melee as players from both sides rushed in. The referee quickly intervened, showing yellow cards to both Bellingham and Welinton.

As the Dortmund medical staff tended to Luka's lip, Reus jogged over. "You okay?" the captain asked, concern etched on his face.

Luka nodded, wincing as the doctor applied pressure to his lip. "I'm fine," he managed to say. "Just give me a minute."

Back on his feet, with his lip swollen but the bleeding under control, Luka felt a surge of determination.

In the 33rd minute, Luka received the ball wide on the left. Feigning to cut inside, he instead pushed the ball past his marker with the outside of his boot. The sudden change of direction left the defender wrong-footed, his studs scraping against the turf as he desperately tried to change direction. Luka accelerated past him, the sound of his boots barely audible above the roar of the crowd.

Cutting into the box, Luka found himself face-to-face with another Beşiktaş defender. With a quick shuffle of his feet, he feinted to go left before pushing the ball to his right. The defender, completely fooled, slid in desperately, but Luka had already glided past.

Now with a clear sight of goal, Luka shaped to shoot. The goalkeeper began to set himself, but at the last moment, Luka instead slid a perfectly weighted pass across the face of goal. Haaland, timing his run to perfection, met the ball at the far post. However, his first-time shot cannoned off the crossbar and over, leaving the striker holding his head in disbelief.

The miss was a let-off for Beşiktaş, and they made Dortmund pay just minutes later. In the 37th minute, a swift counter-attack caught them off guard. Miralem Pjanic, who Luka didn't even know played for Beşiktaş at one point, played a sublime through ball that split the Dortmund defense. Cyle Larin, timing his run perfectly to stay onside, latched onto the pass and calmly slotted past Kobel to give Beşiktaş the lead.

The stadium erupted in all types of sounds, black and white flags waving furiously in the stands. Luka, hands on his hips, watched as the Beşiktaş players celebrated. He could feel the momentum of the game shifting, the home crowd growing in confidence with every passing second.

As play resumed, Luka found himself near the touchline, waiting for a throw-in. The nearby Beşiktaş fans, emboldened by their team's goal, renewed their verbal assault. "Overrated pretty boy!" one shouted. "Go back to your mother!" another jeered. Luka clenched his jaw, trying to maintain his focus, but he could feel anger bubbling up inside him.

In the 42nd minute, Luka received the ball in midfield. A Beşiktaş player came charging in, clearly looking to leave his mark. But Luka was ready. With a swift movement, he dragged the ball back with his right foot, then quickly pushed it through the onrushing player's legs with his left. The nutmeg was executed so smoothly that the Beşiktaş player was left standing still for a moment, as if trying to process what had just happened.

The away fans cheered, momentarily drowning out the constant din of the home support. Luka allowed himself a small smile as he continued his run, the ball glued to his feet.

As the halftime whistle blew, Dortmund found themselves trailing 1-0. The players trudged off the pitch, frustration evident on their faces. Luka, his lip still swollen, cast a glance back at the jubilant Beşiktaş fans.

Bellingham fell into step beside Luka. "Don't let them get to you," he said, nodding towards the still-roaring Beşiktaş fans. "We've got this. Just keep playing your game."

Luka nodded, grateful for his teammate's support. In the dressing room, Marco Rose's halftime talk was intense but measured. He emphasized the need for quicker ball movement and more decisive play in the final third.

As the second half began, Dortmund came out with renewed energy. In the 52nd minute, he received the ball on the left wing, skillfully evading two defenders with a series of quick step-overs before delivering a pinpoint cross. Unfortunately, Haaland's header went just wide.

However, as the minutes ticked by without an equalizer, the relentless chants and jeers from the Beşiktaş supporters began to wear on Luka. In the 60th minute, a moment of frustration saw him lose possession cheaply, leading to a dangerous counter-attack that Dortmund barely managed to snuff out.

Angry with himself, Luka took a deep breath. The next time he received the ball, he decided to trust his instincts. Spotting Bellingham's run, he deftly maneuvered past two Beşiktaş midfielders with a quick burst of acceleration. As defenders converged on him, Luka unleashed a perfectly weighted through ball that split the defense. Bellingham, timing his run to perfection, slid in to meet the pass and slotted it past the onrushing goalkeeper.

The away section erupted in celebration as Bellingham ran towards Luka, enveloping him in a bear hug. "What a fucking pass!"He yelled over the noise of the crowd. The rest of the team joined in.

As play resumed, the Beşiktaş players, frustrated by the equalizer, began to target Luka more aggressively. After one particularly cynical challenge, the Beşiktaş player whispered in Luka's ear as he got up, "You're nothing but a lucky kid. We'll show you real football."

The comment struck a nerve. Luka felt his fist clench, ready to swing, but before he could react, he felt a firm hand on his shoulder. It was Marco Reus, pulling him away. "Not worth it," the captain said firmly. "Use that anger on the pitch, not with your fists."

As Luka walked away, still seething, Mats Hummels jogged over. "Listen," the experienced defender said, "they're trying to get in your head. Don't let them. Instead, frustrate them. Use your skills to make them look foolish. That's how you win this battle."

Luka nodded, taking a deep breath to calm himself. In the next play, he received the ball near the touchline. As a Beşiktaş defender charged towards him, Luka simply stood his ground. At the last moment, he executed a simple body feint, causing the defender to completely misjudge his challenge and run past him. The crowd groaned as Luka calmly played the ball to a teammate.

Luka's confidence grew, and with it, his ability to control the tempo of the match. In the 78th minute, he received the ball near the center circle, immediately drawing the attention of two Beşiktaş midfielders.

Luka's eyes darted across the field, taking in the positions of his teammates and the opposition. He could see the Beşiktaş players tensing, anticipating another display of skill. Instead, Luka simply tapped the ball twice with his right foot, then let it run across his body. The subtle movement froze the defenders for a split second, unsure if he was about to burst forward or play a pass.

In that moment of hesitation, Luka accelerated, pushing the ball forward with the outside of his left foot. He glided past the first defender, who lunged desperately but only managed to grab a handful of air. The second defender, realizing the danger, rushed to close down the space.

Luka, anticipating the challenge, dragged the ball behind his standing leg with his right foot. The defender, committed to the tackle, slid past as Luka calmly pulled the ball back with the sole of his left foot.

Now with space opening up before him, Luka drove forward. He could see Haaland making a run to his right, drawing defenders with him. On his left, Reus was positioning himself for a potential pass. But Luka had other ideas.

As he approached the edge of the box, a Beşiktaş center-back stepped out to confront him. Luka, without breaking stride, performed a quick step-over with his right foot. The defender shifted his weight, anticipating a move to Luka's left. But it was a feint. Luka instead pushed the ball to his right, accelerating past the wrong-footed defender.

Now inside the box, Luka found himself with two defenders ahead of him, who half expected a shot, rush foward to him, instead he played a simple pass to his right where Bellingham ws running towards the near post. Bellingham first touch was good, but and now one on one with the keeper instead of shooting he drove the ball across the face of goal. Haaland, timing his run perfectly, met it with a thunderous shot that nearly tore the net off its moorings.

The away section erupted in jubilation as Haaland wheeled away in celebration. Luka, a wide grin on his face, was mobbed by his teammates. "Unbelievable vision!" Reus shouted over the noise, ruffling Luka's hair.

But Luka wasn't done yet. In the 88th minute, he received the ball near the touchline, close to the corner flag. A Beşiktaş defender approached, trying to shepherd him out of play. Luka, with his back to the defender, placed his foot on top of the ball. He began to strafe, moving sideways while rolling the ball under his sole, never letting it leave his control.

The defender, unsure whether to commit to a challenge so close to the touchline, hesitated. Luka seized the moment. With a quick flick of his heel, he popped the ball up and over the defender's outstretched leg. In one fluid motion, he spun around the bewildered player, collecting the ball on the other side.

Now with space to run into, Luka surged into the box. Another defender came across to cover, but Luka was ready. He feinted to shoot, causing the defender to go to ground in an attempt to block. But instead of shooting, Luka dragged the ball back with his right foot..

As Luka shaped to shoot with his left foot, he felt contact from behind. The referee's whistle blew immediately, pointing to the spot. Penalty to Dortmund.

Haaland stepped up to take the kick. The stadium fell silent as he began his run-up. With a powerful strike, he sent the keeper the wrong way, the ball nestling in the bottom corner. 3-1 to Dortmund.