Become A Football Legend Chapter 388: Unnamed

Tehelné pole, Bratislava

4 September 2025

The floodlights illuminated Tehelné pole long before the players emerged from the tunnel, their white glow reflecting off nearly twenty thousand expectant supporters packed into Slovakia’s national stadium. Red, white and blue flags rippled across one end, while the small pocket of travelling German fans answered with black, red and gold, their chants echoing through the cool Bratislava evening. The atmosphere wasn’t hostile, but it was intense. This was the opening match of the World Cup qualifying campaign, and Slovakia believed they could make a statement against one of Europe’s giants.

Inside the tunnel, Lukas adjusted the tape around his left wrist one final time before looking up at the giant electronic board displaying the team sheets. It was only his second senior appearance for Germany, but this time there would be no bench.

The television commentator’s voice carried across the stadium.

The camera switched to Slovakia.

The captains shook hands.

The referee glanced at both assistants.

One whistle.

The qualifiers were underway.

Slovakia kicked off...

...and immediately seized the initiative.

Germany barely managed to string together two passes before Slovakia swarmed them with aggressive pressing. Every loose touch was challenged, every passing lane closed, and within barely a minute the home side had forced the visitors backwards before winning the game’s first corner.

The home crowd rose as one.

Lobotka jogged across to take it.

His inswinging delivery arced dangerously toward the near post before Rüdiger rose highest, powering a firm header away from the six-yard box.

The clearance travelled no further than Lobotka himself, waiting twenty-five yards out almost exactly where the corner had originated.

He cushioned the dropping ball on his chest.

Gnabry sprinted toward him.

Before the German winger could arrive, Lobotka wrapped his left foot around the ball and whipped another delivery straight back into the danger area.

Germany’s defensive line stepped forward together.

"Out! Out!"

Strelec hadn’t gone.

He had timed his movement perfectly.

Remaining just onside, the Slovak striker ghosted into the six-yard box completely unmarked and stretched desperately to guide the bouncing cross beyond Baumann.

He got there... but not quite.

The awkward bounce skipped over his outstretched boot and rolled harmlessly behind for a goal kick.

Strelec froze before placing both hands on top of his head.

Twenty thousand Slovak supporters groaned in disbelief.

Germany had survived.

Lukas hadn’t even touched the ball yet.

Baumann restarted play long toward the halfway line.

Woltemade rose above Šatka, glancing the goal kick into Joshua Kimmich’s path.

The captain brought it under control immediately before feeding Gnabry out on the right.

As Gnabry received, Lukas had already drifted into the pocket behind Slovakia’s midfield, subtly pointing toward the space.

The passing lane was there.

Gnabry saw it...

...but looked away.

Instead, he switched play diagonally toward Wirtz on the opposite flank.

Wirtz controlled beautifully, but before he could turn, Bero and Duris had already converged, squeezing him against the touchline. Rather than forcing the issue, he calmly recycled possession back inside to Angelo Stiller.

One touch.

Head up.

The young midfielder spotted Lukas instantly.

The pass fizzed through midfield.

Lukas received just beyond the centre circle with his back to goal.

The moment the ball reached him, Lobotka stabbed a foot in, hoping to nick it away before the youngster could turn.

Instead, Lukas planted himself.

His left leg braced against the challenge as he shielded the ball with surprising strength, absorbing the contact before spinning sharply away. Lobotka was left twisting awkwardly in the opposite direction, momentarily off balance as Lukas escaped into open grass.

Then he accelerated.

Long, powerful strides carried him through the centre of the pitch as Slovakia’s midfield scrambled to recover. Bero chased furiously from behind, but every touch kept the ball just beyond the midfielder’s reach. Ahead of him, Šatka and Škriniar continued retreating toward their own penalty area, refusing to step out too early, while Wirtz burst down the left and Gnabry mirrored the run on the opposite flank. Between them, Woltemade carefully checked his movement, dancing along the shoulder of the last defender to stay onside.

Still Lukas carried the ball forward.

Bero finally committed.

The midfielder launched into a tackle from behind and slightly to the side.

Lukas reacted instinctively.

With a delicate flick of his right boot, he scooped the ball over the outstretched challenge before springing over Bero’s trailing leg in the same movement, landing smoothly without ever breaking stride.

The German supporters erupted.

Now he was charging directly at Slovakia’s back line.

Škriniar stepped forward.

Lukas shaped his body as though preparing to unleash a shot from outside the box.

The Slovak captain reacted exactly as expected, throwing himself across to block the effort.

That was the invitation Lukas wanted.

At the very last instant, he opened his ankle and, with the outside of his right foot, threaded a perfectly disguised pass straight through Škriniar’s legs into the space he had just abandoned.

Florian Wirtz had timed his diagonal run to perfection.

The ball met him inside the area.

First touch to settle.

Second touch...

Past Dúbravka.

Into the far corner.

GOAL!

Slovakia 0-1 Germany.

The travelling German supporters exploded into celebration as Wirtz sprinted toward the corner flag, arms spread wide. A split second later Lukas caught him, wrapping both arms around his teammate before the rest of the German side piled in around them.

On the touchline, Julian Nagelsmann punched the air.

The commentator’s voice rose above the noise inside Tehelné pole.

"That... is absolutely magnificent. Florian Wirtz will take the headlines for the finish, but the architect is Lukas Brandt. Strength to roll Lobotka, composure to carry Germany fifty yards up the pitch, the athleticism to evade Bero’s tackle, and then the vision—oh, the vision—to disguise that outside-of-the-foot pass through Milan Škriniar’s legs. He’s not even 17 yet and already dictating international football like a seasoned veteran."

The goal settled Germany.

For the next twenty minutes they controlled the match exactly as Julian Nagelsmann would have wanted. Kimmich dictated the tempo from deep, Stiller quietly recycled possession with one and two-touch passing, while Lukas floated constantly between Slovakia’s midfield and defence, never staying in one position long enough for Lobotka to pick him up. Every time Germany built from the back, the seventeen-year-old seemed to appear in another pocket of space, demanding the ball, forcing Slovakia’s midfield to stretch further and further apart.

The home supporters, however, refused to let their team fade.

Every tackle was cheered.

Every interception celebrated.

Whenever Slovakia regained possession, twenty thousand voices immediately urged them forward, willing their players to find an equalizer.

Germany dominated the ball.

Slovakia threatened in transition.

The pattern repeated itself again and again until the 35th minute.

Slovakia finally found the opening they had been waiting for.

Škriniar stepped into midfield and quickly fed Gyömbér on the right. The full-back surged down the flank, taking advantage of Germany’s high defensive line before lifting an inviting cross toward the penalty spot.

David Strelec attacked it brilliantly.

He climbed above Tah and powered a header toward the bottom corner.

Baumann reacted instinctively.

The German goalkeeper threw both fists at the ball, punching it clear with enough force to send it spinning toward Nathan Collins just outside the area.

"Clear it!"

Collins didn’t hesitate.

One touch.

Then a towering clearance straight upfield.

The ball sailed beyond the halfway line and began dropping inside Slovakia’s half.

Lukas was already underneath it.

Šatka pressed tightly into his back, leaning his entire body against the teenager, trying to stop him from bringing the ball under control. At the same time, Lobotka charged forward from the front, reading the second ball and preparing to pounce the moment it touched the grass.

It never did.

Lukas cushioned the dropping pass on his chest, allowing it to fall only as far as his thigh.

In one seamless motion...

He flicked it.

The ball popped cleanly over Šatka’s head.

Before either defender could react, Lukas spun around the centre-back’s outside shoulder, darting around him while the ball was still hanging in the air.

Lobotka stretched a leg, hoping to intercept.

Too late.

The ball never reached the ground.

Lukas burst between the two Slovaks, collected it in stride and suddenly there was nothing in front of him except green grass.

The entire Slovak back line had been caught too high.

Germany were away.

The commentator’s voice climbed with every stride.