Down at pitch level, Nagelsmann turned toward his bench. "He’s done enough," he said, nodding toward Glück. "Bring him off."
The fourth official raised the board.
21 – Lukas Brandt → 19 – Leroy Sané
As Lukas jogged toward the touchline, the stadium rose as one. Even the Italian supporters near the far stand applauded, so shaking their heads in disbelief.
O’Hagan:
"Listen to that reception for the sixteen-year-old. A standing ovation from sixty thousand inside the Signal Iduna Park. What a performance from the youngest player on the pitch."
Lukas smiled softly, raising his hand in acknowledgent. As he reached the sideline, Nagelsmann pulled him into a brief hug, murmuring sothing only they could hear. Glück patted his back as he passed, while Sané — the man replacing him — grinned and whispered, "You’re making it hard for the rest of us, kid."
Lukas chuckled, breathless. "Just keeping it warm for you."
He took a seat, wrapped in his jacket, a bottle of water in hand. The cara found him again, zooming in on his calm face as his eyes followed the play. The comntator’s voice trailed over the image.
O’Hagan:
"He’s sixteen years old. 3 goals, 3 assists across two legs. It is just inconceivable. I will go out on a limb to say he is having, by far, the most impressive debut season of any teenager in the history of the sport. And it’s not even closer."
As the ga resud, the chants kept rolling — the echo of his na still dancing through the stands, long after he’d left the pitch.
* * *
The referee’s final whistle sliced through the roar of the crowd like a sharp gust. For a heartbeat, the entire Signal Iduna Park seed to pause — and then it erupted into thunder.
O’Hagan:
"That’s it! Germany are through to the semifinals of the Nations League! 4-3 on the night, 7-4 on aggregate! What a tie this has been: goals, drama, tension, everything!"
Kehl:
"And it ends with a Raspadori penalty in stoppage ti, but really, that was nothing more than a consolation. Germany controlled this over both legs. A statent performance, and once again, the na on everyone’s lips — Lukas Brandt."
Players hugged, shook hands, and swapped shirts. The floodlights still blazed over the pitch, turning the misty Dortmund air a golden hue. Lukas, already changed out of his match boots, walked back onto the pitch holding a small silver trophy in his hand, his second consecutive Man of the Match award for Germany.
The Nations League trophy glinted under the lights — a sleek spiral design made of polished tal, curving upward to cradle a miniature glass globe. The engraved UEFA Nations League – Player of the Match at its base caught the reflection of the stadium’s lights with every step Lukas took.
He looked up toward the Südtribüne, the towering yellow wall of fans, and raised the trophy high. The roar that answered him was deafening. Then, as he began to clap and wave to the crowd, his eyes caught sothing — soone — in the stands.
Joanna.
She was there, right in the middle of the sea of waving flags and scarves, her face lit up under the giant screens. Lukas’s expression softened imdiately. He smiled and lifted a hand to his lips, blowing a kiss in her direction.
A few seconds later, the stadium Jumbotron switched to her, and Joanna froze mid-wave. Her cheeks flushed red as João nudged her, pointing at the screen. She tried to cover her face, but it was too late; the cara had already caught her laughing shyly, her hand still half-raised.
Lukas laughed, shaking his head as he turned away, still clapping toward the fans.
O’Hagan:
"Well, that’s a mont! A kiss blown to the crowd, or perhaps to soone special? Sixteen years old, a star on the pitch, and already breaking hearts in the stands."
Down near the touchline, Musiala elbowed Lukas playfully as the players gathered for the team lap around the pitch.
"Caught in 4K, bro. You’re trending again tonight," he teased.
"Man, she’s gonna kill later," Lukas replied with a laugh, tucking his hair behind his ear.
Hugo Stiller joined in, grinning widely. "You know you’re done for when even the caras are shipping you two."
Lukas just smiled, shaking his head. "Yeah, yeah, keep laughing. I’ll rember this next ti we play co-op."
They continued their slow jog around the stadium, clapping toward every stand as the fans chanted their nas. Banners fluttered, and phones flashed. The atmosphere was pure celebration, not just of victory, but of arrival. Germany was through to the Nations League semifinals, and the teenage sensation who had lit up both legs was now the face of their future.
The caras zood in one last ti on Lukas, walking with the trophy tucked under his arm, smiling quietly as he looked out over the crowd.
O’Hagan:
"Sixteen years old. Two gas, two Man of the Match awards, one foot already in German football history. Lukas Brandt, rember the na. Because Europe already has."
As the broadcast faded to the post-match analysis, Lukas and his teammates disappeared down the tunnel, laughter and applause echoing behind them.
Ahead of them waited the semifinals in June, a clash with Portugal, and another Chapter in the story of the prodigy who had the whole world watching.
* * *
The restaurant was tucked inside one of Dortmund’s most prestigious hotels — a quiet, dimly lit private dining suite on the top floor with panoramic windows overlooking the city skyline. The room had been booked well in advance by Marco and Anne, its polished mahogany table already set with silver cutlery, wine glasses, and soft amber lighting that made the entire space glow warmly.
Javi stood near the table, phone pressed to his ear."Yeah, son, just head straight to the elevators. Fourth floor. The maître d’ will point you in the right direction," he said with a smile before hanging up.
Monts later, down in the lobby, Lukas stepped out of Adeyemi’s car."Good luck with the family dinner, superstar," Adeyemi teased, grinning as Lukas closed the door."Thanks, bro. Drive safe," Lukas replied, waving as his friend pulled away.
He took a deep breath, adjusted the collar of his cream turtleneck beneath a charcoal coat, and walked into the hotel. The lobby was bustling with guests in elegant attire, but Lukas’s mind was elsewhere — half nervous, half excited. He followed the directions up to the private dining floor and stopped in front of a polished wooden door with gold lettering.
When he stepped inside, the last thing he expected to see was his grandparents.
"Oma? Opa?" Lukas blurted out, his voice rising in disbelief.The older couple turned toward him, smiles blooming instantly."in Junge!" his grandmother exclaid, opening her arms.
Lukas hurried across the room, embracing her tightly before turning to his grandfather, whose proud eyes glistened even as he tried to play it cool."You didn’t think we’d miss this, did you?" his grandfather said, patting Lukas on the back with both hands.
Javi smiled from the corner, clearly enjoying the surprise."Told you I had sothing planned," he said.
The room was alive now — Anne, João, Joanna, Reuben, and the Ginez parents were all smiling and congratulating him on the previous night’s performance. The conversation flowed around football, family, and laughter. Lukas sat beside his grandmother, answering every question about training, travel, and what it felt like to wear the national jersey.
"You made us proud, Lukas. You’ve done what even your father once dread of," she said softly.Lukas smiled, touched. "Thanks, Oma. That ans a lot."
A few minutes later, Anne’s phone buzzed. She stepped aside to answer and then returned to the table."They’re here," she said, her voice carrying a mix of excitent and nerves.
"Re... Really?" Javi asked, his voice filled with nerves. It was the first ti he’d be eting his would-be in-laws.
"Go escort them in," he said as he took a deep breath.
"It’ll be alright. I’ll be right back," Anne said as she excused herself and stepped out to the corridor.
There stood Rachel and Kevin Schar, hand in hand. Rachel was still mid-sentence, animated as ever."...and I swear, that assist in the first half — the awareness, the composure — it’s rare even among seasoned internationals! I told the others at the DFB he had to be called up, didn’t I, Kevin?"
Kevin smiled warmly, nodding as they walked behind Anne. "You did. You were right, as always."
Anne chuckled nervously as they reached the door."Mom, Dad... before you go in, just—" she began, but Rachel was already pushing the door open.
Inside, conversation hushed. Lukas, seated near the middle of the table, looked up. Their eyes t.
Rachel froze mid-step. The young man she had just been passionately praising — the prodigy she helped bring into the national fold — was sitting right there, smiling awkwardly at her."Oh... my goodness," she whispered, her eyes darting between Lukas, Javi, and Anne.
Lukas rose from his chair, unsure whether to shake her hand or laugh.Javi stepped forward, breaking the silence with a nervous grin."Mom, Dad... et Lukas," he said. "My son."
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