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Hradecky’s palms still stung as he launched himself back onto his feet, barking instructions to his back line as if to shake them awake. The scare had boosted Wolfsburg’s confidence; they weren’t about to sit back the entire half—they slled the chance to kill the ga outright.
But Bosz’s changes had also altered the ho side’s shape. Wirtz’s presence imdiately added a different dinsion. Unlike Bellarabi’s raw pace and direct runs, the teenager offered a more agile playmaking option on the wing and quicker reaction speed. He drifted centrally, linking with Havertz and Demirbay to create triangles that began to pull Wolfsburg’s midfield press just slightly out of sync.
[52]
In the 52nd minute, Amiri and Wirtz combined with a neat one-two on the edge of the box, drawing Arnold out of position. That left Diaby free wide left, and the Frenchman whipped in a teasing cross toward Havertz, who had escaped Pongračić and Brooks for a mont. He rose well but could only graze the ball, sending it harmlessly over the bar.
Derek Rae’s voice bellowed over the live stream: "That’s better from Leverkusen! You can sense the spark Wirtz has brought; they’re starting to stretch Wolfsburg."
The next ten minutes beca a pendulum of pressure with a lot of back and forth. Wolfsburg, wary of overcommitting, kept their back four compact, Mbabu and Roussillon tucking in tightly. Yet Leverkusen’s insistence on probing began to force half-gaps.
In the 59th minute, Demirbay spotted one such seam, threading a pass between Arnold and Schlager for Havertz. The forward’s first touch was silky, cushioning the ball as he glided into the box. For a heartbeat, it seed the equaliser was inevitable. But Casteels stayed tall, spreading himself to block Havertz’s side-footed effort with a firm right boot.
The rebound split wide, where Wirtz collected it before anyone else. With a deft shimmy, he tried to dance past Roussillon, but the Frenchman was ready this ti. He lunged with his long legs, his right boot deftly hitting the ball away and sending the soung superstar tumbling. Arnold collected the loose ball spinning past Aranguiz before sending a lofted through ball up the left flank.
Both Weghorst and Sa wanted to go after it, but the winger waved him off for the simple fact that he had the better angle. Facing Baumgartlinger, who was retreating, trying to ti the aerial ball. Sa accelerated into space, eating up the grass between him and the Leverkusen box.
The ball dropped beautifully into his stride, and for a second it looked like Wolfsburg’s left-winger was about to punish Bosz’s side again. Baumgartlinger, though not the fastest, showed his veteran savvy—he delayed his step, forcing Sa wide enough to make the angle awkward.
The winger didn’t shoot, however; instead, he cut back just enough to square the ball to the middle of the box. Weghorst, who had angled his body as he made his run, fought off Dragovic, but instead of receiving or striking the incoming ball, he let it slip through his legs.
It was a clever dummy—one that completely wrong-footed the Leverkusen defenders and fooled the keeper. Brekalo, who followed up from the other side of the box, did not disappoint. His leg swept across the oncoming ball and blasted it goalward low and hard.
Brekalo’s strike skidded off the turf like a skipping stone, arrowing for the far corner. Hrádecký, already leaning the wrong way from Weghorst’s dummy, twisted desperately to extend an arm. He managed a fingertip touch, but it was the faintest of grazes, redirecting the ball only enough to rattle the inside of the post before it bounced across the line.
The net rippled, and the Wolfsburg players poured toward the corner flag, fists pumping. Brekalo slid on his knees, arms stretched wide, his scream of triumph echoing in the hollow stadium. On the other end, Dragović slamd the turf in fury, while Hrádecký lay montarily prone, staring up at the grey sky in disbelief.
[Leverkusen 1:3 Wolfsburg, Brekalo 61’]
Derek Rae’s comntary captured the mood perfectly: "And Wolfsburg are carving Leverkusen open again! A slick move, and Brekalo punishes them. The Wolves have a two-goal cushion at the BayArena!"
[77]
That was not the end of it; it rely fully opened the floodgates of Wolfburg attacks. For the first ti this season, Leverkusen found themselves being dominated, unable to mount a aningful attack. They were resorting to fouls to keep things as they were, with Diaby and Demirbay picking up yellows in quick succession.
They were in utter panic mode, and the visitors could sll blood, and they did not stop hounding them because of it. In the 81st minute, they won a free kick just outside the box, which saw Tapsoba pick up a warning from the referee. Schlanger stepped up to take it, warily eyeing the four-man wall as he scanned the crowd of players who were already fighting with each other for positions.
Schlager asured his steps carefully, adjusting his body as the referee’s whistle pierced the tension. The ball was placed just right of centre, twenty-one yards from goal—pri territory for a left-footed curler. The Wolfsburg bench stood as one, sensing the kill.
He struck it clean, his instep wrapping around the ball, sending it curling over the wall. The ball dipped nacingly toward the top corner, but Hrádecký—perhaps the only Leverkusen player who still looked alive—sprang like a cat. With his left hand clawing at the air, he managed to get his fingertips to it, pushing the strike over the bar.
"Wake up! We are Leverkusen, and right now we are playing like shit!" He shouted the mont he got up from the ground, angrily glaring at his teammates.
[84]
The corner was executed quickly with Sa playing it short up the line to Roussillon. The left back didn’t even have to think and wrapped his boot around the ball, sending it curling into the box before Wirtz could close him down. The ball sailed high as it took an outside curve, dropping sowhere around the penalty spot.
Figures that had been on the verge of retreating out of the box rose into the sky, each fighting for aerial dominance. Pongracik Rose the highest, towering over both Tapsoba and Dragovic as he hamred the ball downward toward goal. Hrádecký never even had a chance, as the ball bounced off the line and pierced the back of the net.
"Oh, when it rains, it pours out here in the Bay arena as ight we were not expecting is unfolding as Wolfsburg now leads 1:4," Derek Rae announced, voicing the disbelief to a match that had been rather evenly matched for the most part.
"Derek, I think this is just a case of one team wanting it more than the other." Robson coolly analysed as the replay of the goal was shown on the screen.
[89]
Leverkusen looked broken—ntally more than physically now. Even Bosz stood frozen in the technical area, his arms folded as if willing himself to swallow the scene unravelling in front of him. The fourth goal had stripped away the last illusions of a coback.
Still, the players trudged forward, searching for a shred of pride to salvage. Havertz, whose bright start had fizzled in the second half’s storm, dropped deeper still, almost shoulder to shoulder with Demirbay, trying to force sothing—anything. But Wolfsburg slled their fear and pressed only when it mattered, breaking in waves every ti Leverkusen dared overextend.
[91]
In the 91st minute, Wolfsburg nearly added insult to injury. Schlager nicked the ball off Baumgartlinger in midfield and instantly threaded a diagonal toward Weghorst. The Dutchman muscled past Tapsoba, driving into the box with a lumbering stride. He shaped to shoot, but Hrádecký—refusing to surrender—flung himself at the striker’s feet, smothering the ball in a courageous slide. His roar of defiance echoed through the BayArena, the only defiance left in red and black.
[94]
The referee’s whistle finally ca, rciful and cruel in equal asure. Leverkusen players slumped where they stood, hands on knees, shirts clinging with sweat, heads shaking in disbelief. Wolfsburg, anwhile, celebrated as though they had claid a final.
[Leverkusen 1 – 4 Wolfsburg]
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To be continued...
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