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[04/07/2020 | Ti: 22:35 PM | DFB-Pokal Final - Post Match | Location: Olympiastadion Berlin]
The makeshift stage at centre field glead under the floodlights, draped in the black, red, and gold of the German Football Association. Officials busied themselves arranging the podium as the trophy sat majestically on its pedestal—the iconic DFB-Pokal, its golden surface reflecting the stadium lights like a beacon of achievent it represented. Whichever team won this trophy beca the kings of Germany, and all its professional leagues crowned themselves victorious.
Derek Rae’s voice carried a magnetic charm as the ceremony preparations began to wrap up. "And now cos the mont every footballer dreams of - or dreads, depending on which side of the result you find yourself. The presentation of their well-deserved spoils."
Stewart Robson’s tone matched the gravity of the mont. "This is always the hardest part for the losing team, Derek. Having to watch your opponents celebrate what you ca so close to achieving yourself. ’The saying second place is the first to lose fits perfectly with what these players must be feeling.’ But it’s part of the ga, part of what makes these monts so special for the winners."
Following one of the official’s prompts, the Munich players began their slow procession first, each step heavier than the last as they made their way toward the stage. Their heads hung low; their jerseys were soaked with sweat and disappointnt. Neuer led the way, his captain’s armband stained with dirt and grass.
The Leverkusen players ford a guard of honour on either side of the pathway, creating a corridor of respect for their fallen opponents. Despite their own jubilation just monts before, they stood with professional dignity, applauding the Bayern players as they passed. It was but a small gesture of mutual respect between competitors, but sothing that had beco part of trophy ceremonies.
Lewandowski trudged past, wearing a hollow look as he went forward like a soldier. Müller followed, clapping his hands together in acknowledgent, and he followed the procession, walking up the three steps of the stage. One by one, the Bayern players climbed the steps to receive their silver dals.
Each player shook hands with the officials, their smiles forced but respectful as they left the stage as soon as possible. None of them took off their dals just yet as they ford a line, standing in solitude, awaiting their opponents to receive their reward. "You have to feel for Bayern Munich," Derek Rae observed as the caras captured the dejected expressions. "To lose a match like this, having led twice in extra ti, is heartbreaking. But they are showing trendous class in defeat."
As the last Bayern player received their runner-up dal and descended the stage, the atmosphere shifted dramatically. The Leverkusen players at the base of the stage began to buzz with anticipation, the reality of their achievent finally starting to sink in. "Ladies and gentlen," the stadium announcer’s voice bood across the empty arena, "please welco your 2020 DFB-Pokal champions - Bayer 04 Leverkusen!"
The eruption was instant and thunderous. Every Leverkusen player on the field threw their arms into the air as the announcent echoed around the Olympiastadion. "Here they co!" Derek Rae’s voice lifted with infectious enthusiasm. "The heroes of Leverkusen, twenty-seven years in the making!"
The players made their way up the stage, Wendell leading the line as they received their gold dals one by one. From players to substitutes, everyone walked up with a bright smile, eagerly accepting the piece of bling they worked hard to win. Rakim also eagerly accepted his dal, brushing the golden cup before joining the rest of his teammates on the waiting platform.
Slinging an arm around Kai and Wirtz, he watched the rest of his teammates get their well-deserved rewards. Lewandowski ended up winning the Golden Boot for his nine goals in the tournant, narrowly beating out Kevin Volland, who had seven. Golden glove went to Hardeky for his stellar performance in between the sticks, despite the score sheet not reflecting his actual contributions.
The Man of the Match award went to Haverts, who had scored three goals, assisted one, and generally had a stellar performance in the match. The player of the tournant award went to Thomas Müller for his stellar performances throughout the competition. No one cared for the personal accolades long, though, as Bender was given the go-ahead, promptly stepping forward as he walked towards the gleaming cup.
For a mont, the decade-long Leverkusen captain stood over the gleaming trophy that sobody had been polishing for this exact mont. His weathered hands were trembling slightly as he reached forward to his first senior trophy and maybe his last he would achieve in his career. The veteran captain, who had endured years of near misses and heartbreak with Leverkusen, now had the mont he had dread of since joining the club.
The weight of carrying ten years of that twenty-seven-year wait seed to lift from his shoulders as his fingers wrapped around the neck of the DFB-Pokal. "This is Lars Bender’s mont," Derek Rae’s voice was thick with emotion. "The warrior, the leader, the man who has bled for this club through thick and thin. At thirty-one years old, he finally gets to lift silverware for Bayer Leverkusen."
Stewart Robson’s comntary was equally moving. "You can see what this ans to him, Derek. Look at the pure emotions on his face. This is a player who could have left for trophies elsewhere, but stayed loyal to Leverkusen through all the disappointnts."
Bender kept the trophy low as he turned to face his teammates, imitating the actions of other teams’ captains he had watched all his career. A low drumroll of (ohhhh) resounded from his teammates and the team staff as he approached, keeping the trophy low. When things reached a fever pitch, he powerfully raised the trophy into the air, setting off another wave of jubilation.
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The floodlights glistened off the golden surface as Lars Bender hoisted the DFB-Pokal aloft, his roar of triumph blending with that of his teammates, piercing the Berlin night. His teammates surged forward as if pulled by gravity, surrounding him in a flurry of red-and-black shirts, hands reaching for the trophy, each one desperate to touch it, as if that would make it real. The echoes of their shouts and chants bounced around the vast, empty stands as the Bayern players took off their silver dals and headed for the exit, having fulfilled their sportsmanship.
They jumped and sang for a few good minutes, basking in the mont before finally calming down sowhat. One of the organisers beckoned them to calm down for a mont so they could take the official victor’s picture. A couple of cara shutters later, with the players taking varying poses, all displaying their joy before the celebrations continued anew.
Stepping off the stage, they began passing the trophy around, each celebrating in their own way as they took pictures. Rakim clapped above his head before taking his turn with the cup, kissing it once before raising it for the caras. Wendell grabbed it next, shimmying his hips, prompting his teammates to laugh and join in. The party soon moved inside, where champagne bottles prepared beforehand popped almost instantly, spraying across the cramped space.
Hradecky was the first to shake one up, blasting the foam across a screaming Diaby, who was in the midst of his dancing over a French rapper. The rest joined in rhythm, clapping and stomping the floor as Wendell took centre stage, twisting his waist and pointing to the ceiling in true Brazilian style. The players followed the dance moves from the outside, filled with pure joy, before another player stepped in to showcase another move.
The music blared from a portable speaker, the bass rattling the benches. Videos were recorded on phones, with Instagram Lives filling up as tens of thousands of fans watched from ho. Rakim jumped into the midst of the celebration when a Pop Smoke song ca on, getting sturdy to the beat, prompting the rest of his teammates to do the sa.
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To Be Continued...
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