In the last few training days before the new season, the lights in the Hoffenheim tactical meeting room were exceptionally bright in the evening. Today, the coaching staff was holding an important tactical meeting to discuss the lineup for the first round of the German Cup. In previous seasons, there was nothing to discuss about this issue; they would simply field the main squad.
However, this season is different; Hoffenheim also has the Champions League to play, fighting on three fronts: the Champions League, the League, and the domestic cup. They must come up with a new rotation lineup. Nagelsmann stood in front of the tactics board, his finger lightly tapping the projector remote control, and the screen displayed Rot-Weiss Erfurt's defensive heatmap from their last five matches. They were their first-round opponent in the German Cup.
At this moment, all the coaching staff members were present: assistant coach Kramer, fitness coach Schmidt, technical analyst Keller, and chief scout Werth were seated around a long table, with notebooks and data sheets spread out in front of them. Nagelsmann got straight to the point.
"For the first round of the German Cup, our opponent is Rot-Weiss Erfurt from the Bundesliga 3."
He pressed the remote, and the screen switched to the opponent's goalkeeper's weak positioning during saves: "From the data, they are most afraid of high crosses and quick counterattacks."
Kramer nodded: "Coach, in the preseason, we mainly played 4-2-3-1, which is perfect for testing the practical effect of this system."
"The problem is personnel arrangement." Fitness coach Schmidt pushed up his glasses, "Liverpool's Champions League qualifier is just three days after the cup match, so we need to consider the consumption of our main players."
A brief silence fell in the meeting room. Nagelsmann walked to the coffee machine and poured himself a cup of black coffee, the steam quickly dissipating in the air-conditioned room.
"My idea is rotation." He took a sip of coffee, his tone calm but unquestionable, "For this German Cup match, we will retain four core positions for main players, and all others will be filled by substitutes."
Chief scout Werth immediately frowned: "Coach, although the opponent in the first round of the German Cup is weak, many strong teams have stumbled. Are we sure we want to do this?"
"That's why we are retaining four main positions." Nagelsmann drew a triangle on the tactics board with a marker pen, "Captain Vogt will anchor the defense, Kramarić will control the midfield tempo, Gnabry will be responsible for the decisive blow, Uth will play as a forward, and all other positions will be given to substitutes."
Technical analyst Keller suddenly thought of something: "Coach, you want to start that newbie, don't you?"
Nagelsmann did not deny it: "You all saw Oliver's performance in the friendly match; he needs experience in official matches."
"It's too risky." Werth shook his head, "He's only 17, and the intensity of the German Cup is completely different from a friendly match."
Nagelsmann put down his coffee cup, the bottom of the cup clinking crisply against the table: "Do you remember what the media said about Thomas Muller when he first debuted? Too young, inexperienced, until he delivered a shocking moment for everyone in the German Cup."
The meeting room fell silent again. Assistant coach Bremer was looking through the data sheets, then suddenly looked up: "Actually, there's an interesting set of data: Oliver's tackle success rate in confrontational training is the third highest in the team, only behind Vogt and Posch."
"Right, and his 12-minute run data is even higher than Kramarić's, so his physical fitness is absolutely fine." The fitness coach also added.
Nagelsmann walked back to the tactics board and circled Rot-Weiss Erfurt's left-back position with a red pen: "Look at this again, their left-back's turning speed is second to last in the Bundesliga 3. If we let Oliver repeatedly attack on the right flank..."
Werth's expression softened a bit: "Let me confirm again, Coach, are you sure you want to use the German Cup for training?"
"It's not training," Nagelsmann corrected him, "it's an investment in the future." He pulled up a compilation of Oliver's training videos,
"Look at this kid's off-ball movement and passing choices; he doesn't look 17 at all, more like a veteran who has played in the Bundesliga for ten years."
The video was playing an assist by Oliver in a group confrontation: he first feigned an inside cut, then suddenly backheeled the ball to Gnabry who was overlapping, while he himself made a reverse run to draw away two defenders.
This seasoned style of play made everyone in the meeting room nod slightly.
"I think the coach's idea is right, and there's another advantage to doing this," technical analyst Keller suddenly said, "Liverpool is definitely collecting our tactical information right now. If we go all out with our main squad in the first round of the German Cup, it means we're exposing our Champions League tactical intentions in advance, which would be very disadvantageous to us."
This statement finally provided the best corroboration for Nagelsmann's idea.
Werth sighed and closed his notebook: "Alright, Coach, I'll reserve my opinion but obey the decision, but..." He looked at Nagelsmann seriously,
"I still want to say, if we can't break the deadlock by halftime, we must immediately bring on the main players."
"Deal." Nagelsmann smiled.
He finally pulled up a data chart showing the number of days between the Champions League qualifier and the German Cup. "Remember, this season, our ultimate goal is the Champions League."
When the meeting ended and everyone was leaving, Nagelsmann stopped Kramer alone: "Starting tomorrow, give Oliver extra training on set-piece tactics. I want Rot-Weiss Erfurt's defense to remember this kid's name."
...
In the afternoon, Nagelsmann's office door was ajar. Oliver stood outside and knocked three times. He didn't know what the coach wanted to tell him, but he was somewhat expectant.
"Come in." A voice came from inside the office.
Oliver pushed the door open and saw Nagelsmann frowning at the computer screen, his fingers rapidly typing something on the keyboard.
"Coach, you were looking for me?"
The office was filled with the smell of coffee and tactical diagrams. Several player reports and data sheets were scattered on the table.
"Sit." Nagelsmann said without looking up, his fingers still tapping on the keyboard.
Oliver sat down in the chair opposite the desk, his back straight. From the side, he could see that Nagelsmann's computer screen showed a match recording, it was their warm-up match against Stuttgart last week, and the screen was frozen at the moment Oliver assisted Gnabry.
"Do you know why I called you here, Oliver?" Nagelsmann finally looked up and pushed up his glasses.
Oliver said, somewhat unsure: "Uh... Coach, is it about the German Cup?"
Nagelsmann turned the computer screen towards him: "Exactly, for the first round of the German Cup, against Rot-Weiss Erfurt, I plan to start you."
Oliver's pupils contracted slightly, but his expression barely changed. He nodded: "Thank you for your trust, Coach."
"Don't thank me so fast," Nagelsmann leaned back in his chair, "This isn't a reward, it's a test. The defense of a Bundesliga 3 team is much fiercer than in a warm-up match. They won't go easy on you just because you're new. This season, we have to fight on three fronts, so everyone must keep up, including you."
"I understand." Oliver's voice was calm, but his fingers unconsciously tightened on his knees.
Nagelsmann stared at him for a few seconds, then suddenly smiled: "You're quite composed, kid. Any other 17-year-old player would be jumping for joy right now."
Oliver smiled and said: "Actually, I've already jumped several times in my mind... Hehe, but you can rest assured, I will break through every one of their defensive lines."
This remark made Nagelsmann laugh out loud: "Good, that's the attitude I want."
He tapped the table, "Erfurt's left-back turns as slow as a rusty truck. You and Gnabry constantly attack their defense. I want to see at least three effective crosses."
"No problem at all, Coach." Oliver said.
Nagelsmann raised an eyebrow: "That confident?"
"Not confident," Oliver thought for a moment, then continued, "but it must be done."
Nagelsmann nodded thoughtfully, took a USB drive from a drawer, and tossed it to him: "You're a good kid. Here, this contains the complete recordings of Erfurt's last five matches. I've already prepared the video commentary. Focus on their defensive positioning and counterattack routes. Ask me anytime if you don't understand anything."
This was Nagelsmann giving Oliver special tutoring. Oliver solemnly took the USB drive with both hands, his mind already calculating his training plan. Starting in the German Cup was just the first step. Earlier, his peripheral vision had caught sight of another document on Nagelsmann's desk, bearing the Liverpool team crest. This was what Nagelsmann was currently racking his brain over.
"Any more questions, Oliver?" Nagelsmann asked.
Oliver shook his head, stood up to leave, but stopped at the door: "Oh, right, Coach, if I perform well in this German Cup match..."
Nagelsmann interrupted Oliver without looking up: "Let's talk after you play well in the German Cup."
Oliver actually wanted to ask about the Champions League qualifiers, but it was clear that Nagelsmann didn't seem to be considering him for the Champions League squad yet.
"Understood..." Oliver said no more, quietly closing the door as he left.
Back at his apartment, Oliver immediately opened his computer and inserted the USB drive. He pulled up Erfurt's match recordings and simultaneously took quick notes in his tactical notebook. The opponent's left-back did indeed turn extremely slowly, as Nagelsmann mentioned in the video, and had limited tactical cohesion. But Oliver noticed a new detail: this player habitually tucked inward when defending, leaving large open spaces on the flank.
"I can do more fake inside cuts and real runs to the byline..." Oliver muttered to himself, drawing a dashed arrow in his notebook.
On the training ground, Oliver's training content clearly changed. He reduced his regular passing and receiving drills, instead focusing on extra practice for wing breakthroughs and crosses. Gnabry would occasionally come over to give a few pointers, but most of the time, Oliver practiced the same movement repeatedly against the training wall: a feint with his right foot, followed by a sudden change of direction and acceleration with his left foot.
"Oliver, are you possessed?" Gnabry asked, looking at Oliver who was still doing extra training after the session ended.
Oliver wiped his sweat: "Not possessed, I just want to perform well."
"Don't injure yourself," Gnabry shook his head, "It's just the German Cup, it's not difficult, it's not the Champions League final."
Oliver didn't respond, just continued practicing. He knew clearly in his heart that a crazy idea was becoming increasingly clear in his mind: If he could shine in the German Cup, he might actually be able to secure a starting spot against Liverpool. Mbappé, who was almost his age, could represent Paris Saint-Germain in the Champions League, so was it possible for him to do the same now? Oliver's ambition was perhaps a bit too grand, but fortunately, he didn't let it completely inflate to an uncontrollable degree. He, of course, knew the difference between himself and Mbappé, so for now, he still focused on improving himself. Returning to his apartment in the evening, Oliver immediately entered the system training space after showering.
In the system space, Oliver wasn't practicing anything else today; his main focus was on match reading ability, and the system provided detailed tactical simulation functions. Oliver pulled up Liverpool's Champions League match data from last season, focusing on their weaknesses in high pressing.
"The space after Robertson's forward runs..." Oliver drew a red circle on the virtual tactics board, "And Arnold's center of gravity issues when defending..."
The time in the training space was equivalent to real time. Oliver repeatedly simulated various match scenarios until he had sufficient sleep time in the real world, only then did he reluctantly exit. The alarm clock in reality rang at 6:30 AM. Oliver opened his eyes, the images of tactical simulations still lingering in his mind. He rolled out of bed and jotted down a few more key points in his notebook. This disciplined, monotonous training life was something Oliver experienced every day, truly earning him his nickname "Robot."
On the training ground in the early morning, Oliver was still the first to arrive. He repeatedly practiced the wing breakthrough movements he had simulated in the system last night on the empty pitch. By the time Nagelsmann's car drove into the training facility, Oliver had already completed over a hundred crossing drills.
"He's crazy, this kid is absolutely crazy." Nagelsmann looked at the training data on the monitor screen and said to his assistant coach, "This kid's training volume in the past 48 hours is equivalent to someone else's entire week."
Assistant coach Kramer frowned: "Should we remind him to rest?"
Nagelsmann shook his head: "Not for now. The match is coming soon, and I want to see how much new improvement he has made recently. Suddenly changing his training frequency now would actually affect his form, but we can increase the proportion of his recovery training."
On the training ground, Oliver once again completed a breakthrough and delivered a precise cross. The ball arced and hit the training cone in the distance. He wiped his sweat, his gaze involuntarily drifting towards the main building; Nagelsmann's office window faced the training ground. Oliver knew his idea was crazy. Seventeen years old, just joined a new team, and already wanting to start in a Champions League qualifier? For anyone else, they might not even dare to think about it. But he wasn't anyone else. He yearned to stand on Anfield, listening to the shouts of amazement from the Red fans about his performance.
No 17-year-old in the world who loves football could refuse the possibility of playing in the Champions League.
"One step at a time," Oliver told himself, "First, tear apart Erfurt, then..."
He didn't finish his sentence, just struck the ball again, and it whistled towards the far corner of the goal.