The match night finally arrived. Outside Anfield, it was already bustling with people, a red tide surging from all directions towards this football sanctuary. Liverpool fans were singing "You'll Never Walk Alone," their voices penetrating the dressing room walls, faintly reaching the ears of the Hoffenheim players. Oliver sat in front of his locker, head down, tying his shoelaces, his fingers trembling uncontrollably.
His phone vibrated. It was a message from his father: "Son, we're here, on the left side of the away stand. Your mom is wearing a white jacket. Don't be nervous, play well!"
A photo was attached, with Oliver's Mom holding a small handwritten flag that read "Go Oliver" in both Chinese and English, while Oliver's Father stood beside her, giving a thumbs-up, a forced smile of composure on his face.
Oliver stared at the photo for a few seconds, a smile unconsciously curving his lips. He took a deep breath and stuffed his phone back into his bag. The atmosphere in the dressing room was both tense and solemn. Captain Vogt was quietly talking to a few veteran players, Gnabry had his eyes closed, resting, and Uth was repeatedly checking his shin guards.
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Nagelsmann stood in front of the tactics board, arms crossed, his gaze sweeping over every player.
"Lads," he finally spoke, his voice low, yet it made everyone look up.
Nagelsmann patted the dressing room wall and said, "I know what it's like out there. Anfield, Champions League night, sixty thousand people shouting—all of that will make you feel pressure. But what I want to tell you is, pressure is mutual. They are even less able to accept defeat than us, because this is their home!"
The air in the dressing room seemed to ignite with these words.
"Is Liverpool strong? Of course! Are they a giant? Yes! But look to your left and right." Nagelsmann suddenly raised his voice, "Sitting next to you are a group of warriors underestimated by everyone! A team that gave Bundesliga giants headaches last season! A group of warriors who dare to run wild at Anfield!"
Listening to the coach's words, Oliver felt his heartbeat accelerating, a result of excitement.
"We're 1-2 down from the first leg? So what?!" Nagelsmann slammed his fist on the tactics board, "Remember, the most dangerous team on a football pitch is always a fearless one. Tonight, we're going to make all of Europe remember Hoffenheim's name!"
"Now." He extended his hand.
All the players immediately gathered around, their arms stacked on top of each other.
"What are we fighting for?!" Nagelsmann roared.
"Victory!!!" The entire team erupted in a deafening roar.
"Who are we?!"
"Hoffenheim!!!"
Oliver's voice was drowned in the wave of sound, but his heartbeat was clearer than ever. A knock, knock, knock came at the door.
Like war drums, or a countdown. A match official knocked on the dressing room door: "Entry in five minutes."
Nagelsmann took one last look around at his players: "One last thing for you all: play this match as if it's deciding your worth. If you want a better contract, more endorsements, then start by doing well in this match!"
In the player's tunnel, Liverpool's stars were already lined up and waiting. Mohamed Salah was quietly chatting with Henderson, Mane was stretching his ankles, Lovren stared straight ahead expressionlessly, and Arnold twisted his neck. Oliver stood in the middle of the Hoffenheim lineup; he could already clearly feel the ground shaking from Anfield.
"Nervous?" Gnabry, standing in front of him, suddenly turned and asked.
Oliver swallowed, honestly nodding: "A little, yes."
Gnabry grinned and said: "Me too, but remember, those screaming fans." He pointed to the away stand,
"They paid for tickets to come here with us, just to watch us perform."
The broadcast began announcing the starting lineups for both teams.
"Number 19, Uth!"
"Number 11, Grillitsch!"
…
"Number 17, Oliver!"
When his name echoed for the first time on a Champions League pitch, Oliver sharply looked up. The light at the end of the tunnel stung his eyes. One step, two steps, three steps… He finally stepped onto the Anfield pitch for the first time, as a professional player. In an instant, a wave of sound, like a tsunami, washed over him.
"Come on, Redman!!"
"Mohamed Salah, Mane, score a goal!"
"Who are ya??"
Sixty thousand people shouting, some cheering for Liverpool, some mocking Hoffenheim, countless camera flashes, and that overwhelming sea of red. Oliver instinctively squinted, but caught a glimpse of a familiar white jacket in a corner of the away stand. Oliver Mom was frantically waving her slightly adorable little flag.
The match began. The moment the referee blew the opening whistle, Anfield immediately transformed into a boiling red ocean! Liverpool's players pressed forward like a tide, following their team song, their high press showing terrifying intensity from the very first minute.
Full-backs Arnold and Robertson almost became wingers, pushing forward recklessly in Hoffenheim's half. And the midfield trio of Henderson, Emre Can, and Wijnaldum firmly controlled possession, constantly tearing at Hoffenheim's defense with triangular passes.
Hoffenheim's start was not smooth. On the right flank, where Oliver was playing, he could clearly feel the dual pressure from Liverpool players and fans. With every touch of the ball, his ears were met with deafening boos and shouts, as if the entire stadium was trying to devour his confidence.
In the 3rd minute, Mohamed Salah made his first breakthrough from his side. Oliver quickly tracked back, but the Pharaoh's change of direction was astonishingly quick, and his decision-making was swift. Ultimately, Oliver could only watch Mohamed Salah cross the ball, fortunately, defender Schulz cleared it in time.
In the domestic live broadcast room, the Chinese Commentator's voice came through the signal, "Liverpool's opening attack is too fierce; Hoffenheim is completely suppressed. The pressure on the Chinese youngster Oliver's side is immense, Liverpool's full-backs are pushing up very frequently."
In the 8th minute, Liverpool broke the deadlock. Emre Can received a pass from Henderson in midfield and suddenly threaded a through ball that split Hoffenheim's left flank. Mane burst forward like lightning, instantly shaking off Kaderabek, and after entering the box, he pulled it back with a cut-back pass. Firmino faked a shot and then pulled it back, faking out the hastily pressing Vogt, then gently pushed it to the unmarked Mohamed Salah, and the Egyptian forward easily tapped it into the net!
1-0!
"Goal!!!! Mohamed Salah breaks the deadlock first!!! That was a sure goal!!!" The Commentator shouted.
Anfield instantly erupted in a thunderous roar, while the Hoffenheim players looked at each other in dismay. This pace was indeed a bit fast; they had already conceded? Oliver stood near the center circle, biting his lip as he looked at his own goal. He wasn't dazed; he was thinking.
This conceded goal exposed Hoffenheim's defensive weakness on the left side; Schulz and Vogt's coordinated defense made a serious error, and the two defensive midfielders failed to drop back in time to protect the half-spaces.
"Liverpool's coordination is incredibly fluid; Hoffenheim's defense was completely torn apart. From Emre Can's through pass to Mane's breakthrough, then Firmino's dummy, to Mohamed Salah's finish, it was a textbook-level counter-attack!" The Commentator said.
On the sidelines, Klopp pumped his fist, while Nagelsmann looked grim, immediately walking to the touchline to gesture to his players; he needed to adjust. Hoffenheim did not collapse after conceding; the experience accumulated from past clashes with Bayern allowed them to face the big Champions League stage without being completely undone by one goal.
Nagelsmann quickly instructed his assistant coach to make tactical adjustments. Kramarić dropped back to the center-back line to participate in build-up play, and Amiri pushed forward to act as a false eight. Gnabry on the left wing swapped positions to the right, forming a "double inverted winger cutting inside group" with Oliver, attempting to use their technical abilities to create threats on Liverpool's left flank.
Oliver could feel the rhythm of the game gradually changing. Although Liverpool still dominated possession, Hoffenheim's counter-attacks began to show a clear direction.
In the 15th minute, he received the ball on the right flank for the first time, facing Robertson. The Scottish full-back aggressively charged forward, attempting to use his physicality to suppress him. But Oliver showed no fear, gently hooking the ball with his right foot, then flicking it with the outside of his left foot, instantly gliding past Robertson! A gasp went through the Anfield stands, and Oliver had already burst forward with the ball, only to be eventually dispossessed by the tracking Henderson. Although the breakthrough was ultimately thwarted, it was a successful attempt.
"Beautiful dribble! Hoffenheim's 17-year-old youngster, his breakthrough was incredibly confident; he wasn't even intimidated by the Anfield atmosphere!" The Commentator said.
In the 27th minute, Kramarić received a short pass from goalkeeper Baumann in the backfield, looked up, and then delivered a precise long pass directly to Oliver on the right flank. This pass had a perfect arc and moderate speed, bypassing Liverpool's midfield defense. Oliver shielded the ball with his back to Robertson, and the moment the ball landed, he gently cushioned it with the outside of his right foot. The ball stopped steadily as if glued to his foot. Robertson immediately pressed tightly, but Oliver remained unruffled. He suddenly executed a half-turn, feigning a breakthrough towards the byline, but just as Robertson shifted his weight, he pulled the ball back with his left foot, Instantly completing an inside turn!
"Oliver! Extremely precise ball control, beautiful escape! I've only seen this kind of ball sense on south american players!!" The Commentator's voice suddenly rose.
At this point, Amiri had already intelligently pushed forward to offer support. Oliver did not hesitate, immediately laying the ball off to him, while he continued his run into the box. Amiri understood perfectly, playing a wall pass back to Oliver. Liverpool's center-back Lovren hastily moved to defend, but Oliver had already observed goalkeeper Karius's positioning—he gently hooked the ball with his right foot, faking out Lovren's block, then curled a shot with his left foot.
The ball traced a beautiful arc, flying into the far corner of the goal!
1-1!
"Goal!!! Oliver!!! Hoffenheim equalizes!! The 17-year-old Hoffenheim youngster scores his first Champions League goal of his professional career at Anfield!!!" The Commentator couldn't help but stand up.
Anfield instantly fell into a brief silence, then erupted into an incredulous roar. Liverpool fans looked at each other, seemingly unable to believe that this 17-year-old could score such a brilliant goal at their home ground. And in the away stand, Oliver's Father suddenly jumped up, hugging Oliver's Mom tightly, both of them too excited for words.
Oliver's Mom's small flag waved frantically, while Oliver's Father, with a heavy accent, shouted in English to the stunned Hoffenheim fans around him: "That's my son! That's my son!"
On the field, Oliver simply embraced his teammates in celebration, not even doing any other excessive celebrations, but quickly picked up the ball and ran back to the center circle. Gnabry rushed over and ruffled his hair, while Kramarić gave him a thumbs-up from afar.
"That goal was too beautiful!" The Commentator was still savoring it, "From Kramarić's long pass, to Oliver's first touch, dribble, link-up play, and finally the shot, every single step was perfect! Oliver showed composure and technique beyond his age; this goal was a complete display of individual ability!"
On the sidelines, Nagelsmann uncharacteristically pumped his fist in celebration. Meanwhile, Klopp frowned and spoke to his assistant; they had clearly underestimated the threat of this youngster.
"Why wasn't there a detailed report on this youngster in the pre-match material?" Klopp asked his assistant.
"Coach, he… only has one Bundesliga experience. Before coming to Hoffenheim, he hadn't even played many U-series League matches. He was in the lower-middle ranks of the Paris Saint-Germain academy."
"Alright…" Klopp said helplessly.
After equalizing, Hoffenheim's morale was greatly boosted, but Liverpool's counter-attack became even more ferocious. Henderson pushed further forward, teaming up with Emre Can to block Hoffenheim's two defensive midfielders' passing lanes, forcing Vogt into multiple long-pass errors.
In the 35th minute, Mohamed Salah again had a one-on-one opportunity, but Baumann made a heroic save, deflecting the ball out for a corner.
"Hoffenheim's goalkeeper has made a great save!" The Commentator shouted, "Mohamed Salah had already created space for that shot, but Baumann's charge was incredibly decisive."
Knowing that Liverpool would intensify their counter-attack, Oliver participated more in defense during this phase, showcasing his excellent situational awareness.
In the 39th minute, Mane attempted to break through from his side, but Oliver retreated while defending, eventually clearing the ball with Hübner's help.
"Look, this kid doesn't play like a newcomer at all."
"Yeah, he's performing too maturely, not at all like a 17-year-old."
"Why did this kid go to the Bundesliga in the first place? He could have come back to England to play." …
Some applause and murmurs came from the KOP stand; even Liverpool home fans had to admit that the youngster's on-field performance and attitude were worthy of respect. Before the end of the first half, Liverpool's attacks came in waves, but Hoffenheim's defense stood united. Hübner finally became alert, cooperating with Vogt, making three precise interceptions of Mane's horizontal breakthroughs, while Baumann again made a miraculous save to deny Firmino's close-range shot.
When the referee blew the half-time whistle, the score remained 1-1.
Oliver wiped the sweat from his forehead, looked up at the scoreboard, and then looked at his parents' location. The baptism at Anfield was quite demanding.