On the first day after the match, at 6 PM, when the Hoffenheim team's flight slowly landed at the international airport in Baden-Württemberg, the sky outside the window had already darkened. The club's location was still seventy kilometers away, so everyone still had to take a bus for a while. The players stepped off the gangway with slightly tired steps, but an irrepressible smile was on every face. The club's blue bus had been waiting for a long time by the tarmac, and the driver, Uncle Karl, as always, had an unlit cigarette in his mouth and waved at the players with a smile:
"Welcome home, heroes! Well done!"
The players successively high-fived Karl and boarded the bus, slumping into their seats in twos and threes. Gnabry took out his phone, browsed sports news for a while, and couldn't help but exclaim: "Hey, look! Bild has already put Oliver's photo on the front page! The headline is 'Hoffenheim's Oriental Magician'!"
Amiri, the joker of the locker room, immediately leaned over, waving his phone exaggeratedly: "What's that? Kicker directly Photoshopped him into a medieval knight, with the caption 'Dragon Slayer Oliver'!"
A burst of laughter erupted in the bus. Schulz shook his head and sighed, "The media's speed is even faster than our counterattack."
Gnabry raised an eyebrow triumphantly,
"Of course, after all, our magician had two goals and one assist yesterday, Oliver, quickly look at your news..." He said, about to turn to tap Oliver, who was in the back seat, also wanting him to see the news, but he was stopped by a look from Coach Nagelsmann, who was sitting next to Oliver.
Nagelsmann put his index finger to his lips, lowering his voice to Gnabry: "Shh~ Gnabry, let Oliver sleep for a bit, he's already very tired."
Only then did everyone notice that Oliver had, at some point, leaned his head against the bus window and fallen asleep. His team jacket was casually draped over him, his phone was still loosely clutched in his hand, and his long eyelashes cast a small shadow beneath his eyes, trembling slightly with his breathing. The bus instantly fell silent.
Captain Vogt tiptoed, took out his phone, and quietly took a photo of the sleeping Oliver, mouthing to his teammates, "Look, I have new meme material."
Gnabry held back a laugh and gave a thumbs-up, then carefully adjusted the air vent above Oliver's head in the opposite direction. Nordtveit, sitting in the back row, silently handed over a blanket. Nagelsmann took it and gently covered Oliver, his movements as practiced as tucking in his own younger brother.
The bus drove steadily on the highway, and occasionally when there was a bump, Oliver's head would unconsciously tap against the glass, making a soft "thump" sound. Uth, sitting diagonally behind him, would instinctively reach out to steady him each time, even though he couldn't reach.
Polanski said in a low voice, "Seriously, this kid is much more well-behaved when he's asleep than on the field."
Hübner stifled a laugh and echoed, "Isn't that right? During the celebration in the locker room yesterday, Oliver was bouncing around like a spring."
Nagelsmann gazed at the fleeting scenery outside the window, the corners of his mouth unconsciously turning up. In the rearview mirror, he could see the players occasionally glancing at Oliver, with a look mixed with pride, affection, and a little envy, as if looking at their own child who had suddenly grown up. Strictly speaking, Oliver was indeed a child; he was the youngest on this bus, he wasn't even an adult yet, but everyone already treated him like a treasure. There was no helping it; this kid was very likable both on and off the field.
When the bus drove over a speed bump, Oliver mumbled something groggily, unconsciously rubbing against the window. The entire team immediately held their breath, and even the driver, Hopp, instinctively slowed down. Only when the steady sound of breathing resumed did everyone relax again.
The night deepened, and the Hoffenheim bus drove steadily on the road back to Sinsheim. Inside the bus, the players were still immersed in the joy of defeating Liverpool away, talking in low voices about media reports and fan cheers. Oliver leaned against the window, sleeping soundly, with a tired but content smile on his lips; he seemed to be having a sweet dream.
However, this tranquility was soon broken.
"Bang!"
A loud bang came, the bus window glass suddenly shattered, and fragments flew.
Oliver instantly woke up, his body instinctively tensing, the world before his eyes abruptly becoming clear from the hazy sleepiness; a fist-sized stone had smashed through the window beside him, and sharp glass shards scattered on his seat.
"What's going on?!" Gnabry suddenly stood up, looking out the window.
"Someone's attacking us!" Uncle Karl, the driver, roared, quickly slamming on the brakes, but the bus tire had already been punctured by a sharp object, the bus body shook violently, and finally was forced to stop by the roadside. Outside the window, a dozen vagrants armed with sticks and knives surrounded them. They wore tattered jackets, with grim smiles on their faces, shouting short words.
"Money!"
"Phones!"
"Watches!"
The leader was a burly, large man, who wielded a rusty iron bar and shouted:
"This is a Bundesliga team's bus! These players must have money! Rob them!"
The bus instantly fell into a brief chaos.
"Damn it! I know who they are, they're those vagrants!" Kramarić cursed, quickly grabbing his backpack to shield the window.
Coach Nagelsmann immediately stood up, his voice calm and strong: "Everyone calm down! Don't get off the bus! Karl, call the police immediately!"
Uncle Karl had already dialed the police, urgently reporting their location and the situation. But they clearly didn't intend to give the Hoffenheim players time to wait for rescue; they began to furiously smash the bus windows, and glass fragments continuously flew into the bus.
"They're trying to break in!" Uth shouted, standing up to block the windows.
Oliver quickly sprang from his seat, without the slightest hesitation; he grabbed his seat cushion and directly blocked the broken window, shouting at the same time:
"Everyone! Block the windows with your gear! Don't let them in! They can't overturn our bus!"
His teammates immediately took action. Goalkeeper Baumann picked up a training bag and firmly pressed it against another shattered window; Amiri and Hübner jointly pushed down a row of seats, placing them across the bus door; Vogt and Schulz, the two tall defenders, stood directly by the glass in the central aisle, using their bodies and equipment to block any potential weak points that could be breached.
"Guys! Hold on! The police are coming soon!" Nagelsmann commanded, while vigilantly observing the movements outside. However, these people became increasingly frenzied; seeing that smashing windows was ineffective, they began to try to pry open the bus door. The large man leading them roared at his subordinates in an incomprehensible language: "If you can't smash it open, burn this bus!"
The players inside the bus had already noticed that these people were looking for incendiary materials. The situation was extremely critical; they couldn't wait any longer, someone had to go out for help. Gnabry and Amiri exchanged glances, nodding in understanding.
Gnabry shouted loudly, "Coach! Amiri and I will jump out the back window and go to the nearby community for help! We're fast!"
Nagelsmann frowned: "No, that's too dangerous!"
"No time! Coach!" Amiri gritted his teeth, "If we delay any longer, they might really set fire to it!"
Captain Vogt heard their conversation and immediately turned back: "Let them go, Coach, you two must be careful! Run as fast as you can! Don't let them find you!"
Gnabry nodded, and while the thugs' attention was focused on the front of the bus, he and Amiri quietly moved to the back, pushed open the emergency window, and jumped out. After landing, the two immediately crouched down, using the cover of night, and ran swiftly along the bushes by the roadside.
Behind them came the thugs' roars: "Someone ran! Catch them!"
Gnabry and Amiri were extremely fast; they were one of the fastest winger combinations in the Bundesliga, and at this moment, they burst out with astonishing sprinting ability. A few seconds later, they had shaken off their pursuers and rushed into the nearby residential area.
"Gentlemen! Help! Someone is attacking our bus!" Gnabry rushed to the front of a lit house and vigorously pounded on the door. Soon, nearby residents were alarmed, and windows lit up one after another.
...
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"It's Hoffenheim's players!" A middle-aged man recognized them and immediately rushed out.
More and more residents were alerted.
"These bastards! Dare to touch our team?" Another strong man roared, directly carrying an axe out of his house.
In just a few minutes, dozens of community residents spontaneously gathered, some carrying tools, some even leading their sheepdogs, following Gnabry and Amiri to the scene of the incident. Meanwhile, the situation on the bus was already precarious.
The thugs began to smash the bus door with iron bars, the sound of metal twisting was grating.
The large man leading them grinned hideously, "Push harder! Their bus is about to be scrapped!"
Just as the bus door was about to be pried open, at the critical moment.
"Stop!" A furious roar came from a distance.
These people turned back in astonishment, only to see dozens of residents holding various "weapons" rushing over menacingly, led by Gnabry and Amiri.
A glimmer of hope flashed in Oliver's eyes, and he shouted to everyone, "The residents from the town's community are here! Everyone, hold on a little longer! We'll be fine!"
These people suddenly panicked; they hadn't expected to attract so many people.
The large man leading them still wanted to put up a desperate fight, brandishing a machete and threatening: "Get lost! Or I'll cut you all down too!"
But the residents were not afraid; a tall farmer directly swung an iron shovel and slammed it hard on the arm of the most aggressive person, and the machete fell to the ground with a "clank."
"Catch them!" The residents swarmed forward, surrounding the thugs.
These people had nowhere to escape; they couldn't go back to their settlement. Soon, police sirens approached from afar, and several police cars finally arrived at the scene; the police quickly controlled the situation, pinning these people one by one to the ground and handcuffing them.
When the large man leading them was pinned to the ground, he was still cursing unwillingly: "Damn it! Just a little bit more!"
Oliver and his teammates finally breathed a sigh of relief, stepping down from the bus; the residents immediately gathered around, asking with concern if they were injured.
"Thank you all so much!" Nagelsmann bowed deeply to the residents, "If you hadn't arrived in time, the consequences would have been unimaginable."
An old man patted Nagelsmann's shoulder, "Don't mention it, you are our heroes, how can we let these vagrant bastards bully you?"
"Hey, look, I recognize that young man in the back, the hero who led our team to victory against Liverpool."
"Oliver, can we take a photo?"
...
Soon, after the thugs were all subdued by the police, the chaotic scene turned into a fan interaction session again. Oliver gratefully nodded his thanks to the local residents, and his teammates also actively interacted with their home team's fans.
"Serge, I really didn't realize, you run pretty fast," Oliver poked Gnabry, teasing in a low voice.
Gnabry wiped his sweat and said smugly, "Of course, this is Champions League-level speed."
When the police counted the arrested individuals, they found that most of them were unemployed vagrants from nearby refugee camps, who specifically targeted remote roads at night to rob passing vehicles. This time, they targeted Hoffenheim's bus because they recognized the club's logo, thinking they could make a big score.
A police officer shook his head and said, "How foolish, robbing professional players? Don't they know how terrifying these people's daily training volume is?"
Another police officer continued, saying, "These people feel too arrogant."
"Sigh, I'm really fed up; I even want to resign. This month I've already dealt with three related incidents."
...
After the crisis was resolved, the club, having received the news, quickly arranged another bus to pick up the players. Club chairman Hopp immediately confirmed everyone's safety with Nagelsmann, only then breathing a sigh of relief. Before leaving, Oliver and his teammates thanked the residents again and promised to invite them to watch the next home game in person. On the way back, the atmosphere inside the bus had changed from tense to the relief of having survived a disaster.