The autumn chill hung in the air as Luka and Jude walked towards the Westfalenstadion, their breaths visible in small puffs. The sky was a canvas of grays and muted blues, threatening rain but holding off for now.
"Bit nippy today, isn't it?" Jude remarked, pulling his jacket closer around him.
Luka nodded, his mind still on the Puma deal. "Yeah, definitely feeling like proper football weather now."
As they approached the stadium entrance, a young woman with long blonde hair and oversized sunglasses approached them, her eyes wide with excitement.
"Oh my god, Luka!" she exclaimed, fumbling with her phone. "Can I get a picture with you?"
Luka, caught off guard, glanced at Jude, who gave him an encouraging nod. "Uh, sure," he replied, still not used to this level of attention.
The girl sidled up next to him, wrapping an arm around his waist as she held up her phone for a selfie. Luka felt his cheeks flush, unsure where to put his hands or how to smile. The flash went off, momentarily blinding him.
"Thank you so much!" the girl gushed, giving Luka a quick hug before dashing off.
As they continued walking, Jude nudged Luka with his elbow, a mischievous grin on his face. "You alright there, mate? Looked a bit flustered."
Luka rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed. "I'm not great with... you know, that kind of thing."
Jude chuckled. "Well, better get used to it. Especially after that girl posts that picture. You do know who that was, right?"
Luka shook his head, genuinely clueless.
"That was Millie Bobby Brown, mate. You know, from Stranger Things?"
Luka's eyes widened. "Oh. OH. Wow. I had no idea."
Jude laughed, slapping Luka on the back as they entered the stadium. "Don't worry about it. Just be yourself. That's what people like anyway."
As they entered the locker room, the familiar buzz of pre-match energy filled the air. Players were going through their rituals, some quiet and focused, others joking around to ease the tension.
Marco Reus approached Luka as he was lacing up his boots. "Hey, kid. How're you feeling today?"
Luka looked up, respect evident in his eyes. "Good, captain. Ready to contribute however I can."
Reus nodded approvingly. "That's what I like to hear."
As the team gathered for Marco Rose's pre-match talk, Luka found himself seated on the bench. He took a deep breath, reminding himself that this was part of the plan, part of his development.
Rose paced in front of the team, his eyes intense. "Alright, men. Mainz is going to come at us hard today. They're going to try to disrupt our rhythm, to throw us off our game. But we're not going to let them, are we?"
A chorus of "No, coach!" echoed through the room.
Rose continued, outlining the tactical approach for the day.
As the team filed out onto the pitch for warm-ups, Rose pulled Luka aside. "Zorić, I know you're eager to play. Your time will come. For now, I need you to watch carefully. Analyze Mainz's defensive patterns. If we need to change things up in the second half, I'll bring you on."
Luka nodded, appreciating the coach's words even if he didn't fully agree with the tactical approach.
As the match kicked off, Luka found himself watching intently from the bench. The game was a tense affair, with Mainz indeed disrupting Dortmund's usual flow.
In the commentary box, the announcers were providing their insights:
"And once again, Dortmund seem to be struggling to transition from defense to attack," one commentator observed. "You have to wonder if they're missing that creative spark that young Zorić provides."
His colleague agreed. "Indeed. Rose's insistence on this compact, central approach is leaving them predictable. Mainz are having an easy time cutting off the passing lanes."
Down on the touchline, Rose was becoming increasingly agitated. He barked orders at his players, urging them to push forward, to find spaces. But without a natural wide playmaker like Luka on the field and Reus playing centrally, the team was struggling to stretch Mainz's defense, mostly because of Malen's poor performance on the right wing.
As the first half wore on, Rose's mind raced. He knew the pressure from the board to integrate Luka into the team's system, but he also had his own vision of how the team should play. It was a delicate balance, one he was still trying to perfect.
"Maybe I should bring him on," Rose muttered to himself, glancing at Luka on the bench. But then he shook his head. No, he had to stick to the plan. The long-term vision was more important than short-term results.
At halftime, with the score still 0-0, Rose addressed the team in the locker room. "We need to be more dynamic, more unpredictable," he urged. "Reus, I need you to drift wider. Haaland, make more diagonal runs to create space."
As Rose spoke, Luka found his mind wandering to that Twitter post he'd seen about not winning Player of the Month due to lack of playing time. He quickly pushed the thought away. "Long-term," he reminded himself. "The long-term is what matters."
The second half began much like the first, with Dortmund struggling to break down Mainz's stubborn defense. As the minutes ticked by, the frustration in the stadium was palpable.
In the 70th minute, a breakthrough finally came. Reus, drifting wide as instructed, found a pocket of space. He whipped in a cross that Haaland met with a thunderous header. 1-0 to Dortmund.
The relief on Rose's face was evident. His tactical adjustments had paid off, even if the performance wasn't as fluid as he'd like.
As the final whistle blew, securing a hard-fought 1-0 victory for Dortmund, Rose allowed himself a small smile. They'd gotten the result, even if the performance left something to be desired.
In the post-match press conference, Rose faced the inevitable questions about Luka's absence from the match.
"Luka Zorić is an incredible talent, no doubt about that," Rose explained. "But we have to manage his development carefully. It's not just about his playing time, but about ensuring he's physically ready for the demands of top-level football. We're thinking long-term here."
As Rose's words echoed through the press room, Jorge Mendes was already hard at work in his office, finalizing the details of Luka's deal with Puma. The phone hadn't stopped ringing all day, with Nike and Adidas representatives desperately trying to get a word in, to make last-minute offers that might sway Luka.
"I'm sorry, but we're in the final stages with Puma," Jorge repeated for what felt like the hundredth time that day. "No, I can't disclose the details of the offer. Yes, I understand your company's interest, but we've made our decision."
As he hung up the phone, Jorge allowed himself a small smile. The Puma deal was shaping up to be one of the most lucrative and comprehensive sponsorship agreements he'd ever negotiated for a player so young. It wasn't just about the money – though the figures were certainly impressive – it was about the long-term vision, the commitment to Luka's development both on and off the pitch.
Across the Atlantic, in the Adidas headquarters in Herzogenaurach, executives were in a frenzy.
"We can't let him slip away to Puma," one suit-clad man insisted, pounding his fist on the conference table. "He's the future of football. We need to make a final push."
His colleague shook his head, resignation in his eyes. "It's too late. Mendes isn't even taking our calls anymore. We missed our chance."
Meanwhile, in Beaverton, Oregon, Nike executives were having a similar conversation.
"How did we let this happen?" a frustrated voice echoed through the boardroom. "We should have pushed harder, offered more."
"We underestimated Puma's determination," another replied. "They're going all-in on Zorić. We need to regroup and focus on our next targets."
Back in Dortmund, Luka was blissfully unaware of the corporate storm he'd inadvertently created. His mind was on the upcoming Champions League match against Ajax, and on the life-changing contract he was about to sign.
As he laced up his boots for training, his phone buzzed with a message from Jorge:
"Everything's set. Contract ready for signing next week. Congratulations, kid. You've earned this."
Luka's heart swelled with pride and gratitude. He thought back to all the sacrifices his family had made to get him here – his mother working multiple jobs, coming home exhausted but still finding time to wash his training kit; his father returning from long days at the construction site, his hands calloused and his back aching.
He remembered the nights when dinner was simple and sparse, when new boots were a luxury they couldn't afford, when family vacations were dreams relegated to "someday." Yet through it all, his parents had never complained, never made him or Emily feel like burdens.
And now, that dream was becoming a reality beyond anything they could have imagined. The house for his family – that was the part of the deal that filled Luka with the most pride. He could picture his little sister having her own room, his parents finally able to relax in a space that was truly theirs. No more worrying about rent, no more cramped apartments with temperamental heating and noisy neighbors.
For a moment, Luka allowed himself to be swept up in the routine of it all—the feel of the ball at his feet, the rhythm of passing, all that came with playing the sport he loved.
Training was intense since he had rested last game. Marco Rose had them working on their pressing game, emphasizing quick transitions and maintaining a compact shape.
As the session wound down, Luka stayed behind to work on his ankle exercises. Dr. Braun had been adamant that he stick to the routine, and Luka wasn't taking any chances.
After the session, Luka returned to the locker room, exhausted but satisfied. As he peeled off his sweat-soaked training gear, he noticed his phone vibrating on the bench. He picked it up and saw his mother's name on the screen.
Taking a deep breath, he swiped to answer. "Hey, Mama," he said, trying to keep his voice steady.
"Luka!" His mother's voice was bright and full of warmth. "How was training today?"
"It was good," Luka replied, glancing around to make sure the locker room was mostly empty. "Just finished up, actually. Are you doing alright?"
"Oh, we're fine here," she said, her voice tinged with the familiar exhaustion of a long day. "Emily's studying for her exams, and your father just got home from work. He's making dinner. How are you? You sound tired."
Luka hesitated for a moment, his heart pounding as he prepared to tell her the news. "Mama, I have something to tell you."
There was a pause on the other end of the line, the kind that only a mother's intuition could create. "What is it, Luka?" she asked, her voice laced with concern.
"So you know the Puma deal right…" Luka began, choosing his words carefully. "They've offered me a deal, a big one. And part of the deal... well, they're offering to buy us a house. A luxury home, actually, in England."
There was a stunned silence on the other end of the line. Luka could almost picture his mother standing there, the phone pressed to her ear, her eyes wide with disbelief.
"Luka... what are you saying?" she finally whispered, her voice trembling.
"It's real, Mama," Luka said, his voice growing stronger as he spoke. "They want to take care of us. You and Dad will have your own home."
For a moment, there was no response, just the sound of his mother's shaky breathing. Then, suddenly, the dam broke.
"Oh, Luka," she sobbed, the tears pouring through the phone. "I can't believe it. I can't... I can't even find the words. You've worked so hard, and now... this? This is a dream."
Luka felt his own eyes welling up as he listened to his mother's tears of joy. "You and Dad have worked just as hard, if not harder. You've sacrificed so much for me, for us. This is the least I can do."
"You've always been such a good boy," she cried, her voice breaking. "I'm so proud of you, Luka. Your father... he'll be so proud too."
Luka smiled, even as a tear slipped down his cheek. "I just want to make things easier for you both. You deserve it."
There was a soft rustling on the other end of the line, and Luka heard his mother calling for his father. A moment later, his father's gruff voice came on the line.
"Luka, you told her?"
"Yeah, Dad," Luka said, trying to keep his voice steady.
His father was silent for a moment. "You've done well, Luka. We're proud of you."
Luka felt his chest tighten with emotion. His father's approval meant the world to him, more than he could ever express. "Thanks, Dad. I just... I want to give back to you both. For everything you've done for me."
"We didn't do anything special," his father replied, his voice gruff but filled with pride. "You've done the hard work, Luka. This is all because of you."
Luka swallowed hard, fighting back the tears that threatened to overwhelm him. "I love you both," he said, his voice cracking slightly.
"We love you too, Luka," his mother chimed in, her voice still thick with tears. "And we're so proud of the man you've become."