Become A Football Legend

About an hour ago.

The press room at Fenerbahçe's training complex buzzed with anticipation, a thick hum of cameras clicking and reporters murmuring as José Mourinho settled into his chair. He wore a sharp navy club tracksuit and that unmistakable look of sly amusement, the faint smirk that meant he'd already decided how this evening's headlines would read.

A Turkish journalist, bold enough to dive straight in, raised the inevitable topic.

"José, Lukas Brandt has been in great form recently. How do you plan to deal with him tomorrow?"

Mourinho leaned back, tilting the microphone closer with deliberate slowness.

"Lukas?" he repeated, eyebrows lifting as though the name were still fresh to him. "Listen… Lukas is a good boy. Talented. But most of his goals?" — he tapped the table lightly — "come because defenders are sleeping. Not because he's doing something magical. It's… how you say… poor defending. A gift."

The room rippled with nervous laughter. Mourinho pressed on, eyes narrowing with playful menace.

"He's still a kid. People are treating him like he's already a Ballon d'Or winner. Tomorrow, he will not play against boys. He will play against men. Against my men. And believe me — " he spread his hands in a theatrical shrug — "my defenders will not be giving him gifts. He will be locked down. Completely."

Cameras flashed as the words hung in the air, sharp as a challenge. Mourinho gave a thin smile, almost daring Lukas to read the quotes before kick-off.

"Let him enjoy the attention today," he added, voice dipping into a mock whisper. "Tomorrow, it's over."

With that, he leaned back, hands folded, perfectly at ease while the room erupted into a frenzy of scribbling pens and buzzing phones — classic Mourinho, turning a routine question into a headline.

* * *

"What the hell is up with this man?" Larsson asked as he watched the video on Lukas's phone. "He sure talks a lot."

"That's what he's known for. He is Jose Mourinho after all," Knauff replied as he chuckled at Mourinho's speech.

"It's has all been a gift, huh? I guess you'll now have to prove him wrong, Luke," Uzun said as he took a sip of his tea. "Oh this game just got a lot more interesting."

Lukas didn't say a word as they spoke, a slight grin just flashed across his lips as he played back what Mourinho had said in his mind.

He's always gonna have respect for The Special One, but he also wouldn't take any disrespect from anyone — no matter how special they claimed they were.

Subconsciously, Lukas was begining to view himself in a new light. The thoughts of the boy who just wanted to play football at any level, had gradually began to shift to the one who knew he could become one of the greats of the game when it's all said and done.

That mentality shift, was undoubtedly accompanied by some form of ego — a form of confidence in his abilities.

So when he saw the interview, the first thing that came to his mind was, "I guess I have no other choice now but to prove him wrong on the pitch."

And that was what Lukas was going to do.

* * *

The low hum of anticipation had been building for hours, but as the tunnel doors swung open, it erupted into a deafening roar. Şükrü Saracoğlu Stadium pulsed with energy, its steep stands packed to the brim under the bright Thursday night lights.

Blue and yellow flags rippled like waves across the tiers, smoke from flares drifted in the crisp Istanbul air, and the rhythmic pounding of drums echoed through the concrete bowl. Chants of "Fenerbahçe! Fenerbahçe!" rolled like thunder, swelling and breaking in perfect unison with each beat of the supporters' clapping hands.

Lukas stepped onto the emerald pitch, the floodlights washing the field in a sharp, almost surreal glow. The air smelled faintly of fireworks and grilled chestnuts from the street vendors outside, but inside, it was pure electricity — every whistle and shout cutting through the night.

The Europa League anthem began, the famous chords echoing across the stadium. Flags waved rhythmically in time with the music, and the players, Lukas included, stood side by side with their mascots, taking in the spectacle. As the anthem faded, the ceremonial handshakes were exchanged—first with the referees, then across to the opposing team, a moment of formality in the eye of the storm that was the crowd.

Up in the commentary booth, the broadcast came alive.

"Good evening from Istanbul!" Mike Larry, the commentator's voice rang over the feed, steady but tinged with excitement. "Welcome to a cauldron of football tonight as Fenerbahçe host Eintracht Frankfurt in this Europa League Round of 16 first leg. The lights are dazzling, the stands are absolutely rocking, and you can feel the tension in the air. Two proud clubs, two passionate sets of fans — and ninety minutes that could tilt this tie one way or the other."

His co-commentator chimed in over the thunderous chants.

"You can barely hear yourself think down there. Frankfurt know this is one of the most intimidating atmospheres in European football. Lukas and company will need every ounce of composure to weather the storm."

"Speaking of Lukas, Mike, he will be coming into this game with something to prove after Mourinho's press conference and the little storm that has brewed on social media in the past 24 hours or so.

If you missed it, Jose Mourinho — master of mind games — said in his press conference yesterday that Lukas's goals and assists so far have been given to him on a silver player due to the poor defending of the Bundesliga."

"Honestly, I don't think even Mourinho really believes that. Does he think the defense in the Bundesliga just goes to sleep only when the 16-year-old is on the ball?

And that even the Bayern Munich and Leverkusen defenders were so poor that he was able to score four times and make two assists in those two games alone?

With his decades of experience, I'm sure Mourinho knows what he said isn't true. Ithink it's all just mind games. Trying to get into the head of the kid. Destabilize his game a little.

Has he succeeded? We will find out in 90 minutes."

As the referee gathered both captains at midfield and the ball was placed on the pristine white spot, the noise reached a fever pitch — a living, breathing force that seemed to vibrate through Lukas' chest as kickoff approached.

FWEEEE*

The referee's whistle went off and Dzeko kicked off the match for Fenerbahçe.

"And off we go for the first leg of the Round-of-16 Europa League tie between Fenerbahçe and Eintracht Frankfurt. Jose Mourinho deploying a 3-4-1-2 formation as Egribayat starts in goal. A back three of Soyuncu, Skriniar, and Akcicek. A midfield containing Muldur, Amrabat, Szymanski, Kostic, and Tadic. And a partnership of Dzeko and En-Neysri up front.

The visitors on the other hand with a 4-2-3-1 formation with Trapp, the captain, in goal. Theate, Tuta, Collins, and Kristensen, make up the back four. Skhiri and Larsson as the double pivot in front of the defense. Götze plays down the middle of a three containing himself, Lukas, and Knauff. With Ekitike leading the line.

An interesting diployment from Toppmöller today with Lukas down the left flank. He has shown both his speed and his ability to beat defenders when he played down the middle, I think the coach had taken all that into consideration and deployed him down the wing this time to create space for Götze.

But expect to see him move around the pitch — hugging the touchline for 90 minutes doesn't fit his style at all. It will be interesting to see what the coach is thinking."

The game started slow — back passing from Fenerbahçe while Eintracht Frankfurt didn't press too high immediately — like the teams were just feeling each other out.

Lukas was on the left flank. He had only received instructions from Toppmöller during training that morning informing him of his role in the game.

Toppmöller knew Mourinho's tactics and his ability to score one goal and then lock up the defense with all his 11 players inside the box.

Instead of making Lukas have to face 4 or 5 players at the same time whenever he gets the ball, he put him on the wing where he would be able to get one-v-one matchups easier.

For now, Lukas was still pressing, though.

It had been five minutes and he hadn't gotten a touch yet.

It's like the game was being played completely on the opposite flank to where he was.

The fans jeered whenever the ball got touched an Eintracht player like they were crying out curses on that player for committing the abomination of touching the ball on their sacred ground.

Lukas had never been very religious, though.

His first warning to the crowd came on the 8th minute — the first time the ball made its way to him.

And the time he showed them just what it meant to be gifted a chance.