Become A Football Legend

The noise inside Şükrü Saracoğlu Stadium swelled as Fenerbahçe fans roared their team forward, but Eintracht Frankfurt held their shape in their own half. On the left touchline, Filip Kostić tried to thread a sharp pass into Dušan Tadić, but the ball never made it — Rasmus Kristensen read it early, lunging in with a clean interception.

Kristensen looked up immediately, his eyes darting across the field.

"Kristensen wins it back… oh, he's spotted the run!"

With a quick swing of his right boot, he launched a perfectly weighted diagonal ball that cut through the humid Istanbul night air. Out on the opposite flank, just at the entrance of Fenerbahçe's final third, Lukas timed his sprint to perfection.

His first touch was silken, sliding the ball through the legs of the onrushing Mert Müldür.

"Ohhh, nutmeg! Lukas just embarrassed Müldür!" The commentator screamed.

Lukaa exploded into the open channel, the away fans behind the goal rising to their feet. He dropped his shoulder, cut inside past the recovering defenders, and with his right foot shaped for a curling strike.

Inside the box, Söyüncü and Škriniar threw their bodies into the line of fire. Lukas barely glanced at them — he already knew his angle.

"He's going for it… curling effort!"

The shot arced beautifully, bending around the defenders, spinning toward the far post. Fenerbahçe keeper Egribayat launched himself full stretch — fingertips straining — but he was beaten.

The stadium gasped.

CLANG!

The ball smacked against the crossbar with a metallic crack and ricocheted harmlessly over the goal.

"Off the bar! Inches away from a wonder goal! Lukas… so, so close to a stunner in Istanbul!"

On the touchline, José Mourinho exhaled sharply, shaking his head but clapping in grudging admiration.

Mourinho muttered to his assistant. "Too much space. We can't let him cut inside like that."

Across the technical area, Dino Toppmöller slapped his hands together, a frustrated grin breaking across his face. "That's it, Lukas! Keep testing them!" he screamed as he immediately broke into a round of applause for the effort.

The away section sang even louder, sensing the danger their star player brought with every touch.

"The home crowd stunned into silence for a moment… what a statement from the wonderkid. This must be the reason Toppmöller put him on the wing."

The referee pointed for a goal kick, but the echo of that crossbar strike lingered, a warning shot that Eintracht Frankfurt had come to Istanbul with intent.

Formosinho, Mourinho's assistant, relayed some instructions to their translator who in turn screamed said instructions in Turkish to the team.

"Don't lose sight of him. SOYUNCU, WHEN HE GETS THE BALL, BE AGGRESSIVE!"

As the translator screamed the instructions, Mourinho was using his hands to demonstrate the pressure he wanted Soyuncu and Muldur, the two players playing on Lukas's flank to put on him.

As he was willing his defenders to get more aggressive, Mourinho had no idea that he had just sealed the fate of one of those defenders for the night.

He was about to make a first half substitution.

It came in the 15th minute. Eintracht Frankfurt had seen a lot of the ball after the opening five minutes and although the home fans were loud, on the pitch, their team was still being toyed with.

Larsson to Kristensen to Skhiri to Collins to Theate, back to Larsson, then forward to Götze, then to Lukas and back again to Larsson.

The ball was being passed around the pitch with ease.

One or two-touch passes with the Fenerbahçe forwards, who were pressing, being made to run around the midfield.

Larsson received the ball from Lukas, turned away from a press from Tadic and tricked Szymanski with a fake back-pass before returning the ball to Lukas just inside Fenerbahçe's half.

One Lukas got the ball near the touchline, Muldur and Amrabat were already in front of him, their bodies crouched as they looked at the ball.

Lukas looked behind them and saw Larsson just behind them, and in the brief second his eyes locked with his close friend's, they both knew what they were about to do.

Larsson glanced behind his shoulder to make sure there wasn't anyone directly behind him while Lukas stood upright, placing his foot on the ball.

But only for a brief second.

Amrabat lunged at the ball and Lukas threaded the pass through the smallest of spaces between him and Muldur, towards Larsson, before bursting down the flank through the outside of the touchline.

Muldur tried to grab him by the waist, but Lukas just shrugged his hands off with ease as he accelerated.

Larsson returned the pass in one touch directly into Lukas's path. They had trained so well on give and go one-touch passes that it had become some sort of second nature between them.

The understanding of one another was something that was unmatched between any other two players on the team.

Lukas received the ball right on the touchline with his first touch pushing it up the field with ease as Muldur and Amrabat tried to recover in vain.

He glanced up and saw Söyüncü stepping across, lowering his stance and timing his move, a defender's glare fixed on him.

Then an ever so sly smile appeared and disappeared from Lukas's lips as he saw the move he was about to make.

"Here comes Brandt down the right — Söyüncü closing in fast!"

With a sudden shift of hips, Lukas feinted inside before snapping the ball back toward the chalk, a blur of studs and speed.

"Ohhh, that's filthy footwork!"

Söyüncü lunged to cut him off, but his planted foot skidded on the damp pitch — too late. Lukas danced around the sliding challenge, a cruel flick of the outside boot leaving the Turkish international sprawling.

"He's left Söyüncü for dead — oh no, he's gone down!"

A sharp gasp rippled through the stands as Söyüncü clutched at his thigh, grimacing in pain.

Unmoved, Lukas raced to the byline, the ball still glued to his stride. A single glance over his shoulder to see his options — then a perfectly weighted cut-back to the penalty arc.

"Cut-back… Larsson's there!"

Larsson arrived like a bullet, meeting it first time with a hard right-footed strike. He had started his run from midfield after his one-touch pass to Lukas.

Skriniar tried to block the shot, throwing not just his leg, but his body in the way. But he was just a tad bit too late as the ball rocketed off Larsson's boot heading for the bottom right corner.

The goalkeeper was left rooted to the spot, wrong-footed, as his net rattled and the home fans behind him put their hands on their head.

"GOOOOAL! Eintracht lead! Larsson buries it after a dazzling run from Lukas! In the heart of Istanbul, Eintracht Frankfurt has snatched the lead. Still more than two hours of football left to play to determine the winner of this tie, but this first goal sure will go a long way."

The Eintracht bench erupted as Lukas ran to catch up with Larsson at the corner flag, but all eyes briefly flicked back to the touchline, where Söyüncü sat on the grass, wincing as medical staff hurried over — beaten by both the move and the cruel twist of fate.

As Lukas and his teammates celebrated at the away corner, Larsson grabbed Lukas's face.

"Bro, there's no way you're human. You left him for dead!" he screamed as he shook Lukas violently.

Lukas just smiled and looked back at Söyüncü. The defender was being supported off the pitch by the medics as Djiku warmed up on the sidelines.

"It seems Söyüncü will not be able to continue this match. He must have twisted something and Mourinho is forced to make a substitution while a goal down in the first quarter of an hour. This might end up being a very long night for Fenerbahçe," the commentator said as Djiku received some last minute talks from Mourinho while the Eintracht players walked to their own half to resume the match.

"That number 49, don't let him run at you or let Muldur go alone against him. If you have to, bring him down. Make him feel your presence. But don't get sent off!" Mourinho muttered to Djiku before patting the Ghanaian on his back.

The first lamb had been slaughtered, and now the second was being offered up to Lukas.

Lukas was never the type to turn down such offers, though.

The game resumed and the fans poured out chants to try and raise the team's morale.

And for a while, that worked.

The home team seemed to gain a much-needed impetus after going a goal down.

Their press when out of possession was more intense and coordinated. And when in possession, they moved the ball more swiftly and with intent instead of just a bunch of back-passes.

And soon enough, spurred by the fans, they started mounting attacks on Eintracht Frankfurt's goal.

Their biggest chance of the half came at the brink of half-time.