Become A Football Legend

Kostic scrambled to match him, but the Frankfurt speedster powered forward, eating up the turf with long, relentless strides.

One touch to set, another to burst past Kostic's desperate reach, and suddenly he was thundering down the right channel with the defense scrambling.

"Knauff is away! This is a three-on-three break for Frankfurt!"

Approaching the box, Knauff dropped his shoulder and swept a low, driven cross across the face of goal.

The ball skidded wickedly on the slick grass, bending perfectly into the path of Ekitike, who ghosted between Djiku and Bonucci.

Ekitike met it first time with a side-footed sweep, guiding the ball with the calm precision of a marksman.

It skimmed off the turf and nestled into the bottom-left corner beyond Egribayat's despairing dive.

GOOOOOAAAAL!!!

The away section detonated in uncontainable celebration, banners whipping and smoke rising as their chants drowned the stunned silence of the Kadıköy faithful.

Lukas, still jogging back from his tackle, raised a single fist in triumph as teammates swarmed Ekitike near the corner flag.

"WHAT A COUNTER! FROM ONE END TO THE OTHER IN SECONDS!

LUKAS WITH A MATCH-SAVING TACKLE, A WORLD-CLASS SWITCH, AND EKITIKE FINISHES IT OFF!

THREE–ONE EINTRACHT FRANKFURT!" the commentator screamed, voice nearly breaking under the noise.

On the touchline, Toppmöller punched the air, turning to his staff with a wide grin: "That's football! Textbook transition!"

Across the pitch, Mourinho could only shake his head, arms folded tight as the home fans' chants dissolved into a stunned murmur.

From almost conceding at one end to sealing the contest at the other —

Eintracht had delivered the perfect dagger in the heart of Istanbul.

Immediately after the goal, the substitution board went up on the sidelines.

49↓ 42↑

Lukas was being subbed for Uzun for the final couple minutes of the game.

The away fans stood up to give a round of applause as Lukas stepped out of the field at one end and walked around the pitch to get to the bench.

The home fans were silent as he walked past them with his eyes glued forward.

They had been thoroughly humbled by the kid in their own backyard.

Toppmöller gave Lukas a tight hug. "Great game, Luke," he said before before pushing him to the bench where his teammates greeted him warmly and a staff handed him a jacket.

FWEEE*

Lukas hadn't been sitting for long when the final whistle blew.

3-1.

Eintracht Frankfurt had silenced Kadıköy, leaving Fenerbahçe's stadium in stunned disbelief.

The away players dropped to their knees, fists raised in muted celebration before the roar of the traveling fans erupted in unrestrained euphoria.

Confetti clung to the turf as the players jogged to the corner flags, acknowledging the waves of white-and-red supporters who had endured the noise and chaos of an electric night.

On the pitch, the stadium announcer's voice boomed over the PA:

"Your Man of the Match… Lukas Brandt!"

The away fans erupted even further, chanting his name with every ounce of energy left in their lungs.

Teammates swarmed Lukas immediately, clapping his back, ruffling his hair, and slapping fists in the pure joy of shared triumph.

"Unbelievable game, Luke!" Knauff yelled over the noise, grinning ear to ear.

"Goal, assist, the tackle before the break—everything!"

Lukas' smile was wide, his chest still heaving from the relentless ninety minutes.

But the celebrations were momentarily paused when Mourinho, calm and composed despite the chaos, strode across the pitch toward him.

He leaned down, close enough to whisper in Lukas' ear.

The words were soft, unintelligible over the din of the crowd, but the intent was clear—personal, pointed, and undeniably referencing the pre-match comments where Mourinho had claimed Lukas would be powerless against his team.

Lukas blinked, expression unreadable, then nodded slightly.

Before he could respond, Larsson approached, curiosity etched across his face.

"What did he say?" Larsson asked, voice cutting through the celebration.

Lukas shrugged, letting out a soft chuckle.

"I honestly don't know," he said, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in amusement. "It doesn't really matter, though."

He then turned toward the away end.

The fans were still chanting, scarves raised high, arms reaching toward the sky.

Holding the Man of the Match award aloft, Lukas clapped, waved, and let the pure joy of the moment wash over him.

The stadium may have been home to the opposition, but tonight, Lukas' night belonged to the traveling supporters — a perfect testament to a performance that had rewritten the pre-match predictions and left a trail of awe, disbelief, and pride.

"From the first touch to the last, Lukas owned this game," the commentator said, voice cracking with excitement.

"And if anyone doubted him before tonight… well, those doubts are gone. Completely gone."

Lukas smiled again, the award held proudly above his head, as the away section's chants soared into the Istanbul night — a perfect finale to an unforgettable night.

* * *

"Thanks for the gifts."

That was the caption to Lukas's post on Instagram the morning following the match.

Marco had sent him pictures of him knee-sliding after his goal, him sitting Djiku on the floor, and him walking around the outskirts of the field after he was subbed off while the home fans had their eyes stuck on him, and a picture of him with the player-of-month-award for the night.

All four were posted in that order on his page about an hour ago and it already had 80k likes while the comments kept flooding in.

@Jo_Anna07: "(⁠｡⁠♡⁠‿⁠♡⁠｡⁠)"

@hugolarsoon: "My man! ♡."

@can.uzun10: "Don't forget, you still owe me!"

And several other messages from his teammates. But then as Lukas scrolled through the comments, most in Turkish which he couldn't understand, a particular thread of comments and replies, caught his eye.

@Eintrachter: "Is Lukas currently the best teenager on the planet?"

It caught his eye because the comment had only about 25 likes but more than 200 comments.

So that definitely meant a lot of people didn't agree with the comment.

The first reply to that comment had over 500 likes:

@fcb_lover: I see Lamine Yamal plays cricket now.

@Frankfurter4life: "What kind of numbers did Lamine put up in his debut campaign when he was 16? I assure you it doesn't even come close to Lukas. Even this season, Lukas only debuted in January (in case you've forgotten, that's only two months ago) but he has more than 20 goal contributions already. How many does Yamal have for the whole season?"

@fcb_lover: "That's a bullshit argument. Yamal is playing in a way tougher league and also in the Champions League. I'm sure he too would be able to score and assist every other game if he was also playing in leagues where the defense is asleep half the game."

@Eintrachter: "Lukas had 3 goals contributions back to back against Bayern Munich and Leverkusen, both Champions League clubs. You really think if Barcelona played them one after the other, Yamal would score 2 and assist 1 in both games?"

@fcb_lover: "If they played us, they wouldn't leave their defense as open as they did against you guys is all I'm saying. Barcelona is a different caliber of club to Eintracht Frankfurt and the same team approaches different clubs differently. The way we play when we face Real Madrid and the way we play when we face a big team like Liverpool won't be the same."

@madridista: "Rent-free "

Lukas just chuckled as he went through the messages.

"Lamine, huh?" Lukas thought as he adjusted his position on the couch while thinking about the Spanish superstar. "That's right, he's already tearing it up in Barcelona and Spain by now. I would love to play against him soon... Maybe the Champions League."

[*I'm sure you will. You think you're better than him right now?*]

"Am I not?"

[*Ha!*]

"Did you just do the half-laugh?"

[*How dare I? I'm just happy for the amount of confidence you've got. That's what's needed to be the best in the world.*]

"But you still don't think I'm better than him, do you?"

[*It doesn't matter what I think, though. It doesn't matter what anyone on the internet thinks, either. All that matters is what you think. Do you think you're better than him?*]

"I think I'm not worse than him."

[*Do you think if you're vying for the same spot on a team right now, you'll start before him?*]

"Well we don't primarily play in the same position. Not right now anyway. But I also don't believe I'm not good enough to fight for a starting position against him. He does have a lot of experience, though, with both Champions League and international football with Spain, so maybe he'll get the edge slightly right now."

[*So your job is to make sure it doesn't stay that way for long. You have to be the best, you have no other choice but to be the best.*]

"Most definitely. There can be no room for anyone esle"

As Lukas scrolled through Instagram, liking posts from football platforms posting his performance against Fenerbahçe, his talk with TT kept replaying in his mind.

He was resolving his will to keep pushing.

Champions League football, international competitions, trophies — a lot of things he still hadn't gotten yet but knew it was only a matter of time.