Starting as a Defensive Midfielder at Real Madrid

”Wouldn’t this make it seem like we only won because of luck?”

”Yeah, it was luck.”

”Huh?”

”Luck is part of football. They didn’t keep their news under wraps and blew it themselves. They handed us the chance.”

Faced with Modrić’s slightly embarrassed honesty, Leon laughed behind his hand and urged him to accept the good fortune with open arms.

What were they supposed to do? Gift Dortmund a couple of goals just to prove Real Madrid upheld the spirit of fair play?

Whether Götze wanted to go to Bayern or had to be subbed off after ten minutes, none of that had anything to do with Real Madrid.

They just wanted to win — win fair and square, on the pitch. The how didn’t matter.

Public opinion didn’t matter either.

What mattered was that Real Madrid had now smoothly advanced to the Champions League final.

Unfortunately, they hadn’t been able to net a second goal in the remainder of the first half.

Both Di María and Ronaldo missed strong scoring chances. Leon could only sigh. Great — Benzema’s not in ”Happy Mode” today, and now the wing kings have caught the bug too.

Still, the overall momentum had shifted heavily in Madrid’s favor, and the mood inside the team was relaxed and confident.

So much so that during halftime in the visitors’ locker room, the players’ discussion veered toward Dortmund’s internal drama rather than tactics.

Unlike his more gossipy teammates, Leon didn’t care much about the off-pitch chaos.

If forced to comment, he’d say this:

Götze’s career planning was an utter mess. The kid didn’t have enough confidence in his future — seriously lacking, in fact.

Sure, maybe family and his agent played a role in the decision.

But that didn’t excuse him. Choosing to transfer now, at the end of the season, was just a disaster.

He had blown up his fanbase in Dortmund. He’d trashed his post-Golden Boy Award reputation.

And honestly, even Bayern fans probably didn’t respect him much for the move.

You couldn’t even chalk it up to poor judgment — it was just beyond comprehension.

If Götze had Jorge Mendes as his agent, Leon figured even Mendes might’ve considered terminating the contract if Götze insisted on this move.

Dortmund had reached the Champions League semifinals. The squad was young, the performances were stable, and Götze was their attacking core.

He was still a month away from turning 21. Another two years at Dortmund, he’d only be 23.

Why rush to Bayern now, just to become a squad puzzle piece?

Even staying another year, or going to La Liga or the Premier League for two to three seasons before joining Bayern, would’ve been smarter.

Anything would’ve been better than announcing a transfer to the rival club right before a massive showdown and destroying your own team’s morale.

This kind of betrayal couldn’t be defended. No wonder the Yellow Wall booed Götze from the first whistle.

He used to be the most beloved player in that stadium.

The deeper the love, the deeper the hate.

That perfectly described the Dortmund fans’ current relationship with Götze.

Seeing a previously united team fall apart in just over a week shook Leon deeply.

A side that just days ago had fought Madrid toe-to-toe at the Bernabéu…

Now reduced to this.

Leon couldn’t help but think: What a damn shame.

”The second half won’t be this easy. Be ready for a fight.”

Mourinho’s timely warning snapped the dressing room back to reality, cutting off the gossiping.

Leon looked up and saw Mourinho’s serious face.

There was no hint of jest in it.

Mourinho pointed at the tactics board, specifically the player card marked with Dortmund’s No. 10 — Götze.

”Dortmund’s chaos stemmed from Götze. But now he’s off the field — whether by choice or not doesn’t matter. What matters is that the players on the pitch are united again.”

He emphasized the word ”united” heavily.

And it reminded Leon of something — the 2013 Champions League final in his memories.

By all logic, Bayern should’ve crushed Dortmund in that final — after all, they had just snatched away their rival’s best attacker.

But what actually happened?

Dortmund pushed Bayern to the brink, dominating much of the match. If not for Robben’s dramatic 89th-minute winner, that game would’ve gone to extra time — maybe even penalties.

With that memory vivid, Leon’s head cleared completely.

”So you must regain your focus on Dortmund, just like we did in the first leg. No free space between their wings and center — none!”

Mourinho’s tone grew more intense.

”Every single one of you — stay sharp! This second half, I want everything you’ve got. Increase the tempo. It’s not enough to just shut them down — we want to score more. Understand?!”

As Mourinho’s voice climbed, the atmosphere shifted.

Gone was the earlier calm and confidence. The entire Madrid squad locked in.

Even if Mourinho’s prediction turned out wrong, they were mentally ready.

And as the second half kicked off, Mourinho was proven right.

Dortmund came out firing — morale surging, pressing high, ready to duel Madrid in midfield.

Ronaldo and Di María instinctively tucked inside to help cover.

Madrid’s midfield five pressed again, just ahead of the halfway line, trying to suffocate Dortmund’s buildup.

But now unshackled by Götze’s drama, Dortmund played with nothing to lose.

They abandoned caution in their own half and threw numbers forward.

This was it — Klopp’s last stand.

No more strategy. No more hesitation.

Just one final battle for dignity.

Mocked, scorned, prodded for a full week, Dortmund finally exploded.

If they wanted to face Bayern in the final, they had to first destroy Real Madrid.

Klopp’s rousing halftime speech had gone far beyond what most fans — or even Madrid’s players — had anticipated.

Leon did everything he could to suppress Reus’ influence.

What he didn’t expect was Kuba suddenly going supernova on the right flank, dancing past both Modrić and Coentrão with back-to-back feints and bursts of speed.

A devastating flank break — Kuba charged into Madrid’s penalty area.

Ramos and Varane rushed to close him down.

Leon had no choice but to drop into the box himself, covering Ramos’ space and watching for Lewandowski trying to slip past Pepe.

But Kuba didn’t go for the shot.

At the last second, he cut the ball back — a reverse pass to the top of the box.

Reus was waiting.

He calmly sidestepped Modrić’s recovery lunge and curled a shot toward the far top corner.

Casillas’ view was obstructed — by the time he picked up the ball’s path, it was too late.

GOAL!

Marco Reus!

With Lewandowski man-marked and Götze off the pitch, it was Reus — once discarded by Dortmund’s academy — who stepped up.

A flawless strike. Casillas was powerless.

Dortmund clawed one back. 2–3 on aggregate.

The Westfalenstadion erupted.

Leon fished the ball out of the net, face tight with frustration.

It was a chain reaction of errors — all stemming from the exposed right flank.

Coentrão, paired with Modrić, should not have been beaten like that.

But they were.

This was the kind of variable no tactics could account for.

And now, Coentrão had made critical mistakes in two straight matches.

His form was seriously…

But now wasn’t the time for blame.

If Leon had trusted Pepe a little more and stayed outside the box, maybe he could’ve blocked Reus’ shot himself.

He didn’t yell. Didn’t scold.

He simply raised his voice to wake everyone up.

Sometimes, that was enough.

And the teammate who made the mistake — they knew.

They knew.

If you start calling out names and blaming specific teammates on the pitch, a player with a strong mentality might let it go, but anyone even slightly fragile could snap back and start an argument right then and there.

Mourinho noticed Leon’s calm reminder and encouraging words to his teammates. Karanka, standing beside him, rubbed his hands and looked over at the thoughtful Mourinho.

After a brief pause, Mourinho calmly made his next tactical decision.

Attack.

Real Madrid would go all-in on both flanks.

If their backline had shown vulnerability today, and Dortmund dared to gamble on an all-out fight, then Madrid’s wings would be sharpened and swung with just as much ferocity.

”It’s one away goal each. But we’re still ahead by one on aggregate. If we score again, they’ll need three to go through. That’s a win-win move for us.

We can afford to concede again — they can’t.”

Mourinho went all-in, and his players responded with roaring momentum.

Concede a goal? So what.

We’ll score two more.

Leon and Modrić pushed higher — one left, one right — forming a classic dual-core setup.

As soon as play resumed, Real Madrid ramped up the tempo and spread out into an aggressive shape.

”4-3-3! Real Madrid have switched to a 4-3-3! Mourinho answers Klopp’s courage with his own — meeting Dortmund’s greatest strength head-on!”

In the Sina Sports studio, commentator Jin Jing couldn’t hide his excitement.

Back on the pitch, the players from both sides were going all-in, no longer caring about stamina.

This was it.

The final battle.

From this moment until the final whistle.

Everything on the line. No holding back.

Leon kept muttering, ”You’re crazy. We’re all crazy.”

But the look on his face — the pure adrenaline, the unrelenting runs — made him the craziest man on the pitch.

Reus lost the ball to Leon twice in the space of three minutes.

A feeling of helplessness crept up on him.

He didn’t get it.

Leon had just played a full La Liga match after the first leg, and yet today he looked as fresh as ever.

Reus, who had been rested for one game, still couldn’t outrun Leon.

Now, he felt his own steps getting heavier. And he knew his teammates felt the same.

At the tail end of a grueling season, even the fittest athletes run on fumes and willpower.

But Leon? He was built different.

And that was what made it so unfair.

Everyone else was slowing down, and Leon was still flying — as fast, as relentless, as unstoppable.

Reus grit his teeth and tracked back on defense, watching Leon tear down the pitch like a bullet train.

But he couldn’t catch him.

He couldn’t.

In the 74th minute, Leon stole the ball from Reus and stormed into Dortmund’s defensive third.

Ronaldo was pulling wide, Di María tucked in, and Benzema surged forward to drag defenders away and open space.

Even Modrić overlapped on the far side — but Leon wasn’t satisfied.

He wanted to end it here and now.

He drove forward with the ball. Dortmund’s backline, stretched by Real’s trident, was flattening under the pressure.

Leon started to worry. The right moment hadn’t come. No clear passing angle. No clean lane.

Then he realized — he was already just 26 or 27 meters from goal.

Sven Bender, wary of Benzema’s movement, didn’t dare step out to challenge Leon.

Reus and Gündoğan were closing fast, but still a couple meters behind.

Leon clenched his jaw — no more hesitation!

He gathered every ounce of strength in his body and channeled it into his right leg.

A compact windup. Maximum extension.

He struck the ball with the top of his foot — clean and full force.

A low-flying rocket.

The ball zipped forward with brutal speed, sharp trajectory, and wicked dip.

It was a good shot — but for a keeper like Weidenfeller, not impossible to stop.

Until…

As the ball reached the six-yard box, it dropped suddenly, bounced off the turf, and accelerated again.

Weidenfeller had already committed to a diving save — but the bounce threw his entire read off by half a second.

Low-driven shot. Off the grass. With backspin.

The Dortmund crowd froze.

Weidenfeller watched the ball skim his fingertips and rocket into the back of the net.

He could only watch — helpless.

”Let’s take a look at Leon’s sho—IT’S IN!!! A SKIPPING SHOT! MY GOD!!! IT’S IN!!! WEIDENFELLER COULDN’T STOP IT! A THUNDEROUS STRIKE FROM LEON!!!

A SCREAMER IN THE CHAMPIONS LEAGUE SEMIFINAL! LEON HAS BEEN UNREAL THIS ENTIRE TIE!

Ladies and gentlemen, do you believe what you’re seeing?!

Leon might have just blasted Real Madrid into the Champions League final!”

Jin Jing could barely contain himself.

Maybe it was a stretch to say Leon had single-handedly led Real to the final — but to Chinese fans?

No exaggeration. None at all.

Leon, aware that his long-range shot was 50% instinct, 50% gamble, exploded with joy.

He sprinted to the bench and leapt into Mourinho’s arms.

The manager hadn’t even finished processing the goal when Leon came flying at him.

The entire Real bench emptied — players rushing out to surround Leon and Mourinho in a whirlwind of celebration.

This was a dagger.

A pure dagger.

The aggregate was now 4–2.

Real Madrid had two away goals. Dortmund only had one.

That meant Dortmund could no longer force extra time by matching the scoreline.

It was win or lose. No middle ground.

Even if they scored twice more to tie it 4–4, they would still lose.

As the celebrations died down, Leon turned to the nearest camera and roared, fist raised, fire in his eyes.

The confidence and swagger exploded across the world in that instant.

After high-fives and hugs with every teammate, Leon clapped his hands to get everyone focused again.

No time to relax.

They wouldn’t fall back.

They would fight Dortmund to the last whistle.

If Dortmund kept coming, Madrid would stand tall.

It was no longer just a football match — it was a battle of wills.

Klopp emptied his hand.

He subbed off a spent Gündoğan for Nuri Şahin.

Sven Bender was pulled for striker Julian Schieber.

Dortmund shifted to a 4-1-3-2.

Madrid adjusted in kind, moving into a 4-4-2 to brace for counterattacks.

The final ten minutes were chaos — both sides pushing for their last shot.

Dortmund tried to force the pace with long balls from Şahin.

Kuba earned a penalty after blasting past Coentrão, who could only bring him down inside the box.

Lewandowski converted it — two goals across two legs, a solid showing.

But he didn’t smile.

Because before he scored, Real Madrid had already answered.

On the counter, Di María found Ronaldo, who slotted it home at the near post.

No happy-foot. No fancy flair. Just a cold-blooded finish.

Final score: 3–2 on the night.

5–3 on aggregate.

Real Madrid, thanks to some good fortune and Dortmund’s fractured mentality, were through to the Champions League final.

But even without Götze, Dortmund had managed to push Real to the edge — a surprise to fans and pundits alike.

Klopp’s coaching stock skyrocketed after this European campaign.

And for Leon?

After trading jerseys with Reus again post-match, his reputation reached new heights.

He had won Man of the Match in both legs.

And once again, he popped his champagne bottle right on the pitch, sharing it freely with his teammates.

The 2012–13 Champions League was reaching its conclusion.

And now, for the first time ever…

An All-German Derby was set to unfold — on the Champions League final stage.

Get 30% off on my Patreon and enjoy early access to new chapters.

You can also purchase the next 100 chapters of the novel directly from my Patreon page.

Hurry up! The promotion ends on February 2, 2026.

Read 40 Chapters In Advance: /johanssen10