Become A Football Legend

"I know."

Pep smiled.

"Now enjoy it. You have thirty minutes before we’re back in the theatre."

The squad dispersed.

Some players grabbed footballs.

Others collapsed onto the grass.

Cherki lay completely flat with his phone held above his face, lazily scrolling through Instagram.

Haaland started juggling with Oscar Bobb.

Bernardo wandered off toward the coffee machine.

Gündoğan slowly walked over to Lukas.

"Congratulations again."

"Thank you. It’s an honour."

"It is."

There was a small smile on Gündoğan’s face.

"I know. I won it after the a couple years ago, after the treble."

"Incredible campaign you had that year."

For a few seconds neither spoke.

Then Gündoğan sighed.

"I’m worried."

Lukas looked at him.

"I don’t think I’ll make Germany’s World Cup squad if things continue like this."

He spoke calmly, without bitterness.

"I’m realistic. My body isn’t what it used to be. At City I’m probably going to be a rotation player this season, and I understand why. But if I’m only playing twenty or thirty minutes here and there, I don’t think Julian Nagelsmann takes me to America next summer."

Lukas stayed quiet.

"There has been interest," Gündoğan continued. "Galatasaray. My agent has spoken to them."

"Istanbul?"

He nodded.

"I haven’t decided anything. I want to speak with Pep first. I want to see how he plans to use me during the opening weeks. Then I’ll decide."

Lukas looked across the training pitches.

"I’ll be honest... I’d hate to see you leave. I don’t exactly like the idea of being the only senior German in the dressing room."

Gündoğan laughed softly.

"I appreciate that."

"But I understand," Lukas continued. "If that’s what you think gives you the best chance of making the World Cup, then I support you."

"Thanks."

* * *

Molineux Stadium

Present

The memory faded as the sound of footballs being struck echoed around the stadium.

Lukas looked across at Gündoğan.

"I understand."

The veteran midfielder nodded.

"When do you think you’ll go?"

"I honestly don’t know. Probably near the end of the transfer window if it happens."

Lukas nodded.

Neither spoke again.

Around them, Haaland was finishing his shooting drills with James Trafford, Doku and Oscar Bobb were racing each other over ten metres, while Pep Guardiola stood with Pep Lijnders near the touchline, watching every movement with folded arms.

Kickoff was now less than thirty minutes away.

For the starters, the season was about to begin.

For Lukas, it felt like the beginning was even closer. One opportunity was all he needed.

* * *

The roar around Molineux rose another level as both teams emerged from the tunnel.

The Wolves supporters bounced behind one goal, scarves held high as Hi Ho Wolverhampton echoed around the old stadium. Opposite them, the travelling Manchester City fans answered with songs of their own, blue flags waving above the packed away section.

The players lined up across the halfway line.

James Trafford stood between the posts for City. Ahead of him were Rico Lewis, Rúben Dias, John Stones and Rayan Aït-Nouri. Nico González anchored the midfield beside Bernardo Silva and Tijjani Reijnders, while Jérémy Doku and Oscar Bobb flanked Erling Haaland.

Lukas sat on the substitutes’ bench beside Rayan Cherki, both wrapped in their training tops against the cool Midlands breeze.

The referee glanced around the stadium.

A whistle.

And Manchester City’s Premier League season was underway.

"Bernardo Silva gets us started... back to Stones... immediately into City’s familiar rhythm..."

City monopolised possession from the opening exchanges, patiently circulating the ball from side to side as Wolves dropped into their defensive shape.

Oscar Bobb stayed high and wide on the right.

Doku hugged the opposite touchline.

Bernardo Silva drifted wherever space appeared, constantly demanding the ball.

For nearly ten minutes Wolves barely touched it.

Then suddenly...

"A poor touch from Nico González!"

The loose ball was pounced on instantly.

João Gomes drove through midfield before slipping it wide to Jean-Ricner Bellegarde, who accelerated down City’s right-hand side before cutting a low cross back toward the edge of the penalty area.

The pass found Strand Larsen.

One touch to stop the ball, then a second to set...

"Strand Larsen!"

The effort skipped through a forest of legs toward the bottom corner.

James Trafford reacted brilliantly.

The young goalkeeper threw himself low to his left, getting a strong hand behind the shot before scrambling up to smother the loose ball before Munetsi could arrive.

"Excellent goalkeeping from Trafford! Wolves’ first real attack, and City’s goalkeeper had to be alert."

Pep Guardiola applauded from the touchline.

"Good, James!"

Lukas, sitting on the bench, let out the breath he had been holding.

That could easily have been 1-0.

City responded exactly as champions should.

The ball rarely left Wolves’ half over the next fifteen minutes.

Bernardo dictated the tempo.

Reijnders kept finding pockets between the lines.

Doku repeatedly isolated Matt Doherty one against one.

Eventually the pressure cracked.

Bernardo switched play beautifully toward Rico Lewis, who had burst into acres of space on the right.

Lewis didn’t hesitate.

He took a first touch, had a look into the box, and whipped first-time cross flashed across the six-yard box.

"Haaland arriving!"

The Norwegian only had one job.

A simple side-foot.

The ball nestled into the roof of the net.

"GOOOOAL! MANCHESTER CITY! Erling Haaland opens the Premier League season once again! Rico Lewis with a magnificent delivery, and Haaland simply doesn’t miss from there! Wolves nil, Manchester City one!"

The away end exploded.

Haaland punched the air before pointing toward Rico Lewis, who sprinted over laughing as the rest of the City players piled in.

On the bench, Lukas and Cherki were already on their feet applauding.

"Perfect ball," Cherki said, clapping.

Lukas nodded.

"You don’t get many easier finishes than that."

Wolves tried to answer quickly, pushing their wing-backs higher, but City simply looked too composed.

Every misplaced Wolves pass was punished.

Every loose touch invited another blue shirt forward.

Only three minutes after the opener, disaster struck for the home side.

Agbadou received possession inside his own half.

He hesitated.

Just for a fraction of a second.

Oscar Bobb was already there.

He nicked the ball cleanly and immediately drove toward the retreating defence.

Three Wolves shirts backed away.

Bobb waited and waited... then rolled a perfectly weighted pass into the path of Tijjani Reijnders.

The Dutchman never broke stride.

His left foot met the ball first time.

Low.

Across the goalkeeper.

Inside the far corner.

"REIJNDERS MAKES IT TWO! Oscar Bobb forces the mistake, and Manchester City’s new midfielder announces himself in the Premier League with a beautifully taken finish! Wolves nil, Manchester City two!"

Reijnders spread his arms as Haaland wrapped him in a hug.

Oscar Bobb pointed toward the away supporters before jogging back toward halfway with a grin.

Again, Lukas and Cherki stood to applaud.

"That’s a proper finish," Lukas murmured.

City almost added a third before halftime.

Bernardo Silva clipped a delicate pass toward Haaland, whose powerful header forced José Sá into an excellent save before the assistant’s flag eventually rose for offside.

Moments later, Doku danced past Doherty again and fizzed another dangerous cross through the six-yard box, but nobody could apply the finishing touch.

The whistle eventually arrived with Manchester City firmly in control.

Wolverhampton Wanderers 0-2 Manchester City.

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