Become A Football Legend

As the starters disappeared down the tunnel for Guardiola’s halftime team talk, Pep Lijnders turned toward the substitutes.

"Lukas. Cherki. Savinho. Abdul."

He pointed toward the far side of the pitch.

"Go warm up."

The four immediately grabbed footballs and jogged toward the touchline.

They began with short passing drills before gradually increasing the tempo.

One-touch.

Two-touch.

Half-volleys.

Then Cherki looked at Lukas with a mischievous smile.

Without saying a word, he scooped the ball high into the air.

It climbed almost thirty metres before beginning its descent.

Lukas never took his eyes off it.

He shuffled underneath the dropping ball.

The instant it reached him—

THUMP.

His chest absorbed every ounce of its momentum.

The ball died completely before dropping toward his thigh without ever threatening to bounce away.

The travelling City supporters applauded.

Lukas casually juggled it three times before flicking it back toward Cherki.

Cherki answered with a grin.

He cushioned it on his thigh, allowed it to pop up only inches, then delicately lifted it back with the outside of his boot.

Lukas nodded approvingly before heading it straight back.

Soon the pair were exchanging headers, chest controls, thigh cushions and effortless flicks without letting the ball touch the grass.

Even several Wolves supporters found themselves applauding.

Up in the commentary box, Gary Neville chuckled.

"There’s some outrageous technique being displayed by Manchester City’s substitutes here. It’s almost unfair that players with this level of ability aren’t even on the pitch yet."

Beside him, Peter Drury watched the exchange before bringing the mic closer to his mouth.

"That’s Lukas Brandt who last week became the youngest recipient of Kicker’s German Footballer of the Year award. Franz Beckenbauer previously held the record after winning it at 20 years old back in 1966. Brandt has shattered that mark at just 16. It’s an extraordinary achievement, and judging by what we’re watching here, the talent certainly matches the reputation. I genuinely can’t wait to see him make his Premier League debut."

Below them, Lukas killed another dropping ball effortlessly before clipping it back to Cherki with the outside of his boot.

The two players shared a smile.

* * *

The second half resumed exactly as the first had ended.

Manchester City had the ball.

Manchester City controlled the tempo.

And Manchester City looked like they were playing with one objective — to remove every ounce of hope Wolves still had.

For nearly fifteen minutes the home side could barely string together three passes as Bernardo Silva orchestrated everything from midfield, Nico González recycled possession with almost mechanical efficiency, and Reijnders kept arriving in dangerous pockets between the lines.

Then, in the 61st minute...

Bernardo Silva slipped possession into Reijnders between the lines.

The Dutchman turned on his first touch.

One glance.

One perfectly weighted pass.

It split the Wolves defence.

Haaland had already timed his run.

One touch to steady himself.

Another to set the angle.

Then...

BANG!

The strike flashed beyond José Sá and crashed into the roof of the net.

"HAAALAAAND AGAIN! Manchester City have their third! Tijjani Reijnders with another magnificent through ball, Erling Haaland with another ruthless finish, and surely that is game over! Wolverhampton Wanderers nil, Manchester City three!"

The away end erupted.

Haaland pointed toward Reijnders before the two embraced, laughing.

On the touchline, Pep Guardiola simply clapped once.

Then turned toward his bench.

Three fingers to signify the three changes about to be made.

Rayan Cherki.

Lukas Brandt.

Abdukodir Khusanov.

Off came Oscar Bob, Tijjani Reijnders and Rico Lewis as Pep Guardiola freshened up his side with almost twenty-five minutes still to play.

The travelling City supporters applauded loudly as Lukas rose from the bench alongside Cherki and Khusanov. He exchanged a quick handshake with Reijnders as the Dutchman jogged off, receiving a pat on the shoulder and a quiet, "Good job," before crossing the white line for his Premier League debut. Number 17 settled into the familiar attacking midfield role, Bernardo Silva drifting slightly deeper beside Nico González while Cherki occupied the right wing behind Haaland.

"Come on, Luke!" Guardiola shouted from the technical area. "Play with confidence," he added as he gestured with both hands rising up his torso to gesture to his young star.

Lukas simply nodded.

He had waited weeks for this moment.

Manchester City immediately resumed circulating possession, stretching Wolves from side to side until an opening appeared down the left.

Aït-Nouri took a quick throw into Doku, who found himself boxed in by Matt Doherty and Bellegarde almost instantly. The Belgian refused to panic, dragging the ball back with the sole of his boot, feinting toward the byline before cutting inside again. Aït-Nouri recognized the cue and burst into the half-space with an underlapping run, taking João Gomes with him for a split second.

That was all Lukas needed.

He stepped into the pocket João Gomes had just vacated, pointing firmly at his feet.

"Here!"

Doku spotted him immediately and threaded a perfectly weighted pass through the tiny gap between the two Wolves players.

Lukas received on his back foot.

Before the ball had even settled, he felt André crashing toward him from his blind side.

One touch.

Roll.

The sole of his boot dragged the ball through André’s legs in one smooth motion as the Brazilian lunged in vain. Lukas brushed shoulders with him, accelerated into the newly created space and lifted his head.

Haaland had already begun peeling away from Agbadou inside the penalty area, one arm raised.

Lukas didn’t hesitate.

Instead of driving forward, he delicately scooped the ball over the defensive line with the outside of his left boot, dropping it perfectly into Haaland’s path.

"Oh, that’s gorgeous..."

Haaland shrugged Agbadou away with brute strength, launched himself into the air and thundered a header toward the top corner.

The entire away end was already celebrating.

Then José Sá produced the save of the afternoon.

The Wolves goalkeeper exploded across his line and somehow clawed the ball over the crossbar with his fingertips.

"What a save!"

"What a magnificent save from José Sá! Lukas Brandt has only been on the pitch for moments and has already produced a pass worthy of an assist."

Haaland landed, turned toward Lukas and laughed, giving him a thumbs-up.

Lukas returned the gesture before jogging toward the corner flag.

Cherki wandered over short.

Lukas noticed immediately.

Instead of swinging the cross into the area first time, he rolled the corner a few yards to the Frenchman before looping around the outside to receive the return pass.

Cherki laid it perfectly into his stride.

Without breaking rhythm, Lukas whipped an inswinging left-footed cross toward the far post.

The delivery sailed over Haaland’s leap but continued curling toward John Stones, who had ghosted in completely unmarked behind everyone.

The defender met it brilliantly.

THUMP!

His header beat José Sá...

...only to smash against the underside of the crossbar before bouncing back into play, where João Gomes reacted quickest to hook the loose ball clear.

"Oh my goodness!"

"Lukas Brandt has nearly picked up two assists in the space of three minutes! One unbelievable chipped pass, now an inch-perfect corner. Manchester City’s bench is overflowing with quality."

Pep Guardiola folded his arms and simply smiled.

The patterns they had worked on throughout preseason were already beginning to appear.

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