Kai• ros | Julian Brandt

8.

Julian's point of view:

The end of last season was difficult. Not only for us as a team, but also for our fans. Borussia Dortmund showed again how very cruel and evil it can be. How difficult it is to be its player and how much more difficult it is to be its supporter.

Losing the title in the last game of the season is an indescribable feeling. I stood on the lawn and covering my face with my hands in disbelief. I looked around me. I ran my eyes over every single one of my teammates who, like me, were paralyzed in dumb amazement. After the coach, after the medics and by looking, I even strayed briefly to the club management. The only ones I didn't dare look at were our fans. And although I wasn't looking at them, I felt their disappointed looks on me. A cold chill went through my body. The guilt and excruciating pain of failure was suddenly all I could feel.

I felt mentally exhausted. Frustrated. Unhappy.

The stadium, which until recently was filled with cheerful roars and cheering squeals, was suddenly silent. I could only hear sobs escaping from trembling lips. Even the joy of our opponents was suppressed by the wave of sadness.

I felt someone's firm grip on my shoulders. Coach. He stood in front of me and despite the fact that he himself was fighting the tears forming in his eyes, he tried to encourage me. Word after word escaped his lips, but I could not hear any of them. A gentle pat on the cheek brought me out of my trance.

"Remember, you did everything you could, Jule," he assured me.

I did not do. If so, Bayern would not enjoy winning the eleventh title in a row in Cologne. They were just empty words and I was fully aware of their meaninglessness. They were supposed to calm me down, make sure that I didn't start doubting myself as a player.

As with me, he approached each one of us. He tried to raise our team spirit. Light a spark. To raise us at least enough to be able to stand up and stand before our fans with our heads held high. To apologize and thank them for accompanying us through this extraordinary season.

Westfalen was filled with mutual applause. They applauded us and we applauded them.

At that moment, I vowed that next season I would do everything so that the Meisterschale would end up in the hands of Dortmund. For us. For restore the glory of the club. For the fans.

It took a few days for me to accept what had happened. It took a few weeks for me to process all the emotions and come to terms with them. I like to keep things to myself, I don't talk about them. I suppress them to the point where they explode. Only then am I really ready to move on. I know it's unhealthy, but nobody cares. Unless, that is, you're a psychologist or the parent of someone with the same crappy coping mechanism that I use.

At the beginning of the season, we promised ourselves that it would be extraordinary. Better than the last one. With a happy ending. We were determined to give it our all. To concentrate only on football and nothing else.

I did well. I trained more. I was making a game. I even scored goals and credited myself with assists. And although not everything on or off the lawn always worked the way we wanted, I knew it would work out with time. It had to. The talk from outside annoyed me even more. Stupid opinions from journalists, unjustified or exaggerated criticism from the media or even sarcastic remarks and comments from our fans.

Being correct in the media is a lesson that was instilled in me from the moment when football was no longer just entertainment, but began to take on professional contours. Under the scrutiny of the entire league and its supporters, you cannot afford to speak out loud about what is bothering you or to express your disapproval. All you can do is nod tactfully. Don't ask me why this is so or what wise head came up with the idea that the excessive media correctness ruling the world today is the right way to go. I have no idea, but maybe also because I was forced to give only my truncated view of the matter in front of the media, one late October evening, I couldnt longer put a napkin in front of my mouth and I openly said what had been on my heart for a long time. Not only did I relieve myself and finally spit everything out of my mouth, but at the same time, I started a series of frog wars between me and Carlotta.