Kai• ros | Julian Brandt

13.

Julian's point of view:

I closed my eyelids with a deep breath. I visualized the game. Every strategy I could play and the event it could theoretically bring with it. Although several of them flashed through my mind, barely a millisecond could pass on the stopwatch.

With another breath, I opened my eyes. Suddenly my mind was clear. Empty and clean. The only thing I could see and perceive in front of me was the goalnet towering in front of me.

And so I thoughtlessly fired.

The sharp shot flew over the shoulders not only of my teammates but also of the opponents, who were creating a defensive wall in front of their goalkeeper.

The already slow passing time slowed down a bit more.

I followed the trajectory of the flying ball with bated breath. For someone hundredths of a second, for me an whole eternity.

Batz, the goalkeeper of Mainz, was no doubt determined to eliminate my shot and thus keep a clean sheet in the number of goals conceded. It was his job. He decided on a classic goalkeeping intervention. He reached for the ball with a jump. It, however, easily tasted the ends of his gloves and fit into the left, upper corner of the goal.

With the loud boom of the Westfalen, came a delightful realization. We were leading 1:0 against Mainz. And all thanks to me.

The feeling that engulfed me was like redemption. Redemption from my own misery. From the frustration that was eating me from the inside and that was fed for weeks by the critical talk of those around me.

It was just words. Superficial and shallow words that came out of the mouths of people whose faces I didn't even know. They were practically strangers to me, but I still allowed them to leave their marks on me. Marks that were deeper and stronger than those left in me by all those who cared about me and who every day tried to protect not only my mental health but also the opinion I had of myself as a professional football player. This goal therefore belonged to them. To this club and all its supporters. To my family and friends. To Carlotta.

I ran half the field with my index finger raised. It was a warning gesture to all those who underestimated me and wrote me off for good - never mess with Julian Brandt, it might backfire on you.

I stopped in front of one of the stands. The deafening roar that reached me from all sides brought a smile back to my face. I guarantee you that there is no place in the world like the Westfalen stadium. I was able to live and draw from the energy that flowed through it for many hours after every single home game ended. Regardless of whether we managed to win it or faced a crushing defeat. Westfalen always seemed euphoric, addictive. It was able to easily induce a state that is difficult to describe in words. As if it was the most banned drug in the whole world.

My eyes wandered over the crowd covered in yellow-black shades. I knew that somewhere there my younger brothers were sitting together with our childhood friends.

And not only them. She was also sitting somewhere there.

I tried to find her. I longed for my gaze to lock with hers for at least a moment in that crowd of people, the way I could only do it with her. Intensely. Magnetically.

However, I did not see her in that wave of our club colors.

And maybe I couldn't find her in that sea, but I was fundamentally convinced that her eyes were carefully following my every step.

I slapped my hand on the emblem of our team a few times. In the place where my heart beat.

Once, for the club that became my home.