Chapter 3: First Training Session
Behind him, his team of physiotherapists and medical staff were preparing for the day ahead. Today was special - they would be conducting the medical examination for Luka Zorić, the young Croatian prodigy who had arrived from Manchester United.
Dr. Braun turned from the window as the door opened, admitting a slender, dark-haired boy with piercing blue eyes. Luka Zorić looked nervous but determined as he entered the room, flanked by Sebastian Kehl.
"Good morning, Luka," Dr. Braun greeted warmly, extending his hand. "I'm Dr. Braun, and we'll be taking care of your medical examination today. How are you feeling?"
Luka shook the doctor's hand firmly. "Good morning, Doctor. I'm feeling great, thank you."
Dr. Braun nodded approvingly at the boy's composure. "Excellent. We'll start with some basic measurements and then move on to more comprehensive tests. Shall we begin?"
As Luka was led through a series of examinations, Dr. Braun and his team recorded their observations. The boy's height and weight were noted - 178 cm and 68 kg, respectively. A bit on the lean side, Dr. Braun mused, but not unusually so for a 16-year-old.
The flexibility tests yielded impressive results. Luka's range of motion was exceptional, particularly in his hips and ankles. Dr. Braun exchanged a pleased glance with Florian Wangler, the head physiotherapist. "This flexibility will serve him well," Wangler murmured. "It should help reduce the risk of muscle strains."
However, as they moved on to strength tests, some concerns began to arise. While Luka's core strength was adequate, his upper body strength was notably below average for a professional footballer. Dr. Braun made a note to recommend a tailored strength training program.
The cardiovascular tests were a mixed bag. Luka's endurance was excellent, his VO2 max scores placing him in the upper percentiles for his age group. However, his sprint tests revealed a slight imbalance in his running gait, which could potentially lead to issues if not addressed.
As they moved on to the medical imaging suite, Dr. Braun's brow furrowed slightly. The X-rays revealed no immediate concerns, but the MRI scans painted a more complex picture. There were signs of mild stress on Luka's ankle joints, likely from his intense training regimen.
"We'll need to keep an eye on those ankles," Dr. Braun muttered to Dr. Philipp Laux, the team's orthopedic specialist. "Perhaps some preventative taping and specialized exercises."
The final phase of the examination involved a series of agility and ball control tests. Here, Luka truly shone. His footwork was mesmerizing, his balance impeccable. Even the seasoned medical staff found themselves watching in awe as the young player danced through the drills withgrace.
As the tests concluded, Dr. Braun sat down to compile his report. The morning sun now streamed fully through the windows, casting a warm glow over the room. Outside, he could hear the distant sounds of players arriving for training.
"Luka Zorić, age 16," he dictated to his voice recorder. "Overall physical condition is good, with exceptional flexibility and agility. Cardiovascular fitness is excellent, particularly in terms of endurance. However, there are several areas of concern:
Upper body strength is below average and will require a dedicated strength training program.
Mild stress indicators on both ankle joints. Recommend preventative measures and close monitoring.
Slight gait imbalance noted during sprint tests. This should be addressed through targeted physiotherapy to prevent potential injuries.
Body mass index is on the lower end of the healthy range. A nutrition plan to support healthy weight gain may be beneficial.
On the positive side, the player demonstrates extraordinary technical skills and body control. His flexibility and agility are well above average, which bodes well for injury prevention.
Injury proneness assessment: Moderate risk. While his flexibility and agility are protective factors, the combination of his lean build, relative lack of upper body strength, and the stress indicators on his ankles suggest a moderate risk of injury, particularly as he adjusts to the physical demands of professional football.
Recommendations:
Implement a tailored strength training program, with particular focus on upper body and core strength.
Design a nutrition plan to support healthy weight gain and muscle development.
Regular physiotherapy sessions to address the gait imbalance and monitor ankle health.
Gradual increase in training intensity to allow for physical adaptation.
Consider preventative taping of ankles for training and matches.
In conclusion, Luka Zorić shows immense promise, but careful management of his physical development will be crucial in the coming months. With proper care and training, we can work to mitigate injury risks and support his transition to professional football."
Dr. Braun ended the recording and leaned back in his chair, his mind already formulating plans for Luka's development. Outside, the training ground was now alive with activity, the sounds of shouting and balls being kicked floating through the open window.
A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. Sebastian Kehl entered, his face expectant. "So, Doctor," he said, taking a seat across from Dr. Braun. "What's the verdict on our young star?"
Dr. Braun smiled, pushing his glasses up his nose. "Well, Sebastian," he began, "we have quite the interesting case on our hands..."
As he launched into his report, the sun climbed higher in the sky, promising a beautiful day in Dortmund.
As the rest of the team warmed up on the sun-drenched training pitch, Luka found himself alone in the cavernous dressing room. The smell of fresh leather and grass clippings filled his nostrils as he laced up his new boots - black Puma Futures provided by the club to replace his worn-out pair from Manchester. He smoothed his hands over the bright yellow training kit, adorned with the familiar BVB logo and the Puma emblem.
Luka's fingers trembled slightly as he adjusted his new shin pads, the nervousness of meeting his teammates beginning to set in. He recalled a trick his father had taught him years ago - a simple sinus pressure point to calm his nerves. Gently, he squeezed the fleshy part of his thumb, holding it for a few seconds before releasing. He repeated this action several times, feeling his heart rate slow with each squeeze.
Following Dr. Braun's advice, Luka carefully wrapped athletic tape around his ankles, the repetitive motion further steadying his nerves. As he finished, he took a deep breath, steeling himself for what lay ahead.
Stepping out onto the training ground, the bright morning sun momentarily blinded him. As his eyes adjusted, he saw his new teammates scattered across the pitch, passing balls back and forth, their laughter and shouts echoing in the crisp morning air.
Despite his earlier calming technique, Luka felt a fresh wave of nervousness wash over him. These weren't just any players - they were stars he had watched on TV, idols he had emulated in the streets of Manchester. Erling Haaland's towering presence was unmistakable, while Marco Reus' quick movements caught his eye.
Unsure of how to integrate himself, Luka found himself rooted to the spot, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. The other players seemed so at ease, so familiar with each other. He felt like an intruder in their world.
Just as he was considering retreating to the sidelines, a voice called out, "Hey, new kid!" Luka turned to see one of the assistant coaches, Alexander Zickler, jogging towards him with a ball tucked under his arm.
"Luka, right?" Zickler said with a friendly smile. "Why don't you get warmed up? Here." He passed the ball to Luka, who trapped it instinctively.
Grateful for the direction, Luka began to juggle the ball, his touch sure and confident despite his nerves. As he moved through his warm-up routine, he felt some of his anxiety begin to melt away. The ball, at least, was familiar territory.
Luka began juggling the ball, his focus narrowing to the rhythmic tap-tap-tap as it bounced from foot to foot. He kept it simple, alternating between his left and right foot, occasionally letting it bounce off his thigh. His breath came in steady, controlled exhales as he concentrated on maintaining a consistent touch.
As he juggled, Luka incorporated some light stretches, extending his arms overhead while keeping the ball in the air, then bending to touch his toes between touches. The familiar routine helped calm his nerves, his body falling into a comfortable rhythm.
Suddenly, a sharp whistle cut through the air. "Gather round, everyone!" Rose's voice rang out across the training pitch.
Luka caught the ball and jogged over to join the group forming around the coach. He found himself standing at the edge of the circle, acutely aware of the seasoned professionals surrounding him.
Marco Reus, the team captain, noticed Luka and gave him a friendly nod. "Hey guys," Reus called out, "we've got a new face with us today. This is Luka Zorić, our new signing from Manchester United. Make him feel welcome, yeah?"
There was a smattering of applause and a few "welcome" calls. Luka felt his cheeks flush as he mumbled a quiet "thanks" to the group.
Coach Rose cleared his throat, drawing everyone's attention. "Alright, lads. As you know, we didn't have the best end in the Cup der Traditionen against VfL Bochum. That 3-1 loss wasn't what we wanted, but it's given us a clear picture of what we need to work on."
The players nodded solemnly, the sting of the recent defeat still fresh.
"We've got Athletic Bilbao coming up in our next friendly," Rose continued. "They're a tough side, and it's going to be a good test for us. Today, we're going to focus on our pressing game and quick transitions."
Rose went on to outline the training plan, describing drills designed to improve their high press and rapid counter-attacks. Luka listened intently, trying to absorb every detail.
"Right, let's start with some physical warm-ups," Rose concluded. "Marius, take them through it."
Marius Krösche, the fitness coach, stepped forward and began leading the group through a series of dynamic stretches and exercises. Luka fell in line, following the movements of the players around him.
As they went through the routine, Luka found himself struggling with some of the more intense exercises. During a set of burpees, his arms shook with effort, and he couldn't quite match the pace of the older players. However, when they moved on to agility drills, weaving through a series of cones, Luka's natural quickness shone through. He navigated the course with ease, his feet dancing nimbly around each obstacle.
Throughout the warm-up, Luka remained silent, focusing all his energy on the tasks at hand. He pushed through the discomfort of the strength exercises, determined not to show weakness. When they finished with a short sprint drill, Luka's lungs burned, but he managed to keep pace with the group.
As they transitioned into ball work, Luka felt a mix of exhaustion and excitement. The physical warm-up had been challenging, but now, with the ball at his feet once more, he was back in his element
Marco Rose called them in closer. "Alright, listen up," he began, his voice carrying across the training pitch. "Today's main focus is on our pressing game and quick transitions. We're going to run a complex drill that simulates match situations."
Rose began to outline the drill, his hands moving animatedly as he spoke. "We'll divide into four groups of five. Two groups will start on opposite ends of the pitch, with the other two groups waiting on the sidelines. The objective is to score in the mini-goals set up on each end."
He pointed to the small goals positioned at each end of the training area. "The twist is this: after every 30 seconds, regardless of where the ball is or what's happening, one group will exit the field, and a new group will enter from the sideline. This simulates the constant pressure and changing dynamics of a real match."
The players nodded, their faces focused as they absorbed the information.
"Remember," Rose continued, "the key here is quick thinking and faster transitions. When your group enters, you need to assess the situation immediately and either press to win the ball or organize your defense. Communication is crucial."
As Rose began dividing the players into groups, Luka found himself shifting nervously from foot to foot. He watched as the coach assigned the more experienced players first. Erling Haaland and Jude Bellingham were placed in the same group, along with Thomas Meunier, Nico Schulz, and Julian Brandt.
"Alright, Zorić," Rose called out, catching Luka's attention. "You'll be with Knauff, Passlack, Moukoko, and Tigges. Balance out that young energy."
Luka jogged over to join his assigned group. Youssoufa Moukoko, the youngest of the bunch at just 16, gave him a friendly nod. "Welcome to the kids' table," he joked, earning a chuckle from the others.
Felix Passlack, a 23-year-old defender, extended his hand to Luka. "Nice to meet you, man. Heard good things about your skills."
As the groups organized themselves, Rose continued explaining the drill's nuances. "We'll have three balls in play at all times. When a goal is scored, the scoring team immediately gets a new ball from the sideline and attacks in the opposite direction. This keeps the pace high and forces quick transitions."
The players began to take their positions, with two groups on the field and two on the sidelines. Luka's group was set to enter second, giving him a chance to observe the drill in action first.
As the whistle blew, the intensity on the field was immediate. Haaland's group pressed aggressively, with Jude Bellingham orchestrating the midfield. The opposing group, led by Marco Reus, fought to maintain possession under the relentless pressure.
Luka watched intently, his eyes darting across the field as he tried to absorb every detail of the complex drill. The constant movement, the quick decision-making, the seamless transitions – it was football at its most dynamic.
"Ready, boys?" Ansgar Knauff said to Luka's group as their turn approached. "Let's show them what we've got."
The whistle blew again, and Luka's group sprinted onto the field, replacing Marco Reus' team. They entered into immediate chaos, with Haaland's group in possession and pressing forward.
Luka found himself with the ball at his feet more often than not. His first touch was immaculate, the ball seeming to stick to his foot as if magnetized. With each possession, his confidence grew.
In one sequence, Luka received the ball with his back to goal, Axel Witsel pressing close behind him. Without looking, Luka flicked the ball over his own head and Witsel's, spinning around the midfielder to collect it on the other side. Witsel was left grasping at air, a look of disbelief on his face.
"Mein Gott," Mats Hummels muttered from the sideline. "Did you see that?"
Luka's dribbling was mesmerizing. He weaved through players as if they were training cones, the ball never more than inches from his feet. He used every part of his foot - the outside to swerve around Thomas Delaney, the sole to roll it away from Mahmoud Dahoud's outstretched leg, the inside to nudge it through Nico Schulz's legs.
At one point, Jude Bellingham came charging in for a tackle. Luka, seeing him coming, simply stood still. At the last moment, he dragged the ball back with his right foot, then flicked it through his own legs with his left. Bellingham's momentum carried him past Luka, leaving the young English star sprawled on the grass.
"Keep it simple sometimes, Zorić!" Rose called from the sideline. But even as he said it, there was a note of awe in his voice.
Luka nodded, but the ball seemed to have a mind of its own when it was at his feet. He tried a more direct approach, attempting to play a simple pass to Youssoufa Moukoko. But at the last moment, he couldn't resist adding a little flair, scooping the ball up and over a sliding Thomas Meunier.
As the session neared its end, Luka found himself with the ball near the halfway line. He looked up, searching for a pass, but his teammates were all marked. The opposition players, sensing an opportunity, began to close in.
Something clicked in Luka's mind. Time seemed to slow down as he surveyed the field. Without thinking, he began to move.
He started with a simple stepover, causing Julian Brandt to hesitate for just a moment. That was all Luka needed to burst past him. Emre Can came charging in, but Luka simply rolled the ball with the sole of his foot, letting it run across his body before accelerating away.
He felt a tug on his shirt as Axel Witsel tried to slow him down. Luka spun away, the fabric stretching but not breaking his stride. Nico Schulz attempted a slide tackle, but Luka hurdled it gracefully, the studs whistling harmlessly beneath his feet.
Mats Hummels was the next to try his luck, stepping up to block Luka's path. But the young Croatian had an answer for him too. He faked to go left, then right, before pushing the ball through Hummels' legs and collecting it on the other side.
As Luka approached the goal, time seemed to slow. The roar of his teammates and the pounding of pursuing feet faded into the background. The goal loomed large before him, promising glory. In that moment, it was just him, the ball, and the endless possibilities that lay ahead.
Luka's mind raced through his options. He could chip the goalkeeper, who was already coming off his line. Or perhaps a powerful shot to the top corner would be better. As he considered his choices, a small voice in the back of his mind whispered that Youssoufa Moukoko was running unmarked to his right, perfectly positioned for a simple pass and an easy tap-in.
But the allure of personal glory was too strong. Luka had been dazzling everyone with his skill all session, and this would be the perfect way to announce his arrival at Borussia Dortmund. He made his decision: he would go for goal himself.
Just as Luka was about to shoot, a mountain of a man appeared in his peripheral vision. Mats Hummels, the experienced center-back, had been tracking back at full speed. With timing honed by years of top-level football, Hummels launched into a perfectly timed tackle.
The collision was seismic. Hummels' shoulder drove into Luka's chest, while his leg swept the ball away cleanly. The force of the impact sent Luka flying through the air, his slight frame no match for Hummels' powerful physique. For a moment, Luka was airborne, arms flailing, before crashing back to earth with a bone-jarring thud.
The breath was knocked from Luka's lungs as he hit the ground. He lay there, gasping, as the world spun around him. Through blurred vision, he saw Hummels calmly playing the ball out to a teammate, who immediately launched a counter-attack. Moukoko, who had been in perfect position for a tap-in, could only throw his hands up in frustration before sprinting back to defend.
As Luka struggled to his feet, the reality of what had just happened began to sink in. He had been so caught up in his own brilliance, so seduced by the idea of a glorious goal, that he had forgotten the most fundamental aspect of football: it's a team sport.
Rose's voice cut through the fog in Luka's mind. "Zorić! What were you thinking? Moukoko was wide open!"
Luka's cheeks burned with shame as he jogged back into position. He caught sight of Moukoko, who gave him a look that was part frustration, part disappointment. It was a look that said, "I thought we were a team."
As play continued, Luka found himself replaying the moment in his mind. He had been so close to scoring a breathtaking goal, but at what cost? He had ignored his teammate, squandered a golden opportunity, and potentially damaged the trust of his new squad.
Suddenly, a memory floated to the surface of Luka's mind. It was something his father had told him years ago, a quote from the legendary Johan Cruyff: "Playing football is very simple, but playing simple football is the hardest thing there is."
The wisdom of those words hit Luka like a second tackle from Hummels. He had been trying so hard to impress, to show off his skills, that he had forgotten the beauty of simplicity. A simple pass to Moukoko would have been the right play, the team play.
As Luka sprinted back on defense, his mind was racing. The shame of his earlier selfishness burned in his chest, fueling his determination. He pushed himself harder than ever, tracking back relentlessly to help his teammates.
When their opponents attempted a through ball, Luka was there, intercepting it with a perfectly timed slide. He quickly got to his feet, scanning the field as his teammates moved into position. The old Luka might have tried to dribble his way out of trouble, to showcase his skills once more. But not this time.
Instead, Luka played a simple, crisp pass to Felix Passlack, who was open on the right flank. As Passlack received the ball, Luka saw a flicker of surprise and then approval in his teammate's eyes.
The team began to knock the ball around, each touch purposeful and precise. Luka moved into space, calling for the ball when he was open, but also creating decoy runs to draw defenders away from his teammates.
As they worked the ball up the field, Luka found himself in a familiar position, about 25 yards from goal. The defense was set, with no clear path to goal. This would have been Luka's cue to attempt a mazy dribble through the packed defense.
But something had changed. Juninho's words echoed in his head: "The goal doesn't move. If you know where it is, you don't always need to see it."
Without hesitation, Luka struck the ball. It left his foot like a rocket, curving away from the goalkeeper's desperate dive. Time seemed to slow as the ball arced through the air, bending around the wall of defenders. The keeper, wrong-footed by the unexpected shot, could only watch as the ball nestled into the bottom corner of the net.
For a moment, there was silence. . Luka may not have been the most clinical finisher in the box, but from long range, he was lethal.
There was barely a moment for celebration. True to the drill's intense nature, a new ball was immediately thrown in, and play resumed at a feverish pace.
The training session continued for another hour, with Rose introducing variations on the pressing drill and some set-piece practice. Throughout it all, Luka maintained his balance between flair and functionality, earning approving nods from both teammates and coaches.
As the final whistle blew, signaling the end of the grueling session, the players began to make their way off the pitch. Luka, shirt drenched with sweat and legs heavy from exertion, was about to follow suit when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to find Mats Hummels looking down at him with a mixture of sternness and approval.
"Walk with me, kid," Hummels said, gesturing towards the far end of the training ground.
As they walked, Hummels began to speak, his voice low. "You've got talent. Raw, unpolished talent. But talent alone isn't enough in this game. You need to understand the balance between individual brilliance and team play."
Luka nodded, listening intently as the veteran defender continued.
"That tackle earlier? It wasn't just about stopping you. It was a lesson. In a real match, that kind of selfish play could cost us points. But that long-range goal? That's using your skills to benefit the team. It's about knowing when to dazzle and when to distribute."
They reached the edge of the pitch, and Hummels turned to face Luka directly. "You're young, you're eager to prove yourself. I get it. But remember, football is a team sport. Your greatest achievements will come when you elevate those around you, not just yourself. Understand?"
"Yes, sir," Luka replied, his voice filled with genuine respect. "I'll remember that."
Hummels clapped him on the shoulder. "Good. Now get some rest. You've got a lot more to learn, but you're off to a promising start."
As Luka entered the dressing room, he found himself surrounded by his new teammates, each eager to introduce themselves properly now that the intensity of training had subsided.
Marco Reus approached first, extending his hand. "Welcome to Dortmund, Luka. That was some impressive stuff out there today. Looking forward to seeing more of it."
Others followed suit - Emre Can, Thorgan Hazard, Raphael Guerreiro - each offering words of encouragement and welcome. Luka felt a warmth spreading through his chest, a sense of belonging beginning to take root.
As the crowd around him thinned, Luka found himself face to face with Erling Haaland. The towering Norwegian striker grinned down at him.
"Hey, new boy!" Haaland exclaimed, his voice booming in the now quieter dressing room. "That long shot? Crazy!" His English was choppy but enthusiastic.
Luka couldn't help but smile back. "Thanks, I—"
Before he could finish, Haaland clapped him on the back with such force that Luka stumbled forward a step. The Norwegian's strength was apparent even in this friendly gesture.
"Listen, you come over, no?" Haaland said, his grin widening. "We'll play some FIFA, eat some lasagna." He punctuated each short sentence with a nod, as if to ensure Luka understood.
Luka, still recovering from the back clap, nodded. "That sounds great, yeah."
Haaland's eyes lit up. He pointed at Luka, then at himself. "Long shots. You gotta teach me how to do that. My yard." He mimed kicking a ball, then laughed. "My neighbors already hate me, so a few more balls flying over the fence won't hurt!"
As Haaland spoke, his expressions did most of the communicating. His face was animated, eyebrows raising and falling, smile never leaving his face. It was clear he was more comfortable letting his expressions and actions speak than stringing together long sentences.
"Sounds fun," Luka managed to say, still somewhat overwhelmed by Haaland's presence.
Haaland nodded vigorously, then his face suddenly turned serious. He pointed at Luka, then mimed passing a ball. "Next time you're through on goal, look for the pass, yeah? I'm usually in a pretty good position to score, you know?" Then he pointed at himself and flexed his arms, his serious expression cracking into another wide grin. "I score many goals!"
With another hearty clap on Luka's back - nearly sending the smaller player sprawling this time - Haaland gave a thumbs up and moved away, his booming laugh echoing through the dressing room.
Luka stood there, a mix of awe and amusement on his face. Haaland was a force of nature both on and off the pitch, it seemed. As he turned back to his locker, rubbing his shoulder where Haaland had clapped him, Luka couldn't help but smile. He was beginning to feel at home in this team of characters and world-class talents.
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