The thud of boots on damp turf.
The distant echo of a whistle.
And Klopp's voice cutting through it all like a blade through fog—sharp, unmistakable, impossible to ignore.
Thiago wiped his forearm across his brow, the sweat stinging his eyes as he sucked in shallow breaths from the final sprint drill. The sky over Dortmund hung low and oppressive, thick with August humidity, the kind that clung to your skin and made every movement feel heavier. Dark clouds loomed in the distance, threatening a storm, but inside the Brackel training ground, the real storm was already brewing.
They'd drawn their Europa League opener. 0–0. A respectable result on paper, especially away from home. But the Bundesliga was back now, and Klopp didn't deal in "respectable" when the league was involved.
