The opening whistle still rang in Thiago's ears as the game exploded into life. HSV came out snarling, pressing high with coordinated aggression that forced Dortmund's backline into panicked clearances. The ball pinged back and forth like a pinball, neither side able to establish control.
Thiago found himself dropping deeper than planned, his new boots digging into the turf as he tracked back to help Schmelzer contain HSV's right winger - a wiry, quick-footed menace with the number 17 on his back. The kid moved like mercury, all slippery changes of direction and sudden bursts of acceleration.
By the fifth minute, Thiago had already been knocked to the ground twice. The first shove was clean, the second borderline, but the referee waved play on both times. He spat out a mouthful of grass and hauled himself up, tasting iron where he'd bitten his lip.
Then came the moment.
