The first two weeks were grinding work—training sessions twice daily, tactical meetings, video analysis, individual sessions with Doll's assistant coach breaking down left wing positioning.
Marco was like a sponge, absorbing everything they threw at him, his performance improving steadily.
It took him a full week to thoroughly understand the tactical system and his role in it.
By the twelfth day, he was executing the tactic at an acceptable range.
And by the end of the second week, he started having good sessions.
The turning point came in Week 2, during a practice match.
Marco received the ball wide left, just inside the opponent's half. The right-back approached. Marco's instinct from reserves was to cut inside immediately—his signature move.
But Doll had drilled different instructions: In build-up, maintain width. Draw the fullback out. Create space for the overlapping left-back.
Marco stayed wide. The right-back followed him, opening space inside. Dortmund's left-back surged forward into that space. Marco passed, then sprinted diagonally into the channel between center-back and right-back.
The left-back drove forward, then played a return ball into Marco's run. Suddenly Marco was behind the defense with space.
He met the attacking goal keeper calmly and slotted the ball with a curved shot.
The whistle blew. Doll stopped play.
"Reus! Exactly that! That's the movement I want! You drew the fullback, created space, made the run. Perfect execution!"
His new team mates also congratulated him by tapping on his shoulder.
From that moment, something clicked. Doll's system wasn't restricting Marco's abilities—it was amplifying them. The tactical discipline created situations where his technical skills could shine.
By Week 3, Marco was dominating training.
His through balls were carving apart practice defenses. His cut-inside move—now deployed at the right tactical moments—was unstoppable.
His pressing triggers were perfect. His defensive work rate impressed veterans.
In a friendly match against a Belgian first division team, Doll started Marco.
67th minute: Marco received a pass wide left. He'd drawn the right-back out (creating width), then accelerated past him with pure pace. Into the box, goalkeeper advancing, two defenders recovering.
Instead of shooting, Marco saw the run of Nelson Valdez, Dortmund's number 9 striker, and squared it—tap-in goal.
79th minute: Dortmund pressed high. Marco read the right-back's body language, anticipated the pass, intercepted it. One touch to control, looked up, saw Valdez again.
Through ball. Goal. Second assist.
Final score: 3-1 Dortmund. Marco: 70 minutes, 2 assists, MOTM.
The final week of pre-season, Marco was firmly in the starting eleven.
Not rotation player. Not backup. Starter. Main left winger.
In the final friendly (vs. Dutch Eredivisie team), Marco was magnificent:
23rd minute: Through ball assist
44th minute: Cut inside, shot saved but won corner
68th minute: GOAL - received pass at edge of box, one touch to control, second touch—he curled the ball into the far corner. His first goal for the first team.
Final: 4-0 win, Marco rated 8.9/10.
After this performance his recognition among team mates was rising. Veteran teammates now treated him as equal, not kid.
With recognition, expectations were also rising. It is the next hurdle that all young player had to overcome gradually.
[SKILLS UPDATE :
-Cut Inside Move: 9.7/10
-Through Balls: 9.8/10
-Tactical Understanding (Doll's system): 8.5/10
-Pressing: 8.4/10
-Defensive Positioning: 8.2/10
-Overall Rating: 84.8 → 86.2 (+1.4)]
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August 11, 2007 - Dortmund:
Marco stood outside the cinema in Dortmund's city center, checking his watch for the third time. 7:27 PM. The movie started at 8:00 PM. She'd be here soon.
Yes, it was happening—their first real date. But there was no extensive planning or preparation behind this.
They'd planned this date casually over text messages.
Scarlett: "Hey, I am free at this weekend. What about you?"
Marco:"Me too. Then should we plan an outing?"
Scarlett:"You mean, a date?"
Reus:"You can consider it as a date."
Scarlett': "Alright. Let's just do something normal. Cinema?"
Marco's response: "Perfect. There's this new Hollywood movie called Transformers. There was serious hype going about it."
Scarlett: "You mean the giant robot movie? Really?"
Marco: "What, not sophisticated enough? Want to see a French art film instead?"
Scarlett: "Fine, I'll try watching robots. But you're buying popcorn."
As he was counting seconds impatiently, a taxi pulled up. Scarlett stepped out from the rear.
Marco's breath caught.
She wore jeans, a simple green top, sneakers. Hair down, with minimal makeup. Not trying to be Model Scarlett—just being herself. And she was beautiful.
"Hi," she said, suddenly shy.
"Hi. You look... wow."
"You said the exact same line last time. Can't you come up with something new?"She said with fake pout. But inwardly she was rejoicing.
"Hey, I was being honest."
She smiled. "You're not too bad yourself. Very 'not-star' in those jeans."
"I own normal clothes."
"Debatable." Scarlett gestured toward the cinema. "Shall we watch robots punch each other?"
"Yeah, I can't wait."
They bought tickets, then stood in the concession line. They quaralled for sometime about paying, Marco insisted on paying, Scarlett insisted on splitting, seeing that they are going to miss the starting at this rate, they compromised—Marco paid for tickets and popcorn, Scarlett bought drinks.
"So," Scarlett said as they waited for their order, "why Transformers? Serious question."
"Because I like mech. It is every boy's dream to own a mech. I also read this review—Critics hates it, while audiences love it. Moreover..." Marco hesitated, "...I wanted something fun. Not serious, not romantic, just fun. Is that okay?"
"It's perfect. I've been doing fashion shoots all month. Everything is serious, perfect, controlled. Giant robots sound amazing right now."
"You don't think it's a lazy first date choice?"
"Marco, you could take me to watch paint dry and I'd be happy just to spend time with you." She caught herself, blushing. "That sounded less pathetic in my head."
He laughed. "No, it was perfect. And same. I mean, I'd be happy watching paint dry with you too."
"Ugh...we're both terrible at this."
"Completely terrible."
Their order arrived. They grabbed their popcorn and drinks, headed into the theater, found their seats near the back.
"Prediction," Scarlett said as the previews started. "This movie will be dumb, loud, and we'll love every second."
"Counter-prediction: You'll fall asleep during the robot fights."
"Bet?"
"What are the stakes?"
"Loser has to admit the other person has better taste in movies."
"Deal."
They shook on it, grinning like idiots.
Transformers was exactly what they'd expected—ridiculous plot, excessive explosions, Shia LaBeouf screaming, robots fighting, Michael Bay directing like he was auditioning for an energy drink commercial.
And it was perfect.
Marco found himself laughing at the absurdity. Scarlett kept making whispered commentary:
[Optimus Prime's dramatic speech]
Scarlett: "He's a truck. Why does he sound like Shakespeare?"
[Explosion destroys half a city] Marco: "That's at least €50 million in property damage."
[Romance subplot] Scarlett: "See? Even the robots have better chemistry than we do."
[Final battle] Both of them on the edge of their seats despite themselves.
When the credits rolled, they sat there for a moment, processing.
"Well?" Marco asked.
"That was the dumbest movie I've ever loved."
"Told you."
"You were right. I hate admitting that."
They stood, filed out with the sparse crowd, walked into Dortmund's evening streets.
They walked with no particular destination, just enjoying being together.
"Okay," Scarlett said, "serious question: If you could be a Transformer, which one?"
Marco considered it. "Optimus Prime, obviously. Leader, strong moral code, protects his team—all that."
"That's the most boring answer possible."
"What? He's the main character!"
"Exactly. Predictable." Scarlett grinned. "I'd be Starscream. Dramatic, ambitious, constantly plotting."
"Starscream is the villain."
"Anti-hero. There's a difference."
"He literally tries to kill Optimus multiple times."
"Because Optimus won't share power! Maybe Starscream has valid points!"
Marco laughed. "Are we seriously arguing about Transformers politics?"
"Apparently." Scarlett bumped her shoulder against his. "But it's fun, right? This. Us. Just... being normal."
"Yeah," Marco agreed softly. "Really fun."
They walked in comfortable silence for a while, eventually finding themselves at a small park overlooking the city.
"Can I ask you something?" Scarlett said, sitting on a bench.
Marco joined her. "Be my guest."
"Where do you see this going? Us, I mean." She kept her eyes on the city lights. "Because I really like you. Like, a lot. But your life is about to get crazy—Bundesliga, matches every weekend, travel, pressure. And my life is insane too—shoots, travel, Paris in three weeks. How do we make this work?"
Marco took a breath. He could give the safe answer, keep it casual. Or he could be honest.
"I don't know," he admitted. "I've never done this before. Dating, I mean. I'm good at football. That's it. Everything else..." He trailed off, then continued, "But I know that when I'm with you, everything else feels less overwhelming. Training was brutal today, and then I saw you and it all felt manageable again."
Scarlett looked at him now. "Really?"
"Really. So I don't have answers about how we make it work long-distance, or how we handle busy schedules. But I want to try. If you do."
"I want to try too." Scarlett shifted closer on the bench. "Can we just... take it slow? No pressure, no expectations. We see each other when we can, we text when we can't, and we don't overthink it?"
"That sounds perfect."
"Good." She took his hand, intertwining their fingers. "Because I'm not ready to lose this. Whatever this is."
"Me neither."
They sat like that for a while—hands joined, watching Dortmund's lights, comfortable in each other's presence.
When Marco finally walked her to her taxi, they hugged goodbye. There were no first kisses or dramatic moments. They knew it was not the time yet. Just a long, warm embrace that said enough.
"Text me?" Scarlett asked.
"I will do exactly that."
"Even when you're busy?"
"Especially when I'm busy."
She smiled, got in the taxi, waved through the window.
Marco stood there watching the car, until it disappeared from his view.