The day of the trial arrived. Oliver's Father and Oliver arrived at the trial grounds early this morning, standing in front of the gate of the Hoffenheim Training Base, looking up at the not-so-grand building.
He had expected to see some impressive facilities, but the grounds in front of him looked even more modest than the Paris Saint-Germain youth academy.
"Don't look anymore, Germans value practicality, they don't go for anything flashy," Oliver's Father patted his son's shoulder.
Upon entering the base, Oliver found it much livelier than he had imagined.
More than twenty young players had already gathered on the field, including blond-haired, blue-eyed Northern Europeans, dark-skinned Africans, and a few Asian faces like his own.
The air was filled with conversations in various languages like English, German, and Spanish, with occasional snippets of Japanese or Korean.
"Looks like the competition is tough," Oliver's Father muttered quietly, "but it's okay, so far I haven't seen anyone better looking than you."
Oliver couldn't help but laugh: "Alright, alright, Dad, this is a trial, not a beauty pageant."
"Who says it isn't?" Oliver's Father said earnestly, "Good-looking players can sell more jerseys, and their face is an important part of their commercial value."
What Oliver's Father said was indeed true; Cristiano Ronaldo, Kaka, Beckham—which of these top stars isn't strikingly handsome? Their jersey sales are not only related to their skills and fame but also to their appearance.
To give a counterexample, if Vinicius or Endrick could perform like Cristiano Ronaldo, they might win many honors, but in terms of jersey sales, the two of them combined would not be able to surpass Cristiano Ronaldo.
Because one of them has sausage lips, and the other looks like a sand villain.
Don't say black people aren't as handsome as white people; that's not an excuse.
Bellingham is black, Rodri is also black, Kobe in basketball is also black; they are all quite handsome, even more handsome than many white people.
Commercial value really does depend on looks.
According to Hoffenheim club regulations, Oliver went to the changing room to pick up his trial uniform, a plain white training vest with his number "17" scrawled on the back in black marker.
When he changed and came out, he noticed a few men in suits had appeared on the sidelines, holding tablet computers and recording something.
"See?" Oliver's Father nudged him with his elbow, "The one in the dark blue suit is Nagelsmann."
Oliver looked in the direction his father pointed.
The young coach standing on the sidelines looked even younger than he did on TV. His eyes sharply scanned the players on the field, and he occasionally exchanged quiet words with his assistants. Nagelsmann had a slight overbite, so he looked a bit sneaky when he smiled.
"Dad, didn't you say they were only selecting youth players? Why is even the head coach here?" Oliver asked quietly.
Oliver's Father shrugged: "I heard Hoffenheim wants to streamline their squad this time and find a few strong young players to be rotation substitutes. The Champions League qualifiers are in August, and they don't have time to slowly develop new players."
Oliver nodded, his heart rate involuntarily quickening.
This trial was even more important than he had imagined; it wasn't just a regular youth academy selection, but directly related to the Champions League squad for the next season.
"Nervous?" Oliver's Father suddenly asked.
Oliver took a deep breath: "A little."
"Come here." Oliver's Father pulled him aside, placing his hands on his shoulders.
"Listen, son, your mom always wanted you to go to college. She thinks playing football isn't stable, but I've never thought that way."
Oliver looked at his father's suddenly serious expression, a little surprised.
Oliver's Father continued.
"Son, my expectations for you are simple: be healthy, be happy, and do what you love. Football is important, but it's not your whole life.
So play freely today, don't overthink it. The worst outcome is just going back to England to help me with the business; you certainly won't starve."
Oliver suddenly felt his eyes welling up. Thinking about how his father had put aside his business these past few days to accompany him through the transfer process, arranging everything meticulously along the way, and now encouraging him like this.
He gave his father a strong hug: "Thank you, Dad."
"Alright, alright, don't be so unpromising, don't wipe your snot on my suit, this one is expensive." Oliver's Father was stubborn, still not crying, but he enjoyed his son's hug.
Soon after, a staff member blew a whistle, signaling all trial players to gather. Oliver double-checked his shoelaces and jogged to join the team.
Nagelsmann walked in front of everyone and pushed up his glasses: "Welcome everyone. Today's trial is divided into three parts: technical tests, group drills, and practical match simulations." His voice was not loud, but every word was clearly articulated.
"We are not selecting superstars, but rather players who can immediately contribute to the first team and are worth developing. So, once the trial begins, please fully demonstrate your immediate combat readiness."
Oliver noticed that after Nagelsmann finished speaking, the expressions of several players around him visibly tensed up.
Staff members began distributing bibs for the groups.
Oliver was assigned to Group B. In his group were a tall Nordic center-back, an extremely fast African winger, and two south american players who seemed technically skilled.
"Alright, everyone warm up for fifteen minutes," the assistant coach shouted, "then we'll go straight into the first test."
Oliver performed stretching exercises, his gaze unconsciously drifting towards the sidelines.
Nagelsmann was already seated on the makeshift observation stand, surrounded by the youth academy director, head scout, and technical analyst.
The table in front of them was covered with documents and electronic devices, looking like an important military meeting.
"Hello, which country are you from?" an English-speaking Asian player next to him suddenly struck up a conversation. His English sounded very clumsy.
"English-Chinese, and you?" Oliver replied.
"I'm Korean."
"Are you also here for a trial?" Oliver asked.
"Yes," the other person nodded, "but I'm for the U16 selection, not the same as your first-team trial." He lowered his voice, "I heard there are only two spots today, but over thirty people came."
Oliver swallowed. Less than a ten percent acceptance rate; this was even more brutal than he had expected.
After the warm-up, the first technical test began.
Players were divided into four groups, taking turns performing passing and receiving, dribbling through cones, and shooting tests.
Oliver was third in line. He noticed that every player's performance was recorded by cameras on the sidelines, and Nagelsmann occasionally wrote something in his notebook.
Once the trial officially began, Oliver quickly got into the zone.
The first technical test was divided into four segments: 30-meter sprint, passing accuracy, dribbling through cones, and shooting from outside the box.
In the 30-meter sprint, Oliver ran a time of 4.13 seconds. Although it was 0.4 seconds slower than the black winger from Nigeria, it was already the second fastest among all trial players.
Nagelsmann nodded slightly on the sidelines, noting the data on his evaluation sheet.
The subsequent passing and receiving test showcased Oliver's true strength.
In the continuous passing test over a 20-meter distance, he successfully hit the target area 28 times out of 30 consecutive passes, with 26 standard first touches—still a very good result.
This came from Oliver's own fundamental skills and Di Maria's ball control attribute.
The head scout couldn't help but lean into Nagelsmann's ear: "This kid's ball control is so mature, it's like the ball is glued to his feet."
During the dribbling through cones segment, Oliver truly made everyone's eyes light up.
He used alternating inside and outside cuts for changes of direction, with each movement seamlessly connected and a stable ball control rhythm throughout, ultimately finishing a full 1.3 seconds faster than the second-place player.
Nagelsmann pushed up his glasses and wrote in his notebook: "Excellent dribbling rhythm, outstanding ball control."
The final shooting test became Oliver's personal show.
Standing at the top of the box, all five of his consecutive shots found the top corner, three of which were Cavani's signature 'Matador's Stab,' those curving shots with strong spin.
The goalkeeper coach kept shaking his head: "Good, even if you know the direction of these shots, you can't save them."
During halftime, Oliver's Father quietly came over and handed him a bottle of water: "How's it going?"
Oliver wiped his sweat: "Not bad, I just held back on my shots, afraid of tearing their net."
Oliver's Father laughed loudly: "You rascal, still showing off to your dad."
Before the second group drill began, Nagelsmann suddenly changed the original plan.
He called Oliver aside: "Your name is Oliver, right? I've noticed your technique is very unique. Would you be willing to try different positions?"
Oliver nodded without hesitation: "No problem, Coach, I can play anywhere in the front line."
So, in the subsequent group drills, Oliver appeared successively as a left winger, attacking midfielder, and right winger. He demonstrated astonishing adaptability in each position:
As a left winger, he assisted teammates with three precise 45-degree crosses;
After switching to attacking midfielder, he broke through the opponent's defense with delicate short passing combinations;
Finally, when playing as a right winger, he even pulled off a brilliant goal after dribbling past three opponents.
The technical analyst clicked his tongue while looking at the data screen: "This kid's positional awareness is too strong. The heatmap for the right-wing area is perfect; the other two positions are slightly weaker, but there's good room for improvement."
Nagelsmann's notebook was already filled with observations about Oliver: no weak foot, wide vision, versatile in positions, decisive in decision-making, and finally, he drew three large emphasis marks.
The afternoon's practical match simulation pushed the trial to its climax.
Nagelsmann personally designed an 8v8 small-sided game, focusing on evaluating players' technical application skills under high pressure.
Oliver was assigned to the weaker team, but this, in turn, gave him more opportunities to perform.
In the 7th minute of the match, he used a 'Roulette' move to get past defenders while being triple-teamed, then delivered a penetrating through ball, assisting a teammate for a one-on-one goal.
This move drew gasps from the sidelines, and even the usually calm Nagelsmann couldn't help but applaud.
In the 15th minute, Oliver received a high ball in midfield and, without letting the ball touch the ground, unleashed a volley that rocketed into the top corner like a cannonball.
This goal completely ignited the training ground, and even the opponents couldn't help but cheer for him.
The youth academy director whispered, saying, "Damn, is Paris Saint-Germain so luxurious now? How could they let go of a player like this for free?"
Nagelsmann mused: "Who knows, maybe they only have eyes for ready-made superstars."
Throughout the practical match simulation, Oliver delivered perfect statistics of 2 goals and 3 assists. His team won convincingly 5-2 against their opponents.
After the match, several trial players voluntarily came over to high-five him, and the Nigerian winger even joked: "Brother, you should leave some opportunities for me to perform."
At the end of the trial that day, Nagelsmann specifically called Oliver over: "Excellent performance, young man. Can you tell me why Paris gave up on you?"
Oliver pursed his lips and said with a helpless expression: "They signed Neymar and Mbappé, Coach."
Nagelsmann paused, then understood, revealing a meaningful smile: "It seems I should thank Paris for their generosity. By the way, your German is very good."
After the trial, on the way back to the hotel, Oliver's Father kept staring at his phone until eight in the evening, when the email notification finally chimed.
Oliver's Father finished reading the email content, a rare serious expression appearing on his face.
"What's wrong, Dad?" Oliver asked, "Didn't I pass?"
Oliver's Father handed him the phone: "Hoffenheim wants to discuss a contract tomorrow morning at ten o'clock, and they're offering a first-team professional contract, not a youth team one."
Oliver took his father's phone. The email clearly stated: "Given player Oliver's outstanding performance in the trial, we sincerely invite you to come to the club tomorrow to discuss first-team contract matters..."
"Dad, you're awesome!"
"Good son, you're even more awesome!"