Limitless Pitch

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.

Julian Koch won a crunching tackle near halfway, the impact echoing across the pitch. The ball squirted free to Sven Bender, who took one look up before arcing a perfect diagonal pass toward Thiago's run.

The ball dropped over his shoulder like it was on a string. Thiago killed it with his first touch, feeling the satisfying smack of leather against his instep. The HSV right-back closed in, but Thiago feinted left before knocking it past him with the outside of his right boot, the new Pumas gripping perfectly as he exploded into the space behind.

Twenty-five yards out now, the world narrowed to the geometry of the game. The center-back stepped toward him, legs wide in a defensive stance. Instead of taking him on, Thiago slid a pass to Barrios and kept running. The Paraguayan striker didn't even need to look - his backheel flick found Thiago's continued run at the edge of the box.

The ball sat up perfectly. Thiago didn't break stride.

His left-footed shot ripped across the turf, skimming just past the keeper's desperate dive before nestling into the bottom corner.

The net billowed.

For a heartbeat, everything went silent. Then the Südtribüne erupted in a wall of sound so visceral Thiago felt it in his chest. Schmelzer engulfed him in a bear hug that lifted him off the ground. Großkreutz screamed something unintelligible directly into his ear. Barrios slapped his head with a grin that showed every tooth.

"You're fucking on fire, kid!"

"GOOOOOOOOAL FOR DORTMUND!" erupted the commentator.

"A moment of pure magic from the young Brazilian! His first Bundesliga goal, and what a way to announce yourself! The technique, the composure, the finish - absolutely exquisite. The Yellow Wall erupts as Thiago is mobbed by his teammates!"

"Just look at Klopp on the sidelines - he's absolutely loving this! That's exactly why he gave the kid his first start. What a sequence of play - from Koch's tackle to Bender's pass to Barrios' flick and finally Thiago's clinical finish. Textbook football!"

Thiago's lungs burned as he jogged back, the adrenaline making his hands tremble slightly. The pressure didn't disappear - it just changed shape, morphing from debut nerves into something more primal. Protect the lead. Make it count.

HSV's response was immediate and brutal.

In the 19th minute, their keeper launched a towering goal kick. The ball seemed to hang forever before their striker won the aerial duel, flicking it into the path of that damn number 17. Thiago turned and sprinted, his quads screaming, but the winger was already at full flight.

The cross came in like a bullet. HSV's striker got half a step on Hummels and finished with clinical precision.

1-1.

The stadium's energy shifted palpably. Groans mixed with stunned silence. Klopp prowled the technical area like a caged animal, clapping his hands raw.

"Wake up! Wake up!"

Thiago wiped sweat from his eyes as he reset. Schmelzer jogged past, shaking his head.

"Too fast," the left-back muttered. "Fucking rocket feet on that one."

The game settled into a vicious midfield battle after that. Every pass was contested, every touch challenged. In the 34th minute, HSV won a corner.

Thiago jogged into the box, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. The crowd's nervous energy vibrated through the stadium. Bender barked orders while Hummels pointed frantically, trying to organize the marking.

The corner swung in with wicked precision, arcing toward the near post. HSV's captain - a mountain of a midfielder with tree-trunk thighs - lost Koch with a clever feint and met the ball with a glancing header.

Time seemed to slow as the ball looped over the crowd. Weidenfeller stretched desperately, fingertips brushing the ball as it clipped the crossbar and dropped over the line.

1-2.

Thiago stood rooted, watching the Hamburg players celebrate in the corner. Their traveling fans' roars cut through the stunned silence of the Yellow Wall. That familiar weight settled in his chest - not quite despair, but the gnawing sense of a dream slipping away.

Großkreutz grabbed his shoulder as they walked back to position.

"Hey. This is just a fight. One you can win."

Thiago nodded, but the words rang hollow for now.

The remaining minutes of the half were a war of attrition. Barrios had a close-range effort blocked by a last-ditch tackle. Bender got scythed down on a promising break, earning the offender a yellow card but nothing more.

Thiago tried to spark something down the left, but HSV had adjusted, doubling up on him every time he touched the ball. In the 43rd minute, he nearly broke through again - collecting a long switch from Bender on his chest before being brutally chopped down.

Free kick. No card.

As Schmelzer's delivery was cleared, the halftime whistle blew. Thiago trudged toward the tunnel, his soaked jersey clinging to his back. The goal he'd scored already felt like it belonged to another game entirely.

He glanced up at the scoreboard as he disappeared into the tunnel's mouth:

Dortmund 1 - 2 Hamburg

Not the debut half he'd imagined.

But as the cool tunnel air hit his face, one thought crystallized in his mind:

The fight wasn't over yet.