CHAPTER 150: RAPPORT (GT CHAPTER)

The next morning dawned clear over the DFB Campus, a sharp contrast to the drizzle of the previous days. The grass shimmered under the morning light, trimmed perfectly, the white lines freshly marked. From the technical area, Nagelsmann and his assistants were already setting cones and mannequins while the players jogged onto the pitch in two contrasting bibs: blue and yellow.

It was time for the 60-minute 11 vs 11 in-house match.

On the blue team were: Ortega in goal; Bisseck, Koch, Raum, and Tah in defence; Stiller and Goretzka anchoring the midfield; Gros, Lukas, Musiala, ahead of them; and Undav leading the line.

Opposite them, in yellow bibs, were: Baumann in goal; Kimmich, Mittelstädt, Rüdiger, Schlotterbeck at the back; Andrich sitting deep; Adeyemi, Leweling, Sané, Burkardt, and Kleindienst forming a fluid, attacking shape.

From the first whistle, it was chaotic. The yellow team pressed aggressively, snapping into tackles and closing every passing lane. Lukas found himself smothered between Andrich and Kimmich more than once, forced to recycle the ball backwards. Raum’s attempted pass to Gros was intercepted by Rüdiger, who started a counterattack that ended with Kleindienst forcing a sharp save from Ortega.

"Come on, tighter!" Nagelsmann called from the sideline. "Don’t play in straight lines, find the triangles!"

Gradually, the blue team began to settle. Stiller started dropping deeper to collect the ball, giving Lukas and Musiala room to drift inside. That’s when the rhythm shifted.

In the 22nd minute, Lukas received the ball near the halfway line with Andrich charging in. A quick feint, a drag-back, and he was gone — sliding between the lines before slipping a perfectly weighted pass into Musiala’s stride. Musiala shaped to shoot, dragged the ball past Schlotterbeck, and squared it to Undav, who tapped home.

1–0.

A few claps came from the coaching staff. Nagelsmann turned to one of his assistants with a grin. "See? When they link up, it’s poetry."

The yellow team hit back five minutes later: a blistering counter finished by Sané, curling one into the far corner past Ortega after a clever layoff from Adeyemi.

But Lukas’ team responded again before halftime. It started with Bisseck intercepting a pass from Leweling and finding Lukas in midfield. He glanced once at Undav making a blindside run, then chipped a lofted pass that dropped behind Rüdiger. Undav didn’t need a touch; he smashed it first-time into the bottom corner.

2–1.

"Beautiful vision from Brandt again," shouted an assistant. "He’s slicing them open!"

The whistle for halftime came soon after, players jogging to the sidelines for a brief water break.

When play resumed, the intensity ramped up. Kimmich and Schlotterbeck began pressing higher, trying to stifle Lukas’ influence, but it only created more space.

In the 45th minute, Lukas collected a throw-in from Raum near the left wing, juggled it over Kimmich’s outstretched leg, then nutmegged Andrich as he drove toward the box. His body faint sent Schlotterbeck the wrong way, and before anyone could close him down, he unleashed a curler into the far corner.

3–1.

Musiala was the first to reach him, bumping his shoulder. "You’re having too much fun, man."

Lukas laughed. "You make it easy."

The yellow team refused to fold, though. Burkardt pulled one back with a scrappy finish after Mittelstädt’s cross caused confusion in the box.

But Lukas had one more trick left. In the 52nd minute, he skipped past Andrich again in midfield and exchanged a one-two with Musiala before threading an outside-foot pass that split both centre-backs. Gros darted in and dinked it calmly over Baumann.

4–2.

Nagelsmann blew the final whistle a few minutes later, visibly pleased.

The players walked off, chatting and laughing, sweat glistening in the morning sun. As Lukas handed his bib to a staff member, Kimmich walked over and clapped him on the back.

"Not bad for your first full 11v11," he said.

Lukas smiled. "Thanks. You didn’t make it easy."

"Wouldn’t be fun if I did."

Nagelsmann called out from the touchline, "Brandt, Musiala, that connection’s staying for Thursday. Keep that energy."

Lukas nodded, feeling the satisfaction settle in. He’d only been here two days, but already, he was finding his rhythm and making his mark.

* * *

The next morning, the team landed at Milan Malpensa Airport. As soon as the plane doors opened, they were hit with a wave of noise. Hundreds of Italian fans had gathered, waving flags, holding banners, and shouting both cheers and insults.

Security had already set up barriers around the area, but the tension was clear. Some fans chanted "Forza Azzurri!" while others shouted words that were far from friendly.

Lukas followed behind Kimmich and Musiala, pulling his suitcase as camera flashes went off in every direction. This was his first experience on this scale. The chaos, the noise, and the pressure were both thrilling and overwhelming.

On the bus, the mood lightened. "Welcome to Milan," Bisseck said with a dry laugh, glancing out the tinted window. "They really love us here."

"Love’s one word for it," Adeyemi replied, smirking.

The team went straight to their hotel, a sleek five-star tower overlooking the city’s old rooftops. As they got off the bus, staff guided them through a side entrance to avoid the waiting crowd of fans outside. Lukas looked back once; he could still hear the chanting through the glass.

Later that evening, as the sun set over Milan, they reached the San Siro for their open training session. The floodlights were already on, lighting up the massive stands. The size of the stadium seemed to echo with history. Every step they took felt significant.

Lukas paused as he stepped onto the pitch, his eyes wandering up to the steep terraces. "It’s... huge," he muttered.

Bisseck, walking next to him, smiled knowingly. "It feels even bigger when it’s full. I still remember my first time here after joining Inter. The noise shakes you. You can’t even hear your own teammates."

Musiala jogged a few steps ahead, spinning a ball on his finger. "Wait till you play a Champions League night here," he said, turning back to Lukas. "It’s like the air is electric. You’ll see."

Kimmich joined in, stretching as he looked around. "Yeah, the atmosphere is different. You can feel the history. The banners, the smoke, the roar. You walk out that tunnel, and it’s like the whole world’s watching."

Lukas listened quietly, taking it all in. He tried to imagine what it would be like — stepping out to that noise, the anthem playing, the cameras flashing, knowing millions were watching across the world.

One day, he thought, looking up at the rafters. One day soon, I’ll be walking out here for a Champions League night.

He smiled faintly as the whistle blew, bringing him back to the present. The session began with sharp passing drills, movement patterns, and finishing sequences under the floodlights.

But as the ball zipped from boot to boot across the rain-slick pitch, Lukas couldn’t shake the feeling that this moment, right here under the Milan sky, was a glimpse of what was coming.