Neil Goyal slumped onto his dorm bed, the echo of the 2-2 draw against Chelsea still pulsing through him.
The Signal Iduna Park crowd's chants— "Neil! Neil!"— rang in his ears, a surreal soundtrack to his July 16, 2008 night. Two goals against a Premier League titan had turned heads, Jürgen Klopp's among them.
But as the adrenaline faded, Neil's mind replayed the flaws: the bobbled balls, the clumsy traps that nearly cost him chances. His First Touch, stuck at 7, was a glaring weak link.
He summoned the system, the glowing blue panel flickering to life in the dim room.
Neil Goyal – GOAT System Interface
Finishing: 20 (MAX)
Ball Control: 13
Dribbling: 13
All Other Stats: 7
Stat Points Available: 6
Legacy Counter: 0.05%
Current Global GOAT Rank: Unlisted
Next Rank: Recognized Academy Talent (1.00%)
"Six points from Chelsea," the system's mature female voice purred. "Allocate now or save for later?" Neil's jaw tightened.
First Touch haunted him— that heavy control against David Luiz, the near-miss before his second goal. Against pros, a sloppy touch meant lost possession, lost chances. He couldn't afford it. "All six to First Touch," he muttered, focus sharp.
The panel shimmered, numbers shifting.
Finishing: 20 (MAX)
Ball Control: 13
Dribbling: 13
First Touch: 13
All Other Stats: 7
Stat Points Available: 0
A subtle warmth spread through his chest, down his legs. His feet felt sharper, more attuned, like they could caress the ball instead of fight it. Neil stood, miming a trap with an imaginary pass, and grinned. "That's better," he whispered.
Morning broke, July 17, 2008. Borussia Dortmund's academy pitch hummed with drills. Coach Thomas Tuchel gathered the squad, clipboard in hand.
"Good fight against Chelsea, lads. Neil, that brace opened eyes. Today, internal scrimmage— show me consistency."
Neil caught a glance from Klopp, observing from a distance, cap tilted, gaze piercing. A main-team sub spot dangled, tantalizingly close.
The whistle blew. Team A, with Mario Götze and Jakub Błaszczykowski, faced Neil's Team B, a mix of academy grit. Neil started, boots itching.
Early on, a long ball sailed from a defender. Before, it'd have bounced off him, clumsy. Now, First Touch at 13, he cushioned it with his instep, the ball sticking like glue.
He flicked it to Lukas, who charged forward, eyes wide. "Mate, that was silk!" Lukas called.
Play surged. Team A pressed, Götze weaving, passing to Błaszczykowski. His cross flew high. Neil, reading the arc, darted to the box.
The ball dropped fast, awkward angle. His old self would've flubbed it. Now, his foot adjusted, trapping it clean off the bounce.
A defender closed; Neil's Dribbling (13) kicked in, a quick feint buying space. He struck, Finishing at 20 blazing through a low rocket past the keeper. 1-0.
"Three stat points," the system chimed. "Team A's stronger." The small crowd, academy staff, a few scouts buzzed. Tuchel nodded, muttering to an assistant. Klopp's pen scratched.
Team A fought back. Götze danced past two, slid a pass. Błaszczykowski shot stung the keeper's gloves, rebound loose. Neil, instincts sharp, pounced.
The ball came fast from a deflection, his First Touch tamed it, a velvet trap. He pivoted, 15 yards out, and fired— a curling beauty into the top corner. 2-0.
"Three more points," the system sang. Six total. The crowd roared; Reus jogged over, grinning. "Neil, you're a machine today!"
Tuchel shouted, "Sharp, Neil! That touch is new!" Neil's chest heaved, sweat dripping, but his control felt effortless passes stuck, long balls settled.
Still, Stamina (7) dragged; he gasped late in the half. Team A clawed one back, Götze's clever chip, 2-1 but Neil's poise held. His traps fueled attacks, linking with Lukas, who nearly scored off a neat one-two.
The whistle ended it. 2-1 to Team B. Neil bent over, hands on knees, catching breath. Lukas slapped his back.
"Your feet were magic, man. Klopp's still staring." Neil glanced up, Jürgen's eyes locked on, unblinking, a faint smile tugging his lips.
In the locker room, Tuchel approached. "Neil, that touch— night and day from last week.
You're making a case. Klopp's got a friendly in mind— main team, August. Subs aren't set. Keep this up, kid." Neil nodded, pulse racing. The system flared:
Stat Points: 6 Available
Legacy Counter: 0.08%
Next Rank: Recognized Academy Talent (1.00%)
He'd save the points, Stamina or Pace tempted, but he'd wait, build smart. The main team loomed, a substitute's jersey glinting in his mind. One step closer, but the road stretched long, and Neil burned to tread it.