The dorm room glowed faintly, the only light a sliver of moonlight sneaking through the blinds on July 17, 2008.
Neil Goyal lay on his bed, heart still thumping from the days scrimmage win, a 2 to 1 victory, his two goals a lingering buzz in his mind.
Borussia Dortmunds academy hummed with potential, and his name crept into the chatter among scouts, coaches, and even Jürgen Klopps piercing stare.
But Neil knew the truth. His brace against Team A was a start, not a triumph. The main team loomed, a substitute spot dangled like a carrot, and he could not afford to stumble.
He summoned the system. The blue panel flickered to life in the quiet dark.
Neil Goyal. GOAT System Interface
Finishing: 20 (MAX)
Ball Control: 13
Dribbling: 13
First Touch: 13
All Other Stats: 7
Stat Points Available: 6
Legacy Counter: 0.08%
Current Global GOAT Rank: Unlisted
Next Rank: Recognized Academy Talent (1.00%)
"Six points earned," the systems mature female voice purred, calm and steady. "Allocate now or save for later?" Neil's mind raced. His First Touch, now 13, felt smoother today.
Balls stuck to his boots, setting up those clean strikes. But possession slipped at times, especially under pressure
. He nearly lost a ball in the scrum before his second goal, a clumsy moment that could have cost them. Against main team defenders or pros, that would be fatal.
Ball Control was the key. Keep the ball, create the shot, impress Klopp. "All six to Ball Control," he whispered, jaw set.
The panel rippled. Numbers shifted.
Finishing: 20 (MAX)
Ball Control: 19
Dribbling: 13
First Touch: 13
All Other Stats: 7
Stat Points Available: 0
A quiet surge coursed through him. His fingers tingled, his feet felt alive, as if the ball would bend to his will now.
Neil sat up, flexed his legs, and imagined trapping a high pass, turning a defender with ease. Ball Control at 19, near elite, promised poise under pressure. He grinned. "Time to shine."
Morning broke, July 18, 2008. The academy pitch bustled with energy. Coach Thomas Tuchel gathered the squad, clipboard in hand.
"Solid win yesterday, lads. Neil, your goals turned heads. Today, we face a tougher test. A friendly against Bayer Leverkusen's youth squad, fast and physical. Prove you belong."
Neil nodded, eyes flicking to Klopp, perched in the stands, cap low, notepad ready. A sub spot for the main teams August friendly hung in the balance.
The whistle blew. Bayer Leverkusen came out sharp. Their lanky midfielder, Lars Bender, controlled the tempo, pinging passes to a speedy winger, Karim Bellarabi, just 18 but already a menace.
Dortmunds mix of academy talent and fringe players, including Mats Hummels in defense and Mario Götze in midfield, held firm. Neil started on the bench, boots itching, watching Lukas lead the line.
Bayer struck first. Bellarabi darted past a defender, crossed low. Their striker, Stefan Kiessling, tapped it in at the near post.
1 to 0, ten minutes in. Dortmund pushed back. Götze slipped a ball to Jakub Błaszczykowski, whose shot sailed wide.
Neil studied the game. Bayer's defense, led by a burly center back, Ömer Toprak, moved tight and quick, cutting off runs. Neil's moment would demand precision.
At the 30th minute, Tuchel barked, "Neil, warm up! Lukas, you are fading. We need a spark." Neil leapt up, jogging along the sideline, heart pounding.
The crowd, a mix of staff, scouts, and local fans, murmured. "The Indian kids coming on," one said. Klopps eyes tracked him. Neil felt the weight, but his Ball Control, now 19, fueled confidence.
The clock hit 35. "Neil, go!" Tuchel shouted. Lukas jogged off, muttering, "Rip em, mate." Neil sprinted on, yellow and black kit gleaming. His first touch came fast.
Hummels lofted a long ball. Before, it might have bounced away. Now, with First Touch at 13 and Ball Control at 19, he cushioned it with his chest, the ball dropping dead at his feet.
Toprak charged. Neil rolled it left, a smooth turn, and slipped past. The crowd buzzed.
Götze seized the moment, threading a pass into the box. Neil darted between Toprak and a fullback, timing his run. The ball came sharp.
He trapped it clean, Ball Control gleaming, keeping it glued under pressure. Kiessling lunged to block.
Neil feinted right, Dribbling at 13 buying space, then struck. Finishing at 20 roared. A low, curling shot blasted past the keeper, rippling the net. 1 to 1.
"Three stat points," the system chimed. "Bayer's stronger." Tuchel punched the air. "That is it, Neil!" Reus, on the wing, grinned.
"Nice one, rookie!" The stands roared, a chant of "Neil! Neil!" rising. Klopps pen moved, his gaze locked.
Bayer regrouped. Bender sprayed a ball to Bellarabi, who burned past a defender, crossing hard. Hummels headed it clear, but the ball fell to a Bayer midfielder, who rifled a shot.
Dortmund's keeper tipped it over. Neil tracked back, lungs straining, Stamina at 7 a quiet ache. He needed points there, soon.
Halftime hit, 1 to 1. Tuchel huddled the squad. "Good fight, Neil, that control is class. Stay sharp, they will press harder." Neil nodded, sipping water, eyes on the pitch.
The second half kicked off. Bayer surged. Bellarabi danced past two, crossed. Kiessling volleyed, but the bar saved Dortmund. Neil saw his chance. Bayer's pace left gaps.
At the 60th minute, Błaszczykowski nicked a loose ball, lofted it forward. Neil sprinted, beating the offside trap. Toprak closed, physical and fast.
Neil trapped the high ball, Ball Control at 19 a marvel, settling it instantly. He twisted, held Toprak off, and pushed into the box.
The keeper rushed out. Neil, calm, chipped it, Finishing blazing. The ball sailed, dropping into the net. 2 to 1.
"Three more points," the system sang. Six total. The crowd erupted, shaking the stands. Tuchel yelled, "Brilliant, kid!" Reus jogged over, laughing.
"You are stealing my thunder!" Neil grinned, sweat dripping, chest heaving. Klopp leaned forward, scribbling, a nod creasing his face.
Bayer fought back. Bender fed Bellarabi, whose shot stung the keepers palms. The rebound popped loose. Neil, instincts sharp, raced to it, Ball Control keeping it tight.
He flicked it to Götze, who surged, passing wide. Błaszczykowski crossed low. Neil dove in, First Touch guiding, but Toprak muscled him, Strength at 7 faltering. The ball skidded away. Neil cursed under his breath, scrambling up.
The clock ticked to 80. Dortmund clung to 2 to 1. Bayer pressed, desperate. A long ball came Neils way. He leapt, Ball Control shining, plucking it from the air like a magnet.
Two defenders swarmed. He turned, held possession, and laid it off to Götze, who fired, the keeper parrying. Neil pounced, 12 yards out, and struck, a rocket to the top corner. The net bulged. 3 to 1.
"Three more points," the system buzzed. Nine total. The crowd chanted, "Neil! Neil! Neil!" Tuchel roared, arms wide. Klopp stood, clapping slowly, eyes bright. Neil jogged back, pulse racing, a fire in his gut.
The whistle blew, 3 to 1. In the locker room, Reus slapped his back. "Three goals, mate? You are a beast!" Lukas grinned. "Klopp's sold, I bet."
Tuchel approached. "Neil, that control, those finishes. Main team talks are real. Jürgen wants you at training next week. A sub spot is close, stay focused."
Neil nodded, heart soaring. The system flared.
Finishing: 20 (MAX)
Ball Control: 19
Dribbling: 13
First Touch: 13
All Other Stats: 7
Stat Points: 9 Available
Legacy Counter: 0.12%
Next Rank: Recognized Academy Talent (1.00%)
He would save the points. Stamina burned, Pace lagged, but goals spoke loudest. The main team beckoned, a substitutes jersey glinting closer. Neil exhaled, staring at the ceiling. Bayer fell, but bigger tests loomed. Could his edge carry him to glory?