Chapter 776: Chapter 776 UCL Media Day
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[2021-05-28 | The Yeatman Hotel, Porto| 07:30 CET]
The hotel restaurant was quieter than usual, and the breakfast service was reserved exclusively for the Leverkusen contingent’s time slot. Sunlight streamed through floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating tables laden with carefully portioned meals prepared by the club’s nutritionists and chefs who’d travelled with the squad.
Rakim sat with Wirtz, Frimpong, and Bailey, his plate holding scrambled eggs, grilled chicken breast, avocado, whole-grain toast, and a side of mixed berries. A protein shake sat untouched beside his water glass, his focus still on his phone as he exchanged messages with May.
"Big day, lads," Frimpong said, cutting into his omelette. "You guys nervous?"
"I’m just trying not to trip out of excitement," Bailey said from the side, his hand visibly shaking. "How embarrassing that would be with the whole world watching."
"Calm down, it’s not the World Cup," Wirtz consoles before adding with a mischievous grin. "It’s only the whole football world that’s watching, so no pressure."
"You are devious, my friend. I love it," Frimpong said, upon seeing Bailey’s expression grow more nervous by the second. "Snap out of it, look at Keem, most of the attention will be on him, and he isn’t even worried."
"That’s because he might be a cyborg," Bailey defended, his fork listlessly piercing a sliced melon. "Heck, knowing him, he is imagining some sort of anime ark instead of taking this seriously."
"How did you know?" Rakim, who had been deeply immersed in his phone, suddenly asked with a shocked expression. "May was just saying this is just like the ’Giant Killing’ and ’Inazuma Eleven’ tournament arcs. In my opinion, this is more like Captain Tsubasa, can’t beat a classic yk."
-_-
"So, Wirtz, how’s your foot healing?"
"It’s great, I’m almost back to full-on sprint drills."
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~~~
[UEFA Media Center, Estádio do Dragão | 13:00 WEST]
The press conference room was packed, journalists from across Europe, cameras from every major broadcaster, the low murmur of multiple languages filling the space. The backdrop behind the table displayed both club crests flanking the Champions League trophy.
Bosz entered first, settling into the centre seat. Jonathan Tah took the left chair, Rakim the right. Bottles of water and microphones sat in front of each of them. Coke and any other beverage sponsor had learned their lesson: not to try to gain free product placement with players they don’t sponsor.
A UEFA media officer stepped to the podium. "Good afternoon. We’ll begin with questions for Manager Peter Bosz and players Jonathan Tah and Rakim Rex of Bayer 04 Leverkusen. English translation will be provided for non-English questions."
Hands shot up immediately. "Yes, first question," the officer said, pointing to a German journalist.
"Question for Peter Bosz—Chelsea defeated Manchester City to reach this final. They’ve shown they can beat the best teams in Europe. What’s your tactical approach to stopping them?"
"This year’s Chelsea is an excellent team, very well-organised, dangerous in transition." He leaned toward his microphone, adjusting it a tab. "But no team reaches the Champions League final by accident. We’ve beaten top teams all season—Bayern Munich, Paris Saint-Germain. We respect Chelsea, but we don’t fear them. Our approach will be to play our game, control possession when we can, and capitalise on our chances."
"Jonathan—you’ll likely be marking either Werner or Havertz tomorrow." An English reporter asked the next question. "Both are extremely fast, intelligent forwards. How do you prepare for that, and does the fact that Kai was a teammate last season come into factor in your play?"
The crowd stirred slightly, holding their mic higher, eager to catch a scoop or some tension they could spin into their own gossip. Tah, for his part, kept a calm expression as he gave his response. "Kai is a fantastic player, everyone knows that. We trained together for years; I know his movements and preferences. But tomorrow he wears a different shirt, so friendship stops at the touch line."
He paused, considering the first part of the question. "Werner’s added with Havertz is a dangerous combination. But defending isn’t just one-on-one; we will come into this match with a plan to contain them and work hard to execute."
"For Rakim," a Portuguese journalist called out in accented English, "you are seventeen years old, 65 goals this season, playing in the Champions League final. Do you feel pressure, or is this just another match for you?"
"Is there anyone who would call the UCL just another match?" He asked back, looking genuinely confused, earning a few muffled chuckles. "I’d be lying if I said there’s no pressure. As a kid, you dream about one day being in this very match, so it’s like a dream come true. Though in my case, I’m still a kid, so I dream about also lifting the trophy at the end of the night."
He paused, letting the chuckle settle before his expression grew more serious. "Tomorrow is the culmination of two seasons of hard work for me, ten for the benders, three for Lukas, and so many more years for the entire Leverkusen family. I can’t promise victory, but I can promise we will fight for the right to represent you on this stage."
The room erupted with follow-up questions, hands shooting up across the press corps. The UEFA officer pointed to a Sky Sports reporter. "Rakim, you’ve scored in every round of the Champions League this season. Do you visualise yourself scoring tomorrow? And if so, what kind of goal?"
Rakim leaned back slightly, considering. "I visualise a lot of things. Scoring, assisting, and defending when needed. But honestly? I just want to be useful to the team. Whether that’s a tap-in, a thirty-yard screamer, or just making the right pass—whatever helps us win."
"But if you had to choose?" the reporter pressed.
"Top bins, left foot, ninety-second minute to win it," Rakim said with a slight grin. "But I’ll take a scrappy deflection off my shin in the sixth minute too." Laughter rippled through the room.
"Peter," a French journalist called out, "Thomas Tuchel has transformed Chelsea’s defence since arriving. They’ve conceded very few goals. How do you plan to break them down?"
"By doing what we do best," Bosz replied simply. "We create chances through movement, through quick combinations, through individual quality. Chelsea’s defence is excellent, yes, but unless they sit back for 90 minutes, they will have to face our counterattacks at least once. Something will give tomorrow."
"Jonathan, one more for you," a German reporter said. "You’ve been part of this Leverkusen squad for several years now, watching the club come close but never quite achieve the biggest prizes. Does tomorrow feel like redemption?"
Tah was quiet for a moment, his expression thoughtful. "I wouldn’t call it redemption. This club has nothing to apologise for. But it does feel like... completion. Like we’ve been building toward this for years, and tomorrow we find out if the foundation was strong enough."
"And yes, lifting that trophy would mean everything. Not just for us, but for every fan who’s waited over a century for a moment like this." He added, after a short pause, "But to our fans it would be the cherry on top of an incredible year that could end in a treble."
"Final question," the UEFA officer announced, pointing to an Italian journalist.
"For all three of you, Chelsea are favourites with many bookmakers. Does that motivate you, being considered underdogs?"
Bosz answered first. "We don’t care about bookmakers. But I’ll say this: the pressure to bring home a trophy this year is on them, not us. Thank You" With that bombshell statement, the Dutchman got up, effectively ending the interview.
~~~
[The Yeatman Hotel, Conference Room B | 19:15 WEST]
Following a busy day filled with media day, open training, and tactical briefings, dinner had been quiet and subdued. Now they gathered in Conference Room B for the final tactical meeting, the room arranged in theatre style with chairs facing a large screen.
Bosz stood at the front, remote in hand, as footage of Chelsea’s recent matches played on loop. "I’m not going to overwhelm you with information," he began. "You know Chelsea. You’ve watched the film. You understand their threats."
He clicked to a freeze-frame of Chelsea’s formation. "What I want to emphasise is this: they are beatable. Manchester City was supposed to be unbeatable, but Chelsea beat them. Real Madrid was supposed to have too much experience, but Chelsea beat them; they’re far from invincible."
The screen shifted to clips of Chelsea’s defensive vulnerabilities—spaces left open on transitions, miscommunications between centre-backs, when their high line was exploited. "Their strength is their organisation," Bosz continued. "So we will use quick combination plays, third-man runs, exploiting space in behind—that’s how we hurt them."
He clicked to the next slide: Leverkusen’s starting XI.
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TO BE CONTINUED...
