CHAPTER 95: GENTLEMAN

Sané hit the ball with power as it headed for Trapp’s near post.

Trapp, however, threw his legs in the way as the ball struck them and deflected back into play.

Tuta and Müller both went for the ball, but the Brazilian got there just a second before Müller and thumped the ball up the pitch, clearing the danger.

Bayern’s defense thought it was just another clearance and that they could receive and recycle the ball to go for another attack.

But just as Dier steadied himself, waiting for the ball to land, his eyes glued to it, he heard a scream: "MAN ON!" from Kimmich. He looked down to see who they were warning him about, but a blur of white was all he could see as Lukas jumped, heading the ball away from Dier’s reach into the space in behind.

Empty space.

Dier stretched out his arms to drag him down, to grab hold of something, anything.

But the wind was all he could catch.

Lukas was gone.

The ball bounced just past the halfway line as the Bayern defense had pushed so high up the pitch.

He didn’t have to look behind him; he could feel defenders closing in on him.

Kimmich, Ito, Dier, Pavlović — they were all chasing him like their lives depended on it.

As the ball bounced in front of Lukas, he pushed it forward with his forehead as he kept running.

He took one look forward and saw Neuer, who was originally near the penalty arc, backtracking to his goal. Kim was the only one between Lukas and Neuer, and he too was running back, his body angled so he could keep looking at the ball.

Due to having to control the bouncing ball while running, Lukas knew it was only a matter of time before the defenders got to him, so this time, as he got to the ball again just past the entrance of Bayern’s final third, he decided to lob it over Neuer from there.

Lukas raised his leg, and just as he made connection with the ball—

BANG.

Kimmich clattered into him.

Toppmöller’s heart dropped as Lukas rolled on the turf. "Please not another injury," he thought as he ran to protest to the fourth official.

Kimmich was adamant that he got the ball fairly, but Stegemann brandished a yellow card.

The Eintracht Frankfurt players were livid when they saw the yellow. "It was a clear goalscoring opportunity! He was about to shoot the ball! The goalkeeper was out of his line!" Kristensen argued with the referee.

"Number 3 was the last man. It is 30 meters away from goal. The chances of scoring from out here were minimal — that’s why only a yellow card was given," Stegemann responded as he explained his decision to Kristensen and the other Eintracht Frankfurt players.

Kimmich, who had been pleading his case, sat on the floor clutching his left hamstring. It looked like he had pushed himself a bit too far during the recovery run and injured his hamstring as the Bayern medics ran onto the field.

Lukas, on the other hand, stood up with help from Larsson and stomped his feet on the ground.

"Are you okay? Do you need the medics?"

"Nah, I’m okay," Lukas responded as he fixed his shin guards while he watched the medics work on Kimmich before escorting him off the pitch.

"It seems Kimmich cannot continue this game and Kompany is forced into a substitution. The hero who just might have kept Bayern’s fragile lead will have to leave the pitch prematurely. We hope it’s nothing serious because he is an integral part of this Bayern team. Leon Goretzka to come on for Kimmich," the commentator announced as the crowd clapped loudly for Kimmich, who limped off the pitch.

Lukas turned his attention to the distance from the position of the foul to the goalpost. It looked to be about 28 to 30 meters away and a bit to the left of goal, and he set the ball directly at the spot marked by the referee.

Neuer organized his wall with screams of instructions as the players obliged, setting themselves up perfectly right in front of the penalty area. Sané was tasked with lying behind the wall in case the free-kick taker decided to go under it, and he begrudgingly accepted.

"Let me take it," Theate said as he walked over to Lukas. "Isn’t it a bit too far out for you?"

"It’s not. Let me," Lukas responded, his eyes still locked on Neuer’s goal.

Ekitike and Theate both stepped out to the side while Goretzka joined the wall being formed.

"Brandt to take the free kick. 28 meters away from goal — it’s best if he hangs it in the box for players like Ekitike and Kristensen to attack rather than trying to beat Neuer from out there."

The whistling, jeers, and boos from the fans were unmistakable. Even Lukas, who until that point had been able to keep his mind on the pitch, was finding it difficult to tune out. It was as if they were adamant he heard them out.

The referee’s whistle blew and Lukas looked at the ball, then the goal, before he started his run-up.

The wall jumped as soon as he hit the ball, but it was higher as it went over Pavlović’s head and then dipped.

Neuer sprang into action as soon as the ball was kicked. He took one step and dived at full stretch towards it as it approached his goal.

He had saved it.

At least, he thought he had.

"I think it’s too far to try and beat Neuer from there. He’s better off playing it into the— BRAAAAANDTTTT!" the commentators screamed as the ball flicked Neuer’s fingers, hit the inside of the post with a bang, and settled in the back of the net.

The shot was violent. Lukas struck the ball with venom. This was something he didn’t usually do, as he always preferred caressing balls into the back of the net and placing them through angles impossible for the goalkeeper to get to.

This time, however, the power was there too. It was still placed perfectly as it headed to Neuer’s top-right corner, but the power was the main component of the shot.

"OH MY WORD! WHAT A GOAL! LUKAS BRANDT, FROM 30 METERS OUT, HAS PUT A WORLD-CLASS FREE KICK THROUGH NEUER’S GOAL IN THE ALLIANZ ARENA! AND WE’RE BACK LEVEL!"

The stadium roared with fury as the ball rippled the net. Lukas didn’t sprint to the corner flag or leap into the air. Instead, he slowed to a regal calm, turning deliberately toward the Südkurve — where the most passionate fans were.

With a flourish, his left hand slipped neatly behind his back, his right arm extended outward in a sweeping gesture. Then, lowering his upper body in a slow, courtly bow — the kind of gesture an English gentleman might make before royalty — he offered the Südkurve their due. A bow not of respect, but of defiance, delivered in the heart of their fortress.

For a brief moment, the crowd didn’t know what to make of his celebration. Was he paying homage? Was he thanking them? Was he taunting them?

"What is he thinking?!" Toppmöller muttered to himself after he briefly celebrated the goal. He had spent a long time at Bayern Munich, so he knew the fans in and out.

Even some of the Bayern players and staff were watching with surprise. The Ultras at the Südkurve could be some of the most dangerous in all of German football.