The final minutes ticked down, heavy with tension.
Both teams fought desperately for the victory —clashing in the midfield, sprinting along the flanks, tackling with everything they had left in their exhausted bodies.
It was chaos and glory, all at once.
At the 88th minute, Leverkusen nearly shattered Bayern's dreams.
Florian Wirtz picked up a loose ball just outside the box, danced past a defender with impossible ease, and unleashed a vicious shot.
The ball screamed through the air —straight toward the top corner.
Mateo, along with half the stadium, held his breath.
CRASH!
The ball slammed against the crossbar and ricocheted out.
A collective gasp rippled through the crowd.
Bayern lived.
But barely.
Mateo glanced toward the referee.
The official subtly tapped his watch.
Two minutes left.
Two minutes to become a hero —or just another name forgotten in a hard-fought loss.
The ball came to Mateo at midfield.
For a heartbeat, he hesitated.
Play it safe? Hold possession? Wait for penalties?
No.
His heart pounded.His instincts roared.
He decided.
He attacked.
Ball glued to his foot, he surged forward.
One defender came charging.
Mateo dropped his shoulder, feinted right —then exploded left, leaving the boy grasping at air.
One down.
A second slid in recklessly.
Mateo pulled the ball behind him with a delicate touch, letting the tackle miss completely.
Two down.
A third tried to body him off the ball.
Mateo leaned into the contact, spun around, and flicked the ball past him in one fluid motion.
Three down.
The stadium was on its feet now, roaring with every breathtaking move.
Parents shouted.
Scouts leaned forward.
The Bayern bench stood, yelling encouragement.
Somewhere in the noise, Mateo faintly heard a System Notification
But he barely registered it.
He wasn't thinking anymore.
He was feeling.
Another defender lunged wildly.
Mateo nutmegged him without even slowing down.
Four down.
The final center-back tried to block him at the edge of the box.
Mateo used a quick step-over, shifted the ball across his body, and blew past him.
Five down.
He was in.
One-on-one with the goalkeeper.
The noise faded into a dull roar in his ears.
Time slowed.
The keeper rushed out, arms wide.
Mateo lifted his head —saw the space —and chipped the ball delicately over him.
A perfect sombrerito.
The ball floated gently through the air —soft as a feather —before dropping into the empty net.
GOAL.
Bayern 3 – Leverkusen 2.
The stadium exploded.
The Bayern players sprinted toward him.
Mateo, overcome by the moment, fell backward onto the grass, arms spread wide, staring up at the endless blue sky.
Lukas was the first to reach him, throwing himself down and hugging him tight.
Schmitt, Sebastian, the whole team piled onto him, shouting, laughing, pounding his back.
Somewhere in the chaos, Mateo thought he heard his mother's scream of joy from the stands.
Tears burned at the edges of his eyes.
The final whistle blew.
The match was over.
And the boy who had dared to dream —who had crossed an ocean of struggles and sacrifices —had just carved his name into memory.
As they lifted him up, still shouting, still cheering,Mateo González Schwarz smiled through the tears.