The Weight of Glory

3 Years Ago — Lukas Müller, Age 22Borlen Dortmund – Season Start

The season began like a dream.

I was flying.

Early goals. Assists. Movement sharp. Discipline refined under Coach Meyer's brutal training. Every game, I felt closer to what I was meant to be — not just a striker, but a force. A presence.

Pundits were calling me "the most complete forward in Europe."I didn't believe the noise. But I liked the direction.

Then came the awards ceremony.

I sat front row. Black suit, silent tie. Coaches around me, teammates behind.

They read the shortlist.

I was on it.

Final three.

Then… not my name.

A Spanish midfielder from Real Castilla won it. He deserved it. A machine, they said. Flawless under pressure.

But in that moment — sitting in the spotlight, camera on my face — all I felt was the same familiar hunger.

Back at the hotel, the press caught me in the lobby. Mic in my face.

"Lukas, how does it feel to miss out on the Golden Boy?"

I didn't blink.

"I don't want to be the Golden Boy," I said. "I want to be the best in the world.Let's talk in May."

But May never came.

The cracks started with the German Super Cup.

First round. We drew a second division side — Brennstadt FC.No one gave them a chance.

We dominated.

Missed sitters. Hit the post twice. Then, in the 89th minute, they countered and scored.

1–0.They parked the bus, and we drove ourselves mad.

Out.

The press ate us alive.

Coach Meyer's face was stone that night. He didn't speak in the dressing room. Just left his clipboard on the bench and walked out.

I stared at the ground asking my self how i missed multiple sitters. For a second, i started to get worried,the dressing room atmosphere was cold some of our players the experienced ones, you feel they become full after we won the cup

By winter, Bayern had pulled 12 points clear.

We dropped points in games we used to own. Home matches felt tight. Nervous. No rhythm.

Meyer shuffled tactics. Switched formations. Benched players. Nothing worked.

Except me.

I scored.

And scored.

Game after game. Even when we lost, I delivered.

I knew the cameras were on me now — not because of the team, but because I was becoming the story.

Club European Championship.Quarterfinal.Home leg — we drew 2–2. Away leg — 1–0 loss. One mistake. One lapse. Out.

The fans turned.

Signs outside the training ground. "System broken." "Meyer out."They wanted a scapegoat. But I wouldn't give them one.

At a post-match interview, I stood firm.

"We're not finished. There's still one trophy left."

The World Champions League.

Our last shot.

Hope, Then Fire

We grew into the tournament like survivors. Not stylish — just lethal. Every knockout match, I delivered. Two in the round of 16. One and an assist in the quarters.

I gave another interview.

Confident. Clear.

"We're taking this momentum into the semi-finals. First leg away — we win there.Then we finish the job at home. I promise. " commentator :"Dortmund are losing 4–0… outside home."