Football singularity
Chapter 774 Road to UCL Final
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[2021-05-26 | Ox & Klee, Cologne | 18:35 CET]
In the city centre of Cologne, the setting sun’s rays glittered over the Rhine River, illuminating the buildings on the banks. In front of the two-star Michelin-rated restaurant Ox & Klee, foreign cars could be seen filling the parking spots in front. A forest green Aventador pulled to a stop on the roadside, and moments later, Jeremie stepped out, buttoning his navy blazer.
A blacked-out G-Wagon rolled to a stop on the opposite side moments later, and out of the driver’s seat came Florian. Back to using his feet, he buttoned his black Hugo Boss Balzer before walking around his car, opening the door for Aaliyah, her black dress elegantly hugging her curves.
They quickly crossed the road, walking over the red carpet laid out by the restaurant, and met up with Demirbay and his partner. Before they could go, the loud roar of a beast, a natural tarmac predator, resounded from the end of the street.
"Looks like Rakim is here," Wirtz uttered, and sure enough, the sleek body of a Silver sián could be seen rolling down the cobblestone road.
The Lamborghini Sián rolled to a stop, the noise disappearing as it got closer, its silver body catching the last rays of sunlight like liquid metal. The scissor door lifted upward with a soft hydraulic hiss, and Rakim stepped out, adjusting the collar of his black Saint Laurent shirt and his VVs chain, which glittered in the sun’s rays beneath his charcoal Sainclare blazer. His Audemars Piguet Royal Oak caught the light as he moved around the front of the car.
The passenger door opened, and May emerged, dressed in a black Oksana Mukha strapless gown. The structured bodice hugged her figure perfectly, then flared slightly at the waist. A delicate black lace overlay cascaded to the floor in intricate floral patterns, elegantly showing off her legs beneath.
Long black gloves completed the look, crumpled to her forearms as she took Rakim’s hand. Her peach-blonde hair was styled in soft waves that fell past her shoulders, and her light makeup, with subtle smoky eyes, highlighted her green eyes. They walked towards the waiting group, May’s black high heels clicking rhythmically on the ground.
"Jesus," Frimpong muttered under his breath as the couple approached. "Rex really said, ’Let me show up.’"
Rakim grinned as they reached the group, his hand finding the small of May’s back naturally. "Told we clean up nice in Florida?"
"Tsk, you and Florida," Wirtz retorted. He turned to May. "You clean up nice, Parker?"
"Oh, this little thing," May responded, acting shy with a light smile.
"Girl, don’t even you know you’re killing that dress?" Aaliyah interrupted, interlacing their elbows and pulling her away.
"You’re one to talk, that dress looks divine on you," May commented, giving her friend a once-over before whispering into her ear. "Did you dress Florian?"
"Yes"
"Hohohho, I knew it," May exclaimed as the two burst out laughing. As they walked into the restaurant, leaving the boys by themselves.
"So, Jeremie couldn’t find a date, huh?" Rakim suddenly said, snapping the guys back out of their dazed looks from watching the two girls walk off.
"Danm!" Wirtz exclaimed, his hand moving to cover his mouth belatedly.
"You have been annihilated," Grey said from the side, imitating a COD announcement.
"Broo, it’s like that," Jeremie coughed out, right hand on his chest as if he had just been shot. "I told you my girl is back in the Netherlands."
"He’s not lying, his girlfriend is a Dutch model who is waiting for him in Rotterdam." Diaby, who had just arrived, added from the side, making sure to put emphasis on girlfriend and waiting.
"Bro, that’s not helping," he complained, flicking Diabys arm off his neck.
"What, I’m backing you up?" He shot back, looking truly confused, causing the others to wonder if he had genuinely backed him up.
"I’m just saying," Rakim continued, grinning as they walked toward the entrance, "you could’ve at least brought a friend. Now you’re the only one rolling dolo."
"Leave the man alone," Demirbay chimed in, though he was smiling. "Not everyone needs to flex their relationship status like you two."
"Facts," Grey added. "Some of us are focused on the game."
"Sure, sure," Rakim said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "That’s definitely why Jeremie’s Instagram story last week was just him in bed watching Love Island."
The group erupted in laughter as Frimpong threw his hands up. "Okay, that was ONE time—"
"Three episodes in a row," Wirtz corrected, pulling out his phone to show receipts. "I screenshot the time stamps."
"Why would you even—" Frimpong started, then shook his head. "You know what, I’m not dignifying this with a response."
(brrrrrbrrrommr broom.) The loud sound of an old exhaust reverberated from the road, causing those about to enter to turn around. A yellow-green 1979 Lada 1500 pulled up to a stop in front of the restaurant, naturally squeezing in between a Mercedes S-Class and a yellow lamboihni. A moment later, Baumgartlinger stepped out in a neat beige suit that looked like it came right out of a holiday catalogue.
He walked around the car opening the door for his wife, Laura, who was also dressed in a black number, almost as if all the women had agreed on a concept. "What’s up, lads? You come out to receive us, that’s nice of you," the midfielder naturally said with a bright smile, leading his wife past them, heading inside without waiting for a response.
"Bro, what just happened?"
"I think we just lost the war."
~~~
[2021-05-26 | Ox & Klee, Cologne | 20:05 CET]
The dinner at Ox & Klee was in full swing, with the Leverkusen family enjoying food that could only be described as artwork. Engineer Daniel Gottlschlich didn’t earn two stars as a chef for no reason, creating amazing-tasting artwork. The players and their party were in quite literal food heaven, genuinely feeling like the year was all worth it just for the food they tasted.
They had booked the entire restaurant, allowing them to enjoy the food and company in peace without worrying about fans or cameras. The main dining room had been arranged with several tables pushed together to form one long family-style setup, with low-hanging ambient ceiling lights creating an intimate atmosphere.
Rakim sat near the middle of the table, May to his right, Wirtz across from him with Aaliyah. The current course was a beautifully plated venison dish with wild mushrooms, pickled vegetables, and a berry reduction that Rakim couldn’t pronounce but absolutely demolished.
"Okay, but seriously," Frimpong said from down the table, gesturing with his fork, "how is this even food? This is like... I don’t even know what this is."
"It’s art," Hradecky said seriously, examining his plate like he was in a gallery. "We’re eating art."
"We’re eating €250 per person," Demirbay corrected, taking a sip of wine.
"Worth every cent," Lars Bender said, raising his glass. His twin brother, Sven, nodded in agreement beside him.
"You know what the best part is?" Wendell chimed in. "Bosz is picking up the bill. Food tastes best when it’s free."
"Actually," Peter Bosz’s voice cut through from the head of the table, "the club is paying for this. But I’ll take credit for convincing Simon Rolfes it was a good idea." That earned a round of applause and raised glasses.
"To Bosz!" someone shouted.
"To the gaffer!" others echoed.
Bosz stood, raising his own glass of wine, waiting for the noise to settle before speaking. "Before we get too deep into celebrating, I want to say something." The table quieted, all attention shifting to the manager.
"This season..." Bosz paused, seeming to gather his thoughts. "When we started back in September, if someone had told me we’d be sitting here in May as Bundesliga champions, DFB-Pokal winners, and three days away from a Champions League final, I would’ve made them run 10 more laps to burn away the extra energy."
A few chuckles rippled through the group.
"But you lot proved me wrong," Bosz continued, his expression sincere. "Every single one of you. The veterans who bled for this club for years—" he nodded toward Lars and Sven, "—the players who arrived and immediately bought into what we were building, and the young talents who exceeded every expectation we had."
"We’ve made history this year," Bosz said. "First Bundesliga title in 117 years. Back-to-back DFB-Pokal. But we’re not done. Three days from now, we step onto that pitch in Porto, and we have a chance to do something truly special. Something that will be remembered forever."
He raised his glass higher. "To Leverkusen, to this team, and to reaching the destination, enjoying the view and Conquering."
"Conquer!" the entire table roared in unison, glasses clinking, voices overlapping in a cacophony of celebration.
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TO BE CONTINUED...