Marco barely slept.
His room was a small, sparse space shared with another academy player named Tim, who was already asleep after coming back from their earlier outing.
Twin beds, two small desks, posters of Bundesliga stars on the walls. The window that overlooked the training pitches, which is dark now except for the security lights that cast long shadows across the perfectly manicured grass.
He'd lain in bed for hours, staring at the ceiling, his mind a tornado of thoughts.
I'm Marco Reus. I'm still fifteen. It's August 2004. George W. Bush is president. The internet is still young. Facebook just launched. The iPhone doesn't exist yet. I'm living in the past.
But more than that: I know the future.
He knew that Germany would host the 2006 World Cup and reach the semi-finals. He knew Spain would dominate international football from 2008-2012. He knew Messi and Ronaldo would split the Ballon d'Or for over a decade. He knew Leicester would impossibly win the Premier League in 2016. He knew about Brexit, Trump, COVID-19—all of it.
And more importantly for his immediate survival, he knew about football.
He knew which tactics worked. Which formations countered which styles. How gegenpressing would revolutionize the game in five years when Klopp perfected it at Dortmund. How tiki-taka would dominate, then fade. How the game would evolve toward athleticism, pressing, and vertical speed.I have seventeen years of tactical knowledge, he realized, in a teenager's body.
I've watched thousands of matches. Analysed systems. Understood player movements. I know things these coaches won't figure out for years.
It was dizzying. Intoxicating.
And terrifying.
Because knowing wasn't the same as doing. Mark had watched football his entire life but couldn't play it in his life.
This new body had the raw tools—the speed, the touch, the natural talent marked by those stars in the system. But translating knowledge into execution? That was the challenge.
When his roommate's alarm finally broke the pre-dawn silence, Marco was already awake, staring at the system screen that only he could see:
----------------------------
Morning Training Session: 6:00 AM
Recommended Pre-Training Routine:
- Light breakfast (carbs + protein)
- Hydration: 500ml water minimum
- Dynamic stretching: 10 minutes
- Mental preparation: 5 minutes
Would you like training guidance activated for today's session?
------------------------------
"Yes," Marco whispered. Tim was still groggy, stumbling toward the shared bathroom. "Activate guidance."
------------------------------
Training Guidance: ACTIVE
Today's Focus Areas:
1. Observe coaching methods
2. Assess teammate skill levels
3. Identify decision-makers (coaches who evaluate players)
4. Perform at consistent 7/10 level - no need to stand out yet
5. Map training facility and resources
Note: You are currently on probationary status. Avoid drawing negative attention.
-----------------------------
That last line hit him harder than expected.
Probationary status. Right. Dortmund would release him in about eight months if nothing changed. He wasn't established. Wasn't safe. He was one bad evaluation away from losing everything.
The morning training session started at exactly 6:00 AM. Forty teenagers gathered on the main pitch as the sky shifted from black to deep purple. The air was crisp, heavy with dew. Marco's breath misted as he jogged through warm-ups, his body moving through the familiar patterns while his mind worked furiously.
The system highlighted certain individuals with floating markers only he could see:
[Head Youth Coach: Matthias Werner
- Primary Decision Maker]
[Assistant Coach: Klaus Hoffmann
- Technical Development Focus]
[Scout: Johann Beck
- Reports to First Team Staff]
Those are the ones who matter, Marco realized. They're the ones who decide who stays and who goes.
"Aufstellung für Passspiel!" Coach Werner called out. Formation for passing drills.
The players arranged themselves in a standard rondo—circle of players passing, two in the middle trying to intercept. Simple. Basic. The foundation of technical football.
Marco took his position in the circle. The ball came to him—a simple pass along the ground. In his previous life, Mark would have panicked, likely mishit it. But now, muscle memory took over. His right foot cushioned the ball perfectly, killing its momentum.
One touch.
Then his left foot played it smoothly to the next player.
Two touches. Perfect.
The system displayed feedback:
[First Touch: 7.2/10 (Good)]
[Pass Accuracy: 7.0/10 (Good) ]
[Body Position: 6.8/10 (Acceptable - weight distribution slightly off) ]
[Recommendation: Shift weight to left foot 0.2 seconds earlier for optimal passing position. ]
It was surreal. Like having a coach inside his head, analysing every movement, providing instant feedback.
Over the next ten minutes, as the rondo continued, Marco made micro-adjustments based on the system's guidance. Weight distribution. Foot positioning. Hip angle for pass direction.His success rate climbed from about 70% to 85%. Not enough to draw attention— because, other players were at similar or better levels—but it was steady improvement.
"Gut, Reus," Coach Werner said in passing. Not a praise, just acknowledgment. But Marco felt a flicker of satisfaction.
Step one: Don't stand out as bad. Check.
The session evolved. Dribbling drills through cones. Two-touch passing combinations. Small-sided games. Marco moved through them mechanically, his fifteen-year-old body following instructions while his adult mind observed, analysed, catalogued.
He noticed patterns. Noticed which players the coaches watched most carefully—the standouts, the ones being groomed for first-team promotion.
A winger named Dennis who had exceptional pace. A midfielder named Leon with vision beyond his years. A striker named Phillipe with clinical finishing.
Those are my competition, Marco realized. They're the ones ahead of me on the depth chart.And he noticed something else: his own technical limitations. Despite the system optimization, despite the natural talents marked with stars, he was... average. Maybe slightly above average in a few areas. But in a professional academy filled with Germany's best teenagers, average wasn't good enough.
The small-sided game highlighted it brutally. It was a five-on-five on a reduced pitch. Marco played left wing. He received the ball in space, saw an opening, tried to dribble past the fullback.
But the defender read it easily, stepped across, dispossessed him cleanly.
[Dribble Attempt: FAILED]
Analysis:
- Took too many touches (4 touches, optimal was 2)
- Defender read body language (telegraphed move 0.8 seconds early)
- Cut inside timing: Too predictable
[Cut Inside Move: Current 7.5/10 insufficient against quality defenders ]
[Recommendation: Intensive repetition training required ]
Marco jogged back, frustration building. I know what I should do. I can see it. But this body can't execute it yet.
That was the gap. The unbridgeable gap between knowledge and skill. He might as well analyse tactics like Guardiola, understand space like Cruyff, see patterns like a seasoned professional. But his body, however optimized, still had the touch of a fifteen-year-old.
I need to train, he realized. Not just show up. Not just go through the motions. I need thousands of repetitions. Tens of thousands. Until this body catches up to this mind.
The session ended at 8:00 AM. Two hours of intense work. The players trudged toward the cafeteria for breakfast—a necessary refuelling before school classes started at 9:00 AM. The academy combined football with education, keeping players in school until age sixteen when they could go professional.
I have to go to school, Marco thought with something between amusement and horror. I'm twentyeight years old and I have to go to tenth-grade classes.
But as he sat in the cafeteria, mechanically eating oatmeal and banana while around him teenagers gossiped about video games and girls, Marco's mind was already elsewhere.
The system had provided a training plan. Specific skills to focus on. Estimated repetitions needed. If he followed it religiously—morning training, extra work in the afternoons, ball work in the evenings—he could improve.
The system accelerated learning, made training more efficient.But eight months, he thought. I have eight months to go from a 58 overall rating to... what? 65? 70?
Whatever it takes to make them keep me.
His eyes drifted to the coaches' table across the cafeteria.
Werner and Hoffmann sat together, reviewing notes. Occasionally they'd glance at players, making comments Marco couldn't hear.
They're evaluating. Always evaluating. Deciding who has a future and who doesn't.
The weight of it settled on his shoulders. This wasn't a game. Wasn't a simulation or a fantasy. This was real. If he failed, Marco Reus would be released from Dortmund's academy in March 2005. Would go to Rot Weiss Ahlen, a tiny club in the lower divisions. He would eventually claw his way back, but always wondering what if. Always playing catch-up.
Unless I change it, Marco thought, clenching his fist under the table. Unless I prove I belong here. He didn't just need to be good. He needed to be special.
The system screen flickered with a new message:
[Warning: Knowledge of future events provides strategic advantage but cannot replace skill development. Physical training remains essential.
Recommendation: Focus on controllable variables:
- Skill training (you can control)
- Tactical intelligence (you can demonstrate)
- Work ethic (you can show)
- Decision making (you can improve)
Do not rely solely on future knowledge. Develop the foundation.]
Marco finished his breakfast in silence, the system's words echoing in his mind. It was right. Knowing the future wouldn't teach his feet how to dribble. Wouldn't make his through balls more accurate.Wouldn't help him finish one-on-one with the goalkeeper.
Only training would do that.
Alright, he thought, standing and depositing his tray. Then I will train. Morning sessions with the team. Extra work after school. Ball work in the evenings. Injury prevention and yoga before bed. Every single day. Eight months. Let's see what I can become.
Now all he needed was time, work, and the discipline to make it count.
As he walked toward his first class—tenth-grade mathematics, according to his inherited schedule—Marco felt something he hadn't felt since waking up in this impossible situation:
Determination.