The dining hall was quieter than last night, players scattered across tables in small groups, most focused on eating rather than socializing.
Marco grabbed a tray and loaded up on carbs: oatmeal, whole grain bread, a banana, scrambled eggs for protein. Stefano went straight for the coffee.
They found seats near Ron Zieler and Jérôme Boateng, both looking more alert than most.
"Sleep well?" Zieler asked around a mouthful of bread.
"Well enough," Marco replied. "You?"
"Oh, don't even get started. I never had a sound sleep the first night at camp. Too much mental noise." Zieler took a long drink of coffee. "But that's what this is for. German engineering in a cup."
Boateng said nothing, eating his breakfast with focused efficiency. Marco noticed the defender had a routine—one bite of egg, one bite of bread, sip of water, repeat. Everything measured, controlled.
Across the room, the pressure was already showing on some players.
At 8:15, Coach Weber entered the dining hall and blew his whistle once. Conversations died instantly.
"First training session in fifteen minutes. Pitch 1. Be on time, be ready, be warmed up. Anyone who's late runs laps. Clear?"
Thirty-two voices answered: "Yes, Coach!"
* * * * * *
Pitch 1 was immaculate—grass cut to perfect height, lines freshly painted, goals with nets that looked brand new. At one end, the coaching staff had set up stations with cones, small goals, and equipment bags.
Marco joined the others in the center circle for warm-ups. A fitness coach—a woman in her thirties with a whistle and a clipboard—led them through dynamic stretching: high knees, butt kicks, leg swings, arm circles. Basic but thorough.
Marco made sure his movements were crisp, controlled. First impressions mattered, even in warm-ups.
At 8:30 exactly, Coach Müller stepped forward.
"Gentlemen, welcome to your first training session. Today we're focusing on technical fundamentals and positional work. We need to see your base level before we can evaluate tactical understanding." He gestured to the stations. "We'll rotate through four drills: passing accuracy, dribbling through cones, shooting technique, and crossing. Fifteen minutes per station. Any questions?"
No hands went up.
"Good. Goalkeepers with Coach Lehmann on Pitch 2. Everyone else, split into four groups by position. Defenders station one, midfielders station two, forwards and wingers station three and four."
The players separated quickly. Marco found himself in a group of eight: the attacking players who'd compete for final roster spots.
Including Mesut Özil.
* * * *
1.Dribbling Through Cones:
Coach Weber supervised this station personally, clipboard in hand, watching each player with intense focus.
"Standard drill," he explained. "Dribble through the cones—touch with each foot, no skipping. At the end, cut left or right and shoot at the small goal. We're evaluating touch quality, speed, and finishing. Who's first?"
Özil stepped forward immediately. No hesitation, no waiting for someone else to volunteer. Just quiet confidence.
Marco watched carefully.
Özil attacked the cones with controlled precision. His first touch was immaculate—soft enough to keep the ball close, firm enough to move it forward with each step. Left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot. Rhythmic, almost musical. At the final cone, he cut right sharply and finished with a placed shot into the bottom corner.
Total time: 8.7 seconds according to Coach Weber's stopwatch.
"Good," Weber said, making notes. "Excellent technical quality. Next."
A winger from Werder Bremen went next. Decent but slower—9.4 seconds. His touches were less consistent, and he had to adjust his angle before shooting.
"Next."
Three more wingers went—all in the 9-10 second range. Competent but unremarkable.
Then it was Marco's turn.
He took a breath, and walked forward.
Marco tuned out the surroundings and focused on the feel of ball. He'd done this drill a thousand times in the past four months—first at Dortmund, now in his muscle memory.
Touch. Left foot, soft, controlled. Ball stays close.
Touch. Right foot, same pressure, same distance.
Touch. Left. Right. Left. Right.
The rhythm came naturally, his body finding the flow. The cones blurred past. At the final marker, he cut right—his signature move, the one he'd trained to 8.9/10—and shifted his weight instantly. The defender in his imagination bought the fake. He struck the ball cleanly with his right foot.
Bottom corner. Goal.
Coach Weber's stopwatch clicked. "8.4 seconds."
Marco jogged back, keeping his expression neutral even as his heart raced. Faster than Özil. Not by much, but faster.
Weber made notes, his face unreadable. "Excellent touch quality. Very clean. Next."
The final winger went—9.1 seconds,
serviceable.
When the station rotation ended, Marco noticed Özil watching him with new interest. Not hostile, just... measuring. Recognizing competition.
2. Crossing Accuracy:
This station was led by Coach Schmidt, a former fullback who'd played fifteen years in the Bundesliga. He stood next to a pile of balls, pointing to the far end of the penalty box.
"Five crosses each. Three from the right, two from the left. We want variety—some early crosses, some cut-backs, some whipped balls to the far post. Your target is the mannequin in the box." He pointed to a life-size dummy positioned at the penalty spot. "Hit it in the head or chest, you get points. We're evaluating accuracy, not power."
Marco grimaced internally. Crossing wasn't his strongest skill. His natural game was cutting inside and shooting or playing through balls centrally. Traditional wing play—staying wide and delivering crosses—required different timing, different technique.
But Coach Weber's words from orientation echoed: Versatility matters at international level.
He'd have to show he could do this.
Özil went first again, taking his position on the right touchline. His crosses were... good. Not spectacular, but consistently good. Four out of five hit the target area. The technique was sound, the delivery measured.
The Bremen winger hit two out of five.
Then Marco's turn.
He positioned himself on the left touchline—the more difficult side for a right-footed player—and prepared for his first cross.
Marco took three steps and struck through the ball with his left foot—his weaker foot, the one he'd spent months developing. The cross flew toward the box, curving slightly... and sailed over the mannequin's head by two feet.
Miss.
"Adjust your approach angle," Coach Schmidt called. "You're hitting it too flat."
Second attempt: Marco adjusted, aiming for more height. This one hit the mannequin in the shoulder. Close enough.
Third cross from the left: Clean hit, chest high. Goal.
Two switches to the right touchline—his natural side. The fourth cross was perfect, whipped in with pace and accuracy. The fifth was slightly behind the mannequin but still in the scoring zone.
Three out of five. Same as Özil, but his misses had been worse.
"Acceptable," Schmidt said, making notes. "Left foot needs work, but your right is dangerous. Next."
As Marco jogged back, he caught Özil's eye. The Schalke player gave him a small nod—acknowledgment, respect, but also understanding.
You're good. I'm better. We both know it.
Marco nodded back. Fair enough. For now.
* * * *
3. Passing Accuracy:
This was Marco's element. Precision passing, vision, technical execution—all his strengths.
The drill was simple: Five targets at varying distances, each marked by a cone with a two-meter circle around it. Ten balls per player. Hit the target, you score points. Simple, measurable, objective.
Coach Weber supervised, clipboard ready.
Most players hit seven or eight out of ten. Solid accuracy, professional level.
Özil hit nine out of ten. The only miss was a fifty-meter diagonal that landed just outside the circle. Everything else was pinpoint.
Then Marco stepped up.
The system wasn't necessary here—this was pure feel, the skill he'd trained most intensively over four months. Through balls rated 9.0/10, passing accuracy comparable.
First ball: Twenty meters, straight ahead. Hit.
Second ball: Thirty meters, diagonal left. Hit.
Third ball: Fifteen meters, chip over obstacle. Hit.
Fourth through ninth: All hit. Different distances, different angles, different techniques. Every ball landing within the target circle.
Tenth ball: Fifty meters, diagonal right, maximum difficulty.
Marco took his time setting up, reading the wind, measuring the distance. His system offered probability calculations, but he ignored them. This was about feel, about trusting four months of repetition.
He struck through the ball cleanly, imparting slight backspin. It sailed through the air, dropping perfectly...
...and landed six inches inside the circle.
Hit.
Ten out of ten.
Coach Weber looked up from his clipboard, eyebrows raised slightly. "Impressive. Very impressive." He made extensive notes. "Your passing is elite level. What's your vision like in-game?"
"Good, Coach. I see the field well."
"We'll test that this afternoon in the scrimmage." Weber gestured to the next player. "Next."
As Marco walked away, he noticed Özil watching again. This time, the Schalke player's expression was harder to read. Not quite concern, but definitely recalculation.
Maybe you're better than I thought.
4. Shooting Technique:
The final rotation before the morning session ended.
This station focused on different types of finishes: placed shots, power shots, chips, volleys, and weak-foot finishing. Five attempts each, randomized order called out by the coach.
Marco excelled at placed shots (8.5/10 finishing skill, primarily placement-based). His power shots were decent. His chips were good. Volleys needed work. And his weak foot...
"Weak foot finish, sixteen meters, central," Coach Schmidt called.
Marco set up, left foot, the foot he'd spent months developing from 5.0/10 to 7.6/10. Still not elite, but competent now. Professional level.
He struck cleanly. The ball flew true, hitting the side netting.
Goal.
"Again. Left side this time."
Another weak-foot goal.
"Good development there," Schmidt commented. "How long have you been working on that?"
"Four months, Coach."
"Shows. Keep it up." Schmidt made notes. "Most players neglect their weak foot until it's too late. Smart work."
By the end of the station, Marco had converted fourteen out of twenty shots. Not perfect, but strong. Özil had converted sixteen out of twenty—better, but the gap wasn't enormous.