(A/n: Edited. đđ»)
A few days earlier, when Nagelsmann told Oliver he could start at Anfield, Oliver immediately told the news to his father and agent.
"Hello? Son?" Jules' slightly sleepy voice came from the other end of the phone, with Shuwen's busy movements in the kitchen audible in the background.
"Calling so early, what's wrong?"
Oliver took a deep breath, "Dad, coach has decided to let me start in the next Champions League qualifier, at Anfield."
The other end of the phone suddenly went silent for two seconds, followed by a rustling sound, as if Jules had suddenly sat up from the bed.
"What?! Start?! Champions League qualifier?!" His voice suddenly went up an octave, "Darling! Come here! Your son is going to start against Liverpool!"
Oliver heard the sound of dishes clashing on the other end of the phone, then Shuwen's hurried footsteps: "Is it true? Oliver? Is it really true?"
"It's true, the coach told me himself." Oliver's lips unconsciously curved upwards; he could imagine his parents' expressions at that moment. His father must have wide eyes, and his mother might have already covered her mouth in excitement.
"Oh my God!" Her voice trembled slightly, "My son is going to start at Anfield! That's the Champions League!"
Jules muttering could be heard in the background: "I need to book tickets quickly... Is it still time to book now...?"
"Dad, Mom, don't get too excited, it's just a qualifier, no big deal," Oliver said lightly.
Jules was displeased and immediately retorted. "What do you mean 'just'! Do you know how many players never get to play in the Champions League in their entire lives? You're only 17!" He suddenly lowered his voice, "Tell me honestly, are you nervous?"
He admitted softly, "A little, but more than that, I'm excited."
Jules voice regained its vitality, "That's right, remember, just play at the level you do in training, your mom and I will definitely be there to cheer you on. I'll post it in our family group later, and our relatives and friends will also watch the live broadcast."
Shuwen snatched the phone: "Son, don't put too much pressure on yourself, just play well. I'll bring you some food when I go, the food in Liverpool definitely isn't authentic. "
"Mom, we're going for a match, not a trip," Oliver said with a laugh, "The team also has a nutritionist managing things."
"Can a nutritionist understand your stomach better than your mom?" She was insistent, "It's settled then, I'll make more of your favourite Trifles..."
"Alright, Mom."
...
In the evening, on Youtube,
Inside the live stream, Simon Minter a.k.a MiniMinter, wearing black-rimmed glasses, sat in a gaming chair, talking to the camera.
He was a fan of Cristiano Ronaldo, he spoke, "Guys, in tonight's Champions League qualifier second leg, Hoffenheim playing away against Liverpool, I'll state my conclusion first: no chance!" Minter took a sip of cola, looking confident.
"Hoffenheim lost 1-2 at home in the first leg. Going to Anfield this time, isn't that just giving it away? What's Liverpool's level? A Premier League giant! What's Hoffenheim's level? Mid-table Bundesliga! The gap is bigger than the gap between Ronaldo and ordinary players!"
The live chat immediately poured in:
"Simon has a pure Liverpool accent here."
"Simon, Oliver is starting this match, what do you think?"
"What if Hoffenheim pulls off an upset?"
"If Oliver performs well, can he be naturalized?"
He glanced at the live-chat and scoffed:
"Oliver? Who is he? Just a flash in the pan. He's only played one Bundesliga match, what's all the hype about? If he were really that good, would Paris Saint-Germain's youth academy have kicked him out?"
"Minter, you said Mbappé was a bust last time."
"I misjudged Mbappé," Speed immediately glared, "Mbappé was already a starter at Monaco at 17 and won the Ligue 1 title. Oliver is 17 and just played his first Bundesliga match. Can they be compared?"
The live chat burst into laughter again. Simon tried to calm the situation, "SERIOUSLY CHAT!"
He sat back on the chair, "For Hoffenheim to turn this around, either the entire Liverpool team gets food poisoning, or they voluntarily forfeit the match. No matter how brilliant Nagelsmann is, he can't change the difference in player strength, especially since they already lost to Liverpool at home."
"Oliver's awareness is pretty good, and his ball control isn't bad either. Maybe he can sneak one in!"
"Good awareness? What's the use of just good awareness!" SImon scoffed, "Why is Ronaldo or Messi or Neymar or De Bruyne strong? Not just because of good awareness, but crucial technical and physical qualities."
"But then again," He suddenly became serious, "Don't have too high expectations. At Anfield, many stars get weak legs, let alone a 17-year-old kid?"
"Simon, you're looking down on people too much."
"Too pessimistic, Mini."
"The football field is never short of miracles."
"It's not looking down, it's being realistic!" Simon spread his hands, "Think about it, what's Liverpool's setup? Front three trident, defensive line Robertson, Arnold, Lovren plus Matip as the central defensive pairing. Can Oliver's small frame withstand that? Although Arnold is young, his attacking ability is first-class. If Oliver's defense can't keep up, he'll be exploited in minutes!"
Someone in the live chat disagreed:
"Oliver had two goals and two assists in his Bundesliga debut!"
"Can the Bundesliga compare to the Champions League?" He scoffed, "The pace and intensity of the Champions League are a completely different world. If Oliver can really score at Anfield, I'll do a handstand and accept that Messi is the goat."
"Screenshot taken!"
"Already screenshotted."
Simon looked indifferent: "Screenshot whatever you want, it's simply impossible. Hoffenheim would be burning incense if they even get a draw, let alone score? Come on, you must be dreaming!"
The discussion in the live stream grew more and more heated. Some supported Oliver, believing he might be a surprise; Others agreed with Speed, feeling that Hoffenheim had no chance of winning.
But regardless, this Champions League qualifier, which originally had ordinary attention, saw its popularity skyrocket in China because of Oliver's presence.
On X, the topic #OliverChampionsLeagueStart# had already trended, and many fans began to bypass firewalls to find Hoffenheim's match recordings, trying to understand the strength of this 17-year-old young player. In football forums, posts about "Is Oliver worth naturalizing?" garnered hundreds of replies, with both sides arguing fiercely. Meanwhile, in Germany, Oliver was oblivious to the heated discussions in on the internet. He was already boarding the flight to Liverpool with his team.