"Great work!"
High-fiving the head coach, the soaked Mark took the down jacket from the assistant, slipped it on, and sat down beside De Bruyne.
Taking the towel De Bruyne handed him, he wiped his sweat and said, "Wow, mate, I've missed playing with you on the pitch so much!"
In this match, Schalke's targeted defensive plan had made life uncomfortable for him.
After learning their lesson, Schalke's full-back and defensive midfielder focused on tracking and hassling him in tandem, with blocking his cut-inside lanes as a secondary priority.
Since they couldn't stop Mark's dribble, they simply waited on his inside-cut route, forcing him wide, driving him to the by-line to cross or shoot with his weaker foot!
The tactic worked.
His left-footed crosses were decent, but still a level below those from his right.
Especially with De Bruyne off the field, his chemistry with Hunt was lacking; they couldn't produce sharp give-and-go moves.
That forced him to burn more energy on solo dribbles, take-ons, even build-up play and passing.
If De Bruyne had been on, he'd basically just receive, beat a man, and finish!
That was why, the moment he came off, he 'declared his love' to De Bruyne.
De Bruyne only smiled at Mark's words. "Now you see how good I am?"
Indeed, in matches this season where Wolfsburg's "twin stars" De Bruyne and Mark both started, the Wolves had yet to lose!
"You're my passing mentor—if you weren't good, why would I copy your distribution?!"
"Ha, fair point…"
Yet just as the substituted Mark thought the win was sealed, drama erupted on the field!
Minutes later, Wolfsburg's citadel was unexpectedly breached!
In the 88th minute, Meyer dribbled down the left, drew defenders, and slid a beauty through to Huntelaar.
The Dutchman's snap-shot was pushed behind by Benaglio.
From the resulting corner Schalke stirred chaos in the box, and Kevin-Prince Boateng poked home amid the mayhem!
Thus Schalke predictably equalised at the death!
After levelling, the Miners kept storming forward, while the ten-man Wolves held firm and dragged the score to the final whistle.
~~~
With the referee's whistle, the match ended!
Down to ten men, Wolfsburg were denied at the Veltins-Arena, drawing 2-2 with Schalke.
And so Wolfsburg's Bundesliga record start stopped at eleven straight wins.
For Schalke, the outcome was perfectly acceptable: they had held the League leaders at home, ended the Wolves' streak, and banked a point.
For Wolfsburg, though, it was hard to swallow.
They had dominated the away fixture and should have taken three points to keep the run alive—until one red card ruined everything.
Back in the dressing room, Mark's first sight was Malanda sitting with a towel over his head.
Exchanging a glance with De Bruyne, Mark walked over, sat beside Malanda and patted his arm. "Hey, that wasn't on you."
De Bruyne, on Malanda's other side, added, "Yeah, you only made the kind of tackle a DM might make. No big deal…" Their comfort eased Malanda a little.
When the others returned, none blamed him; they just ruffled his hair or squeezed his shoulder.
Veteran and dressing-room leader Olić came straight up. "Kid, mistakes happen. Hold your head high."
Malanda lifted his gaze to the seasoned pro.
"Football has wins and losses. What counts is not giving up, not sulking, not shrinking."
"If I'd been in your boots, I'd have done the same."
With that, Olić clapped Malanda's shoulder hard and walked off, leaving the youngster mulling the advice.
Soon manager Hecking, back from the presser, entered the room.
Seeing the gloom, he didn't single out the downcast Malanda; he simply said, "Lads, turning three points into one stings me too. But this match can teach us.
"We erred in the second half and they equalised—but that's football!
"On the pitch you make calls—right ones, wrong ones—and we must keep making them without fear."
Listening, Malanda realised his error and that he had to own it.
He raised a hand. "Coach, I need to speak."
"Go ahead."
Under everyone's gaze Malanda stood. "Sorry, guys. My rashness cost us. If I hadn't been sent off, they wouldn't have levelled…"
His honest apology lifted the mood.
Captain Benaglio chipped in, "No worries—mistakes happen. We look forward…"
The squad nodded. "Exactly."
"You were solid first half…"
"Don't dwell on it…"
Their support touched Malanda deeply.
Seeing the unity, Hecking suddenly felt: a team this tight can go far.
As the Wolves' bus left the Veltins-Arena, debate over the match raged.
With the streak over, every outlet weighed in.
No one had expected the side to halt the rampant Wolves to be not Bayern Munich, not Borussia Dortmund, but mid-table Schalke.
Many pointed to Malanda's red as the turning point.
Some Wolfsburg fans flooded his socials, berating him: "Stupid red!"
"You ruined the game!"
"Because of you, the streak is gone!"
To back Malanda, Mark posted a photo of them high-fiving after one of Malanda's goals.
And he captioned it: "Mate, we face everything together! Fresh start!"
He didn't forget to dash into Malanda's social-media comments to tell Wolfsburg fans: "It was just a normal red card for the team!"
"He's one of us; don't blame him—support and encourage him like always!"
Following Mark's post, the rest of the squad piled in, sharing photos with Malanda to back him up.
With the whole team behind him, some level-headed Wolfsburg fans also spoke up: "It's only a draw, no need to make a fuss."
"It's not the end of the world—don't attack the players!"
"Eleven straight wins was already amazing; records aren't everything..."
Ending the streak might actually have come as a relief to the Wolves.
Chasing the run had them so tense they played scared, afraid of a single loss.
Losing isn't scary—being afraid to lose is.
Now the streak's over, they can breathe and focus on the game, not the numbers.
Two days after the red-card fuss, the freshly dethroned Bundesliga pace-setters faced another giant: Champions League match-day five, welcoming the "Blues" of Chelsea to the Volkswagen Arena.
To prepare, Mark, for the first time in ages, called up his system panel:
[Name: Mark Lane]
[Age: 19]
[Height: 181 cm]
[Weight: 74 kg]
[Preferred foot: Right]
[Club: Wolfsburg]
[Cards owned: Samba Elf, Super Substitute, King of Free Kicks]
[Attributes: Control S, Shooting C, Passing C, Defending D, Physical B]
[Rating: First-team regular in a top-half Bundesliga side]
[Available points: 10]
Almost without noticing, he'd cleared 180 cm.
And gym sessions had carved out abs and sharp muscle lines.
Every physical stat had jumped:
Balance from 68 to 78;
Flexibility from 72 to 79;
Strength from 58 to 65;
Stamina from 69 to 75;
Constitution from 60 to 63.
With those gains, his Physical grade rose from C to B.
Over the past month he'd ticked off three season tasks: ten goals for the National Team (5 PP),
ten-plus League goals (3 PP),
and a senior international hat-trick (2 PP).
That gave him ten shiny potential points.
After mulling it over, he slammed nine into Reaction and the last one into Flexibility.
Both stats now sat at 80.
Faster reactions mean faster decisions.
Technically and physically he's edging closer to peak Ronaldinho.
Only game IQ can't be boosted; he'll have to grind tape and minutes to raise it.
Still, watching more and more numbers hit 80-plus, he feels himself getting stronger by the day.
Keep training and playing and he'll only get better—year after year.
He can't wait to see how unstoppable he'll be when every stat tops 90.
Inside the Volkswagen Arena tunnel.
At the back of Wolfsburg's line, Mark eyed the star-studded Chelsea queue.
Three months since their last meeting, both sides arrive at the summit.
While Wolfsburg romp through the Bundesliga, Chelsea cruise in the Premier League.
After 13 rounds: ten wins, two draws, 32 points—six clear of second-place Southampton and eight ahead of Manchester City.
In Europe they've been just as strong.
They lost the opener to Wolfsburg when a returning De Bruyne exploded at Stamford Bridge,
but then reeled off two wins and a draw in the next three.
Now Group G is a three-way knife fight.
Chelsea lead on seven points (2-1-1),
while Sporting CP and Wolfsburg sit on five (1-2-1).
Only pointless Maribor are out; anyone else could finish anywhere in the last two match-days.
So both sides field full-strength XIs,
knowing a win here could punch a ticket to the knockouts.
From kickoff there's no sparring—just toe-to-toe trading.
Still drained from the Schalke clash, several Wolfsburg starters look sluggish.
Chelsea, rotated last outing, snap into gear instantly.
On 17 minutes the Blues strike.
Fàbregas lobs a pinpoint ball over the top.
Costa muscles Naldo off, checks past De Vrij, and slips a square ball to the left.
Hazard drifts inside, opens his hips, and curls a beauty into the far corner.
Benaglio, unsighted, is a split-second late.
The ball kisses the inside of the post and ripples the net.
"GOAL!!!"
"It's in!"
"Eden Hazard! The Blues' number ten fires the visitors ahead!"
Hazard slides to the corner flag in a slick knee-gliding celebration.
The travelling faithful roar and applaud.
This season, with Costa drawing fire, Hazard has terrorised full-backs every week,
posting his best Chelsea form yet.
Tonight, led by Hazard, the Blues are here to avenge that opening-night defeat.
.....
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