July 16, 2007 - First Team Training Camp, Day 1
Marco stood in the Dortmund first-team locker room, staring at the nameplate above his assigned space: REUS - 24
Squad number 24. The number they gave to promising young players. The number is high enough to avoid the pressure and low enough to show their importance.
Around him, the real players prepared for training. Veterans with hundreds of Bundesliga appearances. Internationals who'd played for national team. Men who earned more in a week than Marco's parents made in a year.
Christian Wörns, the main center-back of the squad— a veteran thirty-five years old, thick accent—walked past and clapped Marco on the shoulder hard enough to make him stumble.
"You're the kid? The one who won the U19 europian championship?" He asked while staring at his face.
For a moment Marco was unsure of how to respond to this big man
"Yes, sir. That's me."
"Don't call me sir. Makes me feel old." The defender grinned. "I'm Christian. Welcome to the real football."
"Thank you."
After scanning him for while Christian continued.
"How old are you this year?"
"I have turned eighteen a few months back."
Christian laughed. "Jesus. I have boots older than you." He pulled on his training shirt. "Advice: Work hard, keep your mouth shut, and don't try to be a hero. You're here to learn, not to impress. Understand?"
"Yes."Marco understood. This was a veteran's advice for a new comer, not him trying to assert the authority. After all, for a 35 year old defender, there was no need for him to suppress a young forward.
"Good kid. You'll do fine." Christian walked away, smiling with satisfaction.
After a while of locker room noise and laughs, the door suddenly opened.
The head coach—a tactical German named Thomas Doll—entered the locker room.
In Marco's memory of Doll was as one of the few managers who led the team in the turbulent seasons after the near bankruptancy.
In 2004, in his first season as manager, he led hamburger SV out of relegation and earned the team a champions league spot. A miraculous achievement for a new manager.
But his highest achievement in Borussia Dortmund was that he managed to keep the team out of relegation. Historically, they finished this season as 13th in the table.
As soon as he stepped into the room, the conversation stopped.
"Gentlemen, welcome to pre-season. For those who don't know, we have several young players training with us this summer. Marco Reus is one of them—U19 European champion, excellent season with our reserves. He's here to push you veterans, and you're here to teach him what professional football really means."
Every eye turned to Marco. He felt his face heating but kept his expression neutral.
"Don't go easy on him," Doll continued. "Marco, since you have played with the reserves for a while, you can adapt to the base level of this team faster. But don't be in a hurry, don't be stressed if you can't instantly perform as you want. More importantly, let your seniors help you. Be more open to suggestions."
Marco nodded, having already prepared for this by system.
The training session was brutal from the first whistle.
They started with fitness testing—sprints, agility drills, endurance runs. Marco held his own here. His eighteen-year-old legs, fresh off summer combined with the system's optimization kept his body sharp.
Then came tactical work.
Doll's system was complex—a 4-2-3-1 with intricate positional rotations, pressing triggers, and defensive responsibilities. The veterans knew it instinctively. They have been living in the system for the whole season. But Marco was lost within five minutes. Even with his studying and tactical preparation he had hard time keeping up with the rest.
"Reus! You're supposed to press the right-back when he receives! Pay attention!"
"Yes, Coach!"
Ten minutes later: "Reus! Wrong position! You're leaving the channel open!"
"Got it!"
The session lasted ninety minutes. By the end, Marco was exhausted and frustrated.
Christian approached him afterward. "So how was the session?"
"Sigh... wasn't it obvious enough?"
"It was. You looked like a confused puppy."
Christian softened. "Don't worry. Everyone struggles at first. Doll's system is complicated. Even veterans struggled with it for the first few weeks. I say, give it two weeks. You should have become familiar with it by then."
"Two weeks? Isn't that a bit too long?"
"Then you'll have to learn faster."
* * *
Marco sat in his apartment that evening, his mind replaying his first training day with first team. There was an ice pack on his knee, his body was aching everywhere.
While he was embracing the comfort of the evening, he was interrupted by an alert.
His phone was buzzing, and he perked up as soon as he saw the name—it was Scarlett calling.
"Hey," he answered.
"Tough day? You sound exhausted. How did your first training session with the team go?"
"I got destroyed in training."
"That bad?"
"Worse. I have no idea what I'm doing tactically. Everyone else has played together for years. I'm just... lost."
Scarlett's voice softened. "You're a newcomer, Marco. They're professionals playing together for years. Of course you're lost. But I am sure you'll figure it out. You always do."
"How do you know that? You've known me for literally four days."
"Doesn't matter. I know more about you than you think. You're the type who doesn't quit, even when you should."
Marco smiled despite his exhaustion. "That's not always a good thing."
They talked for an hour—Scarlett telling him about her day, about another photoshoot, how it was less fun without him, Marco describing the torture of professional training. By the end, he felt better. Less overwhelmed.
They conversed for a long time before Marco reluctantly ended the conversation.
After hanging up, Marco lay in bed reviewing the system's training analysis.
Then he pulled up tactical videos on his laptop and started studying.