Limitless Pitch-Chapter 118 Signal Iduna Nights

The air was different on European nights.

Even though the sun was still dipping behind the horizon, and kickoff was an hour away, the atmosphere around Signal Iduna Park crackled with an energy Thiago hadn’t yet experienced. League games were loud. This... this was something else.

Outside the stadium, yellow scarves twirled in the hands of fans already buzzing on beer and hope. Flags fluttered from balconies. Supporters in full kit shouted songs and chants into the late summer air. And inside the walls of the stadium, beneath thousands of empty seats soon to be filled, the hum was more than just electrical—it was emotional.

Thiago adjusted his tracksuit collar and looked up toward the towering stands as he stepped off the team bus. He knew he wasn’t starting, and probably wouldn’t get more than a few minutes—if that. But none of that mattered. He was part of the squad. His name was in the program. His boots were packed, taped, and ready.

"Big night," murmured Götze beside him, also wearing a dark team tracksuit. "You nervous?"

Thiago shook his head, then shrugged. "A little. But it’s a good nervous."

Mario grinned. "That’s the best kind. Like when you’re at the top of a rollercoaster. Right before the drop."

Kuba was a few steps ahead, tapping Lewandowski on the shoulder and gesturing toward the fans gathered near the entrance tunnel. "They’re already chanting Barrios’ name," Kuba laughed. "Let’s hope he earns it tonight."

Barrios just gave a tired smile and kept walking. The striker wasn’t much of a talker on game days.

In the dressing room, the energy was dialed back to something more focused. Still intense, but quieter. Studs clicking on tiled floors. The dull thuds of locker doors swinging shut. And Klopp, walking the room slowly, glancing at each of his players without needing to say anything yet.

Everyone knew what this meant.

Dortmund hadn’t played European football for a while. Now they were back, and Signal Iduna was ready.

Thiago sat down at the far end of the room, next to Götze and Sven Bender. His shirt hung above his locker, No. 17, unworn but ready.

"Did you see Udinese’s lineup?" Bender asked, unwrapping a pair of pristine white boots.

"Yeah," Mario replied, leaning back. "Di Natale’s starting. So is Inler. Tough midfield."

Thiago listened, silent, soaking in the tension. This wasn’t like the Bundesliga. There was a different rhythm to it, even here in the locker room. The stakes weren’t about points now. They were about history.

Klopp finally spoke.

"Alright," he said, clapping his hands once. "Listen up."

The room fell quiet.

"This is the kind of night we talk about in training. This is what you grind through summer for. What you lift through fatigue for. European football, our chance to show people who we are outside the Bundesliga."

He looked at Barrios. At Hummels. Then at Kuba, Schmelzer, and the rest.

"And I don’t want you to go out there thinking about pressure. Or expectations. I want you to go out there thinking about intensity. Think about being first to every ball. Think about playing our football, not chasing theirs."

He paced a few steps.

"If we lose, it’s because we tried everything and it wasn’t enough. But if we win, it’s because we made them uncomfortable. From minute one."

A murmur of agreement rose from the players.

Klopp nodded. "Barrios starts. Götze, Kuba, you’re options for the second half. And Thiago," he added, looking toward the end of the room, "be ready."

Thiago looked up. "Yes, coach."

It wasn’t a promise. But it was something.

Warmups under the lights were surreal.

Thiago jogged around the pitch’s perimeter with the other subs, stretching in front of the Südtribüne, where fans were already stomping, singing, clapping in unison. His calves ached slightly from the last two training sessions, but he didn’t mind. The ache reminded him he’d earned this.

From the dugout, Klopp and Zeljko were deep in conversation, pointing toward the far end of the pitch where Udinese’s players were going through short passing drills. They looked sharp. Precise.

"Good tempo," murmured Bender beside him.

"Fast transitions too," Thiago replied. "They’re gonna press high, I think."

"Think you’ll get minutes?"

"Not sure," he said, watching the first team’s rondo close to midfield. "I’m ready, though."

He wasn’t lying.

Even if his name never got called tonight, he was here. In the stadium. On the bench. Wearing the badge. That was more than enough for now.

By the time the teams lined up in the tunnel, Thiago’s heart was thudding at a steady pace. Not panic. Not anxiety. Just readiness.

He watched as Hummels bounced slightly on his toes, adjusting his armband. As Barrios stared down the tunnel like he was already envisioning the goal. As Kuba mumbled something under his breath, probably a prayer, and slapped his thigh twice.

The Udinese players were calm, confident, backs straight. They’d done this before. To them, this was just another round.

To Dortmund, it was a homecoming.

The players walked out to the deafening roar of the Yellow Wall and the blare of the Europa League anthem. Thiago stood beside the bench, hands behind his back, chest rising and falling steadily.

Klopp turned toward him briefly. "Watch Inler," he said. "He likes to drift and pull your midfield apart. You see the gap, you point it out even from here."

Thiago nodded. "Got it."

The whistle blew.

And just like that, the match began.

The first fifteen minutes were chaotic.

Udinese played with sharp lines and compact pressing, forcing Dortmund’s fullbacks into uncomfortable positions. Schmelzer nearly gave the ball away twice under pressure. Hummels barked orders, trying to keep the shape intact.

"Drop five yards!" he yelled after another Udinese cross curled into the box.

On the bench, Thiago watched every movement with laser focus. Each run. Each tactical rotation. How Barrios dropped between lines. How Sahin tried to build but couldn’t find space.

Thiago imagined himself there. Where would he position if Klopp sent him on? Would he sit behind Barrios, or float out wide?

Every movement, every pattern, every voice, he absorbed it like oxygen.

"Can you feel it?" Götze whispered next to him.

"Yeah," Thiago said, eyes never leaving the pitch. "It’s like we’re on the edge of something."

And they were.

Because deep down, he knew: his moment wasn’t far now.