In the second half, Luca Toni celebrated his third goal at the Westfalenstadion.
He jogged along the touchline, twisting an imaginary screw beside his ear, as 80,000 voices merged into a deafening chorus of boos. For a striker who had lifted the World Cup, it was background noise. He rejoined his teammates with the same stoic expression he'd worn for the first two goals.
What else could the home fans do? Cheer for their own team? Dortmund were playing in fragments, completely suffocated by Bayern's relentless pressure, showing no spark, no initiative. At least the boos were directed at the opposition.
Old Fritz slumped back in his seat, his weathered head shaking slowly, thin hands trembling with a mix of frustration and age. "Hopeless! Two goals down and they've surrendered before the final whistle! Cowards! In my day, I'd have knocked some sense into them with a rifle butt!"
"Calm down, Fritz," Aunt Maria chuckled softly, patting his arm. The old man's blood pressure was already a concern; a trip to the hospital after a loss would be adding injury to insult.
She glanced at her daughter, who sat quietly, eyes fixed on the pitch. "Why don't you take Grandpa home? You never really enjoy the matches anyway."
Anna didn't look away. "No. We can still win."
"What?"
"The game. He hasn't played yet."
Maria sighed. "Oh, my naive child. It's over. There's no coming back from this."
Hans returned with a fresh beer, draping a heavy arm around his daughter's shoulders. "That's my little princess! Loyal to Black and Yellow through and through! Jin isn't on yet, but when he steps on that pitch, we turn this around, you'll see!"
"You reek of beer," Maria grimaced, pinching her nose.
Hans grinned, pulling his wife into a one-armed hug, his face flushed. "Believe in Jin! Right, lads?"
"Absolutely!" The surrounding fans raised their glasses in unison.
"Comeback! Comeback! Comeback!"
At the front of the block, the capo of the Südtribüne stood tall, waving a massive black and yellow flag. He cupped his hands around his mouth and led the terrace in the anthem, voices rising as one:
"Heja BVB! Heja BVB!"
"Heja heja, heja BVB!"
"Heute werden wir siegen!"
"Mit Angriff voller Wucht!"
"Zeigt, dass der BVB was kann!"
"Kämpfen bis zum Schluss!"
In the dugout, Nuri Şahin sat with his head buried in his knees, the weight of a 3-0 deficit pressing down on him. The fight had drained from his shoulders.
It was the song that made him look up. The sound, unwavering and fierce, washed over him. "They haven't given up..."
"Why would they? The game's not over." Jin Hayes sat beside him, gaze fixed on the pitch, tracking every movement like a camera following a play.
"Get ready. We're going on."
"What? No way, we're three down..." Nuri started, but was cut off as assistant coach Dick Fuhren jogged over.
"You two. Get stripped and ready. Now."
Nuri stared, dumbfounded. Jin just tapped his temple. "Read the game, kid."
He had been. Every detail. Brazilian midfielder Tinga was constantly a step behind his man, his runs losing urgency in the second half, passes going astray. He was a passenger in both defence and attack. On the right, Jakub Błaszczykowski was anonymous. Every ball that reached him died there, posing no threat and stalling any attacking momentum.
From watching Thomas Doll all season, Jin knew the pattern. When trailing, the coach would often "throw something at the wall," turning to younger players to inject energy and see if anything stuck. Desperation substitutions, but substitutions nonetheless.
As predicted, Doll pulled them aside, outlining the situation quickly. "Nuri, I need you to settle things in midfield. Look for the right channel, get Jin on the ball as much as possible."
He turned to Jin, hesitating for a long moment before settling on a simple instruction. "Forget the tactical plan. Just... play. Take them on."
Jin nodded. "Okay."
The fourth official checked them in, scanning for illegal equipment. He paused at Jin's black gloves. "Off. Let's see."
After a quick inspection, he smirked. "Girlfriend's? For luck?"
"Yeah." Jin saw no need to explain further.
"Take care of them, then."
Standing on the touchline, Jin pulled the gloves back on. The cold November air bit at his neck, but his hands felt strangely warm. His gaze drifted to the back of his left hand, where Anna had scribbled "Good Luck" in slightly crooked letters that morning. It looked better than any official club merchandise.
….
"Hey hey hey!! He's on, he's on!"
Spotting Jin Hayes's face on the screen, Ding Ru excitedly grabbed her husband's arm, making him wince.
"Woman, he's on, I can see that! You're pinching me!"
On the television, Jin Hayes's expression was calm, that easy smile carrying the quiet confidence of a 15-year-old who knew he belonged.
Chen Jianping felt a familiar knot of pride and worry tighten in his stomach. Borussia Dortmund were in disarray. One young player, no matter how talented, couldn't single-handedly fix a broken team. He just prayed his son would emerge from this match unscathed, and play the game he loved. That would be enough.
"Okay, we're seeing the substitution signal from Borussia Dortmund!"
"Number 7, Tinga, and Number 16, Jakub Błaszczykowski, are being replaced."
"Coming on are Number 35, Nuri Şahin, and making his appearance... Number 24, our 15-year-old prodigy, Jin Hayes!"
For Duan Xuan, calling a Chinese name on CCTV's Bundesliga broadcast still felt new. He remembered the era of Shao Jiayi and the hope he represented. Then came the wave of players like Sun Jihai, Li Tie, and Zheng Zhi, who had carved out respectable careers in England. Now, with that generation fading, the spotlight in Europe had largely shifted elsewhere. A young player at a top club, struggling for minutes, had become a symbol of unfulfilled potential for many fans back home.
But tonight, there was no time for melancholy reflection.
The name on everyone's lips wasn't a cautionary tale; it was Jin Hayes. A prodigy who had seemingly appeared from nowhere, and he was about to enter the fray.
"Jin Hayes has made substitute appearances in the last five league games and has made a significant impact each time," Duan Xuan continued, his voice rising with excitement. "Most notably, two rounds ago against Wolfsburg, he picked the ball up near the halfway line, dribbled past five defenders, rounded the keeper, and slotted it home. A stunning individual goal!"
"That goal also made him the youngest ever scorer in Bundesliga history. And now, he's only the second Chinese player to achieve that feat in the German top flight!"
Beside him, analyst Wei Qiyue nodded in agreement, a rare smile on his usually stoic face. For years, they had watched and celebrated the achievements of players from other nations. Now, they had one of their own, writing his own story in real-time.
"Jin Hayes's path to the professional game is certainly unique," Wei added. "He was discovered through a talent identification programme, 'Football Future,' and was subsequently scouted by Arsenal's youth academy..."
"Hold that thought, Wei! Look at this! Dortmund have a throw-in!"
The game had restarted, and the ball was immediately worked down the right flank. Right-back Philipp Degen positioned himself for a long throw into the Bayern box. The ball sailed in, a high, looping trajectory aimed towards the far post.
In the box, Daniel van Buyten, a mountain of a defender, positioned himself against the slender Asian teenager. Van Buyten held his ground with ease, a slight nudge enough to jostle Jin off his intended spot, sending him stumbling forward. But as the ball descended, Jin reacted quickest. Amidst the forest of bodies, he stretched out a foot, deftly hooking the ball down and out of the air, simultaneously flicking it past a lunging Christian Lell.
He now had the ball at his feet, but was immediately swarmed. Bastian Schweinsteiger and Mark van Bommel closed him down, while Van Buyten recovered to block any path to goal. Three of Bayern's finest, surrounding a 15-year-old in their own penalty area. Possession was surely about to be won back.
The next second, the script flipped.
Under the intense pressure, Jin shifted his weight, dropped a shoulder, and performed a sudden, sharp turn that left Schweinsteiger grasping at air. He shielded the ball from Van Bommel's lunge, then, with a burst of acceleration, squeezed through a narrowing gap between the Dutchman and Van Buyten. In the space of two heartbeats, he had gone from being trapped to being through on goal, leaving the three Bayern stars momentarily frozen, processing what hadn't happened.
"OHHHH!! JIN HAYES!! JIN HAYES!!"
The dazzling sequence left Duan Xuan momentarily speechless, reduced to pure, excited shouting.
In goal, young Michael Rensing was in no-man's land. He had never seen anything like it. His own defenders, three of them, had been bypassed as if they weren't there. Panicked, he rushed out, throwing himself at the teenager's feet. But Jin was already a step ahead. He dragged the ball back with the sole of his foot, spun away from Rensing's desperate dive, and with his back to goal, calmly flicked a back-heel across the face of the empty net.
Alexander Frei, arriving late but right on time, simply had to redirect it over the line.
One minute on the pitch. One goal created out of nothing.