Manuel Neuer was, at this moment, utterly bewildered.
He'd always thought he was a decent judge of character. Some players seemed friendly enough on the surface, always quick with a smile.
When they'd shaken hands before the match, this kid had seemed genuine enough, his eyes clear and bright. An honest young man, surely. What ill intentions could a fifteen-year-old from Dortmund's youth system possibly have?
The evidence now suggested…
This guy was absolutely rotten to the core.
Yes, I'm talking about you, Jin Hayes!
Were you messing with me?
Scheiße!
In front of the entire stadium, Neuer yanked off his gloves and hurled them to the turf in frustration.
Even the Schalke 04 fans were stunned. They had never seen their young goalkeeper, usually so composed, look so utterly defeated.
The reason was that goal. It was simply insulting.
When Jin Hayes had pulled off that ridiculous, acrobatic dribble to escape Fabian Ernst and found himself with space at the edge of the box, the Schalke defenders had been caught flat-footed, unable to close him down in time. Jin had taken the shot first time, a volley.
Looking at his technique, his body shape as he struck it, the Schalke players had felt a wave of despair.
It was clearly set up to be a powerful, driven strike. A rocket.
Neuer was braced for it. The moment Jin Hayes's foot connected, he'd already made his read, shifting his weight, preparing to dive low to his right.
The Dortmund fans had erupted the instant the ball was struck, anticipating a spectacular, net-bursting goal.
And then, in front of eighty thousand spectators and millions more watching on television,
The moment Jin Hayes's foot met the ball, something felt wrong.
A slight awkwardness. A mis-hit.
What was meant to be a clean instep drive, striking through the centre of the ball to create a dipping, knuckleball effect, had gone awry. Jin's standing foot had slipped marginally at the moment of impact, robbing him of any real power.
"Scheisse."
All that brilliant dribbling, wasted!
The ball looped off his foot like a shot from a schoolyard beginner—soft, weak, and arcing high towards goal, seemingly destined to sail harmlessly over the crossbar.
Jin Hayes braced himself for the mockery.
His finishing was still letting him down.
But then, the inexplicable happened.
Neuer, having already committed to his dive to the right, could only watch helplessly as the ball, defying all logic, swerved erratically in the air. It seemed to hang, to float, before beginning its slow, teasing descent towards the goal line. It bounced twice—weak, pathetic bounces—on the lush green grass, trickled past Neuer's despairing, outstretched foot, and rolled apologetically over the line.
The roar of the Westfalenstadion died in an instant. The entire ground was stunned into silence by the sheer absurdity of what they'd just witnessed.
Even commentator Scholl was lost for words.
"Jin Hayes—a powerful long-range effort… What??"
"Erm… well… it's in the net! My word, oh hahaha, that is simply ridiculous…"
And that was why Neuer was broken. He was convinced Jin Hayes had done it on purpose. Deliberately. To humiliate him.
The build-up had been sublime. The close control, the audacity, the sheer talent overflowing from every touch. No one with that level of ability simply miskicked that badly. It was amateur hour.
He was taking the piss. Pure and simple.
As the Schalke players stood frozen, still processing the absurdity, the Westfalenstadion finally remembered itself and erupted. The noise was deafening.
It didn't matter how ridiculous the goal was.
It was in the back of the net.
Jin Hayes, with two assists and a goal to his name, was proving to be Dortmund's lucky charm. Their talisman.
The match director, sensing a moment, panned to a massive banner unfurled in the Südtribüne.
"The Saviour from the East! Leading BVB to Victory!"
The television cameras then found the Heinrich family in the stands.
"Look! We're on the big screen!" Aunt Maria shrieked, pointing excitedly.
Her husband, Uncle Hans, beaming with pride, swept her into his arms and kissed her soundly.
The fans around them cheered and laughed, enjoying the moment.
The camera lingered, faithfully recording the scene. Only Anna, caught in the corner of the frame, had her hands clamped over her face, wishing the earth would swallow her whole.
"Oh my God… this is so embarrassing."
Her parents were treating the stadium camera like a Kiss Cam. It was one thing for them to be so demonstrative at home, but in front of eighty thousand people?
>>>
Out on the pitch, Jin Hayes stood motionless for a second, then spread his hands wide in a gesture of bewildered innocence.
Was this what shot enhancement looked like?
Using the worst finishing technique imaginable to score the most inexplicable goal in football history?
"No, that was not cool. I am going to have to study that," he muttered to himself, still trying to process what had just happened.
His hands-spread gesture, however, was interpreted very differently by the Schalke players.
They saw it as the most blatant, arrogant showboating imaginable.
How dare he!
The miners' players were fuming, teeth gritted with rage.
The Dortmund players, on the other hand, couldn't care less. They mobbed Jin Hayes, celebrating wildly.
Hummels wrapped his arms around Jin's head, bellowing incoherently in his ear.
"GEIL! GEIL!! THAT WAS AMAZING!"
Jin Hayes hastily pushed the big defender away, wiping his ear. "The game's not over yet! Come on, let's finish this! BVB! BVB!"
Led by Jin Hayes, the Dortmund players rediscovered their fire.
From the restart, Schalke could sense the shift. Their opponents were pressing harder, moving with renewed purpose, making life infinitely more difficult.
"Jin Hayes has real presence out there," Dick Fuhren observed, almost to himself. "He's become the heartbeat of this team."
How had a loan player, a teenager, earned such respect? How had he made them all willing to follow his lead?
Thomas Doll just stared at the pitch, silent and thoughtful.
The way Dortmund were playing now bore no resemblance to his pre-match tactical plans. That steady, possession-based midfield game he'd drilled into them? It was utterly unsuited to the chaos of the Ruhr Derby.
The players had found their own solution. Get the ball to Jin Hayes. Let him make things happen.
"Dortmund attack again down the right. Jin Hayes collects the ball and drives forward…"
"Lovely! A simple drop of the shoulder and he's past Levan… I've lost count of how many times Levan's been beaten tonight."
"Past the halfway line, Jin Hayes is surveying the pitch, deliberately slowing the tempo… and what a ball! A magnificent switch to the left!"
Schalke's entire defensive focus had been dragged to the right. Every player in blue was homing in on Jin Hayes, ready to pounce.
And then, with the casual elegance of a matador, he simply passed the ball. A raking, diagonal cross-field pass that bisected the Schalke defence and landed perfectly in the path of the onrushing left winger.
South African winger Delron Buckley collected the ball in space, took one touch to steady himself, cut inside the penalty area, and unleashed a powerful left-footed drive towards the far corner.
Schalke 04's defence, completely undone by Jin Hayes's vision, could only watch.
Only Manuel Neuer, desperately scrambling across his goal line, stood between them and further humiliation. He flung himself full length, fingertips straining.
But the ball curled viciously away from his desperate dive and nestled into the side-netting.
"GOOOOOAAALLL! What a magnificent team goal!"
"In the 79th minute, Borussia Dortmund extend their lead!"
"4-2!!"
"Jin Hayes completes a hat-trick of assists tonight! That takes him to ten assists and four goals in just eight appearances this season! Absolutely incredible!"
"Who would have believed, at the start of the season, that a fifteen-year-old on loan from Arsenal would become Dortmund's most potent weapon?"
Commentator Scholl could barely contain his excitement. A pass of such imagination, such flawless execution—it was a joy to behold.
He wanted to heap every possible praise onto this young man. Watching him play in the Bundesliga was pure pleasure.
The Schalke 04 players were, by now, simply numb.
They had been two goals down, fought back to level terms, and genuinely believed they could snatch a famous victory away from their fiercest rivals.
Instead, this stadium had become a stage for one player's brilliance.
Every time Jin Hayes touched the ball, the crowd roared. Every piece of skill, every pass, drew standing ovations.
Schalke 04 had become his supporting cast.
The relentless pressing they'd poured into the first hour had taken its toll. In these final ten minutes, they had nothing left. No energy to press, no belief to draw upon.
They had conceded defeat in this Ruhr Derby.
Jin Hayes, too, was running on fumes.
Stamina remained his weakest link.
Earlier in the season, he'd always come off the bench, his minutes managed. Starting a game and playing deep into the 70th minute was unfamiliar territory. His legs were heavy, his lungs burning.
High-intensity running, constant physical battles, the energy-sapping bursts of skill—it drained anyone, let alone a fifteen-year-old facing the most physical game of his life.
Right now, Jin Hayes was surviving on willpower alone.
When the ball was away from him, he walked, conserving every last drop of energy.
When it came to him, he couldn't rely on explosive acceleration anymore. Instead, he used his technique, his close control, to buy time, to frustrate the opposition.
"Only a few minutes remaining now. Time is running out for Schalke."
"Jin Hayes, still active on the right wing… and look at this! He's holding off three defenders!"
The commentator sounded astonished.
The ball had been played out to the right touchline. Jin Hayes, surrounded by three Schalke players, was shielding it expertly, refusing to be dispossessed.
The ineffective Levan and Pander had long since been substituted—both would receive humiliatingly low ratings in the post-match press, their afternoons ruined by Jin Hayes's relentless torment.
Only Fabian Ernst remained from the original midfield, still on the pitch, still carrying a yellow card, and still absolutely seething with rage.
Jin Hayes had provoked him all afternoon. Now, watching this kid taunt him by holding off three players on the touchline, constantly shifting the ball, evading tackles, even attempting to turn and break free from the triple-team…
"Scheisse!!"
Ernst snapped. He wasn't holding back.
He grabbed Jin Hayes's shoulder and executed a wrestling takedown, hurling him to the turf.
"OH MY GOD!!!"
The entire stadium gasped as Jin Hayes was slammed violently into the ground.
The most infuriating part? In the split second before he lost his balance, Jin Hayes, with an instinctive flick, used a freestyle move to hook the ball clear, prodding it to Nuri Şahin, who was hovering nearby.
"THE BALL! Play on! The referee hasn't blown his whistle!"
"Brother!!"
Nuri Şahin's eyes stung with emotion. His teammate had just sacrificed his body, drawn three defenders, and still managed to deliver a pass. He could not waste this.
Unmarked, Şahin took a moment to compose himself and slipped a perfect through ball to Alexander Frei in the penalty area.
The Swiss international made no mistake. One touch, one strike.
5-2.
Only then did the referee jog over to the sideline. He checked on Jin Hayes's condition first, then pulled out his yellow card and showed it to the offending Fabian Ernst.
"Two yellows! That's a red! Fabian Ernst is sent off!"
Commentator Scholl could barely contain his glee.
The most intense derby in world football demanded a red card.
"Jin Hayes has single-handedly taken out three Schalke players! He's absolutely wrecked them!"
What Scholl didn't realise was that Jin Hayes's influence extended beyond the pitch. This crushing defeat would have consequences. Two weeks later, Schalke head coach Mirko Slomka would be officially dismissed.
>>>
At that moment, Jin Hayes was still lying on the grass, wincing. Team doctor Frank rushed onto the field, kneeling beside him.
"No serious damage, I think. Just some deep bruising. Can you move?"
Jin Hayes groaned. "My back… my back…"
Frank blinked. Then he recognised the line—Tobey Maguire's Spider-Man. If the kid was quoting movies, he was fine.
Frank allowed himself a small smile of relief. If anything serious had happened to Jin Hayes, he suspected someone would be very upset.
On the touchline, head coach Thomas Doll didn't hesitate. He used his final substitution to bring Jin Hayes off immediately—partly to protect him, partly to prevent any further retaliation from the increasingly unhinged Schalke players.
As Jin Hayes walked slowly towards the sideline, the entire stadium rose.
The applause was deafening, rolling around the Westfalenstadion in waves. It continued for over a minute.
Commentator Scholl's voice was thick with emotion.
"Jin Hayes, in his first Bundesliga start, has delivered a performance for the ages!"
"The Westfalenstadion welcomes their king home."