Three goals down, Madrid no longer had the luxury of balance.
Defending had lost its meaning.
The priority now was simple: they had to score.
The Champions League this season still used the away-goals rule, which meant an away goal in Germany could still carry huge value across the tie.
If the aggregate score ended level after both legs, the team with more away goals would advance.
For Madrid, even one goal before the break would change the mood, the mathematics, and perhaps the entire tie.
After the restart, Theodore became even more active.
He kept asking for the ball, constantly pointing, moving, demanding, refusing to let the game drift away from him.
Then the fourth official raised the board on the touchline.
Five minutes of stoppage time.
For Madrid, it was five minutes to find something before the half-time whistle. A goal. A spark. Anything.
In the 47th minute, Theodore received a pass from Casemiro in central midfield.
The moment the ball reached him, Dortmund bodies swarmed forward again.
Dahoud and Emre Can closed him down together.
Terzić's idea was obvious. With Madrid three goals behind and desperate before the interval, he knew their attacks would almost certainly flow through Theodore.
So Dortmund's instruction was simple: wherever Theodore went, someone followed. If he received the ball, he had to be pressed immediately.
Lock down Theodore, and Madrid's attack would lose its sharpest edge.
This time, Theodore did not waste energy trying to force his way through the double-team.
He moved the ball quickly out to Ødegaard, then sprinted straight into the penalty area.
He wanted to attack the cross.
He wanted to drag Dortmund's defenders into uncomfortable positions.
On the right flank, Ødegaard brought the ball under control. Inside the box, both Benzema and Theodore raised their hands, calling for the delivery.
Ødegaard had options.
He could cross. He could drive into the box. He could try to combine.
For one second, he hesitated.
Then he chose the cross.
Bang!
The ball curved into Dortmund's penalty area, but the delivery was slightly too heavy.
Ødegaard had clearly meant to find Theodore, yet the cross sailed over his head and continued toward the far side, where Benzema was arriving.
The French striker threw himself forward for a diving header.
But Hummels was there.
The Dortmund defender had already taken the better position, leaning into Benzema at exactly the right moment and making the jump awkward.
Benzema could not attack the ball cleanly, and with his superior height and positioning, Hummels got there first.
He headed it away.
Rob Palmer: "Benzema attacks it, but Hummels wins the duel again!"
Terry Gibson: "That's top-class defending. Ødegaard's cross isn't terrible, but it's not quite where Madrid wanted it. Hummels reads the flight, gets his body in front of Benzema, and makes sure Dortmund deal with it."
Rob Palmer: "And once again, the second ball belongs to Dortmund. Emre Can has it, and they may have one last counterattack before the break."
Emre Can's first thought was to look forward.
Haaland was already moving.
But just as Emre Can lifted his head to search for the pass, Oliver blew the whistle.
Half-time.
Borussia Dortmund 3, Real Madrid 0.
The Westfalenstadion roared the players off the pitch, while Madrid walked toward the tunnel with heavy legs and even heavier faces.
...
Inside the Madrid dressing room, Zidane did not explode.
He did not throw bottles. He did not single anyone out. He did not waste time complaining about the first half.
Instead, he stood in front of the tactics board, marker in hand, and began laying out the plan for the second half.
The players listened in silence.
Their faces were tense, but Zidane's voice stayed calm.
That was important.
Panic would only bury them deeper.
After going through the tactical adjustments, he checked his watch.
There were still five minutes before they had to return to the pitch.
Only then did he look around the room and speak from the heart.
"We still have forty-five minutes to change this," Zidane said. "I've made the plan clear. Now I need every one of you to believe in it."
His gaze moved from player to player.
"Football is played by people. It changes because people make it change. I believe you can create a miracle."
The dressing room remained quiet, but the players were listening.
"Real Madrid have more Champions League titles than anyone because this club does not give up when the night turns against us. We have history in this competition. We have pride in this shirt. So go back out there and give everything. Madrid can still turn this around."
...
While Madrid were trying to rebuild themselves piece by piece, the mood in Dortmund's dressing room was completely different.
The home players were buzzing.
A three-goal lead over Real Madrid at half-time was the kind of thing every young player dreamed about.
The energy in the room was wild, almost reckless, with laughter, shouting, claps on the back, and the kind of adrenaline that made it feel as if the match had already been won.
Haaland, unable to contain himself, even produced a bottle of champagne from somewhere.
"Boys!" he shouted, grinning like a man who had just conquered Europe. "We've stunned the mighty Galácticos! They can't fight back at all!"
He raised the bottle.
"Tonight belongs to Dortmund! Come on, let's celebrate the win!"
In Haaland's mind, Dortmund had already finished the job.
Terzić destroyed that thought immediately.
"Throw that shit away!"
The dressing room fell silent.
Haaland froze, still holding the bottle.
Terzić's face was stern.
"We have not won anything yet," he snapped. "Are you crazy? Champagne at half-time? Have you never heard of Istanbul? Milan thought the game was over too, and Liverpool came back because they celebrated too early."
Haaland's excitement vanished at once.
He looked like a child caught doing something stupid, then quietly lowered the bottle and threw it into the trash.
Terzić swept his eyes across the room.
"We have not won," he repeated. "Madrid will come at us like madmen in the second half. They have too much experience, too much quality, and too much pride to accept this score quietly. If anyone in this room thinks the match is over, then you are already making the biggest mistake of the night."
No one laughed now.
Terzić was only thirty-eight, still very young for a head coach.
He had taken charge of Dortmund's first team only last December, after previously working as one of the club's assistant coaches.
He had not been in the job for long, but he had already helped steady Dortmund with practical, clear tactics that suited the players he had.
And he understood one thing better than anyone in that room.
Real Madrid would not simply disappear.
The second half would be Dortmund's real test.
Many of Dortmund's players were young. Their energy, speed, and fearlessness had ripped through Madrid in the first half, but youth also came with risks.
They did not have Madrid's experience in managing chaos, surviving pressure, or slowing a match down when the opponent began to rise.
On top of that, Dortmund had spent an enormous amount of energy in the opening forty-five minutes.
The pressing, the counterattacks, the constant second-ball battles—it had all taken a toll.
Unless something unexpected happened, their physical levels would inevitably drop in the second half.
And when that happened, Madrid would come hunting.
...
At that moment, inside Dortmund's online fan circles, the Black and Yellow supporters were thinking exactly the same thing as Haaland.
They believed Madrid were finished.
Almost every Dortmund fan was convinced their team were about to crush Real Madrid at the Westfalenstadion.
@YellowWallFaithful: Twenty years supporting Dortmund, and this might honestly be the best European night I've ever watched.
@BVB_1909: We're three goals up against the Galácticos. Three. I'm so damn proud of these lads.
@SignalIdunaNoise: The Westfalenstadion really is Madrid's graveyard. The second they walked into our ground, they looked terrified.
@BlackYellowTalk: The media spent all week hyping Madrid's number ten, but Bellingham has been the best young player on the pitch by a mile.
@BVBPressing: Theodore? Ballon d'Or? Not on this first-half showing. Dortmund have locked him in a cage.
@RuhrFootball: Madrid look like they've never seen a counterattack before. Sancho, Bellingham, Haaland—pure chaos.
Back in Norway, after the first half ended, several football platforms and livestream accounts pushed out one breaking headline after another.
"Dortmund Tear Through Real Madrid: Bellingham Leads First-Half Storm as Galácticos Collapse in Germany"
"Theodore Silenced for Forty-Five Minutes: Dortmund's Wolf-Pack Press Leaves Madrid's Star Searching for Space"
"Madrid Stare at First Defeat of the Season: Can Zidane Inspire a Miracle After Nightmare First Half?"
"Vinícius Under Fire After Costly Turnovers: Madrid's Left Side Becomes Dortmund's Counterattacking Highway"
"Norwegian Duel Tilts Toward Haaland: Dortmund's Striker Bullies Madrid's Back Line Despite Missed Chance"
"Reus Rolls Back the Years: Veteran's Brilliant Free Kick Puts Dortmund Three Goals Clear"
"From Control to Collapse: Real Madrid's Perfect Run Threatened by Dortmund's Young, Fearless Attack"
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