Chapter 191: Adler

The equalizer changed nothing about how Leverkusen approached the match, which showed just how stubborn Heynckes had made this team.

A weaker side might have panicked after conceding such a strike, losing their shape and chasing the game blindly. Leverkusen simply picked the ball up, reset their lines, and went right back to their suffocating routine. The compact 4-4-2 dropped into place.

Rolfes stood guard in front of the center-backs. Vidal, Ballack, and Renato Augusto pressed in synchronized waves. The tactical fouls kept coming too. They were slightly more careful now that Vidal carried a booking, but they still broke up Schalke’s attacks the instant the ball crossed the halfway line.

The thirty minutes following the goal proved even harder than the opening spell. With their home supporters urging them forward, Leverkusen pushed their lines five yards higher and twice came close to restoring their lead.

Kießling directed a dangerous header from a Barnetta cross straight into Neuer’s chest. A few minutes later, Renato Augusto bent a low shot that skipped inches past the far post with Neuer completely flat-footed. Mateo wiped sweat from his face and thought this was easily the most organized team he had faced in the Bundesliga all season. They were better drilled than Dortmund, far more disciplined than Bayern, and utterly comfortable grinding out a tough contest.

Schalke kept probing for seams, but Adler slammed the door shut every time.

The Leverkusen keeper was putting on a masterclass in goalkeeping, reminding everyone in the stadium why he had worn Germany’s number one jersey for so long. He held onto every driven cross cleanly. He bossed his six-yard box. When Huntelaar finally slipped away from his marker to fire a low, stinging drive toward the corner, Adler dropped down instantly to push it around the post.

The BayArena chanted his name after every save. Magath had warned them about him, and the warning had been completely justified. A keeper in this kind of form was not going to get beaten twice by the same idea.

Mateo got the chance to test that in the 68th minute.

Huntelaar drifted wide to the left, managed to roll his marker along the touchline, and was immediately hauled back by his jersey. This time it was Ballack who committed the tactical foul, sliding across to chop down the striker and snuff out the break. The referee blew his whistle sharply and brandished another yellow card.

The foul gave Schalke a free kick twenty-six yards out, slightly to the left of the penalty box. It was a more difficult angle than the first one. Still, it sat well within shooting range.

Mateo walked over, placed the ball on the turf, and looked up at the wall.

Adler set up his five-man line and then made a subtle adjustment that caught Mateo’s eye. The keeper took an extra half-step toward his far post, visibly shading toward the exact top corner Mateo had found earlier. Adler was gambling that the youngster would stick to his favorite target, having replayed the first goal in his head until he felt confident he could predict the shot.

Mateo noticed the shift and considered driving the ball low toward the unguarded near post instead. But the skill wanted its natural shape, that high, dipping bend toward the far corner, while aiming near-post meant hitting a flatter, less reliable strike on the fly. In the split second he had to choose, he trusted the curved shot that had delivered all season.

He took his steps back, ran up, and struck cleanly through the ball.

The strike felt sweet off his boot. It had more speed and a sharper dip than the first attempt. The ball rose above the wall and began snapping back down toward the top corner, and the traveling Schalke supporters were already jumping up to celebrate.

Adler had anticipated the trajectory perfectly, and a top-level keeper who guesses right is almost impossible to beat.

He shoved off his back foot before the ball reached the peak of its flight. Adler launched his body horizontally, stretching his right arm to the absolute limit. His fingertips grazed the leather, giving it just enough of a deflection to change the angle by a couple of inches.

The ball crashed against the underside of the crossbar, bounced hard off the turf, and spun out behind the goal line for a corner.

The BayArena erupted as if Leverkusen had just scored.

Mateo stood on the edge of the box with his hands on his hips, watching Adler get back to his feet. He felt a flash of irritation before letting out a slow breath to calm himself down. It had been an extraordinary piece of goalkeeping, and there was no point pretending otherwise. Adler looked up, caught Mateo’s eye through the crowded box, and offered a quick, respectful nod. Mateo gave a small nod back, two players recognizing each other’s quality.

Mateo jogged toward the corner flag to take the kick, but a quiet, uneasy feeling nagged at the back of his mind.

The corner came to nothing as Rolfes cleared the ball with a towering header. The match ground on, locked at 1-1, with Leverkusen maintaining their tight defensive block and Adler looking totally unbreakable.

In the 78th minute, Schalke earned another free kick right on the edge of the penalty arc.

Mateo set the ball down, took four steps back, and reached for the skill.

It didn’t activate.