Of Pirates, Pokus & Pass Accuracy – Bayer’s Hamburg Heist With a Smile

Sometimes football feels more like a gritty crime novel than a sport. That 2:1 win at the Millerntor? Definitely filed under *"Werkself solves a difficult case under pressure."* Rainy, rowdy, and full of plot twists – just the way we like our Bundesliga away days. And in the end, Bayer 04 walks off with all three points, leaving the local pirates of FC St. Pauli clutching only their moral victories and fair-trade espresso.

Let’s be honest: this wasn’t a masterpiece. No football purist will study the opening 20 minutes and declare it a tactical epiphany. But who cares? We’re here for the points, not poetry. This was one of those classic away grinds – you get in, do your dirty work, keep the engines running, and leave before someone calls the police or VAR.

And let’s talk about our unsung hero turned action star: Edmond Tapsoba. The man was *everywhere*. Clearing balls off the line, scoring volleys like a striker on holiday from the back line – we’d be tempted to check if he secretly cloned himself for this match. That opener? A scrappy, opportunistic strike off a set piece, and just like that, our standard situation prowess was back on display. If there’s one thing this team does consistently, it’s turning dead balls into gold.

Of course, we then did the very Bayer 04 thing of briefly forgetting how to handle a corner. Flekken spilled it like a barista with a caffeine overdose, and St. Pauli were back in it. But did we collapse? Nope. We brought on a kid named Ernest Poku who clearly didn’t get the memo that he’s supposed to *ease* into Bundesliga football. Two minutes on the pitch, one clean strike into the bottom corner, and boom – legend status unlocked. That’s how you make an entrance. Somewhere in Leverkusen, a scout is quietly fist-pumping with pride.

And then there’s Robert Andrich. Back from suspension, breaking records like it’s a hobby. 37 Bundesliga away matches in a row without a loss. That’s not just a stat, that’s a lifestyle. It’s the kind of number that makes you look at his haircut and think, “Yep, that’s the guy I’d follow into a bar fight *and* a midfield duel.” No-nonsense leadership, and when he’s not on the pitch, guys like Grimaldo step in like it’s no big deal. Grimaldo, by the way, continues to play like he’s got a football GPS installed in his left foot – one moment a freekick magician, the next a precision assist machine.

Coach Hjulmand said we showed character – and you know what? He’s spot on. This wasn’t flashy Bayer. This was gritty, efficient, bit-your-lip-and-don’t-blink Bayer. We didn’t need 30 shots on goal; we just needed two clinical moments and 90 minutes of focus. The buildup play still stuttered at times, like someone playing jazz with construction equipment, but the attitude? Rock solid.

So, what do we take from this? First of all: we’re still unbeaten away. 36 times now. That’s not just a streak – that’s a warning to the rest of the league: don’t let Bayer 04 into your house, because we’ll redecorate and take your points while we’re at it. Second: we’ve got depth. Injuries? Rotations? No problem. Bring on the Pokus and Vázquezes of the world, and we keep rolling. Third: we fight. This team has developed a resilience that feels… new. Dare we say: champion-like?

Next up: Champions League night against PSV, then Union Berlin at home. Two very different kinds of games, but with this team, anything feels possible. If we keep combining Bundesliga grit with a sprinkle of magic, we might just be cooking something special this season.

Until then, Werkself fans – clean your boots, polish your Pokus, and enjoy the ride. Because winning ugly is still winning – and we’re getting really good at it.

Tabakovic, You Party Pooper! – A Nearly Perfect Night at the BayArena

Sunday night. Floodlights. Sold-out stadium. Beer in hand. Football, the way it’s meant to be. Everything was set for one of those magical evenings in our beloved BayArena – and to be fair, for 91 minutes, it looked like the football gods were in Schwarz-Rot. Bayer 04 had one hand on the second home win in a row, new faces were settling in nicely, and Ernest Poku was tearing down the right wing like a man possessed. But then came Haris Tabakovic. A name that sounds like he belongs in a Tarantino film – and, unfortunately, a man who decided to ruin everything with a header in the 92nd minute.

Let’s rewind for a moment – somewhere between cautious optimism, tactical tinkering, and Kasper Hjulmand’s growing feel for the squad. Without midfield anchors Robert Andrich and Exequiel Palacios, Hjulmand rolled the dice with Aleix Garcia and Malik Tillman in the double pivot. And surprisingly, the experiment worked quite well. Tillman even ended up scoring – yes, actually scoring! A well-worked goal, served on a plate by the electric Poku, who came off the bench and immediately looked like he was late for a sprint final.

Patrik Schick also showed again why we missed him so dearly. He may not have scored this time (his early header was saved), but the way he moves, holds the ball, and simply *is* a presence up front... it’s all coming back. We can all exhale – Schick is not only fit, he’s also ready to haunt defenders again. And judging by the reactions in the stands, some of us are ready to name our kids after him.

Then came the moment: Poku burning down the right, crossing with intent, Schick misses, but Tillman is there – bang! 1–0. Cue wild celebrations, beer showers, hugs with strangers, and a general feeling that yes, the BayArena is once again a fortress. The kind of moment we live for. The kind of moment that makes you forget the overpriced stadium sausage and the guy behind you who won’t stop yelling “PRESSING!”.

But then... yeah. The 92nd minute. A corner we didn’t really need to concede. A man we definitely didn’t need to leave unmarked. Tabakovic. Header. 1–1. Just like that, the mood turned from “Champions League vibes” to “not this again”. And honestly, it felt like someone just unplugged the karaoke machine at the height of the party.

But you know what? This *wasn’t* classic “same old Leverkusen”. There was no collapse. No collective shrug. No emotional flatline. Instead: frustration, yes – but also defiance. This team is still figuring itself out, but the direction feels right. Hjulmand is clearly imprinting his ideas, and the players – new and old – are buying in. It’s not always polished, but there’s intent. There's growth.

Maza, for example – running like he’s being chased, pressing like a terrier, and slowly but surely becoming someone you *want* on the pitch in tight games. Ben Seghir, too – not perfect yet, but you can tell he’s learning, adjusting, and finding his role. And then of course, the return of Jonas Hofmann. Only on for a few minutes, but celebrated like a cult hero. He didn’t have to do much – just show up and remind us he’s still part of the family.

Of course, a 1–1 against Gladbach is frustrating. Especially when it feels like two points dropped. But let’s not forget: that’s now 12 unbeaten Bundesliga matches against the Foals. The team is still undefeated this season. And while there’s still a missing screw here and there in this tactical furniture Hjulmand is building, the shelf is holding. Just about.

Next up: the wilds of St. Pauli. The Millerntor won’t be friendly, but it’s the perfect chance to shake off the sting of this draw and get back on the winning track. After that? PSV in the Champions League – no time to sulk.

So yeah, thanks for nothing, Tabakovic. But we’ll be back. Stronger. Smarter. And hopefully with fewer dramatic late twists.

And if not? Well, there’s always beer. Leverkusen doesn’t break hearts – it just keeps us on our toes.

Grimaldo bends it (again), Leverkusen bends – but doesn’t break

Well, Champions League nights are supposed to be glamorous, aren’t they? But Bayer 04’s opener in Copenhagen was more like one of those dramatic Nordic crime thrillers – cold setting, unexpected twists, and a plot that had us all screaming at the screen. Only difference? No one died, thank God – though our nerves came close.

Let’s be real: a 2–2 draw away at FC Copenhagen isn’t exactly the “statement win” we had in mind after steamrolling Frankfurt. Twice down, twice levelled – it was messy, frustrating, but in the end, it was Bayer-style chaotic redemption. You know, the kind we fans have gotten oddly comfortable with. Maybe too comfortable.

The evening started the way most horror stories do – with a mistake. Nine minutes in, Copenhagen sliced through our backline like it was IKEA particle board. Larsson scores, 1–0, and the Danish crowd goes wild. Our response? Ball possession. Lots of it. Like, “statistically impressive, emotionally unsatisfying” levels of it. We moved the ball, we passed, we circled – and yet Copenhagen had the better chances. If not for Flekken, who pulled off a massive save before the break (on his UCL debut, no less), we could’ve gone in two down.

Second half? Much better. Hjulmand shuffled the deck, bringing on some young legs and much-needed spark. Ben Seghir, Garcia, and Maza changed the tempo. Suddenly there was drive. There were ideas. There was… hope. And just when that hope was starting to feel like another cruel footballing mirage, guess who stepped up?

Alejandro. Freaking. Grimaldo.

The man’s left foot must’ve been blessed by some ancient footballing deity. Another direct free kick, another postage-stamp finish into the top corner. If you’re keeping count – that’s six (!) free kick goals since 2023. At this point, UEFA might as well ban him from set-pieces for fairness. But we’ll take it. 1–1. Game on.

Or not. Because this is Bayer 04, and we don’t do “easy.” Just four minutes after the equalizer, we fell asleep at the back, and Copenhagen punished us. Again. 2–1. It felt like getting dumped via WhatsApp: you saw it coming, but it still hurts.

But here’s where this team shows its teeth. New squad, new coach, plenty of work in progress – sure. But what they showed in the final minutes was pure mental strength. 90+1, Echeverri (what a spark he’s been!) takes a shot, deflects off poor Hatzidiakos, boom – back of the net. 2–2. Equal parts skill, luck, and stubborn refusal to lose.

So yeah – we didn’t win. But we didn’t fall apart either. And considering it was the first Champions League night for six of our players, in a cold and hostile away environment, there’s plenty to build on. Mark Flekken looked solid, Grimaldo continues to defy physics, and the squad – even if still learning to play together – showed real fight.

Now we move. Sunday, it’s Gladbach at home. Time to trade icy Scandinavia for the warm chaos of the BayArena. Let’s hope the momentum carries. Let’s hope the fire burns a little brighter. And above all – let’s keep that Grimaldo left foot far, far away from injury.

Because if that thing keeps bending balls into top corners, Europe better brace itself.

Grimaldo Lights It Up – And Hjulmand Brings the Heat!

Alright, dear Bayer 04 faithful: after a summer of painful goodbyes, tactical confusion, and a certain Dutchman making every game feel like a root canal with extra anesthesia, who would’ve thought that this season could actually start with... fireworks? Literal ones? Not quite. But when Alejandro Grimaldo is on the pitch, a direct free-kick basically counts as a pyrotechnic event.

Bayer 04 beat Eintracht Frankfurt 3–1. At home. On a Friday night. Under the floodlights. In double bloody numerical inferiority. I repeat: we finished the game with nine players. And we still scored a last-minute goal to seal the deal. If that doesn’t scream mental strength, tactical clarity and some good old-fashioned Werkself madness, I don’t know what does.

Let’s rewind a bit. New coach Kasper Hjulmand is making his BayArena debut. He’s only had a few training sessions with the team after the whole Ten Hag saga (don’t ask), and yet – there he stands, calm and composed like a Scandinavian chess grandmaster. And his team? Not only do they play like they know what they’re doing – they fight, they suffer, and they win.

Grimaldo. What else is there to say? This man treats free-kicks like he’s playing darts at a pub. The first one? Perfectly curled into the corner. The second? Even more ridiculous. Two direct free-kicks in one game. That’s not football anymore – that’s art. That’s physics-defying, goalkeeper-demoralising, wall-useless magic. He now has six (!) direct free-kick goals since joining us in 2023. More than any player in Europe’s top leagues. In fact, we might need to rename set pieces “Grimaldos” at this point.

But it wasn’t just his show. This was a collective masterclass in grit and discipline. Palacios went off early. Andrich got sent off. Then later Fernández followed. We finished the match with two men less. And yet, we defended like maniacs. Badé, in his first start, played like he’s been here for years. Tapsoba turned into a general. And up front, Schick was colder than a Danish winter – burying his penalty like it was nothing, bringing his tally to 15 league goals in 2025. Only Mbappé and Guirassy have more in the big leagues. So yes, let him keep doing his thing – just wrap him in bubble wrap between games.

And now let’s talk Hjulmand. What a debut. No screaming, no showboating, just structure, clarity, and a team that suddenly looks like it knows exactly what it’s supposed to do. After months of chaos, rotating lineups, and midfielders pretending to be defenders, this felt like finally switching your old VHS player for a 4K OLED TV. Clean, crisp, and way more satisfying.

Frankfurt? Sure, they had more of the ball. But they looked about as dangerous as a balloon sword. They scored once, but never really looked like they’d take the game. Bayer, on the other hand, played like a team possessed – especially after going down to nine. That last Grimaldo goal in minute 99 (yes, really) was the perfect ending to a wild night: a team that refuses to lose, refuses to fold, and refuses to let go of the momentum it so desperately needed.

Let’s not forget: this game came after a shaky draw in Bremen and the drama of a managerial switch. But now? Now there’s hope. There’s fire. There’s energy. And with Champions League action coming up next week in Copenhagen – Hjulmand’s hometown, no less – there’s a chance for the next statement.

Because this Bayer team, even after losing stars like Wirtz, Frimpong, and Xhaka, has something you can’t just buy: heart, identity, and a left-back who makes free-kicks look like a cheat code.

Werkself is back. And we're bringing fireworks.

Coaching Earthquake in Leverkusen – Why the Dismissal Was Inevitable

Two games, one point, pure chaos – and Erik ten Hag is already gone. If you know Bayer 04, you know we love to reinvent ourselves, sometimes faster than you can say “championship coach.” And yet, as much as I would have ranted about such an early sacking at first, it has become crystal clear: this one was inevitable.

The performances against Hoffenheim and Bremen weren’t just weak, they were alarming. No structure, no unity, no recognizable plan. Instead of a Werkself ready to build on past strengths, we saw a team stumbling aimlessly across the pitch. Captain Andrich nailed it after the 3-3 draw: “Everyone played for themselves.” That’s not “transition phase” talk – that’s a breakdown. And a club with Bayer’s ambitions simply can’t afford that, especially after the biggest squad overhaul in its history.

What’s truly remarkable: Simon Rolfes immediately stepped up, took the blame on his shoulders, and admitted that hiring ten Hag was a mistake. That kind of honesty is rare in football – and it actually makes Rolfes more likeable in this crisis. No excuses, no hiding, just straight talk. Exactly what you want from a sporting director when things go wrong.

Yes, it’s bitter. Yes, it feels insane to be searching for a new coach after just two matches. But anyone who watched the mess in Bremen knows: this wasn’t going to work out. Better to pull the plug now than lose sight of every goal in a few months’ time.

And us fans? Once again, we’re stuck in that eternal Bayer paradox: too smart to be naïve, too chaotic to ever have it easy. But let’s be honest – isn’t that exactly why we love this club?

How to Drop Two Points in Bremen While Playing with an Extra Man

There are football matches that leave you staring into your alcohol-free beer (seriously), wondering: What the hell just happened? Welcome to Bremen. Welcome to the 2025/26 Bundesliga season. Welcome to Bayer 04 Leverkusen – the club that somehow manages to make even a man-advantage feel like a liability in stoppage time.

And yet, it all started so beautifully. Nathan Tella, turbo-charged with Rhineland rocket fuel, tore through the Werder backline like a hot bratwurst knife through butter. He squared the ball to Schick, who finished like it was the easiest thing in the world. 1:0 after five minutes. Bremen still tying their boots. A dream start, we thought. Finally some positive vibes after that painful opening defeat to Hoffenheim.

But we Leverkusen fans know better. No match without drama. And given the football gods' well-documented love for last-minute chaos on the Weser, we feared the worst—even at 2:0.

Next up: Malik Tillman. Making his Bayer debut, the lad pulled off a piece of ball control that should earn him honorary circus status. Chest, shoulder, volley – goal. 2:0. Bremen reeling. The game looked locked up tighter than Boniface’s medical records.

Then, of course, came the penalty. Tape, full of eagerness and inexperience, clattered into his man. VAR didn’t miss it. Schmid converted. Bremen back in the match just before halftime. A groan rolled through the Leverkusen fan block. Not panic yet – just that familiar, sinking feeling.

Still, the second half kicked off with renewed hope. Schick stepped up for his second penalty of the day and slotted it home like it was a Thursday morning training session. Bremen down to ten men, Bayer back up by two goals. Surely this time, this time, we’d bring it home? But no. Of course not.

Suddenly, Flekken decided to role-play as Manuel Neuer’s evil twin, came flying out of his box, and got completely outsmarted by Schmidt, who made it 3:2. From then on, the chaos switch was flipped. Bremen smelled blood, our defense smelled confusion, and in minute 90+4, that man Coulibaly – yes, the same Coulibaly who served up the first goal with a horror pass – popped up in the right place at the wrong time (for us) and slammed the ball into the net. 3:3. Final whistle. Weserstadion in delirium. And us? Sitting there, stunned, blinking, trying to make sense of it all.

So what’s the takeaway here? Bayer 04 led twice, by two goals each time, and still didn’t win. Not because Bremen were world-beaters – but because we once again threw away control in the key moments. The build-up was slick, the goals were nice, Tillman impressed, Schick is back on the scoresheet... but the concentration? The killer instinct? Missing in action.

Maybe that’s the story of our summer under the Bayer Cross. Players out, players in, system still loading, team chemistry still buffering. Erik ten Hag was brought in to stabilise things, but right now, even a man-advantage feels more like a curse than a blessing.

Still, if you're looking for silver linings: Bayer are now unbeaten in 35 straight away games. Sounds like a record? Sure does. Does it feel like one? Not really. Especially when you’re letting 18-year-olds with redemption arcs break your heart in stoppage time.

Next up: Frankfurt at home, under the Friday night lights of the BayArena after the international break. Feels like the perfect time to actually start the season. And maybe, just maybe, win a match.

Ten Hag, Ten Hakt – Bayer Trips Over the Season’s Starting Line

Well, that’s just great. The new Bundesliga season kicks off and our boys are already flat on the ground. A 1:2 home defeat to Hoffenheim in the BayArena, and right on the Bundesliga debut of Erik ten Hag. All summer long we’ve been dreaming of a shiny new start, of controlled possession football à la Ajax and Manchester, and what do we get? Hoffenheim outplaying us, while we’re stuck sounding like a broken tuba in the school band.

And yet, it all began so beautifully: six minutes in, Grimaldo whips in one of his trademark magical left-footed balls, and newcomer Quansah heads in his very first Bundesliga goal. BayArena buzzing, fans grinning, and you’re thinking: “Yes, the Ten Hag era takes off like a rocket!” Well, turns out it was more like one of those cheap New Year’s fireworks that fizzles with a puff of smoke before it ever leaves the ground.

Because Hoffenheim simply did what we were supposed to be doing: brave, tidy football with just the right amount of cold-blooded finishing. Asllani made it 1:1, Lemperle scored the winner—both on debut, of course. Bayer: the club where opponents love to write their fairy tales.

And what did our lads offer in return? Patience, set pieces, and long-range shots. In other words: the football equivalent of hoping that your Ikea screws will tighten themselves if you stare at them long enough. Tella had one big chance late on, but instead of rattling the net, he rattled only the side netting. Perfect metaphor, really.

Of course, this is just matchday one. Nobody gets relegated after an opening-day loss, even if it feels like that in the stands. But you can already sense that this new Bayer style isn’t quite clicking yet. Ten Hag talks about processes, patience, and hard work. All fair enough—but as fans, we can’t help but wonder: why can’t processes just start with three points for once?

The truth is, this squad is still finding itself. Players out, players in, Boniface practically packing for Milan… it’s like building a puzzle with pieces from three different boxes. Trouble is, the Bundesliga doesn’t wait around until you’ve found the missing corner piece.

Next stop: Bremen, followed by Frankfurt. Not exactly the easiest places to rebuild confidence. But hey—this is Bayer 04. We can turn any situation into either a tragedy or a football fairy tale. Most of the time we choose the messy middle ground: maximum drama, minimum comfort.

So my verdict? Chalk this one up as an early stumble, keep the beers cold, and practice patience. Maybe this was just the classic opening-day tripwire—and maybe the rocket launch is simply delayed by a few weeks.