The Never Champions Season Review 2024/25: Xabi Leaves, the Record Stands – and Sadly, the Ugly Salad Bowl Does Too

It all began in late summer 2024 with that queasy feeling every Bayer fan knows: optimistic anticipation laced with a cautious dread of the next drama. After more than a year without a Bundesliga defeat – 462 days unbeaten, just imagine that! – we secretly believed we were indestructible. Of course, typical Bayer that the very moment we got comfortable, the next slap was waiting. In early September, RB Leipzig came to town and ended our beautiful run in a match that was both theatre and tragedy. We led 2–1 at halftime, the BayArena was buzzing, everything smelled of the next triumph – until Kevin Kampl spoiled the party just before the break. What followed was a Leipzig onslaught and a 2–3 final score against us. That’s how quickly it can change: one moment you’re over the moon, the next you’re in the depths of despair. We fans took a big gulp of gallows humor and exchanged rueful grins with a resigned “Well, typical Bayer…” The first international break couldn’t have come at a better time—wounds needed licking, nerves needed settling.

But giving up was out of the question. Our Werkself bounced back from that setback with even more determination, as if Xabi Alonso himself had ordered a defiant counterreaction. In the league, we swept through autumn like a well-oiled machine. Win followed win, and whenever things got shaky, the boys always found a way. Eleven Bundesliga victories in a row eventually sat on our record – we pinched ourselves now and then to make sure it was really our Bayer 04 down there. Patrik Schick started banging goals in rapid succession again, making us almost forget how injury-prone he’d been at times. Florian Wirtz enchanted us week after week with dribbles that looked like moving works of art. Jeremie Frimpong raced up and down the wing like a Duracell bunny on espresso, and newcomers like the clever Aleix Garcia slotted into the ensemble seamlessly. At home in the BayArena, Bayer was almost unstoppable – and away? Away, we were becoming legends. Every foreign ground felt like our own living room. “Away is the new home,” we joked, as the Werkself set one away-game record after another.

Of course, not everything went smoothly, and some victories were tighter than we liked. Games like in December, where we scraped a nervy win, aged us like poorly stored Camembert. And in November, there was that day they showed us a lead is never a guarantee – we threw away points all too carelessly, much to our chagrin. But none of that changed the fact that Bayer 04 went into the winter break with a perfect record. Second place in the table, just behind Bayern, and the mood in Leverkusen swung somewhere between cautious dreaming and the quiet question: “Could we actually…?”

The drama really kicked into gear after the New Year. At the end of January, we faced that dreaded trip to Leipzig – and what can I say, it became yet another Bayer moment for the history books. On the fan bus to Saxony, we joked about why we put ourselves through this. The answer came straight on the pitch: because we love this team, even when it drives us mad. In Leipzig, our lads started like a fire brigade. Florian Wirtz weaved through their defense, Patrik Schick scored the opener, and Aleix Garcia even made it 2–0 – we rubbed our eyes in disbelief. Maybe, just maybe, we could do it this year? But as every Bayer fan knows: if you celebrate too early, it’s usually your own fault. Before the break, Leipzig pulled one back via a deflected free-kick and, suddenly, nerves were frayed. In my half-time pep talk, I whispered, “We’ve got this.” Mistake number one.

What came next felt like a creeping horror film. Leipzig kept battering us, but our Finnish rock Lukas Hradecky held firm at first. Wirtz, our little magician, rattled the woodwork more than once – as if competing in a personal aluminum-hitting contest. The clock ticked, Leipzig threw everything forward, and we defended with man and mouse. Then, in the 85th minute, disaster: a Leipzig free-kick swung in, Edmond Tapsoba met it with a header – unfortunately into our own net. Own goals are like heartbreak: you know they can happen, can’t change them, and they sting all the same. 2–2 – instead of an away win, only a point. I stood in the away end stunned, and as the Leipzigers celebrated, we realized: Bayern had once again pulled six points clear. The title dream we’d secretly held was abruptly out of reach. It felt as if fate whispered mockingly, “Don’t get your hopes up, you Leverkusen lot.”

But there was little time to brood, because big stages awaited on multiple fronts. In the Champions League, we had qualified convincingly for the last 16 – Bayer 04 in the knockout phase of the Champions League, that sounded like grand nights ahead. And then, as always, the draw pitted us against FC Bayern Munich in the round of 16. Of course. Who else? We fans took it with a pinch of irony: the record champions, as if the football gods wanted one more test. The first leg in Munich went badly, leaving us with a deficit for the second leg. But oh, the hopes were there: a magical night in a sold-out BayArena – just as we’d dreamed. The stadium trembled, we began like possessed. Bayer pressed high, pinned Bayern back. Schick had chances, Frimpong was everywhere, and Granit Xhaka doled out tackles like a carnival bouncer. For half an hour, we could almost smell a sensation – you could see Bayern wobbling. Maybe, just maybe, there was something in this?

Then came that moment. A lapse at a set piece – Bayern’s free-kick. And who was perfectly placed? Harry Kane, that goal magnet with an instinct for big moments. Boom – header, 0–1. Combined with the first-leg deficit, it felt like a cold shower after a raucous night: bitter, yet somehow predictable. That goal extinguished our last spark of a semifinal dream. The Werkself threw everything forward still, pumping every ball upfield – but when Alphonso Davies added a second, the game was done. Dream over. No magical night, no Leverkusen miracle. Instead, the sobering realization that we still fell short of Europe’s elite. It hurt. We’d so often proven we could beat anyone. We wanted it so badly. And deep down, we’d dreamed bigger than another round-of-16 exit. But: we are Bayer 04. We get back up, no matter how often we’re knocked down. The Champions League was gone, but the season wasn’t over!

Hardly had we digested that European exit than the DFB-Pokal beckoned – our remaining path to silverware. As cup holders (yes, we’d finally won something last year!), we marched through the rounds, and in the quarterfinals came the Rhine derby against 1. FC Köln. Oh, that evening… Matches against Köln are never for the faint-hearted, but this quarterfinal aged us by a decade. The atmosphere? Electric. The game? An emotional rollercoaster. Bayer dominated early, missed chances, and of course Köln struck first – a classic cup punch. Damion Downs scored for the Domstädter and the Köln fans partied. We Leverkusen fans felt that familiar flutter: would our cup dream end against our archrivals? But our Werkself answered with heart and fury. It swung back and forth, we equalized, took the lead – only to concede again. 2–2 after 90 minutes, extra time, pulse at 180. In the 98th minute the explosion: goal for Bayer! 3–2! Köln threw everything forward, even scored, but the VAR had no mercy: offside! When the whistle blew, we hugged each other, utterly drained and elated. Victory! Semifinal! What a night on the Rhine! The title defense lived on, and we’d shown Köln where the barrel gets its best juice. In that moment, we truly believed: Cup? Bayer can do that – maybe we’d keep this one, too!

Well… maybe. Or maybe not. Four weeks later came the season’s biggest blow, one that would haunt our nightmares: the Pokal semifinal at Bielefeld’s Almstadion. Third-division side versus Bundesliga leader – on paper, an easy win. But in the cup, other rules apply. Still, whatever happened that Tuesday in early April felt like a particularly cruel episode of “Gotcha!” for Bayer fans. Anyone there live probably wanted to switch off their phone after 30 minutes, throw their shirt straight into the wash, and pretend the game never happened. But that’s fan life – especially in Leverkusen.

It began according to plan, as if written for a comfortable victory: Jonathan Tah headed in from a corner for 1–0, and in the stands it was full Feierabendbier mode. Lead secured, all good—up to that point, you could snack on your bratwurst in peace. But that was the last moment Bayer truly controlled the match. What followed was collective head-shaking. Bielefeld pressed aggressively, our team suddenly looked clueless, and Xabi Alonso’s game plan seemed to have melted on that bumpy Alm turf. Long balls flew high as if we’d been beamed back to 2005 or caught in a monsoon. But on that field every high ball dropped like a wet sack – as effective as a vegan barbecue in a butcher shop. Combinations? Absent. Tempo? Only with the opponent. While we flailed away, Bielefeld did exactly what we’d wanted to do: play football. The Arminia combined, fought – and scored. Twice the net rippled for them, and paradoxically, each Bielefeld goal felt inevitable. Our defense became Swiss cheese, and up front we found no answer. Before we knew it, we were 1–2 down at halftime – Tah’s opener nothing more than a footnote, Bielefeld fans dreaming of Berlin, us standing like drenched rats.

In the second half we waited desperately for a late Bayer surge – but all that came were aimless crosses and a hopeless attempt to talk football gods into our favor by launching Tah as a makeshift striker. Sure, one shot clanged off the post, and Amine Adli forced a fine save, but the truth was: if you enter a cup semifinal against a third-division side with no plan for 45 minutes, you don’t deserve better. 1–2 – out, done, nowhere instead of Berlin. After the final whistle the players stood stone-faced before us in the away end. Granit Xhaka argued angrily with fans, heads hung, eyes vacant. This was more than a defeat – it felt like a deep stab in the heart of our season. A mental knockout leaving scars long after.

For us hardened supporters, it meant: slump, take a deep breath, and somehow carry on. Never give up, even when it hurts. The team vowed to double down in the league – salvage something from this season so it wouldn’t end in pure disappointment. And indeed, the Werkself responded in the final league sprint: character was needed now. But in the weeks after the cup exit, it was a rollercoaster of emotions. A few matches saw drawn-out stalemates, as if stuck in a time loop. A dreary 0–0 at home against Union Berlin felt like Groundhog Day – no win, just frustration. And before that, a dispiriting 0–2 loss to Bremen – a day nothing worked. Yet instead of burying their heads, they rallied once more. Xabi Alonso reminded the team of their qualities: stay calm, believe, press on.

At the end of April, just when everyone thought the air was out, Bayer 04 flipped a switch. Against Augsburg we witnessed one of those days when everything clicked: sunshine, cold beer in the cup, and a Werkself that shook off all the season’s frustration. 2–0 we won, casually and confidently, as if the collapse never happened. Schick scored early, Buendía curled a beauty into the top corner – pure popcorn cinema. While we celebrated, we knew: this win was more than three points, it was a statement. The Bayern fiesta would be postponed! Indeed, this victory prevented Munich from clinching the title early. “Mission accomplished – Rhine party crashers,” we laughed on the journey home. The lads had shown true character. And we fans thought: maybe this season can still end with a perfect finale? A glimmer of hope flickered – after all, you’ve got to keep dreaming.

But the third-to-last match in Freiburg finally ended our title hopes – but not before one last whirlwind of emotions. It was Jonathan Tah’s 400th appearance for Bayer 04, and what did our captain do? He wrote his own script. The game was a tough slog. Freiburg defended deep, we played tame possession football with no bite. In the pouring rain little happened – until a long-range shot from Freiburg’s Lennard Eggestein somehow found the net, our loanee keeper Matej Kovar looking unlucky. 0–1 down. And then – because misery loves company – Piero Hincapié deflected another ball into our own net. A slapstick own goal of the highest order that stopped every Bayer fan’s heart. 0–2! Against Freiburg of all teams! As the Breisgau fans dreamt of a sensational upset, we knew: one more dropped point here means the title for Bayern. You could practically sense the corks popping in Munich. Still – or perhaps because of that – our “now or never” mentality kicked in. Florian Wirtz took matters into his own hands, weaving through the Freiburg defense and unleashing a shot that thudded off the inside of the post and in. 1–2, twenty minutes to go. Suddenly that mad hope was back. The Bayer hope that never quite leaves you, even when reason says to give up.

And it happened: in stoppage time, one last corner for us, the ball swung in – and who rose highest? Jonathan Tah. With what I like to imagine was his farewell shoulder charge, he headed it over the line! 2–2! The stands went ballistic, we celebrated like champions. Tah had headed his way into our hearts, literally. Sure, objectively it was “just” a draw. Yes, that officially put the title out of our reach – Bayern stood unassailable and kept the ugly salad bowl. But who cares? In that moment only one thing mattered: 33 away games unbeaten! With that point in Freiburg, Bayer Leverkusen equaled Bayern’s decades-old away-record. Two entire Bundesliga seasons without an away defeat – let that sink in. If you can’t have the trophy, at least you have the record. “A record for eternity,” muttered one fan beside me, almost reconciled. We shrugged: that we handed Bayern the title? No big deal. They win it every year – but a record like this? That’s ours! Simply insane. Simply Bayer.

That set the stage for the penultimate matchday – a home game against Borussia Dortmund that held more emotion than sporting significance. Second place was secure, the championship decided, Dortmund still fought for a Champions League spot, but for us Leverkuseners it was all about saying farewell to two great club legends. Xabi Alonso and Jonathan Tah walked onto the home pitch for the last time in the Bayer shirt. The match itself? An afterthought. Yes, we lost 2–4 to BVB. Yes, we probably could—and should—have won – chances were there. But who cared on that Sunday? A hint of melancholy hung over the stadium, mixed with the scent of bratwurst and beer. Banners read “¡Gracias, Xabi!” and “Thanks, Jona!” As the two were honored before kickoff, even the steeliest Ultras had tears in their eyes. We all knew: two figures who shaped our Bayer heart were leaving.

Xabi Alonso – the maestro on the touchline who arrived when we were stuck in “meh” and “another coaching change?” and turned our gray mush into a Michelin-star menu. In a short time he molded the Werkself into one of Europe’s most stylish and successful sides. He may not have delivered the Meisterschale, but he left something far more precious: hope. Hope and pride in being a Bayer fan. Under Xabi we saw football that made us dream and finally felt like we could achieve something big. No wonder hundreds of scarves with his name waved as he climbed the fence, tapped his chest, and bid us farewell with shining eyes. Goosebumps all around – not just a coach leaving, but a friend.

And Jonathan Tah – our “Capitano,” our rock in the storm, ten years at the club through thick and thin. He embodied what it means to be a true Werkselfer: loyal, down-to-earth, always there when it mattered. A fitting farewell for a Bayer icon.

Final matchday in Mainz. Bayern crowned champions, Leverkusen runners-up. But Bayer 04 wouldn’t be Bayer 04 without a little drama. Three Mainz goals ruled out. Two penalties. A shaky draw. 2–2. And then: 34 away matches unbeaten. A record for eternity.

And so the 2024/25 season ends for Bayer 04 Leverkusen with second place in the Bundesliga, countless unforgettable stories, and that typically ironic Leverkusen conclusion: Had it all – except the Meisterschale. Again no league title. But honestly: who needs that ugly salad bowl every year when you get records, legendary matches, and magical moments on a silver platter? We laughed, cried, trembled, and rejoiced. We endured cup nights and dreamed Champions League dreams. We fell from the clouds and got right back up. At the end stands not just a solid table finish and an away record for the ages, but above all: the unshakable feeling that being a Bayer fan is a damn good time. Alonso goes, Tah goes – but the love for this crazy club remains. We found hope again, and around here, that’s a rare commodity. What remains of this season? No trophy. But pride. Joy. Hope. A team that grew. A club that won our hearts. A coach with style. A farewell that hurt. And a record that will last forever.

The “Never-Champion (That’s So Yesterday)” Season Review: Forecast vs. Final Standings

When I published my season forecast for the 2024/25 Bundesliga on Wednesday, August 21, 2024, I was brimming with confidence: RB Leipzig at the summit, followed by Bayern Munich and Bayer Leverkusen. Five months—and 34 matchdays—later, after countless twists and turns, the final verdict is as sobering as it is exhilarating.

At the very top, it became clear that last season’s powerhouses don’t always clinch the crown. RB Leipzig, my presumed title favorite, faltered early with a string of injuries and dips in form, ultimately finishing seventh rather than first. In stark contrast, Bayern Munich preserved their trademark consistency: my prediction of second place turned out to be too modest—they marched to the title with room to spare. Bayer Leverkusen likewise outperformed expectations by one spot, ending the campaign in second. These two clubs dominated the table and relegated Eintracht Frankfurt—whom I had slotted mid-table—to a surprising third place, thanks to Frankfurt’s tactical ingenuity and impressive consistency.

In the chasing pack, Borussia Dortmund largely held course: I forecast them in fourth place, and that’s exactly where they landed. Borussia Mönchengladbach likewise met my mark at tenth, while VfL Wolfsburg missed by only two spots, coming in eleventh instead of ninth. Particularly commendable were the seasons of SC Freiburg and Mainz 05: Freiburg climbed to fifth (versus my seventh-place prediction), and Mainz thundered all the way to sixth (versus my eleventh).

Disappointments, however, struck teams I had rated more highly. VfB Stuttgart slipped from my projected fifth into ninth, exposing defensive frailties. TSG Hoffenheim, pegged for a comfortable mid-table berth, plummeted to fifteenth. Union Berlin and FC Augsburg eked out safety in thirteenth and twelfth, respectively—only marginally better than my forecasts and just above the relegation zone.

At the foot of the table lay the greatest divergences. VfL Bochum, whom I had pegged at fifteenth, tumbled all the way to eighteenth and into the second division. Heidenheim finished sixteenth, Kiel seventeenth, making their demotion battles only marginally less dire than I anticipated.

Looking back, this season underscores that even the most seasoned analysts can be outwitted by the Bundesliga’s inherent unpredictability. Injuries, peaks and troughs of form, and surprise managerial changes can upend the balance of power overnight. My 2024/25 review is thus less a tale of failure than a celebration of what makes German football so thrilling: its volatility. And it’s precisely this unpredictability that fuels the enduring fascination of the Bundesliga.

VAR, Victory, and Very Long Records – Bayer 04 Says Tschüss with a Bang

 If you go 34 (!) consecutive Bundesliga away games without losing, you’re either defying the laws of physics or you’ve got a giant red Bayer cross on your chest. Our Werkself just wrapped up the 2024/25 season with a wild 2:2 draw in Mainz, and while the match might not have had title drama, it had everything else: chaos, comedy, controversy – and history. With that result, we’ve officially set a Bundesliga record: 34 straight away matches unbeaten. Bayern? Never heard of her.

Let’s talk about the game – although calling it a "game" is generous. The first half was a full-on VAR festival, where the video assistant referee decided to make one last desperate push for MVP. Mainz put the ball in the net three (!) times in 30 minutes, and each time VAR popped up like an annoying software update to say “Nope, try again.” Honestly, we were one offside away from a full-blown drinking game.

Meanwhile, Bayer in the first half? Let’s be honest – flatter than our Meisterträume in May. The boys in black and red barely showed up while Mainz threw everything forward, including a bicycle kick, two tap-ins, and the ghost of Nadiem Amiri. And yet, somehow, it stayed 0:0 until Paul Nebel finally beat Hradecky – with a helpful deflection off Jonathan Tah. Not ideal, but at least it counted, which is more than we can say for most Mainz goals that day.

Second half? Totally different story. Xabi Alonso – managing his final game in charge of the Werkself – made some halftime changes and suddenly Bayer remembered that football also happens outside the BayArena. Enter Patrik Schick, the Tschechischer Traum. First he won and buried a penalty like it was 2022 again, then he headed in a corner five minutes later like it was his job. Because, well, it is.

That 2:1 lead didn’t last long though, because of course it didn’t. This is Bayer 04, not Disney. Mainz earned a controversial penalty of their own – the kind where you need five slow-motion angles, an Ouija board and a panel of philosophers to interpret it. Burkardt equalized, and suddenly we were back at 2:2. Mainz kept pushing, even thought they’d won it in stoppage time, only for the VAR (yes, again) to cancel yet another goal – this time for a handball. At this point, the VAR probably deserved its own man-of-the-match award and a warm bath.

So we leave the 2024/25 Bundesliga season with a point, a record, and a bittersweet goodbye. No Meisterschale, but a second-place finish, a whole lot of memories, and two full years of not losing away from home. Not too shabby for a club whose nickname literally translates to "Never Champions."

And yes, it was Xabi Alonso’s last dance. No trophy in hand, but a legacy firmly cemented. He took us from “might make Europa League” to “might actually win it all” – and even though we didn’t, we believed. In Leverkusen, that’s already a miracle.

The pros head to the beach now, but the U19s take center stage tomorrow in the BayArena, battling Köln for the national title. Over 22,000 tickets sold – and counting. If you’re not there, do you even Werkself?

Oh, and one more time for the haters in the back: 34 away games unbeaten. Records are forever. And so is Bayer.

Tissues Over Tactics – Leverkusen Says Goodbye to Two Hearts of the Club

Let’s be honest: the 2–4 against Dortmund? Nobody in Leverkusen will remember the score. What we will remember is the lump in our throats, the scarves held high, and the moment Xabi Alonso stood on the advertising boards, waving goodbye. This wasn’t just the final home match of the season. It was the farewell of two pillars, two icons, two heartbreakers: Xabi Alonso and Jonathan Tah.

Sure, there was a football match. Frimpong scored a beauty, we created chances galore, and the BayArena was buzzing early on. But Dortmund, in all their calculated efficiency, punished every mistake with the precision of a Swiss tax accountant. Kobel turned into a brick wall, and we found ourselves down 1–4 before Hofmann added a little late gloss. But honestly? The game was just background noise to the real drama.

Let’s start with Xabi. Oh Xabi. The man who strolled into Leverkusen with the poise of a Bond villain and the tactical brain of a chess grandmaster. He didn’t just coach this team – he transformed it. From a club known for almosts and not quites to one that played with elegance, courage, and a newfound identity. In two and a half years, he made us believe – not just in results, but in style. And now he’s probably heading off to Real Madrid, where he’ll sip espresso in the sun and win trophies with the same calm he used to defuse press conferences. And though we’ll miss him terribly, we can’t help but be proud. He made us dream. He made us proud to be Bayer.

And then there's Jonathan Tah. Our rock. Our ever-present giant. 400 games, countless headers, blocks, and moments of silent leadership. He was never loud, never flashy – just always there. Through ups and downs, through changes and chaos, Tah was our constant. When he wore the armband for the final time at home, it wasn’t just a nod to his status – it was a thank-you note from the entire club. The kind of player who didn’t just represent Leverkusen – he was Leverkusen.

Yes, we also said goodbye to a few loanees – Buendía, Mukiele, Hermoso – each of whom gave us moments of joy and value. But the spotlight belonged to Xabi and Jona. And rightly so. They weren’t just part of this team – they defined it.

As the final whistle blew, there were no boos, no frustration. Just applause. Long, loud, heartfelt applause. Alonso climbed into the fan block, waved, clapped back – and even he looked like he was holding something back. Tah stood quietly, soaking it all in. The scoreboard said 2–4, but nobody cared. Because we weren’t watching football. We were witnessing a farewell. A moment. A memory.

Next week, the season wraps up in Mainz. But emotionally? This was the finale. And even though it hurts to see them go, there’s comfort in knowing we had them at all.

Thank you, Xabi. Thank you, Jonny. If you ever feel like coming home – you know where the fridge is, and we’ve still got tissues left.

Hincapie Scores in the Wrong Goal – and Tah Heads Straight into Our Hearts!

There are days when you need nerves of steel, a strong heart, and maybe a good dose of humor to survive as a Bayer 04 fan. Saturday afternoon in Freiburg was definitely one of those days. You travel deep into the Black Forest full of pride, expecting to see your team—on the verge of setting a historic away record—play some confident football. Instead, you get 70 minutes of careful ball circulation that had about as much cutting edge as a rubber knife. And yet, somehow, we ended up celebrating like lunatics at the final whistle. Why? Because Jonathan Tah decided: "400 games? Guess I'll write myself a little fairytale."

It all started out the way you’d expect from a team chasing a record: lots of possession, lots of control, lots of... let's be honest: lots of beautifully boring football. Rain pouring down, great atmosphere in the away end, but on the pitch? It was football that only a die-hard could love. Freiburg bunkered down, Bayer knocked the ball around with all the urgency of a lazy Sunday stroll. And when Eggestein hammered a shot from downtown into the net—with Kovar giving an Oscar-worthy but ultimately useless dive—it was clear: this was going to be one of those days.

Then, just when you thought it couldn't get worse, Hincapie decided to give Freiburg a little gift—an own goal that looked like a deleted scene from a slapstick comedy. 0-2 down, against Freiburg, while Bayern Munich were already chilling on their couches, popping champagne corks. Our boys? They looked like they were mentally checking their summer vacation plans.

But—because Bayer is Bayer—just when you think hope is lost, they suddenly remember how to play football. Out of nowhere, Florian Wirtz woke up, danced through three defenders like he was in a video game, and smashed the ball in off the post. 1-2, and suddenly the away end exploded back to life. That tiny, irrational Bayer hope—that beautiful, stubborn hope that never really leaves us—was alive again.

And then, deep into stoppage time, just when Freiburg thought they had it in the bag, he appeared: our captain, our rock, our Jonathan Tah. Of course it was him. On his 400th appearance for Bayer 04, he threw his whole body into a cross, somehow headed (or should we say "shouldered") the ball into the net—and sent us straight into pure, delirious joy. Equalizer. Record tied. Heart attacks narrowly avoided.

Sure, the point meant Bayern Munich officially clinched the title. Sure, we looked like a tired boxer in round twelve for most of the game. Whatever. What matters is this: 33 away Bundesliga games unbeaten. Tied with Bayern's best run ever. That’s not luck. That’s heart. That’s Bayer 04.

Now it’s onto one last home game against Dortmund and awy in Mainz. Who knows—maybe we’ll finish this season with one last happy ending that feels a little less like a math homework assignment. Until then, we celebrate the moment: Thank you, Tah. Thank you, Wirtz. Thank you, Bayer 04.

Two Goals, One Ruined Title Party – Just Another Saturday at the BayArena

Some days, everything just falls into place: the sun is shining, the beer stands are working overtime, and Bayer 04 are casually brushing aside any recent frustrations with a performance that screams confidence. Against Augsburg, it felt like the boys had taken a masterclass with Xabi Alonso the night before. Honestly, looking at Augsburg’s recent form – only one loss in their last 14 matches – this wasn’t supposed to be a walk in the park. But then again, this is the BayArena, not your average village field.

Xabi shuffled the deck and brought in Matej Kovar between the posts. Not that he needed to break a sweat – he could have sunbathed in his box for all the action Augsburg managed to create. Up front, though, the Werkself hit the ground running: Patrik Schick, our Czech goal machine, fired one in after 14 minutes – with a little help from a defender’s deflection to send it right under the crossbar. Goal number 19 of the season for him, and goal number one for our good mood.

Nathan Tella thought he’d made it two shortly after, heading home a Wirtz cross, but VAR decided to crash the party by ruling it out for offside. Whatever. Bayer kept the pressure on and continued to dominate, playing like a team that could have scored at will. And just before halftime, Emiliano Buendía sprinkled some magic dust on the game: a silky move inside from the left, a smooth curler into the bottom right corner, and 2-0 on the scoreboard. Pure football art.

In the second half, it was all about sealing the deal and, more importantly, postponing Bayern’s title celebrations. Augsburg tried to push, but never really looked dangerous – apart from one wild effort that almost ended up in a nearby parking lot. Jonas Hofmann nearly added a third with a hammer of a shot, but the two-goal cushion stayed until the end. Mission complete.

As the final whistle blew, the fans left the stadium buzzing, fully aware that this team still has some serious business left this season. Freiburg, Dortmund, Mainz – consider yourselves warned. Bayer 04 are not winding down – they’re just getting started. And who knows? Maybe there will be a few more champagne bottles popping under the Bayer Cross before the season’s over… not just in Munich.

Groundhog Day at the Millerntor: Another Draw, Another Deep Sigh

Sometimes it feels like Bayer 04 are stuck in their very own football version of Groundhog Day. Same story, different stadium: a decent performance, a Schick goal, and in the end… just one point. Again. This time it was St. Pauli – lovable underdogs with grit, charm, and a stadium that smells like beer and dreams. But let’s not kid ourselves: if we want to challenge at the top, we need more than polite handshakes and post-match regrets. We need wins. Dirty ones, ugly ones, lucky ones. Any kind.

And yet, it all started pretty okay. St. Pauli came out flying like it was their Champions League final, pressing high, chasing every ball like it owed them money. Our Werkself? A bit slow out the gate, like someone hitting snooze on a Sunday morning. But then, boom – Patrik Schick rose up like a majestic Czech eagle and nodded in his 18th goal of the season. That man scores headers like it’s a party trick. At that point, it felt like this was going to be that kind of game: get the lead, manage the chaos, bring home the three points.

But football, like German weather or Wi-Fi on a Deutsche Bahn train, is rarely that cooperative.

The longer the game went on, the more you could sense that something weird was in the air. Not full-blown disaster – just that lingering feeling that we’d somehow let it slip. And sure enough, after a brief scare with a disallowed goal, St. Pauli found their equalizer. A scrappy tap-in, the kind that smells of second balls and half-hearted clearances. Suddenly, 1:1. Cue collective groan from the traveling Leverkusen fans, many of whom were probably already eyeing currywurst and celebratory beers.

And that’s the thing – it’s not that Bayer played badly. It’s just that this wasn’t enough. Not for a team chasing the title. Not for a team that had already dropped too many points against teams we should be beating. Sure, 32 away matches unbeaten is a hell of a stat. But if most of them are draws, it starts feeling like getting a B+ on every exam and still not making honor roll. Respectable? Yes. Satisfying? Not really.

Xabi Alonso looked more thoughtful than furious post-match. He knows this wasn’t the performance of champions. He said all the right things – focus on improvement, season’s not over, yada yada – but let’s be honest: his team has lost some of that killer edge. Schick is scoring for fun, Wirtz is buzzing again, Frimpong is sprinting like a man late for his wedding. But something’s missing. That little spark, the ruthlessness, the belief that every opponent should be steamrolled, not shared points with.

So what did we learn from this rainy night in Hamburg? That St. Pauli are no pushovers? Sure. That the Millerntor is a tough place to visit? Definitely. But more importantly, that time is running out. Bayern are eight points clear, and unless they spontaneously combust or collectively decide to try baseball instead, we’re gonna need a miracle run to catch up.

Next up: Augsburg at home. On paper, a classic “get back on track” game. In reality? A potential banana peel. At this point, we’ll take a 2:1, a 94th-minute winner, an own goal off someone’s backside – anything, as long as it gets us three points and a break from this relentless cycle of almosts and maybes.

Because if we don’t snap out of this draw-daze soon, we might wake up in May wondering where it all went wrong – again. And trust me, we’ve had enough Groundhog Days to last a lifetime.