How Buendía Saved Our Saturday (and Maybe Our Season)

Let’s be honest – anyone who cracked open a cold one on Saturday afternoon expecting a fiery Bayer 04 comeback after the Bielefeld embarrassment probably found themselves mowing the lawn by halftime out of sheer frustration. Because what we saw in Heidenheim for most of the match wasn’t exactly “title-challenger energy” – it was more like “let’s hope this ends quickly” energy. And yet… somehow… we won. Because football is weird. And because Emiliano Buendía decided he was done watching us suffer.

It all started – as it so often does with us lately – with high hopes and low output. Xabi Alonso shuffled the starting XI like a man searching for answers in the sock drawer: Boniface was back up front, Aleix Garcia replaced Palacios, and Andrich was suddenly a defender. The good news? The opponent wasn’t Bayern. The bad news? Heidenheim clearly didn’t get the memo that they’re supposed to be in the relegation battle. They came out swinging – pressing high, tackling hard, and looking like a team with something to prove.

And us? Well… if the first half were a dish, it would’ve been a lukewarm potato salad with no dressing. Possession without penetration, build-up without bite, and a vibe that screamed "still traumatized from Tuesday." The few chances we did have barely registered as such. Meanwhile, Heidenheim rattled the crossbar, pinged the post, and made Hradecky look like a man playing roulette with his own goal.

Second half? Slightly better, but not much. We had the ball, but didn’t seem to know what to do with it. Alonso started making changes, throwing on attackers like he was hoping one of them might accidentally stumble into a goal. Spoiler alert: one did.

Enter Emiliano Buendía. On in the 67th, anonymous until the 91st – and then suddenly the main character. Hofmann, also fresh off the bench and determined to justify his haircut, slipped him the ball. One touch, one turn, one perfect curler – and boom. 1-0. Out of nowhere. Heidenheim frozen. Bayer fans erupting. Football, bloody hell.

That goal didn’t just win us the match – it quite possibly kept the title dream alive. It was Buendía’s first Bundesliga goal, and if there’s any justice in the universe, it won’t be his last in red and black. Because sometimes it’s not about playing pretty. Sometimes it’s about showing up, digging deep, and stealing three points when you absolutely don’t deserve them. That’s what champions do. Ugly wins count too.

So here we are – still chasing, still in the hunt, and still somehow standing after a week that nearly broke us. Next up: Union Berlin at home. Maybe we’ll actually play some decent football. Or maybe we’ll just need another last-minute hero. Either way, we’ll be there – with beer in hand, heart in mouth, and hope in our eyes.

Thanks, Emiliano. You beautiful, brilliant, last-minute legend.

Berlin? Without Us – A Pokal Meltdown on the Alm

There are those football nights where you just want to turn your phone off, throw your jersey in the washing machine (on the highest setting), and pretend nothing ever happened. But that’s not how it works when you’re a Leverkusen fan. Especially not after what went down in Bielefeld – where Bayer 04 managed to turn a golden chance into a gloriously chaotic exit against a third division side. Yep. A third division team. Arminia Bielefeld. 2:1. Pokal semifinal. And no, this isn’t a poorly timed April Fool’s joke – even though it hurt like one.

To be fair, it started off quite nicely. Tah scored from a corner, the away end was buzzing, and for a hot minute, Berlin felt within reach. The final in sight, dreams of back-to-back cup wins, confetti, champagne, the whole thing. But then came reality. Or more specifically: Bielefeld. And even more specifically: us not showing up anymore.

Because what followed was a perfect storm of bad ideas, worse execution, and one of those tactical gameplans you wish you could CTRL+Z mid-match. Instead of playing our usual slick possession game, we opted for Route One football – on a pitch that looked like it was last used for medieval farming. Balls were hoofed into the void, attackers were asked to win headers against defenders built like tree trunks, and the only combination play was between our frustration and disbelief.

Bielefeld, on the other hand, looked like a team with nothing to lose and everything to gain. They pressed, they fought, and – plot twist – they actually played football. First the equalizer, then just before halftime, they took the lead. And we just stood there, politely watching it happen like guests at someone else's party. The kind of party where they forgot to invite us.

The second half? Let’s just say the highlight was seeing Jonathan Tah play striker in the closing minutes. Not because it worked – it didn’t – but because it was the ultimate symbol of how desperate things had gotten. Our best chances came from headers, not build-up play. Our ideas had dried up, and the only spark we had was the one coming from fans arguing with players after the final whistle.

Yes, there was a bit of bad luck. Schick hit the post, Boniface forced a save. But let’s be real: if you can’t break down a third-tier defense in 90 minutes with the quality we have, it’s not about luck. It’s about mentality. And sadly, Bielefeld had more of it. More hunger, more grit, more belief. While we looked like we’d already booked the Berlin hotel and just forgot the small matter of actually winning the match.

After the game, emotions ran high. Xhaka got into it with the fans, the players looked stunned, and Xabi Alonso’s usually unshakeable poker face had that “what just happened” look written all over it. Because this wasn’t just a loss. It was a wake-up call. One that might define the rest of the season.

We’ve still got the league. We’ve still got the quality. But this team needs to regroup, fast. Because nights like this don’t just disappear – they leave bruises. Mentally, emotionally, and in the standings. And if we’re honest, that bruising was self-inflicted.

So, no Berlin trip for us this year. The Pokal dream is over. But maybe, just maybe, this embarrassment on the Alm becomes the spark that reignites this squad. Maybe it reminds them that talent alone doesn’t win titles. That you can’t shortcut your way through a battle. And that even a third division side will punish you if you take the night off.

Now it’s Heidenheim away. A match that suddenly feels ten times more important. Because after this mess, only one thing matters: a reaction. The right one. The only one. Or we’ll be watching this season slip away faster than you can say “Niemals Meister.” And this time, it won’t be funny at all.