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?