The game had barely settled, and Frankfurt looked sharp — dominating possession, the ball zipping from flank to flank as the Deutsche Bank Park roared them on.
Union Berlin were sitting deep, their three-man backline already under immense pressure.
"Frankfurt are pushing hard here, you can feel the intent! The crowd urging them forward!"
In the 15th minute, they finally cracked.
The ball worked its way out to the right side, where Chaibi picked it up, isolated against Leite.
"Chaibi now, looking to deliver... tries the cross—"
But Leite threw himself in front, blocking the attempt. The ball spun awkwardly out to the edge of the box, where Uzun reacted first. ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇ ꜰʀᴏᴍ 𝔫𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔩~𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕖~𝙣𝙚𝙩
"Uzun! Edge of the box! Against Khedira—"
The teenager feinted left, then executed a sharp La Croqueta, slipping the ball past Khedira to his right foot.
"Ohhh that’s silky from Uzun! That’s the Lukas move, right there!"
But just as he was about to pull the trigger, Haberer lunged in, getting a vital touch that pushed the ball sideways. It rolled into the path of Larsson, who didn’t hesitate.
"Larsson! First-time strike—!"
Doekhi flung his body in front, blocking the shot. The Union box was chaos, red shirts scrambling. The block, though, fell horribly for Union — perfectly into space inside the box where Batshuayi had been lurking, holding his run onside.
"Batshuayi! Still onside GOOOOOAAAAAL! Frankfurt strike first!"
Batshuayi took one calm touch and slotted low past Rønnow, before wheeling away to the corner flag, sliding on his knees as his teammates mobbed him.
"Michy Batshuayi opens the score line for Frankfurt! That’s the striker’s instinct! Stayed patient, stayed sharp, and when the ball came... ice-cold finish! Frankfurt’s dominance pays off!"
The stadium shook, chants of the " Hey Eintracht Frankfurt!" echoing, as Union looked rattled.
Lukas joined the bench in celebrating as he clapped and shook hands with the other teammates on the bench, his face beaming with smiles.
The game opened up after that goal as it became less dominated by Frankfurt like the first quarter-hour as both sides enjoyed spells of possession and attack.
Union Berlin began to grow into the game, no longer sitting so deep after conceding. And in the 25th minute, they threatened Eintracht’s goal.
Their midfield trio tried to knit together passes, and suddenly Tousart found himself with space to turn near the halfway line.
"Tousart... looking up, searching for movement... and he finds Haberer on the left-hand side."
Haberer controlled with his right foot, pushing forward down the flank, Kristensen closing him down quickly. Haberer dropped a shoulder, burst past the Dane, and cut inside onto his stronger foot.
"Haberer skips past Kristensen—he’s got room! He lets fly!"
A powerful shot zipped low toward the near post, but Trapp was alert, diving quickly to his right and parrying the ball wide.
"That’s Union’s first real threat. Haberer did well to isolate Kristensen there, but Trapp, the captain, showing his experience with a sharp stop."
The rebound was cleared by Tuta, and the Frankfurt fans roared their approval.
Frankfurt had wrestled momentum back. On the right wing, Chaibi was lively, combining neatly with Uzun in the half-space. Uzun dropped deep, picked up possession, and played a quick give-and-go with Højlund, who had drifted forward.
"Uzun again... into Højlund, lovely return pass! Uzun bursting into the box!"
Uzun slipped through the Union backline, getting there just ahead of Doekhi, and fired low across goal. Rønnow stretched out his leg, the ball ricocheting back into the danger zone.
Bahoya pounced first, striking hard, but his shot clattered off Querfeld, who threw himself in the way.
"That’s fantastic defending from Querfeld. He may be young, but that’s what you call commitment — throwing his whole body in to deny Bahoya a certain goal."
The crowd groaned in unison, sensing how close it was, before rallying back into chants.
Union Berlin weren’t done yet.
In the 38th minute, pushing forward with more urgency, Khedira stole the ball off Larsson in midfield and immediately launched a quick counter.
"Khedira wins it cleanly—straight through the middle now! He finds Ilic on the left!"
Ilic sprinted down the channel, cutting across Brown, before slipping a diagonal ball inside to Skarke.
"Skarke! Inside the box! He turns Tuta... Skarke shoots—!"
Trapp again came up big, this time diving low to smother the shot with strong hands. The rebound spilled briefly, but Collins got there first, thumping it clear.
"Union are dangerous when they transition like that. Khedira to Ilic, then Skarke... that’s classic Union Berlin football. Frankfurt were exposed for a second, but Trapp keeps them ahead."
The away supporters in the corner groaned, knowing that was a real chance with Toppmöller even looking away when he thought the goal was almost certain before pumping his fist after Trapp’s save.
As the half wound down, Frankfurt pressed to extend their lead before the break.
In the 44th minute, just at the cusp of half time, Chaibi, always involved, danced down the right flank, beating Leite with a clever step-over before whipping a cross to the far post.
"Chaibi with the delivery... Batshuayi’s there—no, headed away by Doekhi! Still alive!"
The ball fell to Larsson on the edge, who volleyed first-time — but it sailed narrowly over the bar, brushing the top netting.
The home fans clapped their appreciation, knowing their side was in control.
The referee looked at his watch, then blew the whistle just as the goalkick was launched into the middle of the pitch.
There was barely any additional time as the game had gone back and forth without any significant stoppages
"And that’s the end of the first half here at Deutsche Bank Park! Frankfurt lead 1–0 thanks to Batshuayi’s cool finish in the 13th minute. They’ve dominated possession, but Union Berlin have had their moments too — Trapp twice denying Haberer and Skarke," Schneider recalled as the players stepped off the pitch.
"That’s right. It has been a half full of intensity. Eintracht look the better side, but Union are reminding them they can’t relax. And interestingly, young Lukas Brandt still waits on the bench. You can’t help but wonder if we’ll see him in the second half."
As the players walked off, Lukas rose from the bench, adjusting his bib before heading toward the tunnel. His face betrayed nothing, but inside, he ached to be part of the action — to feel the ball at his feet, the roar of the crowd in his ears.
It wasn’t just Lukas who was aching to come on, the fans were also eagerly waiting for him.
Sure their team was ahead and playing good football as they had majority of the possession, but they lacked that decisive threat in the final third.
Some fans online were already talking about how Lukas would have had a goal or an assist if he played in that first 45 minutes just due to the sheer number of chances Eintracht Frankfurt created.
Whether Lukas came on, though, wasn’t a matter of if, it was only a matter of when. That was the conclusion by the fans both in the stadium and online. They believed it was either going to be in the beginning of the second half or at the hour mark.
But Toppmöller had other ideas.
The Eintracht Frankfurt players trudged into the dressing room, sweat dripping, shirts clinging to their bodies after an intense first half. The low hum of chatter filled the air, boots clattering against the tiled floor, physios rushing to provide towels and ice packs.
Lukas, still in his training bib, carried a small crate of hydration bottles and handed them out one by one. "Here," he said quietly to Uzun, then passed another to Larsson, leaning down to whisper something that made the two of them chuckle softly under their breath.
Before they could continue, the door swung open and Dino Toppmöller strode in, his assistants Zembrod and Buck right behind him. Immediately, the room fell silent, players snapping their focus back.
Toppmöller clapped his hands once.
"Alright, Männer. Good work so far. We’ve got the lead, thanks to Michy’s composure in the box. That’s exactly what we wanted — patience, movement, and the finish." He nodded toward Batshuayi, who sat unlacing his boots for a moment of relief, then back up at the team.
"But," Toppmöller’s voice sharpened, "we left too much space on two occasions. Haberer got through Rasmus far too easily, and Skarke turned Tuta inside the box. Only Kevin saved us from conceding."
He paced slowly, looking each player in the eye.
"We cannot afford to switch off. This is Union Berlin. They only need one mistake, one lapse, and it’s 1–1. We should be two or three up by now — Uzun, Bahoya, Larsson, you all had chances. We must be more clinical in the final third."
A few players nodded silently, sipping their bottles, faces tense.
Then Toppmöller’s gaze drifted across the room, finally settling on Lukas. The boy sat quietly at the back, bib still on, listening intently. For a moment, Toppmöller’s mind wandered.
"Is it time already? He looks fresh, restless even. He could kill this game in ten minutes... But the midweek..."