The second half opened with Chelsea showing immediate intent, their movements crisper, their press higher. Tuchel had clearly delivered a forceful message during the interval.
"You know what impresses me about this Chelsea side, Martin?" Peter Drury mused as the teams settled into their positions. "The capacity to adapt mid-match. Tuchel's halftime adjustments were pivotal in that Champions League final against City last year."
"Absolutely, Peter," Martin Tyler agreed, "and that late Pulisic goal has given them something to build on. Remember how they turned around that quarterfinal against Porto in 2021? Two-nil down at halftime, three-two winners by the final whistle. They've got pedigree in these situations."
Luka found himself immediately under pressure, James positioning himself five yards closer than he had in the first half. The Chelsea defender's body language had changed—less cautious, more aggressive, determined to impose himself physically from the restart.
The first clash came within thirty seconds. Luka received a pass from Hummels, back to goal, James immediately pressing tight against him. The contact was firm but legal, a clear message sent through physical presence. Luka felt the defender's weight against his back, the heat of his breath close enough to sense.
"Reece James making his intentions clear early," Drury observed. "That's old-school defending—let the attacker know you're there, you're present, you're physical."
Luka adjusted, dropping his center of gravity lower to maintain balance against the pressure. A slight shift of weight to the right created momentary separation—not enough to turn, but sufficient to lay the ball back to Bellingham before James could intercept.
"Clever from Zorić," Tyler noted. "He's not trying to do too much there. Against this kind of physical attention, sometimes the simple play is the right one."
Chelsea's tactical adjustment was evident—James positioned higher, Kanté shifting across to double up whenever Luka received possession on the left. The strategy was clear: neutralize the Croatian teenager who had tormented them in the first half.
Twenty minutes into the second half, the pattern was established. Chelsea dominated possession, Dortmund increasingly pinned back, Luka struggling to influence proceedings as he had before the interval.
"It's fascinating watching this chess match develop," Drury said during a brief pause in play. "Tuchel has effectively muzzled young Zorić by having James play ten yards further forward. In response, Rose has instructed Bellingham to drift wider in buildup, providing an outlet that bypasses those congested areas where Chelsea are pressing so intensely."
"And speaking of intensity," Tyler added, "the physical demands are showing. Look at Havertz there, hands on knees during that break in play. Both these sides competed at the weekend—Chelsea grinding out a one-nil win at Crystal Palace, Dortmund in that five-goal thriller against Leipzig. Recovery time is minimal at this stage of the season."
Play resumed with a Chelsea free kick near the halfway line. Thiago Silva shaped to launch it long before instead playing short to Jorginho, catching Dortmund momentarily disorganized. The Italian midfielder turned smoothly, immediately releasing Mount between the lines.
The England international received on the half-turn, instantly aware of the space opening before him. Dortmund's midfield had been drawn toward the expected long ball, leaving a dangerous pocket that Mount exploited.
Luka, tracking back, found himself in no-man's-land—caught between covering the advancing James and closing down Mount. The hesitation was momentary but critical, allowing Mount to advance unchallenged to the edge of the penalty area.
"Mount with space!" Drury's voice rose with anticipation. "Chelsea looking dangerous here!"
The midfielder's cross was delivered with surgical precision, curling between goalkeeper and defenders, arriving perfectly for Havertz who had ghosted between Hummels and Akanji.
The German's connection was clean but the angle challenging, sending his header flashing inches wide of Kobel's left post.
"Oh, so close for Chelsea!" Tyler exclaimed. "Kai Havertz will be disappointed with that. The chance was begging to be taken."
On the sideline, Tuchel turned away in frustration, hands clasped behind his head. That was the moment they'd been engineering since halftime—the clear opportunity that could have transformed the tie.
"That's the kind of chance Havertz buried in the Champions League final against City," Drury noted. "Nine times out of ten, that hits the back of the net. Dortmund living dangerously here."
Rose responded immediately, gesturing furiously from the technical area. Dortmund's shape adjusted, Bellingham dropping deeper to provide additional midfield security. Luka, meanwhile, was instructed to stay higher, providing an outlet for counter-attacks.
The alteration yielded immediate results. No longer tasked with tracking James continuously, Luka could position himself to receive in transition. When Chelsea's next attack broke down, with Kovačić dispossessed by Dahoud, the Croatian found himself in space for the first time since halftime.
The ball reached him forty yards from goal, time and space opening before him as Chelsea scrambled to recover their defensive shape. James, caught upfield, sprinted back desperately.
Luka's first touch was deliberately heavy, pushing the ball into open space, inviting himself to accelerate. The grass felt perfect beneath his boots—firm enough for traction but with just enough moisture to allow the ball to slide smoothly across the surface. As he crossed the halfway line, the weight distribution shifted—body leaning forward, center of gravity lowered, oxygen flooding his lungs as the natural exhilaration of open-field running took hold.
"Zorić leading the counter-attack," Drury observed, his voice rising with the moment's energy. "Look at this lad eat up the ground. Reminiscent of a young Cristiano Ronaldo at Manchester United—that same rangy stride, that direct attacking intent."
James recovered ground impressively, angling his pursuit to cut off the direct route to goal. Luka sensed rather than saw the defender's approach.
As James closed within striking distance, Luka executed a sudden change of direction—not an elaborate trick but a simple body feint, left shoulder dropping as if to continue straight while his right foot stabbed the ball diagonally inside. The movement caught James mid-stride, sending the defender momentarily off-balance, creating three yards of separation.
"Brilliant skill!" Tyler exclaimed. "James completely sold by that change of direction!"
Now advancing into the final third with genuine momentum, options developed around him. Haaland made a diagonal run, dragging Thiago Silva with him. Reyna, who had replaced Palmer at the hour mark, sprinted forward on the right, creating width that stretched Chelsea's retreating defense.
"Look at the options for Zorić," Drury noted. "decision time for the young Croatian."
Luka assessed the developing picture with remarkable clarity despite moving at full speed. Haaland's run had created space centrally, but Rüdiger was covering across. Reyna was the cleaner option, but the pass needed to be perfectly weighted to evade the recovering Chilwell.
"He'll go to Haaland surely..." Tyler began.
Instead, Luka checked suddenly, the rapid deceleration creating further separation from James who had committed to full sprint recovery. The extra half-second allowed him to lift his head, spot Bellingham arriving late into the box, unmarked.
The pass was delivered with the outside of his right foot—not for show but for function, allowing him to generate the perfect weight and curve while still at speed. The ball skipped across the turf, between Rüdiger and Chilwell, into Bellingham's path.
"Oh, that's magnificent vision!" Drury exclaimed.
Bellingham met it first-time, his shot powerful and precise, arrowing toward the bottom corner. Kepa reacted brilliantly, diving full-length to tip the ball around the post with his fingertips.
"What a save from Kepa Arrizabalaga!" Tyler marveled. "Wonderful counter-attack from Dortmund, but equal to it is Chelsea's Spanish goalkeeper!"
As Bellingham jogged toward the corner flag for the resulting set-piece, he gestured appreciatively toward Luka.
"You know what I love about that sequence?" Drury said as the teams organized for the corner. "The intelligence of the play. Zorić had four options—shoot himself, pass to Reyna, find Haaland, or pick out Bellingham. He chose the most difficult but most dangerous one. That's football IQ beyond his years."
The corner came to nothing, but the dynamic had shifted. Dortmund, having weathered twenty minutes of Chelsea pressure, had served notice of their counter-attacking threat. Tuchel, recognizing the danger, instructed his team to be more measured in their approach—still seeking the equalizer but with greater structural security.
The game settled into a fascinating tactical battle. Chelsea probed methodically, Dortmund absorbed and sought transition opportunities. The Yellow Wall maintained a constant wall of noise, recognizing the critical juncture the match had reached.
In the sixty-eighth minute, a Chelsea attack broke down when Kanté misplaced a pass, allowing Bellingham to intercept. The midfielder turned and immediately looked for Luka, now positioned in the pocket of space between Chelsea's defense and midfield.
The pass was weighted perfectly, allowing Luka to receive on the half-turn. As he pivoted, time seemed to slow—the peripheral vision catching Kanté approaching from the left, Jorginho closing from the right, while directly ahead Rüdiger and Silva maintained their defensive positioning.
The ball rolled smoothly across the instep of his left foot as he turned, his body between the ball and Kanté, using his frame to shield possession. The touch was perfectly measured—not too heavy to lose control, not too close to become trapped.
"Zorić finds space between the lines," Tyler noted. "Dangerous position this."
With Kanté closing rapidly from behind, Luka executed a move of sublime technical quality—rolling his right foot over the ball while simultaneously dragging it back with his left, a zero displacement skills, a luxurious change of direction that left Kanté momentarily frozen.
"Oh my word!" Drury exclaimed, genuine admiration in his voice. "That is absolutely outrageous skill! Kanté—N'Golo Kanté, one of the world's premier ball-winners—left completely stranded!"
Now facing the Chelsea defense with space to exploit, Luka advanced purposefully. Rüdiger approached cautiously, caught in the defender's eternal dilemma—commit and risk being beaten, or back off and allow the attacker time to pick a pass.
The German chose a middle path, jockeying rather than lunging, maintaining good body position while gradually closing distance. Luka recognized the approach, understanding that Rüdiger wouldn't commit to a tackle unless absolutely certain.
"Rüdiger very sensible here," Tyler observed. "Not diving in, keeping Zorić in front of him."
Approaching the edge of the penalty area, Luka shaped to shoot—left shoulder dropping, hips rotating, eyes fixed on the far corner. Rüdiger responded instinctively, shifting his weight to block the expected shot.
Instead, Luka executed a perfect disguised pass, sliding the ball between Rüdiger's legs into Haaland's path. The Norwegian, who had drifted away from Silva, accelerated onto the through-ball, clear on goal.
"Brilliant from Zorić!" Drury exclaimed. "Haaland clean through!"
The striker's first touch was uncharacteristically heavy, allowing Kepa to narrow the angle and produce a sprawling save. The rebound fell to Bellingham, following up intelligently, but the England international's shot was blocked desperately by James, who had recovered remarkably.
"That's the Dortmund we saw in the first half," Drury noted. "The movement, the technique, the vision. Zorić at the heart of everything creative."
As the match entered its final twenty minutes, the tension ratcheted higher. Chelsea, still trailing by a goal, began committing more players forward. Tuchel introduced Werner for Jorginho, switching to a more direct approach with two recognized strikers.
The change created new challenges for Dortmund's defense. Werner's pace stretched them vertically, forcing the back line deeper, which in turn created more space between defense and midfield. Luka, now operating in that central area, found himself with increased defensive responsibilities.
In the seventy-fourth minute, he was caught out of position when Kanté robbed him of possession thirty yards from goal. The French midfielder immediately found Mount in space, with Dortmund's defense scrambling to reorganize.
"Chance for Chelsea!" Tyler called as Mount shaped to shoot.
The attempt was well-struck but straight at Kobel, who parried clear.
"Got to be more careful there," Drury cautioned. "Zorić trying to do too much in his own half. Against midfielders of Kanté's caliber, sometimes the simple pass is the right option."
The warning registered. When Luka next received possession in a similar area, he immediately played the percentage ball back to Hummels, prioritizing security over creativity.
With fifteen minutes remaining, the match remained delicately poised. Chelsea dominated possession but struggled to create clear opportunities against Dortmund's disciplined defensive shape. The home side, meanwhile, carried a constant threat on the counter-attack.
The next significant moment arrived in the seventy-ninth minute. A Chelsea attack broke down when Chilwell's cross was intercepted by Akanji. The Swiss defender immediately found Bellingham, who turned and released Luka into space on the left.
For the first time since early in the second half, Luka found himself one-on-one against James with genuine room to operate. The Chelsea defender, mindful of being beaten earlier, approached with greater caution, maintaining his defensive stance rather than attempting to win the ball directly.
Luka slowed as he approached, inviting James to commit.
"James versus Zorić, round fifteen," Drury said with anticipation. "The Croatian's been largely contained this half, but you can never relax against talent of this caliber."
As James closed to within striking distance, Luka attempted a step-over, looking to create space to deliver a cross. The defender read it perfectly, shifting his weight to match the movement without overcommitting.
Luka responded with a sudden change of direction, dropping his shoulder right before accelerating left. Again James read it, mirroring the movement with impressive agility.
"Wonderful defending from James," Tyler observed. "He's not biting on any of the feints."
Now fifteen yards from the byline, Luka tried a more direct approach, simply knocking the ball past James and attempting to accelerate around him. The defender's recovery pace was impressive, shoulder-to-shoulder as they sprinted toward the loose ball.
The physical contest was intense but fair—two elite athletes at the peak of their powers, neither willing to concede an inch. James, with his lower center of gravity, gradually established position, edging Luka wider until the angle for a cross became prohibitively tight.
"Superb defensive work from Reece James," Drury praised. "Absolutely textbook. He's not trying to win the ball, just guiding Zorić away from dangerous areas."
With options diminishing, Luka attempted a final change of direction, cutting sharply inside. This time he caught James fractionally flat-footed, creating just enough separation to deliver a cross before the defender could recover.
The ball curled dangerously toward the penalty spot, where Haaland had positioned himself between Chelsea's center-backs. The Norwegian's leap was perfectly timed, rising above Silva to connect firmly.
"HAALAND!" Tyler exclaimed as the header flashed toward goal.
Kepa produced a spectacular save, diving full-length to his left to palm the ball away. The rebound fell to Reyna, following in at the far post, but the American's fierce volley from a tight angle crashed against the upright and bounced clear.
"How has that stayed out?" Drury marveled. "Extraordinary goalkeeping from Kepa, and then the woodwork denying Reyna! Chelsea living dangerously!"
The pattern continued—Chelsea probing, Dortmund threatening on the counter. With ten minutes remaining, Rose made his final change, introducing Malen for the exhausted Haaland. The Dutch forward's pace offered a fresh outlet for transitions as Chelsea committed more players forward in search of an equalizer.
In the eighty-third minute, the decisive moment arrived. A Chelsea corner was cleared decisively by Hummels, the ball falling to Dahoud near the halfway line. He immediately spotted Luka in space on the left and delivered a perfectly weighted pass into his path.
Luka received on the run, immediately aware of the opportunity developing. Chelsea, committed forward for the corner, had only James and Rüdiger covering defensively. Malen sprinted forward on the right, creating a two-on-two situation.
"Dangerous counter-attack developing here," Tyler noted, the anticipation evident in his voice.
James, caught between covering Luka and maintaining awareness of Malen, approached cautiously. Luka drove directly at him, the ball close to his feet, the threat of a dribble forcing the defender to focus entirely on him rather than the developing picture behind.
At precisely the right moment—when James was fully committed to the one-on-one duel—Luka executed a perfectly disguised pass toward Malen who had continued his run into the penalty area.
The Dutch forward controlled with his first touch, shaped to shoot with his second, drawing Kepa toward the near post. Instead of shooting, however, he cleverly cut the ball back toward the penalty spot, where Bellingham had arrived with perfect timing.
Bellingham met it cleanly, side-footing toward the unguarded net. The ball seemed destined for the bottom corner until Thiago Silva appeared from nowhere, stretching desperately to divert it away from goal.
"Extraordinary defending!" Tyler marveled.
The clearance wasn't definitive, however, merely sending the ball looping high rather than away to safety. It hung in the air, dropping toward the edge of the penalty area where Luka had continued his run.
Time seemed to slow as he assessed the situation—the ball's trajectory, Kepa scrambling to recover position, defenders desperately retreating. The technical challenge was significant—a dropping ball, needing to be struck cleanly on the volley, with precision rather than power the requirement.
Luka adjusted his body position perfectly, opening his hips to create the correct angle. As the ball descended, he connected with the sweet spot of his right foot, generating controlled power that sent it arrowing toward the top corner.
"ZORIĆ!" Drury's voice soared as the ball hit the net. "WHAT A FINISH! ABSOLUTELY MAGNIFICENT FROM THE TEENAGER! Technique of the highest caliber—that's a goal worthy of any stage in world football!"
The stadium erupted, a primal release of sound and emotion as Luka sprinted toward the corner flag, sliding to his knees in celebration. Teammates converged from all directions, a yellow wave engulfing him as the significance of the moment registered.
"That's his third contribution to a goal tonight," Tyler noted once the celebrations had subsided. "Directly involved in all three Dortmund goals—the free-kick in the first half, the assist for Haaland, and now this stunning volley. A complete attacking performance from a player who doesn't turn eighteen until the World Cup."
As the teams reset for kickoff, the replay sequence appeared on screens throughout the stadium. The quality of the finish became even more apparent on second viewing—the perfect body shape, the clean connection, the unerring accuracy.
"Look at this technique," Drury enthused as the replay rolled. "The ball's dropping over his shoulder, probably the most difficult volley in football. He doesn't try to generate power, just focuses on clean contact. Kepa has absolutely no chance. That's going to be replayed for years to come—a signature Champions League moment from a special talent."
Chelsea, to their credit, responded immediately to the setback. Tuchel made an aggressive double substitution, introducing Ziyech and Hudson-Odoi for Mount and Pulisic, committing fully to attack for the final minutes.
The tactical switch nearly paid immediate dividends. In the eighty-seventh minute, Ziyech received possession on the right, his fresh legs allowing him to accelerate past a tiring Guerreiro. The Moroccan's cross was delivered with precision, finding Havertz unmarked at the far post.
The German's header was powerful and accurate, giving Kobel no chance as it nestled in the bottom corner.
"HAVERTZ!" Tyler exclaimed. "Game on at Signal Iduna Park! Chelsea right back in this tie!"
As the celebrations subsided, the stadium atmosphere transformed—anxiety replacing jubilation, the collective recognition that the complexion of the tie had changed dramatically.
"Suddenly, that cushion has been reduced," Drury observed. "If Chelsea could find an equalizer in these final minutes, they'd return to Stamford Bridge as favorites. The pressure shifts to Dortmund now—can they manage these closing stages sensibly?"
Five minutes of stoppage time was indicated—an eternity for a team protecting a slender lead against opponents who sensed blood. Rose gesticulated furiously from the technical area, organizing his team for one final defensive stand.
The closing minutes unfolded with excruciating tension. Chelsea poured forward, committing numbers, looking to deliver the blow that would dramatically alter the quarterfinal's trajectory. Dortmund defended desperately, every clearance greeted with roars of approval from the increasingly nervous home supporters.
In the second minute of stoppage time, the drama peaked. James, advancing from right-back, delivered a cross of exceptional quality. Werner, timing his run perfectly to stay onside, met it with a powerful header that seemed destined for the top corner.
Kobel's save was spectacular—a full-length dive, strong right hand diverting the ball over the crossbar when a goal seemed certain.
"WHAT A SAVE!" Tyler roared. "Gregor Kobel keeping Dortmund ahead with an absolutely vital intervention!"
The resulting corner was defended with desperation rather than organization—bodies thrown in front of shots, clearances made without concern for direction, only distance. When Bellingham finally hooked the ball clear to the halfway line in the fourth minute of stoppage time, the relief was palpable.
Chelsea mounted one final attack. Ziyech received in space thirty yards from goal, spotting Havertz's intelligent movement between Dortmund's center-backs. The through-ball was perfectly weighted, allowing the German to control and finish in one fluid motion beyond the advancing Kobel.
The celebrations were ecstatic but short-lived. As Chelsea's players converged around Havertz, the assistant's flag was raised. VAR would check, but the initial call was offside.
"Late drama at Signal Iduna Park!" Drury exclaimed. "Havertz thinks he's equalized, but the flag is up! This will go to VAR for confirmation..."
The stadium fell silent as the review process began. Replays shown on the giant screens suggested the decision would be tight—perhaps a matter of centimeters rather than yards.
"Looking at this replay," Tyler analyzed, "it's incredibly close. Havertz's upper body might be beyond Akanji's foot, which would be offside under the current interpretation."
For nearly two minutes, tension gripped the stadium—Chelsea players pleading their case, Dortmund defenders anxiously watching the referee, supporters on both sides barely breathing as they awaited the verdict.
Finally, the referee's hand moved to his ear, receiving the definitive call from the VAR team. A brief nod, then his arm extended, confirming the on-field decision: offside.
The Yellow Wall erupted—relief and jubilation merged into a single emotional release. On the touchline, Rose pumped his fist, more in relief than celebration.
"The decision stands!" Drury confirmed. "Offside by the finest of margins! Cruelest of blows for Chelsea, but Dortmund survive!"
Moments later, the full-time whistle sounded. Players collapsed to the turf—some in celebration, others in disappointment or exhaustion. The quarterfinal's first leg had delivered everything expected and more—tactical intrigue, individual brilliance, dramatic moments, and controversy.
"What a magnificent football match," Drury reflected as players from both sides began to interact, exchanging shirts and sharing brief conversations. "Chelsea will feel they deserved something more from this, but Dortmund's clinical edge has given them the advantage heading to Stamford Bridge. Three-two—the tie delicately poised."
Amidst the chaos of full-time—teammates embracing, staff rushing onto the pitch, photographers capturing the moment—Luka found himself face-to-face with James, the Chelsea defender who had made his evening so challenging.
"Some performance," James offered, extending his hand. "That volley was ridiculous."
Luka shook it firmly. "You made it really difficult for me all night. Hardest defender I've played against this season, no question."
James laughed. "Says the kid who just put three goal contributions past us in a Champions League quarterfinal." He paused, genuine curiosity in his expression. "How are you handling all this? The attention, the pressure... it's a lot at seventeen."
"Taking it day by day," Luka replied with a small shrug. "Trying not to think too far ahead."
"Smart approach," James nodded. "The hype machine is real. Everyone's talking about you after that PSG tie, now this... just remember to enjoy it. Careers move fast."
"Swap shirts?" Luka asked.
James nodded, already lifting his jersey over his head. As they exchanged, photographers captured the moment.
"See you at Stamford Bridge," James said as they parted, a professional reminder that this was only half the battle.
Luka nodded, already processing the challenges ahead. The quarterfinals were only halfway complete. Chelsea, wounded but not defeated, would be a different proposition on their own ground.
As he moved toward the tunnel, arm draped around Bellingham's shoulders, Luka's mind was already compartmentalizing the evening.
The journey continued. Beyond Chelsea lay the possibility of the semifinals. And paralleling the European adventure, the domestic challenge remained—the Bundesliga title still tantalizingly within reach.