There was a brief pause.

Even in commentary, the name carried weight.

"A special player," Fàbregas said quietly. "Already one of the most dangerous in world football."

Matthäus shifted slightly. "And now Germany."

The screen transitioned.

"Germany line up in a 4-2-3-1," he began. "Marc-André ter Stegen starts in goal."

Fàbregas followed. "Back four — Raum at left-back, Tah and Koch as the centre-backs, and Kimmich on the right."

"Double pivot in midfield," Matthäus continued. "Goretzka alongside Pascal Groß."

"And ahead of them," Fàbregas said, "a very dynamic attacking line. Florian Wirtz on the left, Adeyemi on the right..."

He paused for a fraction of a second, then smiled.

"And Lukas Brandt in the number ten role."

The camera cut briefly to Lukas on the pitch, bouncing lightly on his toes, focused.

Matthäus picked up again. "And leading the line — Woltemade."

Fàbregas leaned back slightly. "That’s the key battle for me," he said. "Brandt against Spain’s midfield. If he finds space, if he can turn and run at them... he can change the game."

Matthäus nodded. "And after what we saw in the semi-final, Spain will be very aware of that."

The players adjusted their positions.

The referee stepped forward.

The stadium rose again.

"And here we go," Matthäus said.

"Spain get us underway," Fàbregas added.

The whistle blew.

And the final began.

* * *

Spain didn’t wait, and they didn’t hesitate. From the very first whistle, they imposed themselves on the match with a tempo that Germany simply couldn’t match early on. The ball moved quickly, almost effortlessly, from one red shirt to another, and within moments it became clear that Germany were not going to have any time to settle into their shape.

"Fast start from Spain," Lothar Matthäus said, his voice steady but already carrying a hint of concern. "They’re pushing Germany back very early here."

"They want control," Cesc Fàbregas replied. "You can see it in how quickly they move the ball. One touch, two touches, always forward-thinking."

Germany couldn’t get out of their own half. Every attempt to play forward was cut off almost immediately, with Zubimendi sitting deep and recycling possession while Fabián Ruiz and Pedri operated just ahead of him, constantly shifting positions to offer passing lanes. Pedri, in particular, was everywhere. He dictated the rhythm of the game, receiving under pressure, turning out of tight spaces, and releasing the ball with precision that made it look almost effortless.

The first real warning came through Lamine Yamal. He picked up the ball on the right flank with a yard of space, just enough to lure Raum into stepping toward him. That was all he needed. With a quick shift of his body, he cut inside, dragging the ball across his feet and slipping past the first challenge. Raum tried to recover, but Yamal had already moved again, cutting inside once more before opening his body for the shot.

He curled it toward the far corner with his left foot, the ball bending dangerously as it headed for the net. Ter Stegen reacted instantly, throwing himself full stretch across goal. His fingertips made just enough contact to push the ball away, deflecting it wide.

"What a save," Fàbregas said, his voice rising. "That is heading in."

Ter Stegen stayed on the ground for a second longer than usual before getting back to his feet, exhaling sharply. He knew how close that had been.

Spain didn’t slow down. The ball was recovered quickly, recycled through midfield, and once again Pedri was at the center of everything. His control of the game was absolute. Every pass had intent, every movement opened space for someone else.

In the eighth minute, they cut through Germany again. Pedri received the ball under pressure from Groß but didn’t panic. Instead, he stepped into the challenge, shielding it with his body before flicking a quick pass to Fabián Ruiz and immediately continuing his run. Ruiz returned it first time, and suddenly Pedri was facing forward with space in front of him.

He didn’t hesitate. With a quick glance, he played a perfectly weighted pass out to Nico Williams on the left flank. Williams brought it down with his chest and drove forward immediately, catching Kimmich slightly off balance. Within seconds, he was inside the penalty area, head up, scanning.

He squared the ball low across the box, placing it perfectly into the path of Oyarzabal. It was a golden chance.

"Big opportunity," Matthäus said.

Oyarzabal struck it first time, but he rushed the finish. The ball flew high and wide, clearing the bar comfortably.

He stopped, hands on his head, unable to believe what he had just missed.

"How has he not hit the target?" Fàbregas said. "That’s the kind of chance you cannot waste."

Germany didn’t celebrate the miss. They barely reacted at all. The pressure hadn’t lifted. Spain were still in control, still dictating every phase of play.

Fifteen minutes into the match, the statistics told the story clearly. Spain had already taken five shots, three of them on target, while Germany had struggled to even progress the ball beyond midfield. Lukas had touched the ball only a handful of times, and each time it had been under immediate pressure. He would receive, play it back, and move again, but there was no space, no rhythm for him to get into the game.

The Allianz Arena began to feel it. The energy in the stands didn’t disappear, but it shifted. There was tension now, a growing unease as Spain continued to dominate possession and territory.

"It feels like a matter of time," Matthäus said.

"They’re completely in control," Fàbregas added. "Germany can’t get near them in midfield."

Then, in the eighteenth minute, the breakthrough finally came.

Pedri picked up the ball just inside Germany’s half, turning smoothly away from pressure as if it barely existed. He took a couple of quick touches forward, lifting his head as he assessed his options. The run was there, just on the edge of the defensive line.

Oyarzabal.

Pedri clipped the pass over the top with perfect weight, dropping it into the space behind the German defense. Oyarzabal met it in stride. As the ball bounced in front of him, he struck it first time on the half-volley, sending it low across goal.

Ter Stegen reacted, but this time there was nothing he could do.

The ball nestled into the back of the net.

For a moment, the stadium fell silent. Not completely, but enough for the shift to be felt. The Spanish players exploded into celebration, sprinting toward the corner as Oyarzabal wheeled away.

"Spain take the lead," Matthäus said. "And you have to say, it’s deserved."

"That is a fantastic goal," Fàbregas added. "The movement, the pass, the finish — everything perfect."

Germany stood still for a second, processing what had just happened. Lukas remained where he was, watching the celebration. He wasn’t shocked, not exactly, but he could feel the level Spain were operating at. This wasn’t just quality. This was precision at the highest level.

As the Spanish players made their way back to their positions, Lukas turned and walked toward Wirtz who was standing near the right flank.

"Give me the ball to my feet whenever you see Zubimendi marking me," he said quietly.