The tension in the was thick enough to cut with a blade. For Elias, sitting in a cramped apartment three thousand miles away, the physical distance didn't matter. He just needed to see the kick-off.

It wasn’t just a game; it was a ritual. His grandfather had been born in Fürth, carrying the green and white spirit across an ocean. Now, with the old man gone, these grainy, sometimes lagging streams were Elias’s only bridge back to a home he’d never actually lived in.

The match was a scrap. Both teams were fighting for every inch of turf, a classic 2. Bundesliga battle where grit mattered more than glamour. By the 75th minute, the score was still 0-0. Elias leaned forward, his face illuminated by the blue light of the monitor.