Dispatch from Dortmund: Giovanni Reyna's Champions League Return
I traveled to Dortmund to catalog USMNT standout Giovanni Reyna's progress toward full fitness ahead of this year's World Cup, and Borussia Dortmund's launch of a Champions League campaign.
An adventurous flight from Scotland which I’d intended to be boring, a bit of quasi-hitch hiking from near the Dutch border, a pleasant ride in the dark with a man each from Barbados and Liverpool, a wee bit of time at a hostel in Dusseldorf, an early morning train, and as of Monday, I’m in Dortmund.
Giovanni Reyna is the reason. The 19-year-old American potential phenom, the wunderkind whose injuries keep us waiting, the heartbreak talent kept sideline for too long: Reyna’s the player that brought me to this industrial Westphalian sprawl.
I didn’t expect to see as much of him as we did Tuesday evening, nor do I think he expected to feature so early in the game.
But Thorgan Hazard picked up an early injury against FC Copenhagen, sending Gio Reyna into the thick of the 23rd minute in Champions League day one. For the remaining 67 minutes plus stoppage time, we saw what we’ve always known:
This kid’s got the finesse and the highest potential. He’s hungry. He wants the ball. He sees the field. He’s got the sauce. He’s almost ready, and just in time.
Dortmund is known as a hard-working city but it sure takes its time waking up. I arrived around 8 on a Monday to meander with no aim. Only a few shops open until at least 11, I settled for a tall coffee beneath a taller steeple, techno music blasting for me and the barista to share.
Dortmund certainly wakes up for football, though. Suddenly the population feels more expansive. BVB’s black and yellow covers the place. Away fans descend, swarm the city, cause trouble. More police, more people, more excitement decks the town.
The first signs of football life came Monday night. I went for a walk, looking for something to eat, not too many people out. Turning a corner, I found myself on Westenhellweg, walking headlong into a long wide column of menacing looking lads dressed head to toe in black. They were silent, straight faced- save for a few smirking at me- marching with a mission due west.
German? Danish? It can be hard to tell. A large group of men, mostly blonde, no kit, no insignia, the kit-less look of Dortmund or Copenhagen look interchangeable to me. I’d guessed Danish, at the time, then went to eat a sandwich and didn’t think much more of it that night.
As the day wore into the next evening, it turns out I was half right.
Scattered reports on social media came first. FC Copenhagen supporters had been attacked in the city. Ah, so it was Dortmund supporters, went my initial thought. But that, too, turned out just half right. More on that in a bit.
The next morning- matchday one of the UEFA Champions League group stage- I sat early morning with a coffee, marveling at the number of polizei personnel shown up. They’d sent in a surplus from nearby for support.
Copenhagen supporters looped in between them, tracing their way around Dortmund’s concise set of central blocks. Dressed in blue and white, they flocked about in groups of 7-10 men, looking around with confidence and a sway to their gait, as if to say: “We’re Danish. And we’re here. We’re here and we’re Danish. And we’re going to walk around in circles with a swagger to our step until more things open, and we find something to do.”
I sat watching with my coffee, amused, scribbling in my notebook. A group of then-idle polizei watched me, perhaps also amused: girl laughing into notebook, drinking enormous coffee, watching the Danish footballers flock.
Departing from Dortmund’s center toward Westfalenstadion- or, for sponsorship reasons now, Signal Iduna Park- one heads south. A forty minute walk does the trick. There’s transport, of course, but that skips over the in-between, and one mustn’t miss life’s charms. Along the hip in-between (called Kreuzviertel) you’ll discover that Germans are quite fond of buying cheap beer from kiosks, then drinking those beers on the corners and in the street. Cheap beers from kiosk and street side consumption is nearly a national pastime around here.
You’ll also notice a fondness for drinking on bridges. If MollerstraBe isn’t full before the game- people occupying the full breadth of it, kiosk beers in hand- it’ll be crowded, assuredly, by its end. There are a few joints with beer and schnitzel or wurst or pommes, specifically dedicated to BVB fans. But nearly everywhere- from center to stadion- is crowded with BVB fans regardless.
It wasn’t all bratwurst and BVB beforehand, though. In pockets and places, more fights. Once inside, Copenhagen fans set off flares directed into the home sections (thankfully were not yet full).
Supporters provoked each other, taunted cops, ran away. It became clear now, also, that there were supporters in attendance not from either featured team. These supporters were Danish (the part of my previous prediction come true) but they were not here for FC Copenhagen. Or, not here to cheer for them, at least. Brondby ultras (FC Copenhagen’s arch nemesis from nearby) had apparently traveled to Dortmund to team up with local ultras, the pair of them coalescing to cause a unified ruckus and reportedly attacking Copenhagen as a combined team.
Still outside the stadium, a congestion of Copenhagen fans were kept waiting before their gate. Eager to get in and surrounded (by a line of cops, their horses, an obstacle course of horse poop, and Dortmund supporters beyond that) they took to some light-hearted shouting back and forth.
There’s solidarity in being outnumbered. Copenhagen’s pack was cohesive, their chants well-rehearsed. There’s fun in being outnumbered, too, and that was the vibe from Copenhagen I got. The away section was bouncing, chanting, loud and giving Dortmund trouble from the start.
Opposite Copenhagen, and surrounding the seats between, Dortmund’s supporters filled in, adding their own volume and drowning Copenhagen out.
Two things immediately stuck me: the prevalence of cigarettes and the number of women. Before the press box: a row of men, their cigarettes wafting unified smoke up into the air. Journalists lighting one up while mulling over their story. And while certainly outnumbered- the women, that is- there were far more frauen in Borussia than I’ve encountered in many other stadiums this side of the sea.
The other thing that struck me was the sun, which made itself known with blinding aggression. Its position opposite the press zone left me squinting for sight, until in poetic coincidence, almost the exact moment Gio Reyna ran on. It dipped just behind the west stand as he ran toward its rays on the left wing, and finally, I had clear vision.
A lengthy word must be saved here for that glorious yellow wall shouting Borussia!
The steep yellow facade of Dortmund’s south stand is the face of this famous stadium, a football mecca for Deutschland, home of the largest standing football terrace in Europe.
With a 25,000 standing capacity, the Sudtribune could very well be its own stadium. Adding even more atmosphere this Tuesday, UEFA recently changed their regulations surrounding standing sections, allowing Dortmund to fill Die Gelbe Wand to full capacity for the first time in Champions League (previously curtailed to some 18,000).
The distinct holy tenor of Champions League music graced the stadium just as Die Gelbe Wand reached its highest crescendo, and the Copenhagen supporters set their entire section aflame in flares.
As tensions rose and Copenhagen set more flares off, boards around the stadium displayed various signs meant to urge football into the future. Things like PEACE and RESPECT and “online abuse” crossed out rose up, somewhat comically marred from view by flare smoke.
But through the chaos and juxtaposition, the music marking the start of Champions League stayed constant. All teams now race- for a brief moment, equal- toward Istanbul next summer.
With the north stand lit up by flare- its smoke wafting over the pitch, providing brief cover from the sun- the match began, and I could barely see. Rhythmic Dortmund! chants came from the south stand and the outnumbered Danes chanted “SheiBe Dortmund” defiantly back.
Half of my notes before Gio Reyna’s entrance tracked the sun’s slow progress toward evening, the continued flares the Danes set off, and Jude Bellingham’s beautifully weighted and perfectly placed passes.
Dortmund were aggressive going forward. They moved their way into the box, wasting no pass or moment in excess, but missed that final pass or lethal touch on arrival. Copenhagen’s supporters rallied from behind their keeper, who yelled to his team to stay compact while Dortmund stretched the field wide.
In the 23rd minute, Thorgan Hazard picked up an injury. The severity seemed initially unclear, but it quickly became apparent he’d need to come off.
Thinking I had forty minutes at least before a Giovanni Reyna arrival, I was snapped awake because there he was, standing ready beside Edin Terzic along the sideline. They shared a reassuring word, nodding to one another, a look of confidence between them, then Reyna went to wait for the referee to wave on his arrival.
The stadium bid a thankful farewell to Thorgan Hazard’s departure, and as the announcer stated his replacement, “nummer sieben, Gio” Westfalenstadion rang out with what felt to me a momentous and heartfelt, “REYNA!
”Reyna has long been seen as one of America’s most promising talents. But he’s been struck by injury and sidelined for fitness repeatedly since last September. Last season, he spent months in rehabilitation only to be injured within minutes on return. The image of that tearful departure still haunts us all.
Dortmund has been cautious this season to avoid tearful repetition.
Reyna hasn’t been traveling to away matches, and featured for just 35 total minutes across two matches heading into Tuesday, when he played more than 67. In his early cameos he’d been cautious, too, keeping his sprints and interventions to half-speed, easing his way in.
But Tuesday- with the energy of UCL contagious in Westfalenstadion and all of the match left to play before them- Reyna worked the pitch at full speed and determination.
Never still, he worked diligently off the ball and moved proactively on it. He was running at full speed, and at all moments. In attack he was wide and moving forward, making use of space and overlapping with Raphael Guerreiro. He found space in the box or hung out at the top of it, ready to receive the ball and identifying final passes. He was tracking back, moving into the midfield at times, defending.
With Reyna’s entrance Dortmund was really cooking. In the 34th minute Niklas Sule intercepted the ball from the back, then carried it forward on the dribble before slotting it to Julian Brandt, who found Marco Reus ready to tap it in for their first goal. 1-0 Dortmund.
The team- and Reyna- got hungrier and more confident from there. Reyna was moving with a rhythm: dropping in for the pass, finding the perfect one, moving into the next open space moving forward. He worked hard to get open, and if not given the ball, demanded it. When he got the ball he was never selfish with it, always reading the game with impeccable vision, always knowing what the next move was.
Take Dortmund’s second goal, for example. Reyna worked for space, got himself open, called for the ball, collected it running forward, saw Raphael Gurreiro and sent it over to him running behind him for the tap in. Another player might have tried to do something himself with it, but Reyna saw Raphael in a better position, and knocked it over. 2-0 Dortmund. Assist Reyna.
There were times he got open, but was left waiting for the cross or pass. I was laughing, watching as he waved emphatically to his teammates to communicate this. Coming off at the half, he had a word with Marco Reus as they walked together. Reyna was gesturing enthusiastically at his feet. I can’t read lips from that far but it’s possible he was saying, yo give me the ball more. But hey, I’m just speculating.
At the half, a bit of leg stretching, curry wurst in the press room, the distinct smell of marijuana on the terrace. More cigarettes, I think I spotted a beer in the press box. Dortmund was having a festive night.
Not to be outdone by Copenhagen, Dortmund’s yellow wall started the second half alighting their entire section in flares of their own. Sunset and flare smoke covered us in an evening haze that hung rather majestically round the stadium.
As the second half kicked off, Gio Reyna’s hunger for the ball stayed apparent. He was winning the ball, moving well in tight spaces, always getting the right pass in, and if open and not getting the ball back, he definitely made sure his team knew he wanted it.
Around the 66th minute, terror struck. Viktor Claesson came in for a rough tackle that left Reyna on the ground grasping his ankle. Jude Bellingham- clearly a close comrade of the young American- came running over, and spoke for all of USMNT-dom as he yelled down at Claesson (also on the ground) something that could have been: I swear to god, if you just injured him.
In a comforting assurance that Reyna wasn’t injured- and that he remains a reliably spirited Gio Reyna- he got up, stood beside Bellingham, and started yelling down at Claesson, too.
By about minute 75, Reyna did seem to tire. He’d been running near nonstop until then. He had his hands on his knees a few times as the clock moved toward 90.
But when it was time to move and pass and find opportunity, Gio was definitely moving. He notched a second Champions League assist at minute 83, this time setting up Jude Bellingham. And if his teammates had finished their chances, he could easily have had 5 more beyond that. His composure on the ball impeccable, his turns and bursts of speed prophetic, he found pass after pass after pass to set his teammates up for goal-scoring opportunities.
As minutes dwindled, Copenhagen also found the back of the net. Their supporter section went mental. Flares and a few small fireworks emerged, some tossed into opposing sections. The crowd hissed their disapproval (lots of middle fingers in their direction) and in karmic retribution for tossing fireworks, the goal was disallowed (unrelated to fireworks) and the match ended 3-0.
Tossed in among my scribbled notes on the goal, is my somewhat comical but underlined overarching sentiment of needing Reyna healthy: “I swear to god if one of those fireworks lands on Gio”.
I can think of no better way for Reyna- or Dortmund- to start this year’s Champions League campaign. The confidence gained by both in a comprehensive performance will impact what’s to follow in the season to come.
With the World Cup looming, Reyna will continue to work with his club to return cautiously, but confidently, toward full fitness. Understandably, he looked gassed by the final whistle. But he’s got some time to get back to full speed, and a club with very clear interest to see him there safely.
And speaking of safety, walking back into town I again found myself trailing a large group of ultras, head to toe in black. A police van was tracking them. The group was speaking English, pleased with the game, seemingly rather calm. The fact they were speaking English again corroborates: these were likely both Germans and Danes joined together, Dortmund as well as Brondby supporters, as was reported.
There were scattered yelling matches in town- a few Dortmund supporters following and yelling at some young Copenhagen fans- one Copenhagen fan yelling at a different set of Dortmund supporters the universally understood phrase: “Hey man, f**k you! F**k you, man!”
But overwhelmingly, things were peaceful. Supporters from either side made friends over kebabs. A group of them, myself among them, found a spot to watch the remaining Champions League matches.
It was a fitting end to a remarkable evening for USMNT players at the start of UCL, all of them (and us) staring down a steep countdown to a pivotal World Cup. Gio Reyna played more than 20% of his total Dortmund minutes (across competitions) since injury last September, and he performed them to the height of expectation, becoming the first American to notch two assists in a Champions League performance.
And then there we were in Dortmund’s center just following, a crowd of Germans and Danes (and me), watching up at a large screen as Weston McKennie scored a goal at the Parc des Princes for Juventus.