The snow was falling gently in Munich as Noussair Mazraoui jogged out of the tunnel at the Allianz Arena, breath curling in the frosty night air. His gloved hands tapped against his thighs, his mind already deep in the rhythm of the game to come.

“Cold, huh?” joked Jamal Musiala, bouncing beside him.

Mazraoui grinned. “I’ve played in Amsterdam in February. This is nothing.”

The whistle blew and the match kicked off — a Bundesliga clash buzzing with stakes. Mazraoui was everywhere: intercepting high up the pitch, weaving through midfield with the poise of a playmaker, then sprinting back to cut out a counterattack. His feet moved like they were fluent in every language of football.

Late in the second half, with Bayern pushing for the winner, the ball landed at Mazraoui’s feet just outside the box. He didn’t hesitate — a crisp one-two, a flick past his marker, and a curling cross whipped into the six-yard box. Goal.

As teammates crowded the scorer, Mazraoui raised a finger to the sky, calm, collected, and quietly dominant.

After the game, a reporter caught up with him. “You covered the entire right side like it was your backyard. How do you manage that balance?”

Mazraoui chuckled. “You don’t think. You just play. When it feels natural, you’re doing it right.”