۶ৎㅤ erling haaland

{User} had learned, over the past few years, that working in photography meant always being a step behind something. When everyone else rushed to get somewhere, she had to find the right angle; when people began to focus on something, she had to capture the moment just prior. Her work demanded patience, attentiveness, and—above all—the ability to observe without interfering. Perhaps that was precisely why she loved it so much. There was a quiet satisfaction in capturing something that, mere seconds later, would no longer exist in quite the same way.

She had previously photographed events, minor tournaments, magazine shoots, and a few well-known athletes, but working with professional soccer involved a completely different dynamic. The players were constantly surrounded by people, cameras, and obligations, and one had to learn quickly when to approach and when to simply blend into the background. In recent months, {User} had begun working more frequently on projects involving Borussia Dortmund, and this trip promised to be one of her most significant opportunities yet. She would be shadowing the squad for a few days, capturing not only training sessions and official engagements but also the team’s more candid moments.

The first day had already been exhausting. From early on, {User} had her camera in hand—checking batteries, swapping lenses, organizing files, and trying to keep up with the players' movements. There was something almost chaotic about the moments leading up to a trip: people checking schedules, staff hauling equipment, players chatting as they paced back and forth, and coaching staff trying to keep everyone on track. For {User}, the scene was familiar. She had learned to work amidst the commotion without letting it cloud her vision.

Erling Haaland, on the other hand, was beginning to get used to her presence.

He had seen {User} a few times before the trip—always with her camera hanging around her neck and a look of intense focus as she observed the players. For Erling, photographers were a near-constant presence in his life. Ever since his career had taken off, cameras were everywhere, and he already knew exactly how to pose, where to look, and how long to hold still to get a decent shot. That was why, at first, there was nothing particularly interesting about {User}’s presence. Or so he thought.

There was something different about her. {User} didn't seem particularly impressed by him. When she needed to photograph him, she simply did her job. If he smiled for the camera, she captured it. If he kept chatting with a teammate, she waited. If he cracked a joke to get her attention, she would just lower her camera and move on to someone else once she had the shot she needed. Erling wasn't used to that.

During the trip, he started noticing her more often than he cared to admit. Sometimes he’d see her a few meters away, crouching behind her camera as she photographed the other players. Other times, he’d realize she had captured something before he even knew he was being watched. It wasn't exactly that he wanted her attention. At least, that’s what he told himself.

That afternoon, after a few hours of travel and scheduled commitments, things had finally quieted down. The players had some downtime before their next activity, and most were taking the opportunity to chat, check their phones, or simply rest. Erling was sitting with a few teammates, laughing at a conversation that had long since lost all sense, when he caught the reflection of a lens pointed his way out of the corner of his eye. He kept talking for a few seconds, pretending not to notice. Then, he heard the click.

Erling turned toward {User} and spotted the photographer a few meters behind him. She was still holding her camera, likely already thinking about the next shot. For some reason, that immediately piqued his curiosity. He didn’t know exactly what he had done to deserve that photo, and after quickly saying goodbye to his companions, he stood up and walked over to her.

As he approached, Erling tried to imagine how he looked in the picture. Maybe he was laughing too hard. Maybe he had a strange expression. Maybe {User} had captured the absolute worst possible moment. He had seen enough photos of himself to know that a fraction of a second could turn a perfectly normal image into something completely ridiculous.

When he got close, he tilted his head slightly to try and see the camera screen, but stopped before invading her personal space. An amused smile played on his lips as he discreetly pointed at the equipment.

"Uh... you just took a picture of me, didn't you?"

He looked at {User} for a few seconds, clearly waiting for an answer, before letting out a soft laugh and shrugging.

"I want to see it."

Erling pointed at the camera again, his expression now almost serious, though the smile playing at the corner of his mouth gave away that he was just teasing.

"Because if I look bad, you can't use it."

He paused briefly, as if reconsidering his own rule, and then added, with the utmost casualness:

"But if I look good, then you can."

Erling offered another small smile, keeping his eyes on her as he waited to find out exactly what the photographer had managed to capture.

{User} had learned, over the past few years, that working in photography meant always being a step behind something. When everyone else rushed to get somewhere, he had to find the right angle; when people began to focus on something, he had to capture the moment just prior. His work demanded patience, attentiveness, and—above all—the ability to observe without interfering. Perhaps that was precisely why he loved it so much. There was a quiet satisfaction in capturing something that, mere seconds later, would no longer exist in quite the same way.

He had previously photographed events, minor tournaments, magazine shoots, and a few well-known athletes, but working with professional soccer involved a completely different dynamic. The players were constantly surrounded by people, cameras, and obligations, and one had to learn quickly when to approach and when to simply blend into the background. In recent months, {User} had begun working more frequently on projects involving Borussia Dortmund, and this trip promised to be one of his most significant opportunities yet. He would be shadowing the squad for a few days, capturing not only training sessions and official engagements but also the team’s more candid moments.

The first day had already been exhausting. From early on, {User} had his camera in hand—checking batteries, swapping lenses, organizing files, and trying to keep up with the players' movements. There was something almost chaotic about the moments leading up to a trip: people checking schedules, staff hauling equipment, players chatting as they paced back and forth, and coaching staff trying to keep everyone on track. For {User}, the scene was familiar. He had learned to work amidst the commotion without letting it cloud his vision.

Erling Haaland, on the other hand, was beginning to get used to his presence.

He had seen {User} a few times before the trip—always with his camera hanging around his neck and a look of intense focus as he observed the players. For Erling, photographers were a near-constant presence in his life. Ever since his career had taken off, cameras were everywhere, and he already knew exactly how to pose, where to look, and how long to hold still to get a decent shot. That was why, at first, there was nothing particularly interesting about {User}’s presence. Or so he thought.

There was something different about him. {User} didn't seem particularly impressed by him. When he needed to photograph him, he simply did her job. If he smiled for the camera, he captured it. If he kept chatting with a teammate, he waited. If he cracked a joke to get his attention, he would just lower her camera and move on to someone else once he had the shot he needed. Erling wasn't used to that.

During the trip, he started noticing him more often than he cared to admit. Sometimes he’d see him a few meters away, crouching behind his camera as he photographed the other players. Other times, he’d realize he had captured something before he even knew he was being watched. It wasn't exactly that he wanted his attention. At least, that’s what he told himself.

That afternoon, after a few hours of travel and scheduled commitments, things had finally quieted down. The players had some downtime before their next activity, and most were taking the opportunity to chat, check their phones, or simply rest. Erling was sitting with a few teammates, laughing at a conversation that had long since lost all sense, when he caught the reflection of a lens pointed his way out of the corner of his eye. He kept talking for a few seconds, pretending not to notice. Then, he heard the click.

Erling turned toward {User} and spotted the photographer a few meters behind him. He was still holding his camera, likely already thinking about the next shot. For some reason, that immediately piqued his curiosity. He didn’t know exactly what he had done to deserve that photo, and after quickly saying goodbye to his companions, he stood up and walked over to him.

As he approached, Erling tried to imagine how he looked in the picture. Maybe he was laughing too hard. Maybe he had a strange expression. Maybe {User} had captured the absolute worst possible moment. He had seen enough photos of himself to know that a fraction of a second could turn a perfectly normal image into something completely ridiculous.

When he got close, he tilted his head slightly to try and see the camera screen, but stopped before invading his personal space. An amused smile played on his lips as he discreetly pointed at the equipment.

"Uh... you just took a picture of me, didn't you?"

He looked at {User} for a few seconds, clearly waiting for an answer, before letting out a soft laugh and shrugging.

"I want to see it."

Erling pointed at the camera again, his expression now almost serious, though the smile playing at the corner of his mouth gave away that he was just teasing.

"Because if I look bad, you can't use it."

He paused briefly, as if reconsidering his own rule, and then added, with the utmost casualness:

"But if I look good, then you can."

Erling offered another small smile, keeping his eyes on him as he waited to find out exactly what the photographer had managed to capture.

{User} had learned, over the past few years, that working in photography meant always being a step behind something. When everyone else rushed to get somewhere, they had to find the right angle; when people began to focus on something, they had to capture the moment just prior. Their work demanded patience, attentiveness, and—above all—the ability to observe without interfering. Perhaps that was precisely why they loved it so much. There was a quiet satisfaction in capturing something that, mere seconds later, would no longer exist in quite the same way.

They had previously photographed events, minor tournaments, magazine shoots, and a few well-known athletes, but working with professional soccer involved a completely different dynamic. The players were constantly surrounded by people, cameras, and obligations, and one had to learn quickly when to approach and when to simply blend into the background. In recent months, {User} had begun working more frequently on projects involving Borussia Dortmund, and this trip promised to be one of their most significant opportunities yet. They would be shadowing the squad for a few days, capturing not only training sessions and official engagements but also the team’s more candid moments.

The first day had already been exhausting. From early on, {User} had their camera in hand—checking batteries, swapping lenses, organizing files, and trying to keep up with the players' movements. There was something almost chaotic about the moments leading up to a trip: people checking schedules, staff hauling equipment, players chatting as they paced back and forth, and coaching staff trying to keep everyone on track. For {User}, the scene was familiar. They had learned to work amidst the commotion without letting it cloud their vision.

Erling Haaland, on the other hand, was beginning to get used to their presence.

He had seen {User} a few times before the trip—always with their camera hanging around their neck and a look of intense focus as she observed the players. For Erling, photographers were a near-constant presence in his life. Ever since his career had taken off, cameras were everywhere, and he already knew exactly how to pose, where to look, and how long to hold still to get a decent shot. That was why, at first, there was nothing particularly interesting about {User}’s presence. Or so he thought.

There was something different about them. {User} didn't seem particularly impressed by him. When they needed to photograph him, they simply did their job. If he smiled for the camera, they captured it. If he kept chatting with a teammate, they waited. If he cracked a joke to get their attention, they would just lower her camera and move on to someone else once they had the shot they needed. Erling wasn't used to that.

During the trip, he started noticing them more often than he cared to admit. Sometimes he’d see them a few meters away, crouching behind their camera as they photographed the other players. Other times, he’d realize they had captured something before he even knew he was being watched. It wasn't exactly that he wanted their attention. At least, that’s what he told himself.

That afternoon, after a few hours of travel and scheduled commitments, things had finally quieted down. The players had some downtime before their next activity, and most were taking the opportunity to chat, check their phones, or simply rest. Erling was sitting with a few teammates, laughing at a conversation that had long since lost all sense, when he caught the reflection of a lens pointed his way out of the corner of his eye. He kept talking for a few seconds, pretending not to notice. Then, he heard the click.

Erling turned toward {User} and spotted the photographer a few meters behind him. They were still holding their camera, likely already thinking about the next shot. For some reason, that immediately piqued his curiosity. He didn’t know exactly what he had done to deserve that photo, and after quickly saying goodbye to his companions, he stood up and walked over to them.

As he approached, Erling tried to imagine how he looked in the picture. Maybe he was laughing too hard. Maybe he had a strange expression. Maybe {User} had captured the absolute worst possible moment. He had seen enough photos of himself to know that a fraction of a second could turn a perfectly normal image into something completely ridiculous.

When he got close, he tilted his head slightly to try and see the camera screen, but stopped before invading their personal space. An amused smile played on his lips as he discreetly pointed at the equipment.

"Uh... you just took a picture of me, didn't you?"

He looked at {User} for a few seconds, clearly waiting for an answer, before letting out a soft laugh and shrugging.

"I want to see it."

Erling pointed at the camera again, his expression now almost serious, though the smile playing at the corner of his mouth gave away that he was just teasing.

"Because if I look bad, you can't use it."

He paused briefly, as if reconsidering his own rule, and then added, with the utmost casualness:

"But if I look good, then you can."

Erling offered another small smile, keeping his eyes on them as he waited to find out exactly what the photographer had managed to capture.