108. The Type to Keep His Word -5
“Wow, I’m going crazy. How did time pass like that?”
“I thought my heart was going to explode. Whew, so this is the final.”
The moment the first half ended with a 1–0 score.
The Fiorentina fans, who had been standing from before kickoff until the whistle blew, finally took their seats.
Rather than sitting, the expression “collapsing into their seats” seemed more fitting.
Everyone let out deep sighs and wiped away cold sweat, looking as though they had played the match themselves.
But the fans were every bit as tense and anxious as the players.
No, perhaps the fans were even more so.
Because this was the air of a final they were experiencing for the first time in a whopping twenty-two years.
Thanks to that, when it would normally be time to visit the restroom or the concession stand, everyone instead lounged back against their seats, sharing their thoughts on the first half.
“I was worried because it’s the kids’ first final, but there was no need at all. They’re playing even better than usual.”
“Right? For the first ten minutes or so, they definitely seemed a bit frozen, you know? But after the goal, it looked like everyone loosened up.”
“That was huge. The opening goal. Wow, did you see that bang! The way it got sucked right in?”
“It was insane. I can’t remember anything after that. I screamed so much my voice is already gone.”
“Seriously, Ri’s doing this even in the final. I mean, shouldn’t he be nervous? It’s his first final. How on earth can he be like that?”
“That’s a separate question. It’s Ri.”
Everyone revisiting the first half talked about I Jian’s goal with admiration.
It really had been a massive blow.
Truthfully, there had been a somewhat uneasy feeling early on. You could see everyone was nervous, whereas the Inter players looked quite composed.
The early first half had clearly shown there was a difference in experience.
But it was I Jian’s goal that blew that anxiety away in a single strike.
Good heavens.
Receiving the ball below the halfway line, lightly shaking off the pressure with a few touches, then making a solo dash straight to the center of the arc.
Then, as if glancing at the angle, he unleashed a thunderous shot that pierced straight into the corner of the net.
There probably hadn’t been a single person who kept their sanity in that moment.
Everyone was jumping up and down in their seats and shouting, making it look like a scene from the underworld.
Some even burst into sobs over just one goal.
Anyway, it felt like the match opened up completely with that one blow.
After that, it felt like the players all loosened up. They started playing at the level they showed during league matches.
Perhaps everyone realized after seeing I Jian’s goal.
Ah, the final isn’t anything special.
That as always, if I Jian was there, they couldn’t lose.
“But it wasn’t just the goal. He was definitely different on his own.”
“Yeah. Different. The moment he gets the ball, the opponents flinch first.”
The goal was one thing, but I Jian was extraordinary from the first touch. Just receiving the ball gave the feeling that something was about to happen.
Their trembling hearts born of anxiety changed to trembling hearts born of excitement when I Jian had the ball.
“When Ri gets the ball, even the air changes.”
“He’s not called a fantasista for nothing. It feels like something magical is going to happen.”
“When you wonder what he’ll show this time, he always shows even more.”
“It creates a time difference. It feels like Ri is in a different time and space from the other players.”
“No, doesn’t it look like he’s running with his own spotlight? Why is he shining so much?”
Somehow, it really was like that.
It felt like he was sucking in all the gazes in this space all by himself.
When I Jian had the ball, you couldn’t take your eyes off him. Not just the opposing players, but the tens of thousands of spectators too.
Even now was no different.
Everyone was talking about I Jian.
And Gim Jiu, who was sitting in the front rows of the stands listening to those fans, thought:
‘What. It wasn’t just me?’
The feeling of only seeing I Jian in that vast stadium.
The feeling that among the twenty-two players, light was radiating only from I Jian.
She had thought that feeling was hers alone.
So other people were feeling the exact same thing?
‘Well, I suppose.’
Gim Jiu smiled faintly and shook her head.
Sure. With someone who plays that… well, it would be strange if eyes didn’t go to him.
Well, anyway.
Truthfully, all of these many fans were in a state of one-hundred-percent tension, but if there was someone who trembled the most among them, it was Gim Jiu.
Even though she wasn’t playing herself, she had been losing sleep days before.
She was so nervous that in the morning she couldn’t even get her food down, wondering why she was like this.
She was incredibly worried.
Would Jian do well? He must be so nervous.
With the fans looking only at Jian like this, she had worried endlessly that he mustn’t make any mistakes.
But at least Jian so far had made such worries seem groundless.
Because even to Gim Jiu’s eyes—who watched soccer simply to cheer for Jian—it was plainly obvious that Jian alone was somehow different.
Really, how could he be like that?
“How can a sixteen-year-old not be nervous at all in his first final?”
“He was born that way.”
Someone nearby said in admiration, but Gim Jiu shook her head.
As someone who prided herself on knowing Jian better than anyone, there was one thing she could say for certain.
Jian was not someone who didn’t get nervous.
If anything, he was born the opposite.
He was definitely incredibly nervous today too.
He must have been incredibly worried, trembling, and anxious.
He was merely overcoming it.
That was why she was proud, and even felt respect for him.
Of course, it was something she’d never say to his face because it was cringeworthy… but she truly felt that way.
That little kid who liked staying quietly in the corner of the classroom, whose face would turn red standing in front of others.
Until he could freely kick the ball in front of these tens of thousands of people.
How much effort he must have put in, how much courage he must have summoned.
He must have needed an unimaginable amount of effort and courage.
And Jian had done it.
Well, he did put on airs, saying he was a genius so he could just wing it.
But Gim Jiu knew.
How hard Jian had worked.
Goodness. As if anyone wouldn’t know.
Anyway, that was why today Gim Jiu wanted to see Jian put down his burdens and smile brightly.
By crushing that nasty opposing team and taking the championship.
“We’ll win, seeing the first half. Right?”
Gim Jiu asked with a slight smile to I Wonhun, who was sitting next to her.
But I Wonhun was just biting his fingernails.
“Ah, no. Don’t say that. We still don’t know.”
Gim Jiu smiled at I Wonhun’s trembling hands.
It seemed Jian’s tendency to get nervous took after his father.
She wasn’t sure if she should dare say this, but they were truly an adorable father and son.
*
Inter was certainly a strong team.
There had been more moments during the first half when I felt our performance was better, but precisely because of that, I also felt the opponent’s depth.
The feeling hadn’t been bad, but we ultimately couldn’t create an additional goal and ended the first half.
“Let’s go out thinking it’s 0–0.”
“Let’s pour everything out! Let’s empty ourselves with nothing held back!”
“Let’s go! Let’s go!”
That was why, when we went back out onto the field after halftime, we sprinted out with our minds focused once more.
Last night, something like this had happened at the hotel.
It was around midnight, I think.
I had lain down to sleep, but couldn’t fall asleep at all, so I went to the hotel gym thinking I’d run on the treadmill.
But everyone was gathered there.
All the seniors, as if they had made a promise.
They all said they had come out because they were nervous, just like me.
So we had time to sit around and talk.
Well, stuff like whose senior’s kid was how old this year, whether housing prices went up or down… all sorts of useless talk.
The things we talked about gathered a day before the final were all like that.
But strangely, that made me think that everyone really wanted to win.
I don’t know the reason.
I just somehow felt that way.
It was the same during halftime just now.
We only talked purely about the match itself.
From the coach down, no one mentioned the championship.
We treated it like just another weekly league match.
So I felt the desire to hold the championship trophy together with everyone when these forty-five minutes ended growing even stronger.
Am I just being contrary?
Beeeeep—!
The whistle blew, and the second half began.
I wasn’t sure, but one thing was certain.
I could feel something overcoming the tension and pressure.
*
“—!”
While waiting for the opponent’s goal kick, movement on the bench was detected in my peripheral vision.
Not our bench, but the opponent’s bench, where the opposing team’s coach was shouting at his players and waving his arms.
A gesture to move forward.
The meaning was obviously to push up more aggressively.
Matching that gesture, the opposing players came over to our half.
“Defense! Stop them!”
“Close the gaps!”
In response, the captain demanded that the space between defense and midfield be narrowed, and reorganized the lines tightly.
Bonaventura and Torreira moved further back, and the wingers Saponara and Romero also dropped back.
The gaps between the back four were narrowed as well.
They couldn’t afford to give space to the opponent’s two forwards, so they closed down as much space as possible, both horizontally and vertically.
Around the time twenty minutes of the second half had passed.
The score was still 1–0.
With no additional goals coming easily, the opponent also hadn’t managed to create an equalizer.
It was reaching the point where the opponent had to throw in their last cards.
Since losing 0–1 or 0–5 meant the same runner-up result in a final, they wouldn’t be picky about means and methods to create an equalizer.
“…”
In the midst of that, I sometimes worried whether we could endure the remaining time.
But on the other hand, I became convinced that opportunity would come to me.
The opponent was pulling their lines up overall.
They had come up as much as we had dropped, to the extent that their last defender crossed the halfway line while preparing for the goal kick.
That meant there was plenty of space in behind.
That meant they could easily crumble to one counterattack, and that it was up to me to deliver that blow.
Whooooosh—!
The opponent’s goal kick passed over my head toward our half.
Instinctively my feet tried to move, but I gritted my teeth and didn’t lift both feet from the ground.
In this position just before crossing the halfway line, I had to trust my teammates and wait.
And wait for my opportunity to come.
It was truly fascinating.
In the past, I had wished opportunity wouldn’t come to me.
But now I was waiting for opportunity to come.
…In the past, I had hated being the protagonist.
But… now I was ready to become the protagonist willingly.
I wanted to become the protagonist.
Thwack—!
Thwack—!
The opponent’s pass was made in our half.
My heart dropped every time a pass was connected. Watching from a position one step removed from everyone, our defense looked far from perfect.
But the opponent was equally imperfect. Which meant there was no such thing as perfect to begin with.
I put my mind at ease and focused on myself.
I pictured only what I needed to do when the ball came, drawing a mental image.
The ball would come.
Because I believed so.
Whooooosh—!
A shot powerful enough to be heard clearly even from afar exploded from the opponent’s foot.
But soon, a dull sound of similar size covered it.
Thud—!
A defender had thrown his body to block the shot.
It had looked like a shot hit with the intent to kill… yet he blocked it.
He even sprang up and hoofed the ball long.
And I was the first to start toward the opponent’s goal.
Tatatat—!
I ran without looking back.
Running without even looking at the ball was an action that thoroughly ignored the basics of soccer, but right now that was necessary.
My start was definitely faster.
But I could already hear the defender chasing me from right behind.
If my feet were a little faster, I could play more comfortably at times like this.
I thought I’d have to practice running during the summer.
“Huu!”
Running while exhaling strongly, the moment I felt the ball would soon start to drop, I turned my head.
The ball rising high was falling behind me.
Tat—!
I hit the brakes and turned my body.
Then the defender chasing me couldn’t overcome his momentum and passed me.
It seemed the defender had also run without looking at the ball, just like me.
Had he run watching only me?
Not very pleasant.
Thud—!
But soon I felt force crashing into me from behind. I spread both arms wide, lowered my stance, and endured.
Physical battles while running are difficult, but with my back turned to the opponent like this, it’s relatively easy.
It might sound strange, but you just receive it with your hips and hold your ground.
That’s why securing position first is so important.
Shuuuuuung—
The ball dropped.
If it had been a low, fast pass rather than a high ball sent up like now, it would have been better, but there was no time to complain about that.
In the first place, passes that come exactly to my taste are at most once per game.
I’ve learned that forwards shouldn’t be picky eaters.
Fortunately, thanks to Dad’s cooking skills, I’m not particularly picky.
I eat anything well.
Tatatat—!
Holding the pushing force from behind with my hips, at some point I relaxed my body and stopped resisting.
Then naturally my body got pushed forward, reaching the point where the ball would bounce.
Receiving such a high ball on the no-bounce is a very unstable action.
So normally you wait for it to bounce once, or if there’s a teammate nearby, you deal with it using a header.
But right now it was a situation where I was alone, and there was something I wanted to do.
Right now I would do as I pleased.
Shuuuung—
Perhaps because it was a ball falling from high, it dropped in an instant.
Behind me the defender was closing in again, and the ball was falling in a way that made it terrifying to receive.
In that situation… I planted my right foot and prepared to receive the ball with my left.
The moment the ball bounced…
Tap—!
Tap—!
Using my left heel, I flicked the ball behind me to my right rear.
Tatatat—!
And immediately turning my body, I ran past the defender’s side.
Seeing the ball rolling at an appropriate distance, it seemed perfectly controlled.
Tatat—!
I ran toward the ball.
What I saw before my eyes was the ball rolling toward the penalty box, and the goalkeeper debating whether to come out.
…Hesitating meant it was already too late.
Even a goalkeeper with a full beard like that seemed flustered in moments like this.
Tatat—!
The goalkeeper rushed out toward the ball belatedly, but this only made things easier.
Gritting my teeth and running toward the ball, I slid my toe underneath it.
Paaang—!
The ball rose and flew over the diving goalkeeper.
And I hopped up to avoid collision with the goalkeeper.
Then, I ran toward the stands raising one hand as if to say, “Allow me to announce!”
Toooong… slosh—
The net shook.
And I was swept up in the embrace of men in fluorescent vests who ran to me from where they had been warming up on the sidelines.
*
It was strange, but as time passed on the scoreboard, my sense of reality kept fading.
I didn’t know why, but that was how it was.
Eighty minutes, eighty-five minutes, eighty-nine minutes… and ninety minutes.
When the clock on the scoreboard stopped, it felt as if time in reality had stopped and I had entered a dream world.
I couldn’t even pay attention to how many minutes of added time there were, or who was being substituted in and out.
It just felt like no sound could be heard and everything looked hazy.
Was I tired?
Or perhaps it was because I couldn’t believe this moment.
That was why it didn’t feel real at all.
“Uwaaaah…!”
“We won!”
Even though the whistle hadn’t blown, the seniors raised their arms to the sky.
Even the people on the bench all jumped onto the field.
Wait, the match isn’t over yet, is it okay for them to do that?
“We won! It’s over!”
“It’s the championship!”
“We’re the champions!”
…It’s over?
Ah, it’s over.
It seemed we had won.
Standing right in the middle of it, it was strange to speak as if it were someone else’s business.
That was how the feeling was at this very moment.
We had won.
For a moment I felt like I was flying into the sky, but it wasn’t just a feeling.
“Uwaaaah…! S-scary…!”
I was really flying through the sky.