124. It Wasn't Hard -1
It was a new season, and having suddenly recalled how I was a year ago and the year before that, I had been pretending to be an adult. But coming back to reality from such sentimentality, I felt somewhat cringeworthy and ashamed.
Talking as if I had overcome all sorts of adversity and achieved some human victory. When in the end, I'm just a brat full of bravado who only wants to show off in front of a friend.
Still, I admit that a lot has changed over the past year, but I don't know why I can't throw away this bravado.
At least to someone, among the twenty-two people here right now, I have to look the coolest. An adult wouldn't have such childish thoughts. Right. If they were an adult. They wouldn't have such childish thoughts.
But because I'm not an adult yet, that's all I think about even now.
I don't have to be perfect every moment, but if I could be, I'd want to. At least in someone's eyes... if I could look that way, that would be nice.
People go on and on about beginner's mindset, beginner's mindset. My beginner's mindset is truly unparalleled in its childishness. Still, it's precious to me. Because they say a beginner's mindset is precious.
*Paaaang—!*
Horizontally, I receive the ball in the space between the opponent's back line and their midfield line, and vertically, in the left half-space.
And turning toward the goal, I see the opponent's center-backs hesitating. They look torn between stepping out and holding their line.
They can't just let me roam freely in front of the box, but if they leave their positions, they might concede space inside the box, so they have no choice but to hesitate.
*Tatatat—!*
While Saponara on the left and Romero on the right, as well as our midfielders, make runs into the box to deepen that dilemma.
*Tatat—!*
The defender closing in on me is coming from behind, not the front. But since I had already anticipated this, I calmly use the sole of my foot to drag the ball back, evading the foot of the defender coming in from the right rear.
Then, pushing the ball forward again with the sole, I stride toward the rolling ball with large, bold steps.
And focusing as much as possible on my shooting form, I pull my right foot back wide. They say a proper shot comes from proper form... that's partly the reason, but more important than that is that it has to look cool.
*Baaaaam—!*
Feeling the crisp sensation traveling from my big toe up through my knee, I admire the trajectory of the shot flying toward the goal.
A curving shot struck from near the left corner of the box, aimed at the opposite goalpost corner.
A curled shot is inevitably slower than one struck with the instep, so sending it as far into the corner as possible is crucial. The best is when it heads outside the goal frame, then swerves sharply to strike the post and get sucked inside.
If you shoot like that, it becomes an unstoppable shot that no goalkeeper can save, but of course, it's easier said than done and incredibly difficult in reality. That's why I have to practice until I'm sick of it.
To succeed with that shot just once in a real match, I have to send hundreds, thousands of shots into the empty air or into the goalkeeper's arms.
That is why, right now...
*Shuuuuuung—*
When, in my eyes, that perfect shot flies toward the goal.
People will never know how thrilling this feeling is.
*Taaang—!*
*Thwack—!!*
The ball, heading outside the goal frame, swerves greatly, strikes the post, and shakes the net.
Soon, a deafening roar erupts, and something in my chest threatens to burst out as well, but...
"..."
I suppress it, forcing myself to look composed as I merely clench my fist slightly. In my heart, I want to jump up and down, too.
And I want to chatter away to Jiwoo about how difficult this shot is, how unbelievable it is to score like this. But I can't.
"Yeeeeeah!"
"What a crazy goal from the start, you crazy bastard!"
Because I have to be a genius through and through. A genius who can score a shot like this without even practicing. To look that way, I can't even express my joy freely.
Come to think of it, I really do seem to be living a tiring life...
* * *
Today, throughout the match, there were many moments when I recalled what Jiwoo had said a few months ago. It was the day I received the top scorer trophy.
Back then, Jiwoo said that one's position makes the person, and that I looked a little cool. ...Haha. The idea that I, who had only seemed like an inadequate younger brother, was the top scorer—it seems I looked a little different that day.
Well, anyway.
The reason that memory suddenly came back during the match wasn't because I had developed a habit of grinning to myself at those words at every opportunity, having felt so good hearing them. It was because I felt a similar vibe from the AC Milan players' attitude.
Long story short, they all gave me a terribly hard time. Whether I had the ball or not, there were always one or two defenders sticking to me. Especially when a pass came my way, there were countless times I got fouled before even touching the ball and had to roll on the ground.
I felt like they were fools in many ways. No matter how much they say one's position makes the person, even if I had won Player of the Year last season and was playing wearing the number 10 this season.
What am I that they went that far; because the opponents only focused on me, we were able to play the match rather easily. It's not like I'm the only one on our team, but since they only watched me, Romero scored two goals on them. Fools. That's why I ask, why do you only torment me?
"What's wrong, why's your face like that? Are you in a bad mood?"
"...No."
"Are you hurt somewhere? Did you twist something when you fell earlier?"
As the match ended in a 3-1 victory, the captain came and asked if my sullen expression meant something was wrong, so I scratched my head and shook it.
"You were heavily marked today. You have every right to be annoyed. Good work, youngest."
"It's the ace's fate. Overcome it, overcome it."
"Yes..."
Then other seniors came and patted my shoulder; it seems my face must have shown something. No matter what happened, as long as the team won, that should be enough. What was so unsatisfying that my lips were pouting out so visibly?
...This is all because of Jiwoo. It was a home game after a few months, so I wanted to show something more. Since I couldn't, I'm annoyed for no reason.
"..."
Of course, even I thought it was a funny tantrum, so I soon felt embarrassed. But seeing as I feel this way, I don't think I need to worry about losing my beginner's mindset.
Whether that's a good thing or a bad thing, I don't know... anyway. It felt like a new homework assignment. I somehow feel like there will be many more matches like this going forward. What do I have to do to overcome them? They say your position makes you, but I never thought I'd be worrying about such things.
...
August 26, 2022.
The eyes of European football fans turned to Istanbul, Turkey.
The reason fans' attention was focused even though there was no match was none other than the Champions League group stage draw.
Perhaps this very moment was more exciting and nerve-wracking than match day itself.
Which group their supported team belongs to and which team they will fight against. There are few things more thrilling than this.
Of course, for fans of teams that qualify for the Champions League as routinely as eating, most simply check the draw results in the news the next day. But for fans of teams stepping onto the Champions League stage for the first time in a long while, they watch the group stage draw ceremony live with trembling hearts.
This season, Fiorentina fans were like that, and the Fiorentina players were no different.
"Wow, I'm so nervous I could die. What's the big deal."
"Of course it's nerve-wracking. This is the moment that half-decides whether we make the Round of 16."
"Hey, you bastard. You should think about breaking through no matter who you face. Are you going to rely on luck?"
"Could you still say that if we end up in the same group as Real Madrid and Liverpool?"
"...That's a bit much."
6 PM, when the group stage draw begins.
The Fiorentina players gathered in twos and threes at Captain Biraghi's house.
Everyone was sitting in front of the TV, waiting for the draw to begin with nervous faces.
Some players seemed unable to contain their trembling hearts and were sipping wine.
And amid all this, as if he had been forcibly dragged along by his seniors.
I Jian too was sitting on one side of the sofa with his knees drawn up, staring at the TV with a sulky expression.
Because he hadn't been able to have dinner at home.
"So, what's the best result?"
"Hmm, first, you can't have two or more teams from the same league in the same group. If you think about us being in Pot 3..."
"From Pot 1, it'd be Porto, Ajax, or Frankfurt. Meeting Sevilla or Leipzig from Pot 2 would be the best."
Not that I don't want to face famous powerhouse teams and test myself properly.
Once you get to the knockout stage, you'll end up facing them all anyway, so naturally, you hope to be in an easier group.
While everyone was calculating which group would be the best to enter,
on the TV screen, the draw had finally begun.
"They draw the Pot 1 teams first, right?"
"Yeah."
The group draw begins by first drawing the teams belonging to Pot 1 in order and placing them in each group.
Famous football figures dressed in suits came out and drew small balls, showing on screen which team's name was inside the ball.
"Let's see. If it's like this, we can't go into Group E."
"Right. Because of Milan."
"No, but why do we have to be in Pot 3? It's unfair."
Perhaps to heighten the suspense, they dawdled needlessly while drawing the balls, leaving everyone anxious for a moment.
As several draws continued, the outlines of the groups were gradually revealed.
The placement of teams from Pot 1 and Pot 2 was finished, and now it was Pot 3's turn.
Since Fiorentina belongs to Pot 3, the moment the Pot 3 draw began, everyone clasped their hands and held their breath.
"Come out now...! Now...!"
"Please...!"
"The Pot 3 team to enter Group B is... Bayer Leverkusen of the Bundesliga."
"Damn! What a shit hand!"
"What are you doing there!"
While no group looked easy, they had all coveted Group B, where Porto was in Pot 1.
When another team's name was called for that Group B, everyone let out sighs.
Some even cursed at the innocent Leverkusen, calling them tactless.
Anyway, the draw continued.
"Ah, we really can't go here...!"
"Pass! Pass!"
When it came time to draw the team for Group C, everyone was terrified.
The first two spots in Group C were occupied by Bayern Munich and Barcelona.
If you enter, it's just hell.
Even I Jian, who had looked sulky the whole time, was biting his nails.
"The Pot 3 team for Group C... Inter!"
"Yeeeeeah!"
"Congratulations! Inter!"
"I take back what I said about shit hand! Golden hand! Golden hand!"
As soon as Inter's name was called, a celebration broke out.
Just not us.
For today, Inter is Fiorentina's brother.
"This time we absolutely have to be called!"
"Please! Just one more golden hand!"
In the following Group D, Frankfurt occupied the Pot 1 spot, so this time they had to be called.
"The Pot 3 team for Group D is, Sporting."
But no such thing happened.
"Damn, shit hand!"
"Hey, are we sure we're even in there?"
A scene of rampant mood swings between joy and despair.
Regardless, the draw continued, and it wasn't until the very last turn that Fiorentina's name was called, but...
"Wait a minute. If it turns out like this..."
"Is this good?"
"Hmm, it's iffy..."
Everyone's expressions looking at the finished table after the Pot 3 draw were quite ambiguous.
The group Fiorentina ended up in was the last group, Group H, and... the teams belonging to Group H were as follows.
Group H
-Paris Saint-Germain (Ligue 1)
-Sevilla (La Liga)
-Fiorentina (Serie A)
"But Sevilla is one of the better ones among the Pot 2 teams, right?"
"It's definitely better than Group C or F, but..."
Sevilla isn't an easy team, but considering that Liverpool, Barcelona, Chelsea, Atletico Madrid, etc. were in the same Pot 2, they certainly are on the better side.
But...
"Paris is a bit much, though."
"Do we... have to stop Mbappé, Neymar... and Messi...?"
The reason the defenders' expressions were especially poor was because of Pot 1's Paris Saint-Germain.
Because Paris is a team possessing terrifying attackers whose names alone inspire fear.
"Wow, Messi in my first Champions League, what is this..."
"I'm more scared of Mbappé..."
Because of that, everyone already looked sick with worry, but...
"..."
I Jian's expression was also somehow worried, yet at the same time, his eyes sparkled brightly.
It was a rather strange expression.
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