I had definitely heard as much, and the indicators shown by the actual league table made it clear as well.
Newcastle United was a team currently ranked fifth in the Premier League.
It wasn't even early in the season anymore; December was already nearly over.
So that ranking couldn't possibly be a meaningless number.
The more I watched the match, the more I couldn't help but doubt whether this team called Newcastle was truly one that deserved to be running in fifth place.
The match itself... was overwhelming.
"..."
How should I put it?
It felt like a hulking, muscular man grabbing a scrawny boy by the wrist and shaking him around.
To the point that it roused a slightly unpleasant feeling, Manchester City dominated the pitch and drove Newcastle into a dead end.
"It's not really all that fun to watch."
I nodded at Jiwoo's words, spoken in a bored-sounding voice.
Given how completely one-sided the flow of the game had been, it was understandable that she'd feel that way.
But... I didn't even have a moment to feel bored.
Truthfully, the reason that overwhelming performance felt unpleasant was because they were an opponent we would eventually face.
If I looked only at the football they were playing... it felt close to perfection.
Before I knew it, I'd given up on pointless analysis and was simply watching in admiration.
To be honest... it felt quite beautiful.
"..."
So if you asked me what was beautiful about it... well.
The individual skills of the players were impressive enough to draw admiration, but more than that, I thought it might be the way they used space and their movements as a team.
What I mean is, there were no useless movements.
A football pitch is obviously quite large, and with a total of twenty-two players from both sides running around.
Since there is only one ball, not every player can be involved in the play at every moment.
However, that only applies to direct involvement. Indirectly, even players without the ball—even those furthest from it—could be involved as much as anyone.
It all came down to which position they stood in at that moment, and which space they moved into.
The easiest example would be... something like a dummy run.
A play where you penetrate into empty space even if the pass doesn't actually come to you, drawing defenders to create space on the other side.
This was a far more important play than one might think—to the extent that a player who hadn't touched the ball once from start to finish could end up having the largest share in a goal.
As I said, there is only one ball, but the pitch is large and there are many players running on it.
Therefore, even if someone played the full ninety minutes, if you measured the actual time they touched the ball, they probably wouldn't exceed five minutes.
That's why what's important is movement without the ball, and building positions.
"..."
In that regard... at least to my eyes, the formations and movements created by the Manchester City players felt perfect.
Not looking at the whole pitch, but one by one.
Even if I followed just one player and watched, it was the same.
Somehow... there wasn't a single player making a movement I couldn't understand.
I was looking down from above, so I could see how they ought to move, but the players couldn't, could they?
And yet, the way they moved exactly, precisely where they needed to was nothing short of astonishing.
While admiring that sight, of course, they were all similar.
But if there were players who stood out even among them... there were a few.
One was... that blond-haired, red-faced player.
A player named Kevin De Bruyne.
And if I had to pick another, over there, the player wearing number 10, Bernardo Silva.
The reason those two left such a strong impression was, perhaps, because they were always in core positions... to the extent that it felt like the other players revolved around them.
At any given moment, those two simply never stood in the wrong position.
They were always exactly where they needed to be, and that alone complicated the opponents' thoughts.
Of course, when they had the ball, they were even more threatening.
De Bruyne... the passes that sprang from his toes were so sharp that even I, watching from above, couldn't help but admire them.
As for Bernardo Silva, once he had the ball, he was never dispossessed. It was mystifying how someone of such small stature could protect the ball so well.
Watching those two play...
Gulp-
I swallowed my saliva without even realizing it.
It even felt despair-inducing, the fact that I would have to face such masters as opponents.
No matter what move I came up with, it felt like they would see right through it.
Could I even create any variables?
In front of those players who controlled everything perfectly, without an inch of error.
"..."
Of course, one thing was certain: it wasn't like I hadn't faced great players before.
Come to think of it, had there ever been an opponent I wasn't afraid of?
They had all looked like giants, and it was far rarer for me to enter a match confident I could win.
Setting all that aside, I'd even played against the God of Football himself.
But right now.
The emotion I felt watching Manchester City play was somehow different.
There had been many teams that made me think they were simply good, simply scary.
But feeling that football was beautiful... like I did now... was a first.
It was maddening that I had to face a team like that.
If there was a team that played football like that, it was only right that they should win.
To have to overturn common sense to prevent such a reasonable result...
This was like being told to make a waterfall flow upward.
"..."
Only now... did I think I understood the reactions of my seniors who had screamed during the draw.
*
The ninety minutes of the Manchester City versus Newcastle match passed more quickly than when I was playing a match myself.
Because I had spent the entire time admiring and appreciating the game, having even forgotten why I was here.
The result was a 3-0 victory for Manchester City.
Truthfully, I had thought the score difference would be much wider by halftime, but Newcastle wasn't a team to be taken lightly either.
Perhaps the first half, where they had looked like they had no intention of winning, had been a strategy, since they showed some quite sharp counterattacks in the second half.
But as the score showed, it hadn't worked.
Although one couldn't say they made no mistakes at all, since it was impossible to be perfect for all ninety minutes.
Manchester City had shown a performance that was virtually close to perfect, and made me bite my lips several times.
Suddenly, I felt sorry for the coach who had to devise tactics against such a team.
Well, if there was a small mercy... it was probably that the coach had no hair left to turn white.
Because if I were the coach, I would surely have stayed up worrying every night until my hair turned white.
Anyway, it felt like I'd come on this vacation in a good mood and was leaving with nothing but needless worries.
Well, looking at it another way, it made me want to go back quickly and train.
I had definitely recharged, so I supposed the original purpose of the vacation had been achieved.
"Hmm.
How on earth can we win..."
"What are you thinking so hard about? You've been like that for a while."
"...Huh? Ah."
"You're completely spaced out. We've all ordered. You pick too."
"Ah, uh..."
Still deep in thought, I came to my senses at Jiwoo's words as she snapped her fingers, and only then began to scan the menu.
After the match ended, we had come to a restaurant we'd reserved in advance.
The table and seating were as such, and it was a splendid restaurant from the entrance inward.
What was it called again.
Michelin, was it?
It was supposedly a famous restaurant that had received some kind of certification, like being ranked in the Ballon d'Or if football were the analogy.
Watching the Manchester City match was what I'd wanted to do, and now it was Jiwoo's turn to do what she wanted, so we'd come here.
Apparently, this kind of thing counted as study for her or something.
"...Hmm.
But no matter how hard I stared at the menu, I couldn't tell what was what.
I'd been studying English fairly consistently, so it wasn't like I couldn't read the letters themselves.
But I had to know what things were to order them or not."
"...What did you order?"
So I asked Jiwoo quietly.
At that, Jiwoo answered excitedly.
"Me? I'll have this and this."
"...What are those?"
"This is lamb salami, and this is salmon crudo!"
"...Ah, I see."
What was salami, and what was crudo?
Even after hearing the explanation, I didn't know, but the atmosphere made it feel like I'd come across as unsophisticated if I didn't understand.
I nodded appropriately and turned my eyes back to the menu.
"...If I just ordered something expensive, wouldn't they do their best to make it good?"
Pretending to read the menu carefully, nodding my head for no reason as I turned the pages...
"Hey, what do you mean 'I see'? You don't know what any of this is, do you?"
"..."
She was quick to catch on too.
Before long, Jiwoo had figured out that I was completely clueless.
From beside me, Dad wiggled his eyebrows as if to say I should just leave it to him like he had.
"Here, look. I'll explain them one by one. First, starting from here, Egg Chawanmushi is a Japanese-style steamed egg. Aguachile, this is..."
Thanks to Jiwoo translating each and every menu item into easy-to-understand terms, I did end up looking a bit unsophisticated.
On the other hand, Jiwoo looked a little different to me.
The letters were just the alphabet, but to me it was practically an alien language.
Still, seeing her explain everything so smoothly made her feel like quite the expert, perhaps because she hadn't just been playing around while studying abroad.
She was Jiwoo, who always acted like an older sister and often made me wonder when she'd ever grow up.
It certainly seemed that people looked cool when they were in their area of expertise.
"Got it? Now pick."
"...Yeah."
After listening to the explanations and looking at the menu again, I suddenly tilted my head.
There were so many mouth-watering dishes just from hearing about them, yet it strangely bothered me that Jiwoo had only chosen two.
Moreover, didn't these kinds of restaurants serve only minuscule portions per dish?
So when I asked Jiwoo, she furrowed her brows and shook her head.
"Hey, look at the prices. They're no joke. This is a Michelin restaurant."
"...Hmm.
The prices were certainly figures you'd rarely see at an ordinary restaurant.
But for Jiwoo, this was supposed to be study; I didn't think she needed to hold back."
"Order more. Don't worry about the price."
"...You want me to order more?"
"Yeah. It's not like we can come here anytime."
"Come on, two is enough. What more do you want? It's plenty."
Watching Jiwoo wave her hands in refusal when I told her to order more, I was internally dumbfounded.
Jiwoo, turning down food?
So I glanced around at the nearby tables and said.
"Look next to us. That's how much comes on one plate..."
"...The portions are a bit small, huh."
"Don't whine about being hungry when we get back to the hotel. Just order more now."
"Sh... should I? Hehe."
Finally, she grinned from ear to ear and, seeming quite excited, opened the menu again.
And she bombarded Dad, sitting next to her, with explanations, asking what he wanted, but Dad was no different from me when it came to food.
He just nodded his head to everything, making a chuckle escape me.
Honestly, even if we ordered everything here, it probably wouldn't make a big difference in my bank account balance.
Watching her choose so carefully was nothing but cute.
At a time like this, I was grateful to the club and Puma all over again.
"Okay. This should do it."
Anyway, the menu selection was finished with considerable difficulty.
After the kind server took our order.
I was spacing out when, struck by a sudden thought, I rummaged through my bag and took out a notebook.
The notebook where I'd jotted down notes while watching the Manchester City versus Newcastle match earlier.
Holding that notebook open, pretending not to notice Jiwoo's gaze at all.
I started muttering to myself for no reason.
"Hmm... so... this is based on ball possession... through switching... and basically using gegenpressing as well..."
Earlier, when Jiwoo had used professional terms to explain the menu.
Perhaps because she had looked quite cool doing so, I had wanted to show that I was just a bit ignorant about cuisine, not a fool.
"...I really am childish.
But even so, I couldn't stop muttering."