Today Is the Cheapest -3
The sun is blazing again today.
And today, too, I stand beneath that sun.
“Whew—”
My second start… though that’s all it is.
Standing on the pitch like this, waiting for the whistle, I can’t hide how nervous I am.
It’s partly because I’m naturally the type to get nervous easily… but today, there were a few additional reasons.
For one, it was an away match.
Empoli isn’t a city far from Florence, but an away game is an away game.
Yesterday, I came to this city with the team by bus and spent the evening here.
It wasn’t a very long time, but being alone in an unfamiliar city wasn’t particularly comfortable.
Every time I tossed and turned, I thought of home.
To be honest… it was a bit strange.
I’d never once thought of Florence as my “home.”
I just… thought of it as a city I’d ended up living in for a while.
It’s not like I’d lived there for very long.
But actually coming to an away match like this, the feeling was somehow different.
It seemed I’d grown somewhat attached after all.
Perhaps I’d started to feel at home after Jiu arrived.
Anyway, that was the first reason.
Honestly, the second reason was bigger.
Namely, the fact that I’d been given a fairly important mission in today’s match.
Today’s opponent, Empoli FC, was a team in the lower ranks of the group.
Like Sassuolo last time, a team objectively weaker than us.
Thus, it was said that the match would unfold under our control, with the opponent occasionally seeking counterattacks.
In such matches, the Coach said the important thing was “not to rush.”
After all, we would have more chances, and the only thing the opponent was aiming for was the counter.
There was no need to hurry. Even when we attacked, we should take it slow and make sure to build up properly before trying—that was the message.
Hmm.
I’d been nodding along up to that point.
So we should pursue quality over quantity in attack; minimizing mistakes is important, I thought, sketching out a rough picture in my mind.
Then the Coach pointed at me and said.
“Jian is in the driver’s seat today. When Jian hits the accelerator, speed up. When he hits the brake, slow down. Match Jian’s tempo. Jian also presses the ignition button on our attacks. Everyone understand?”
“Yes sir!”
At first I was a bit surprised and didn’t quite understand, but after thinking it over, he was telling me to lead this game.
Telling the other kids to match their tempo to mine was, in the end, telling me to control the tempo of the match.
In that moment, I felt a little—no, a lot of pressure.
Wondering if I was really fit to take on such an important role.
No matter how weak the opponent was, and although I’d done my part to some extent in the last match… still, wasn’t this too big a role?
What was I to lead these kids?
“Whew—”
But I decided to try.
Because I didn’t intend to run away anymore.
I’d felt it enough while doing physical training with Coach Luca all week.
When you overcome your limits, there’s a joy you can taste only in that moment.
And that joy was highly addictive.
The urge to feel that again was what shook off the pressure.
As Coach Luca said, I would trust myself more and face today’s match.
I will lead this match.
“Beep—!”
The match begins with the opponent’s kickoff.
At the same time, I push up toward their half.
As I advance, I can feel our midfielders matching my pace and following me up.
Today’s goal is a perfect victory: keep possession as much as possible and don’t give the opponent even a single chance.
Cautious in attack, but bold in defense and pressing—that’s the foundation of our game plan.
“Trap them!”
“Push them! Stay on them!”
As we pressed aggressively, it was obvious the opponent was flustered.
It was different from the Napoli match. Those kids had shown the will to play their way out with passes despite our pressure.
These kids didn’t seem to have that luxury.
Whoosh—!
As could be seen from this irresponsible long pass.
“I got it!”
The ball drops into our half, but since it wasn’t an intended pass, it doesn’t connect to the opposing striker.
Having easily recovered the ball, we start playing it slowly from the back, beginning our probing in earnest.
“…”
Returning to near the halfway line from where I had pressed and looking around, I can feel the opposing kids dropping back like the receding tide.
As expected, rather than pressing us, they intended to drop back and defend solidly.
“Hey.”
I drop below the halfway line to receive a pass.
No one is pressing me hard, but I exchange light passes with nearby teammates, seizing the tempo.
Thwack—
Thwack—
At the same time, I rack my brains over how to effectively attack an opponent coming out in a full defensive stance.
An opponent already set and waiting.
So it’s hard to create space with a flat, one-dimensional attack.
To create space… two methods come to mind.
One is to develop the ball to one side, draw the defense to that flank, then quickly switch play to the opposite side to attack.
The other is to cause a crack through dribble penetration and attack through it.
Which would be better?
The dilemma wasn’t hard.
If I succeed with the second method first, the first becomes much easier.
Then obviously, I’d start with the second.
My calculations done, I turned the ignition and put my foot over the accelerator.
Thwack—
Thwack—
Loosening my body and slowly exchanging passes, until I feel the opponent also relaxing to that rhythm.
Tatat—!
I quickly turn forward.
In an instant, the entire view ahead opens up, and I can feel everyone in front of me looking at me.
I lower my head slightly, ignoring those gazes.
And I focus on just one person in front of me.
If I just get past one person, our team will have it much easier.
Tatatat—!
I take direction to the right and dash diagonally.
The defender is pulled in that direction too,
Tap—!
I stamp my left foot as if to cut direction, my upper body twitching. The opponent flinches at that movement.
Taking that brief gap,
Thwack—!
I accelerate again, charging straight to the right. Nothing grandiose, nothing flashy… but nothing is as efficient as the simple.
Tatatat—!
I pull him far along so he can’t even think about catching up again.
Then, once enough distance is secured, I slow down again, checking my teammates’ positions and waiting. Until one more person sticks to me.
If no one comes, do I keep going?
Tatat—!
Yeah, they have to.
The opposing defensive midfielder approaches as if he can’t just watch.
Which means his original position is now empty.
Macheda, our right winger, darts into that space.
Thwack—!
After threading an incisive forward pass to Macheda, I immediately run to the right.
Meanwhile, Macheda holds the ball.
Once I take up position, he gives me a return pass.
Thwack—!
I receive the ball with the touchline at my back.
Then, preparing to face the opposing fullback one-on-one… but I see the defensive midfielder I’d dropped coming in from the left to provide cover.
No. Go away.
Thwack—!
I pass back to our fullback supporting behind me, making the opponent retreat,
Thwack—!
then receive the return pass again.
Now it’s truly one-on-one.
Before it becomes one-on-two again, I quickly rush at the opponent.
All those times I’d gone up against Coach Luca over and over were for this moment.
Trusting myself, I advance boldly.
Tuk, tuk—
Knocking the ball with the instep of my right foot as I go, showing my rhythm to the opponent,
Shhik—
I swipe my left leg in a slightly offbeat rhythm.
A fake mixed with upper body movement. A step-over.
Could he withstand this dribble honed with Coach Luca?
He freezes—!
Right. There’s no way you defend better than the Coach.
Move.
Tatatat—!
The moment his balance breaks, I pop the ball to the right and break free. In an instant, I succeed in penetrating inside the box.
I keep driving straight in… but the angle looks too narrow for a shot.
I glance toward the center.
Center forward Enzo charging toward the goal catches my eye.
The keeper is positioned near the near post, but he seems to be standing in an ambiguous spot, seemingly wary of a cross.
This is…
Shoot.
Bwoooooom—!
With the instep, as hard as possible.
I swung with the thought of hitting the near post.
The refreshing sensation traveling up my leg from my right foot.
Shooooooom—
As I watch the shot rocket toward the goal, beyond it I see the keeper, wrong-footed.
No matter how you look at it, too late.
Thwack—!!
The net bulges heavily.
That was my repayment to Coach Luca.
*
Director Paolo has a bad back.
So when sitting in the stands, he always sits with his legs crossed. Today had been the same.
Until the match started.
“…”
But now.
Director Paolo was no longer crossing his legs.
His back was off the backrest too.
Leaning his upper body forward, he watched the match while diligently writing something in the notepad he always carried. A posture as if he might be sucked into the stadium at any moment.
Thwack—!!
“Uwaaaaah—!”
“SÌÌÌÌÌÌ—!”
The sound of the net rustling reached him. At the same time, the children’s cheers erupted.
A goal. A goal. A Fiorentina goal.
“…”
Director Paolo looks at his wristwatch.
Let’s see…
Thirty minutes.
Thirty minutes had passed since the match started.
And that was the third goal.
Right. Before that, the net had already bulged twice.
And at the center of it all was always that child.
“Jian Ri…”
The first goal had been all Jian from start to finish. He received the ball from the halfway line, created space through organic passing play, then opened a chance with a bold dribble breakthrough and finished it off.
The second goal showcased tremendous vision.
The process of getting near the box was similar to the first goal, but this time he cut inside toward the center.
Then he looked to the opposite side. Using the fact that the defense had converged on him, he played a lofted pass.
It was tremendous vision, and the quality of that pass was also top-class.
And just now, the third goal.
This was… beautiful.
The opponent had already been rendered helpless by the previous two goals. The only thing they could do was retreat further back.
Before them, Jian drew a magnificent arc as if to show off.
A mid-range shot. The mid-range shot tracing a beautiful trajectory was sucked straight into the corner of the goal.
In just thirty minutes.
Jian was making the Empoli kids lose their will to fight.
“Ngh…”
Director Paolo let out a groan and leaned his back against the rest.
Perhaps from the heat, or perhaps from something else, he felt slightly dazed.
Thanks to that, he’d even forgotten his back pain.
…He wanted to drink a cup of cold water and come to his senses.
“Whew…”
Paolo wiped the sweat trickling down his forehead and pulled the bag placed beside him closer.
He rummaged through the bag and took out a fairly worn notepad.
Opening it, he narrowed his eyes and began searching for something.
“Let’s see… Fe… Fe…”
His hand, which had been scanning densely written letters, stopped at one page.
“…Here it is. Federico Chiesa.”
Federico Chiesa.
A Fiorentina youth product and current Italian prodigy playing for Juventus.
Director Paolo’s notepad contained the full records of Chiesa’s salary negotiations.
-2015 weekly wage 192 euros.
-2016 weekly wage 2,385 euros.
-2017 weekly wage 13,865 euros.
-2018 weekly wage 60,538 euros.
As Director Paolo read through those records, the words Coach Tony had said came to his mind.
“Today is the cheapest.”
Puhuhu— Director Paolo burst into a hearty laugh and began hurriedly making a call somewhere.
It seemed he would need more funds.
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