Episode 196: Value Judgment -3
It’s a thought I have time and again, but choosing really does seem to be a difficult thing.
Because choosing one thing… is the same as giving up everything else.
I want this, and I want that too.
If I could have it all, there’d be no need to worry, and that would be wonderful.
But the world isn’t merciful enough to give me everything, so it always forces me to choose and complicates my mind.
In the end, is greed the problem?
Yet they also say you need greed to succeed.
That’s why it’s so difficult.
Why must success and greed be friends who stick together?
Come to think of it, there is a saying.
They say opposites attract.
…Is that how Jiu and I were able to become friends?
Anyway, choices are important.
Because they’re important, they’re even harder.
Many things change with a single choice of mine, and those changed things affect me in turn.
If it only affected me I wouldn’t mind, but it affects those around me too.
Thanks to that, these days I feel the importance of choices even more.
That’s why what matters is knowing which of the many options holds the greatest value.
I think it’s the eye to judge that.
What is the right direction, what holds more important value, and what can benefit me and many others more.
You have to be able to judge for yourself what is more important.
“Why’d you come? You don’t even have enough time to rest.”
“…”
“How’s my place? Pretty clean, right?”
“…Yes.”
Sitting on the plush sofa, I sip tea with a fragrant aroma and nod.
The interior of the house—not a single messy spot on the table, in the kitchen, or the living room—gives a measure of the homeowner’s personality.
But the homeowner himself is a wreck, sitting on the sofa with one leg stretched out.
He takes such good care of everything else… so why can’t he take care of himself?
I ask the Captain, who has a brace on his thigh.
“…What did they say?”
“Who knows. They said it’s the hamstring.”
“Since when?”
“Dunno. I was fine until the match ended. But once it was over, I couldn’t walk.”
“…If it’s that bad, it means it wasn’t fine from the start.”
The Captain shrugs and smirks.
At that sight, a sigh escapes me before I know it.
Yesterday.
We beat Inter 1-0.
It was a precious victory.
Since we faced Inter while not at full strength, even a draw wouldn’t have been a bad result, yet we took all three points.
Thanks to that, we were able to maintain joint first place with Napoli and continue our title challenge.
But we couldn’t fully enjoy that joy.
Because the Captain couldn’t walk off the pitch.
How should I put it?
Seeing someone who had been running around just moments before the final whistle, unable to even walk the moment the whistle blew.
It felt like watching a car that had burned its very last drop of fuel and come to a halt.
But that stalled car is instead worrying about me.
“No, seriously, why’d you come when you’re exhausted, punk. You should be getting some extra sleep at this hour.”
“…If I sleep during the day, I can’t sleep at night.”
“Then just lie down. Get a massage or something. Your body isn’t yours alone.”
“…”
Normally, if someone worries about me, I should feel grateful and moved.
But right now, I feel a strange irritation instead.
…If he’s that worried, he should worry about his own body first.
For him to tell me to rest when he’s in that state—how convincing can those words be?
Not at all.
Not one bit.
“…”
But… because I know his heart, I can’t say anything.
Besides, I have no right to say anything either.
So I just sip my tea with a frustrated heart.
“Anyway, finish that and go. Go lie in bed. Don’t do anything else.”
“…I know how to take care of myself.”
“Look at this kid. Talking like someone’s listening.”
“It’s not a soliloquy.”
I pout as I speak, and the Captain cackles.
“Wow, you’ve grown a lot. Our youngest. When you first arrived, all you did was say Yes! Yes! unconditionally, no different from a kindergartener.”
“…It’s already my second year.”
“Yeah, yeah. Second year. Right when you’ve come into your own. Even a thirteen-year pro has to listen to a second-year. Hmm.”
“And yet someone doesn’t even listen to the coach.”
“…Yeah. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
He knows he did wrong.
Then that’s a relief.
“…”
I take my lips off the half-finished tea and set it down on the table.
And after remaining silent for a moment,
I ask carefully.
“…How long will it take?”
“What?”
“To recover.”
“Hmm. Who knows. I’ll try to get back as soon as possible.”
“You said it’s your hamstring.”
“That’s why I’m lucky. It’s not like I broke a bone.”
“…”
“It’s fine. If things go well, I’ll heal quickly.”
…Who does he think he’s fooling?
A hamstring injury severe enough to make walking difficult will take months to recover from no matter how fast.
In effect, it means this season is over.
No matter how casually he says it, a serious matter doesn’t become unserious.
But… I also know that the more seriously you take it, the more serious it becomes.
So he’s probably acting like it’s nothing, at least in words.
Actually, I know that best.
That if you pretend something untrue is true, if you act, it really becomes that way.
I think I know the Captain’s personality fairly well, which is why I came all the way to his house.
I knew he wouldn’t show me a struggling side.
At least in front of me, he’d act fine, and even if it’s all an act.
If you keep acting, maybe you can really become fine.
“Drink up, punk. If you’re done, should I clear it?”
“…I haven’t finished yet.”
“Drink it all at once. It’s gone cold.”
At the Captain’s urging, I lift the cup to my lips, only pretend to sip, and set it down again.
Then the Captain clicks his tongue.
“This won’t do. Just go. I already got an earful from the coach. If he finds out I was keeping you here, I might get cut.”
“…”
“Shoo, shoo. Get lost, punk. You have the next match too. Aren’t we going to win the title? You said you’re all grown up, so why are you acting like a kid? Act like a pro. A pro should act like a pro. Just think about winning the next match. Nothing is more important than that.”
A pro should act like a pro.
Nothing is more important than winning.
Well.
I’m not so sure.
At least by my standards, that doesn’t seem to be the most important thing.
“…Chris.”
When I call the Captain’s name, he gazes at me deeply.
Since I always called him Captain, saying his name feels very awkward.
But I was about to tell him my thoughts, and somehow calling him “Captain” felt like I wouldn’t be able to get everything out, so I called his name.
“I don’t think failing to win, or failing to become champions, means we’re a failure.”
“…”
“So I don’t think that’s the most important thing. I don’t even think that only thinking about winning is a professional mindset.”
“Then what is, punk?”
“…I don’t know. Anyway, that’s how I feel.”
“Anyway isn’t an answer.”
“…Ah, come on, listen.”
The Captain snickers and nods.
Pouting, I continue.
“Winning and losing are just results, and results are simply something you accept. What’s important is the process, and you learn and grow through that process. As long as that’s there, it isn’t a failure.”
“Yeah.”
“So no matter what happens, we just have to do our best. But if we lose something even more important while only thinking about that, I don’t think that’s right.”
Watching my teammates fall to injuries one by one, I simply can’t agree that nothing is more important than winning.
I believe it so sincerely that I’d think it unavoidable even if fans were disappointed to hear my thoughts.
We compete for the championship to be happy in the end.
But if teammates are being ground down for that, how can we be happy about it?
“So what are you trying to say?”
“…Um. Just take good care of your body.”
“Got it. I will.”
“…Yes.”
I wasn’t really trying to convey anything specific; I just said it to organize my thoughts, so the ending is vague.
I’ve just had a lot on my mind these past few days.
And now too.
But I do feel like my thoughts are coming into order.
Through everything I’ve experienced.
“…I’ll get going.”
“Yeah. Go rest, punk.”
He’s like this to the very end.
Still, I should listen to the Captain.
Even if he’s a bad captain who doesn’t listen to the coach.
*
“Okay. I admit it. I don’t think there’s a more accurate answer than that. Haha.”
Mateo nods, laughing.
On my way to get my homework checked.
It was a bit embarrassing, but I gave the answer I had prepared for last time’s assignment.
That there had been a reason in the last match.
Really… saying such things with my own mouth made my face flush and my skin crawl.
Still, I’m glad I passed and moved on.
Of course, since that match hadn’t ended cleanly with a happy ending, I couldn’t be simply happy about it.
Mateo, seeing my expression, said:
“Hey, I heard Biraghi is injured… is that right?”
“…Yeah.”
“Oh no. That’s bad. I was already worried. It seemed like too much overload. Honestly, the time to rest had already passed.”
I nod, and Mateo sighs.
“Without Milenković, without Nastasić, and now without Biraghi too… this is really bad. Is Terzić playing in the next match? Terzić is still a bit shaky.”
As if he were the manager.
Mateo mutters to himself, deeply worried.
Come to think of it, fans are amazing.
It may be work for us.
But for fans, it’s purely a hobby, yet sometimes they know things deeper and in more detail than we do.
Sometimes things invisible from the inside are visible from the outside, so that must be why it feels that way.
Thus, out of pure curiosity, I ask:
“Mateo.”
“Yeah?”
“What do you think our team’s weakness is?”
“Weakness? Hmm… it’s a bit awkward to say in front of you.”
Despite saying it’s awkward, Mateo begins listing our team’s weaknesses fluently.
A squad that’s too thin.
The difference between Plan A and Plan B being too large.
Resulting in several players being overloaded.
And so on.
“We definitely need more signings. We need to reinforce defense, fill out the midfield too. Attack would be nice as well, but defense is the urgent part.”
I was nodding along since every word rang true.
As those weaknesses overlapped with the homework Mateo had given me,
a question suddenly popped out.
“What if… our team suddenly had 150 billion, no, about 200 billion won.”
“Yeah.”
“Could those problems be solved?”
“…Hmm.”
In the end, wasn’t money the issue all along?
Mateo seems to study me for a moment, then soon nods.
“That should be enough, I think. We could bring in two defenders and reinforce the midfield. We could reduce the burden enough.”
“…”
Looking at Mateo answering while nodding, I began to feel the scales of my wavering heart tipping little by little.