Episode 216: A New World -2
I can't help but keep recalling last season's match against Man City. It's unavoidable.
Bbaaaaang—!
Thud—!
The shot of Kyle Walker, a veteran full-back on the team, is sucked into the corner of the goal.
It was a shot so flawless that it was hard to believe it came from a defender.
To the point that someone who didn't know better might mistake him for a forward.
One of the things I'd felt throughout the match against Man City last time was that I couldn't tell the positions apart.
What I mean is, it's exactly what I just felt.
There were many moments where I'd get confused—whether this guy was a forward or a defender, whether that guy was a midfielder or a forward.
For example, Walker, a defender, would push up like a winger and attempt to break through with a dribble, or even go a step further and cut inside to try a shot.
And when I came to my senses during defensive situations, all the midfielders would be inside the box, causing the marking to fall apart.
How should I put it.
It felt like the formation was only written down because they had to list the starting lineup, but once the match started, there were no real distinctions.
It felt like everyone could be a forward when attacking, a midfielder when needed, and a defender when defending.
Thinking about it, it was an ideal picture.
Of course.
Rather than having only defenders defend and only forwards attack, isn't it far more efficient for defenders to also be able to attack and forwards to also be able to defend?
But the reason it's realistically difficult is because it's not as easy as it sounds for one player to play multiple positions.
If it were easy, positions wouldn't exist in the first place.
Everyone would just be classified as field players.
But with the Man City players, it felt like they could actually do that difficult thing.
It wasn't a feeling of 'this guy is a right-back, that guy is a center-back, that one is a defensive midfielder, that one is a striker...'
It felt like everyone was just a field player, becoming a forward or a midfielder depending on the situation.
So in the end, the conclusion is that they're incredible players.
Something that's theoretically the best, but realistically hard to do.
Man City was actually doing it, and those Man City players were amazing.
They had gathered only outstanding players.
That's what I was feeling while watching the shooting training of the players ahead of me now.
"Hey—!"
Beep—!
As the training proceeded one by one, I, who had been standing in the very back row, had now come to the front.
Right up next.
Once De Bruyne, who was taking his shot now, finished his turn, it would be my turn.
...Come to think of it, De Bruyne was right in front of me again.
Swoosh—!
Thud—!
De Bruyne's kick drew a beautiful trajectory and lodged into the top corner.
No matter that it was a training situation, and the defenders were replaced with mannequins.
It was a shot that made you think, 'So that kind of kick is actually possible,' even taking that into account.
My heart, already shrunken, felt like it was shrinking even more.
...Someone watching might find it funny.
That I've played in front of tens of thousands and yet I keep getting nervous over something like this.
But that's just my temperament; there's nothing I can do about it.
However, just as the examiner said after the examination.
I just need to accept that it's who I am and strive to channel it in the right direction.
Tension is my weapon.
Because I've always been tense and prepared, I've been able to make fewer mistakes and show greater ability than I have.
So I'm not feeling the tension now as purely a bad thing.
"Next!"
I had come to this team for an even higher transfer fee than those amazing players who had shown those awe-inspiring shots earlier.
And I have to prove the reason for that.
To give myself tension, I instead hammered those thoughts into myself and slowly walked to stand in the center.
"Huu—"
And after taking a deep breath...
Tap-tap—!
Lightly tapping the ball with short touches, I sharpened my senses, expanded my vision in all directions, and readied myself to detect changes.
A state of hyper-tension.
Whenever I'm in this state, I've always displayed my best abilities.
"Hey—!"
At the voice coming from the left, I turned my head as quickly as a cat.
But the coach who had called out wasn't taking any action.
Thwack—!
The sound of the ball being kicked came from behind.
Meaning it was from the right, so I turned my head back and moved my body at the same time.
Swoosh—
I could see the pass flying with strong power and an ambiguous height.
If it were a match, it was a pass that I would have judged as going to the player behind me and let pass by, but since this was training, they had deliberately given it in a tricky way—it was a ball I had to take.
Facing the ball coming at face height, I puffed out my chest and hopped up.
Thwack—!
The ball taken with the chest floated upward.
And the moment that ball dropped vertically and bounced on the ground,
Thwack—!
I immediately sent a pass to the coach near my right, timing it with the bounce.
Tap-tap-tap—!
And I slipped past the mannequin, penetrating into the box.
At the same time, a pass flowed into my path.
With a pass like this, I felt like I could shoot without trapping it first.
Tap-tap—
After matching my stride with quick steps,
Bbaaaaaang—!
I twisted my body as it was and struck the shot.
Since I had checked the goalkeeper's position while the pass was coming, at the moment of the shot, I looked only at the ball.
Thanks to that, the impact was clean.
Swoosh—!
Thud—!
The ball lodged into the side net.
Of course, that meant it passed through the inside and hit the side net.
The goalkeeper just stood in place, unable to even reach out his hand.
"..."
I relaxed my hand that had unconsciously tried to clench into a fist.
In my heart, I wanted to celebrate as if I'd scored in a match, but I held back because I thought I'd look ridiculous getting happy over just this.
The players who had shown more brilliant shots than me had returned nonchalantly, so shouldn't I also act as if this was nothing?
"...Huu."
Still, I couldn't stop a sigh of relief from escaping.
*
After the shooting training ended, the next training was again physical conditioning.
Pre-season training is actually mostly like this.
Most of it is conditioning rather than basic skills or tactical training.
During the season, it's hard to do intense physical training, so the only time to do it separately is during pre-season, and the immediate priority is also to raise fitness in time for the season opener.
However, the reason I couldn't let go of the tension until the very end was that whenever one physical training session ended, a ball-based training session always followed immediately.
According to the coach, it was the concept of concentration training.
Actually, at the professional level, everyone can kick the ball well, and their understanding of tactics and movement are bound to be excellent.
The important thing, the coach said, is whether you can play your best even when your concentration is low.
When your body is exhausted, can you still maintain focus and play as usual?
Even at the professional level, at the top level, that difference in concentration decides victory or defeat.
That's why they do ball training immediately after physical training—to build that concentration.
Thanks to that, I couldn't relax for a single moment until training ended.
Of course, part of it was also that I was conscious of the other players.
Because they were all so good.
The thought that I had to do even better than them made it impossible for me not to concentrate.
In conclusion, my impression of the first team training was that it was very hard.
"You must've had a hard time."
"...Huh? Ah."
"Let's go eat something good."
"Yes..."
Had I been slumping too much in the passenger seat?
At my father's words while he was driving, I straightened up a bit.
Then I looked out the window and spoke.
"But it was fun."
"Really? What part?"
Hmm.
Saying it was fun because it was hard felt like an insufficient explanation.
"Just, everyone is incredibly good. To the point that I can't help but admire them just watching."
"I see. Well, they are the best team right now, after all."
"Doing it together among them is hard, but I think that's also why it's fun. It feels like I've come to a new world..."
Whether my feelings got through or not, my father nodded.
I'm not saying the training at Fiorentina was easy.
I learned a lot there too, and learned a lot watching the seniors.
It's just that... being squeezed among world-class players recognized even from the outside feels different, is all.
It felt like, somehow, even if I just breathed among these people, my skills would improve.
Why, there's even a saying like that.
That even a dog at a school recites poetry after three years.
It might not be the exact analogy, but anyway, that's how I felt.
Current Man City is the best team in Europe.
This is an undeniable fact, since Man City won three competitions last season.
So the football Man City plays is the football closest to the right answer right now, the training methods Man City uses are the training methods closest to the right answer, and the players playing for Man City are the best players.
If I wear that team's uniform and train with the best players using the best training methods.
Couldn't I develop quickly too?
That's why it was hard, but on the other hand, it also felt fun.
If I struggle not to sink, before I know it, I'll be able to swim well too.
"..."
By the way, hmm...
They really are monsters.
How well they all kick the ball, and how smart they are too.
Honestly, I don't know how many games I'll be able to start.
...That won't do.
Ji-u and Dad would be disappointed.
I don't know.
Huu.
*
"I'm dying."
"Dying."
"Dead."
Etihad Campus parking lot.
The players who had finished training at the training ground trudged out, sighing.
The first day of training is always twice as hard.
You could clearly see on the players' faces that they felt terrible.
However, today they looked especially tired, as if there was another reason.
"...He's good."
"He's good. Of course."
"His skills aren't in question."
The players gathered in groups, preparing to head home, shook their heads as they spoke.
The subject of their conversation was the newcomer who had joined the first team training today, I Jian.
New players were inevitably a subject of great interest to the existing players on the team.
It was natural, since they were going to be his teammates.
Moreover, what if that newcomer was a player who had broken the team's transfer fee record?
He couldn't help but become an even greater object of interest.
You could call it wariness, or perhaps vigilance.
The professional world is one where, even within the same team, a pecking order is formed by transfer value.
It's not a strange thing, but when you think that the player who broke through the ceiling is just an 18-year-old kid, it becomes even more so.
Thanks to that, the existing Man City players had arrived at the training ground much more nervous than usual.
They had talked amongst themselves beforehand—simply put, to be careful not to be looked down upon.
Honestly, if he had that kind of talent and skill at 18, he could act however he wanted and no one could say anything.
But a team is communal living, and communal living strictly requires discipline.
If the newcomer who is also the youngest were to overshadow everyone, wouldn't the dynamic become strange?
So that the newcomer wouldn't think, 'These guys are nothing special.'
The players had approached training biting down hard, as if it were a real match.
And of course, while doing so, they didn't show it as if they were always like that.
So naturally, everyone was drained as soon as training ended.
"Still, he didn't seem like an arrogant type."
"I'd heard he was humble, but he seemed even more so than I thought."
"Maybe there was no need to worry."
The players shrugged their shoulders and said.
Even when we'd seen him briefly coming and going at the stadium last season, we'd felt it.
He was a friend who gave off an impressively humble feeling for someone who had received the spotlight at a young age.
But seeing him in person, his attitude was so serious that it felt like we'd worried for nothing.
Rather, he was the one who listened to the coach more than anyone and participated in training enthusiastically.
Far from needing to assert authority over him, he was the very image of a youngest member you wanted to look after.
"Still, we should keep the atmosphere in check for now. We can take our time getting friendly."
"Right."
Everyone was nodding at the opinion that they should maintain some weight for a few days.
Someone pointed at Grealish, who had been quiet, and spoke.
"Jack. Why are you so quiet?"
"Me? What."
"Don't go contacting him separately to get friendly on your own. I told you."
"Got it. Do I look like someone who'd do that?"
"You totally look like someone who'd do that."
Seeing Grealish smile subtly even while saying he understood, everyone made uneasy expressions.
Watching that scene, despite having promised to become seniors who would keep things in line,
I couldn't hide my selfish desire to be a good senior, at least on my own part.