Chapter 225: His Very Existence Is a Foul -3
Whenever I watch De Bruyne, there’s always one thought that comes to mind.
It’s that he makes football look so easy.
Watching the way he plays, struggling to break down matches the hard way feels almost foolish.
Thanks to that, I sometimes feel truly hollow.
Football is supposed to be that easy.
Why is it only so difficult for me?
It’s like, for the same problem, I write out three or four lines of working to solve it, while he roughly calculates it in his head and writes down only the answer—and it’s the right one.
“Nice!”
“Come on!”
The opponent’s ten-back, which had looked so difficult to break down, crumbled with absurd ease to a single cross.
All eleven of them became fools.
When a cross came in that stuck right to the head, there was nothing they could do but stare blankly.
When you think about it, it’s a truly simple method.
Lots of defenders in the box?
Then just float the ball up and put it on the striker’s head.
It’s so simple that all that fussing over space and passing feels idiotic.
But that’s only easy in theory.
If it could actually be done as easily as it sounds, there’d be no such thing as complicated build-up play to begin with.
You’d just boot it long from the back, thump after thump, until you reached the front of the goal.
Because that’s difficult, we just take the long, hard way around.
That’s what’s amazing.
That person who does that difficult thing as easily as it sounds.
“···”
My head shakes back and forth of its own accord in pure admiration.
On one hand, it feels unreal once again that I’m playing on a team with these monsters.
At the same time, I think I can’t simply stop at being surprised.
If I were a spectator, I could just be surprised, but I’m a player running on the same team as him.
I have to become a player on his level, and to do that, I need to gain inspiration and learn.
Hmm.
But how do you learn something like that?
You can’t learn a kick like that just because you want to.
···This is why I hate geniuses.
*
After the first goal went in relatively easily, if there was one thing I was wrong about, it was thinking the opponent would launch a counterattack.
No matter how defensive a tactic they had prepared, once they were down by a goal, they would have no choice but to tear down their own walls.
Because it’s hard to reset the match to square one if they just keep defending.
But for today’s opponent, Burnley, going down by one goal didn’t seem to be enough.
To draw out their will to attack, that is.
They say even a cornered rat bites the cat, but this doesn’t even seem to be a corner.
Pa-aang-!
Pa-aang-!
Our defenders have pushed up high, exchanging passes among themselves.
And I mean high—they’re positioned beyond the halfway line.
It’s possible because the opponent’s furthest forward attacker is tucked in lower than our midfielders anyway.
The clock on the scoreboard has already passed 30 minutes and is heading toward 40.
We’ve been pounding the opponent to the point of tedium all first half, but we still haven’t reaped a result like the first goal.
Amidst that, I’ve been busily moving to create scenes similar to the earlier one.
Pa-aang-!
I drop to the left side and receive the ball.
Pa-aang-!
And I exchange short passes with nearby teammates, narrowing the space.
It means making the opponent players stick close to us.
Tatat-!
When I feel the pressure growing stronger bit by bit, and sense the surrounding space narrowing, that’s the time.
While circulating the pass, if an opening appears to strike a long kick, without hesitation I look to the opposite side and float the ball over.
Pheoooooong-!
On that opposite side is De Bruyne.
De Bruyne, who is in slightly more open space while the opponent players are concentrated on my side.
Pa-aang-!
De Bruyne, having caught that ball, targets the box without hesitation.
Without moving from the spot where he caught the ball, he sends in an early cross as is.
Pheoooooong-!
Shuuuuuung-
Pa-aang-!
The trajectory was as bizarrely sharp as ever, but the ball bounced out without reaching Haaland’s head.
The opposing defender had predicted well and headed it away.
Pa-aang-!
Anyway, the second ball was ours, as if it were only natural.
We circulate the ball again and start the retry from scratch.
It wouldn’t have been an exaggeration to say that repeating this process was the entirety of the first half.
Well, I don’t know if the opponent will change their defensive methods or tactics.
I figured that perhaps we too didn’t feel the need to seek changes since they maintained their posture even after conceding.
After all, the manager hadn’t ordered any changes.
The match is completely under our control.
It’s just that the situation isn’t perfectly coming together to lead to a goal like before.
But even so, for some reason I’m feeling impatient.
“Huu-”
Is it because the number of the opponent’s defensive successes and our attacking failures is increasing?
Not that there’s any need to rush, but the very fact that our attacks are failing bothers me.
Failure itself, that is.
What do I mean by that... well.
It’s like something instinctive inside me is chafing, so it’s hard to explain.
Come to think of it, I’m not the type to particularly prefer long passes.
Aside from passes thrown into space during counterattacks or switching play to the opposite side.
I don’t often try passes directly into the box or crosses.
Thinking about why... I think it’s because I dislike uncertain things.
A long pass into an aerial duel is ultimately a 50-50 fight no matter how high it goes.
Unless you’re sticking it on like a magnet, it’s not strange for it to hit the opponent’s head.
Uncertainty... it’s on the higher side.
That’s why I didn’t prefer them.
Rather than pinning hopes on uncertain possibilities, it was better to make things perfect.
Put another way... doesn’t that mean I simply hate failing itself?
Pheooong-!
The sound of a kick being struck again comes from the other side of the pitch.
De Bruyne has sent in another early cross.
This time too the trajectory is sharp.
Pa-aang-!
But it fails to connect with Haaland’s head.
The defender deflected it.
The loose ball comes to our feet, and the ball is fed back to De Bruyne again.
And De Bruyne, to the point where it seemed almost persistent, looks into the box again before lightly laying the ball back because the angle isn’t there this time.
“···.”
A thought flashes through my mind.
Even from De Bruyne’s appearance, which seems impossible to learn from no matter how much you want to, I wonder if there isn’t something learnable if I just change my thinking slightly.
There are various reasons why De Bruyne’s kick is so powerful.
He has good vision, strong and flexible ankles, and the delicate sense to pull off various types of deliveries.
But beyond that, there may be a more important reason hidden in places not easily seen.
It’s that he consistently and frequently attempts those kicks.
Simply put, he keeps going until it works.
It’s not that he won’t send it in if it’s uncertain or seems unlikely to work; it’s more like he just sends it in first and sees.
Like in today’s match.
So from the opponent’s perspective, it’s inevitably threatening.
No matter how high the defensive probability, if the number of attempts increases, the probability of being broken through also rises.
“···”
Come to think of it, De Bruyne doesn’t seem to fear failure much.
Even if the cross doesn’t connect, he acts as if it’s nothing, and when the ball comes again, he just sends up the same one.
Of course, it’s also because he knows well that the team will recover the ball even if the cross doesn’t connect, so the risk is low.
He probably has confidence in his own kick too.
But by that logic, I’m not so different either.
Even if my kick doesn’t connect, won’t I receive the same cover from my teammates?
Then why do I hesitate?
Is it my perfectionist nature keeping me from taking risks?
Perhaps it’s also due to habits formed while playing for Fiorentina.
Back then, we weren’t in situations where we attacked throughout the match like now.
We had to hold onto the ball to perfectly capitalize on limited opportunities.
But I know too.
You can’t make everything perfect.
There are times when you have to attempt something adventurous.
A match like today might be one of those times.
The opponent is crouched down having practically given up on attacking, and we’re in a position where we have to smash through it somehow.
If I try to measure out something perfectly here too... couldn’t something that would work end up not working?
Experienced players like De Bruyne and the others know that well.
The manager’s words suddenly come to mind.
He told me to be more dominant, bold, and proactive.
Maybe not to the other players, but at least to me, he said that.
He seems to have seen right through me in that short time.
That I fear failure.
Maybe telling me to be bolder ultimately means to abandon the habit of fearing failure.
That thought suddenly struck me while watching De Bruyne continue to attempt crosses.
“···Huu-”
I get goosebumps anew.
Because of the thought that I am so lucky.
Thanks to my teammates, I’ve been made to think about something this important during the opening match, so I’m lucky.
If I had realized late or not at all, and had stubbornly stuck to my habits, the future would have been difficult.
I might have ended up becoming a failed signing.
But thanks to having a fantastic teammate who smacks some sense into my head like that, who gives me inspiration, I’ve come to realize this.
Now all I have to do is put in the effort myself.
People must adapt and change according to their environment.
Otherwise, they’ll only be weeded out.
I know well because I had that experience when I first went to Italy.
It’ll be the same now.
I have to adapt to the new situation, and to do that, I must change old habits.
Otherwise, far from developing, I’ll only go backwards.
Beep, bleeep-!
The whistle blows signaling the end of the first half.
I drag my dirtied body here and there toward the locker room, but my head is filled with nothing but thoughts of the second half.
*
When returning after finishing the first half, and when going out for the second half.
There was one change for us: De Bruyne had been substituted out.
Unfortunately, it was said to be due to thigh pain.
It’s not an injury severe enough that he can’t play more, but the area he’d injured during the last Champions League final was acting up again, so they decided to stop as a precaution.
Anyway, Kovacic filled that vacant spot, and we started the second half without De Bruyne.
Burnley was the same in the second half.
When defending, all eleven players stood their ground in their own half as before.
They seemed to believe that as long as they maintained the one-goal difference, they would have a chance until right before the end.
Of course, we had to shatter that belief.
So we too didn’t grow impatient, yet without relaxing, we didn’t stop attacking.
It was when about 10 minutes had passed like that.
Pa-aang-!
I receive the ball in the area just past the halfway line, in the right half-space.
It’s usually an area with heavy pressure, but since the opponent had retreated so far back, I turn leisurely.
Tap, tap, I dribble the ball up almost casually and look forward.
Between the tightly packed Burnley jerseys, I see our players, and beyond them Haaland’s blond hair standing tall.
···The odds of just whipping in a cross from here look too low.
There are too many defenders packed in.
I want to somehow squeeze through and enter the box with the ball still at my feet.
But I try not to.
Srruk-
I push the ball forward with the sole of my foot and look into the box.
Pheoooooong-!
And I strike an early cross right then and there.
It may be dull compared to De Bruyne’s awl-like kick.
But the good thing is, it’s still a 50-50 aerial duel.
Pa-aang-!
The ball hits the defender’s head.
But rather than bouncing away, it drops nearby.
It seems to have glanced off the head.
Coincidentally, the direction is toward Haaland, who had jumped along with him.
Tatat-!
Haaland, with his back to the defender, shields the ball.
And just as he seems to turn while physical battling, he lightly lays the ball back.
To Rodri, who had been approaching while all the defenders’ attention was focused on Haaland.
I hadn’t even noticed Rodri had advanced that far.
Pheoooooong-!
Rodri’s right foot spews fire.
Yet it’s accurate even amidst all that.
A shot you’d only see on the training ground, as if there were no defenders in front, is fired into the corner of the goal.
Swish-!
The goal net shakes once, and the players run toward the corner flag with Rodri at the center.
I too run toward the players, nodding my head as I go.
I think that sometimes not being too obsessed with perfection can make the situation better.
Let’s be bold.
What is there to be afraid of?
“YEAH-!!”
“Nice!”
If it’s with this team, I can do that.
*
When the second half began, Kevin De Bruyne’s expression was naturally not good.
An uneasy feeling came over him as the specter of injury gripped his thigh again.
Still, since it wasn’t a serious level, he composed himself and sat on the bench.
And while watching his teammates’ match, De Bruyne burst into a hollow laugh because of Ijian.
It was because of Ijian’s increased long passes since the second half began.
‘He’s crazy.’
Kicks with sharp trajectories struck the box in succession. Even to De Bruyne, they were top-class.
But the important thing was that until the first half, Ijian hadn’t made such attempts well.
How should I put it, a feeling that he was trying to stay slightly a step back.
A feeling that he only played the role of creating space and left decisive passes to his teammates.
Because he performed that decoy role so well, even he had been able to get many early cross opportunities.
But entering the second half, he changed his role himself.
It might be an illusion, but he seemed to have felt something watching his teammates’ play during the first half.
A feeling that he found an easier way?
Simply put, in just 45 minutes he had adapted to this place called the Premier League, and to playing for Man City.
In a mere 45 minutes.
Pa-aang-!
The side close to the bench.
Ijian traps the ball with the touchline at his back.
Ijian’s back, with the number 7 written on it, is visible right in front of De Bruyne.
Tatat-!
A defender quickly sticks to him.
Until just earlier they had left him at this height, but after conceding the second goal it seemed they’d realized they couldn’t do that anymore.
Seeing them stick to him to prevent him from crossing comfortably.
But...
Tatat-!
Ijian, having taken a posture to send another early cross, instead bursts past when he sees the defender rushing in quickly.
He successfully broke through lightly by exploiting the opponent’s expectation.
Tatatat-!
Of course, the defense was still packed behind that.
Beating one wasn’t enough to easily penetrate into the box.
So Ijian draws his right foot back wide.
Pheeeeeoong-!
Everyone on the bench, including De Bruyne, rises halfway while tracking the ball with their eyes.
And a moment later, everyone exhales a groan and clutches their heads.
Taaaang-!
The shot hammered the crossbar.
It was a shot with proper top spin that dropped sharply, but in trying to hit over the defenders’ height by aiming high, it was fractionally too high.
Clap clap clap clap-!
De Bruyne claps with all his might and then carefully sits back down.
And looking at Ijian, he thought.
He’s glad he was born more than ten years earlier.
If they were a similar age, he would have felt a tremendous sense of crisis.
But Ijian is young.
So he was simply pleased.
He felt that even when he retired later, there would be no need to worry.