That Team from Turin -3
"Move up!"
"Stop them!"
The match ignited around my goal.
It was only natural.
From the opponent's perspective, they had dominated the game for over twenty minutes, only to concede a sudden blow and fall behind—so they must have been frantic.
We defended more aggressively to stop their offensive push, while at the same time, having confirmed that our pressure was working, we didn't back down.
And, putting everything else aside.
Both sides felt emotionally charged.
The players on the field right now, including me, were all kids under seventeen.
The strangely taut thread of tension snapped with a twang, and the heat on the pitch blazed into flames.
How should I put it.
From this point on, rather than playing by the book, thinking two or three moves ahead, impulsive plays began to dominate.
As the game grew far more chaotic than before, I had to focus even more to keep my composure and stop my judgment from clouding.
The ones who had grown more emotional were the opponents, especially.
Having conceded a goal to someone like me must have surely wounded their pride.
After scoring, while returning to our half and waiting for the match to resume, I had seen them gather and say something.
Among them, I could see Jerome fuming. I suspected he had said something about harassing me to break my spirits. Just like before.
It wasn't that I was being paranoid. Because after the match resumed, the pressure directed at me grew much fiercer.
Just like now.
"Behind you! Watch out!"
See? The moment I caught the ball, a shout rang out warning me to watch out.
Swish-!
The instant I touched the ball, I quickly laid it off and moved.
Then, a guy who had aggressively rushed into my previous spot looked back at me regretfully before returning to his position.
If I'd stayed put, he would have slammed right into me.
"..."
Honestly, knowing that everyone was targeting me like this, I couldn't help but be scared. But I absolutely couldn't show it. Because that's exactly what those guys wanted. Let the opponent drag you along, and the match only gets harder.
I had learned from Jiu that sometimes bluffing helped. And also that I had quite a talent for acting.
Wasn't I the one who had told the absurd lie of being a soccer genius and still hadn't been caught?
Instead of showing fear, I moved even more actively and increased my touches. When we had the ball, the opponent pressed hard, and we had to maintain possession against that pressure. I had to be the one to do it.
Our team's kids actively helped me, too.
Swish-!
The moment I caught the ball in the center, opponents rushed in from all directions.
For a moment, I hesitated, worrying about which way to escape.
"Break through!"
"Block them!"
Our teammates joined in, physically blocking the opponents. It was as if they were saying, "I'll handle this, so you go first!" Did my nose tingle for no reason at that sight because I was too sentimental? Now, I wasn't alone. I had people on my side.
Tap-tap-tap-!
I dribbled out through the gap the kids had forced open. Moving out of the tight space, open field soon came into view.
Soccer is an eleven-on-eleven battle. If two or more latched onto me, the other side was bound to be open. Right now, that was the right side.
Whooooosh-!
I struck a long switching pass toward that space and ran forward.
It was late in the first half, so my breathing was heavy, but I ran with excitement.
Never had a match felt as fun as today.
*
"Come on, come on! Let's push a little harder! We can do it!"
Coach Luca shouted to the kids heading out onto the field for the second half.
After returning to the bench and sitting next to Manager Tony, Coach Luca soon started making a fuss.
"So, shall I contact him right away?"
"...About what?"
"Manager Vincenzo. Tell him Fiorentina's future is right here, so hurry up and come take him!"
"The match isn't over yet."
"What does that matter! Is the result important? Jian utterly dominated the Juventus kids without batting an eye! Overcome! Overcooome!"
"...Even for an Italian man, you're too impatient."
While scolding Coach Luca for his fuss, Manager Tony likewise couldn't hide the smile tugging at his lips.
Manager Tony had been more nervous before today's match than ever before.
Of course, Juventus was always an opponent that made him tense, but today was different.
Because something far more important than three points or first place in the group was riding on this match.
"Though I'm a hopeless Italian man myself, I suppose."
Truthfully, while drawing up the away squad list for this Juventus trip, Manager Tony had agonized over it dozens of times, without exaggeration.
About whether to bring I Jian or not.
Of course, he knew the boy's will was strong. He had shown enthusiasm in training, and Tony had heard that he told Coach Luca he really wanted to do well in this match.
But even so, he had found it hard to shake the thought that bringing I Jian on this away trip and making him play might be selfish.
It hadn't even been a year since I Jian had failed to adapt and left Juventus.
That experience had become a kind of trauma, and even after switching teams, he hadn't recovered easily.
Was it really right to send such a kid, a mere sixteen-year-old, into a match claiming it was a good opportunity to overcome his trauma?
Was it the right choice to stand a child who had been hiding from the pressure back in front of that very pressure? Manager Tony hadn't been able to find an easy answer.
That was why he was grateful.
To I Jian, who had played the first half so well that Tony shuddered to think what might have happened if he hadn't sent him out.
It wasn't simply because he had led the match perfectly, made the best decisions every moment, and even scored a goal. From the start, Tony had been certain that in pure skill, the Juventus kids were no match for I Jian.
What Manager Tony was grateful for was I Jian's face, which had changed as the match wore on.
At the start of the match, and through the early to mid-first half, I Jian had looked quite nervous. But after the goal, his face became vivid, as if a layer had peeled away. As if a black-and-white photo had turned into color.
Yes, it had become a lively face.
It was no longer the face of a child who had been crushed by pressure, grown accustomed to tiptoeing around others, unable to adapt to an unfamiliar environment and having hidden himself away.
It was simply the face of a boy his age, enjoying soccer like any normal kid.
"He's handsome..."
"Excuse me?"
"Hmm? Ah. He was handsome before too, but with his expression brightening up, he's even more handsome."
"Well, he's good-looking. There'll be chaos when he reaches the first team."
Manager Tony chuckled.
"Ah, but he seems to have a girlfriend?"
"...A girlfriend?"
"Yes. From what I've heard, she seems to be a friend he knew from Korea. They say he bought her meals and gifts with his weekly wages."
"Being handsome really is the best, after all."
With that personality, to think he has a girlfriend.
As Italians, it was hard to understand; Manager Tony and Coach Luca burst into laughter.
*
"Find out."
"Excuse me?"
"That friend. Find out some information about him."
"That friend... who are you referring to?"
In a corner of the stands.
A man in a suit furrowed his brow.
Glaring at his subordinate, who couldn't take a hint to save his life, the man kindly pointed toward the field and spoke.
"I'm talking about number twenty. Find out what kind of kid he is."
"Ah... that number twenty over there."
At the man's words, the subordinate scratched his head after checking the face of Fiorentina's number twenty.
It was only natural that he didn't know, being a newly appointed director who had been with neither the team nor in Italy for long.
The subordinate spoke with visible difficulty.
"Well... he was originally a kid on our team."
"...What?"
"A kid whose contract was terminated early this year. After that, he went to Fiorentina..."
"Why?"
"Uh... from what I know, I heard it was because he couldn't adapt to team life."
"Couldn't adapt to team life?"
When the man looked at him with frightening eyes, the subordinate nodded.
The man demanded a detailed explanation, and the subordinate continued to the best of his knowledge.
After hearing the explanation, the man let out a sigh.
"Hmm..."
Good heavens.
The man knew well that Juventus's current state was a mess.
After all, what was the reason a German football figure like himself had come here?
For a team that supposedly represented Serie A, you could barely find a single youth product in the first team squad.
They had assembled a squad by paying exorbitant sums to buy players from who-knew-where like a bunch of suckers, only to hand the league title over to Inter, who cost only half as much.
This season's start wasn't very smooth, either.
Hadn't he come as the surgeon to operate on such a disaster of a Juventus?
So he had expected a mess, but he hadn't known they were this clueless.
No, how could they fail to recognize such talent and let him go so easily?
He couldn't adapt? Then they should have helped him adapt somehow.
They should have provided care around the clock, and removed every element that made him uncomfortable, shouldn't they?
Look at that.
Just one Fiorentina number twenty was single-handedly dismantling the match.
It was only natural.
Because his talent was extraordinary. Because it was already beyond the U17 level.
And they couldn't recognize that talent?
Then what was Fiorentina? What did they see to snatch him up so quickly?
What the hell have the youth coaches of Serie A's top club been using their eyes for?
Well, are they just wearing them because they feel empty without them?
"Sigh..."
The man furrowed his brow and exhaled.
He hadn't thought it would be a simple problem to begin with, but now he realized a major surgery would be needed to overhaul this antiquated club.
"You said it was early this year?"
The man muttered.
That they had let that kid go early this year.
Hmm.
If only he had arrived a year earlier, the team's future might have been different.
Well, it couldn't be helped now.
He had no choice but to clean out the coaches who had been there at the time.
*
The match was quite difficult.
Having never played a full match before, my legs didn't move well from the middle of the second half onward. Was all that stamina training still not enough? Granted, seeing the kids who had trained consistently struggling too, that was an arrogant thought.
But I could run until the very end.
I wondered where this strength came from, and it was thanks to the expressions of the opposing team's kids.
The expression of the match not going their way, the expression that comes out when you're furious but helpless.
Thinking it was because of me gave me strength.
Of course, I didn't know if it was really because of me.
But that wasn't important. What mattered was that thinking so gave me strength.
Thanks to that, several times during the match the bench asked if I could keep running, and I was able to answer that I could.
I just wanted to run until the end today.
I didn't want to leave even a handful of regret here.
I wanted to return home having shaken everything from my memory clean.
But hard is hard, so in the final moments of the second half, I endured by thinking of Jiu.
That message... I should have deleted it.
Why does Jiu never put that phone down?
Anyway, I'd said I'd kill them all, but it would be embarrassing if I was the one dying instead.
To be able to face Jiu proudly when I returned, I gave it everything I had until the very end.
Perhaps because of that.
The whistle signaling the end of the match sounded especially powerful today.
"Beep, beep, beeep-!"
As the match ended, the opposing kids bent at the waist, hands on their knees, while we raised our arms and shouted.
We had won.
Against that team from Turin—no, against Juventus!
"Both teams, line up!"
"Good work..."
"Good work!"
After the match, we lined up at the halfway line and exchanged greetings with the opponent.
I shook hands with the kids who had given me bad memories.
I didn't feel much.
There was no need to hold unnecessary feelings toward kids who couldn't even play soccer better than me.
...Of course, that's a joke.
"..."
After finishing the greetings and turning back, I saw the bald coach over there looking at me with a complex expression. But I didn't meet his gaze, passing right by and heading toward Coach Luca and Manager Tony.
"Jian!!"
"Well done! You were the best!"
I ran toward the two who were spreading their arms wide and hugged them like a child.
...
Vroom-
A bus carrying twenty kids and several adults was heading toward Florence.
The kids, having poured everything into the match, were all fast asleep.
"..."
Manager Tony was tapping away on his phone.
He was composing a message to urgently send to someone.
The recipient was Vincenzo Italiano.
He was Fiorentina's first team manager.
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