242_Chasing the Impossible -1
Where does human greed end?
Just as we cannot know the end of the universe, perhaps human greed is much the same.
Having 1, one wants 2; having 2, one wants 3.
I think being satisfied with what one has is truly no easy thing.
Perhaps it is an instinct ingrained in humans for hundreds of thousands of years.
A sort of survival instinct, you might say.
Without greed, we could not have survived, nor could we have developed.
Thanks to such ancestors, it is only natural that we, who have flourished, are bound to be greedy.
"Why are you standing there blankly? When you get the ball, look here, here!"
After the first half ended, inside the halftime locker room.
The tactic board sways from the coach’s rough hand, and the magnets stuck to it scatter into the air.
The weekend of that week, having returned from the match in Florence.
Right now, in the midst of the League Round 8 match against Wolverhampton.
The locker room atmosphere is heavy due to the coach’s furious shouting, but if you ask whether we played a terrible first half, that isn’t exactly the case.
When the whistle blew, the score was 2–0 in our favor.
"All we need are goals! We aren't out there to pass the ball around! Don't confuse the means and the ends!"
Yet the coach is going on like that.
That thought suddenly crossed my mind.
Just how great is that man’s greed for victory?
Just how immense is his greed for perfection, that he would spew such fervent words even after finishing the first half 2–0?
Well, I suppose you have to be that kind of person to earn the nickname “mad dog for victory.”
And that's precisely why he was able to rise to that position.
I truly find it amazing.
And my teammates are no different.
Even though we returned winning 2–0, instead of praise we get scolded—anyone would find that unfair.
Yet everyone is calmly giving feedback, which is almost frightening.
How this team managed to achieve the treble last season, how they couldn't settle for one trophy and lifted three instead.
The reason lies in the sight of this locker room right now.
"Okay, okay! Let's go again!"
"Let's go!"
The storm-like passionate speech nevertheless ends with applause of encouragement.
The players shout fighting cries for the second half or discuss with one another as they exit the locker room.
Wearing a fluorescent bib over my match uniform, I follow them out.
The Fiorentina match was on Wednesday.
And today is Sunday.
Because the match is only three days apart, I've been excluded from the starting lineup.
Moreover, we're winning the match, and I don't think we'll lose in the second half either.
I expect today I'll get to rest well, but though my body is comfortable, strangely my heart is not.
To be precise, I'm feeling a bit impatient.
It's definitely a good thing that my teammates are doing well, but I can't deny I also feel some impatience.
After all, I'm still in a position where I have to be worth the money.
The expectation of 200 billion won.
To think that expectation would be fulfilled by just one previous match would be a ridiculous dream.
I am an existence that must always be special, an existence that must always be reliable, an existence that must show something amazing.
Humans are beings that, having 1, want 2; having 2, want 3.
Fans are people too—the same applies.
If I scored 3 goals in the last match, they hope for 4 in the next.
What's even scarier about expectations is the immense speed at which they rise, and that there is no limit to them.
The day before yesterday, returning home and watching the news with Jiu, there was talk about the Ballon d'Or ceremony.
At the end of October, so a month from now, the ceremony would be held—who would be among the candidates, and whose win was most likely.
The news said that probably Lionel Messi, who won the World Cup last year, was the likely winner.
Then followed talk about predictions for next year's winner, and who had started off well and was pulling ahead.
The news mentioned five names.
Paris Saint-Germain's Kylian Mbappé.
Real Madrid's Jude Bellingham.
Bayern Munich's Harry Kane.
Our team's Erling Haaland.
And absurdly, my name was listed last.
This was proof.
Proof that there is no end to people's greed.
And proof that the expectations born from that greed know no limits.
Isn't it truly absurd?
I've only played a few not-bad matches and happened to score a hat trick in one match—that's all.
Yet people aren't satisfied; they expect me to win the Ballon d'Or.
The Ballon d'Or—just thinking about it makes me let out a hollow laugh.
The Ballon d'Or is an honorable award given once a year to only one person in the entire world.
In simple terms, it's an honor given to the player who performed the best in the world that year.
The best player in the world.
That I could become that is unimaginable.
Of course, it was a dream.
But a dream is a dream precisely because it is not reality—because it exists in a place so high it cannot be grasped.
I had only nurtured that dream with the thought that it would be nice to even get near it; I had never thought to capture that dream in my hands.
It was merely a feeling like a star floating in the sky.
But now, people expect me to become that star.
Of course, there probably won't be anyone who curses me for failing to meet that expectation.
One could say it's my duty to play up to 200 billion won's worth, but that can't be called a duty.
But human greed knows no end.
Once such expectations are placed on me, I too cannot help but be greedy.
Because I am human too.
A greedy human at that.
I once thought I wasn't, but I'm a lump of greed.
How else could I harbor the greed to meet every expectation?
They say excessive greed is forbidden.
Since I'm the same, and everyone around me is nothing but greedy, it's quite confusing.
To what degree should it be controlled?
I'll have to ask the coach when I have time later.
When it comes to greed, it's the coach—so he must surely know well.
Waaaaaaaah—
As the pitch of the home stadium is revealed past the tunnel, the cheers of fans anticipating the second half pour in.
Watching the backs of my teammates heading toward the ground bearing those cheers on their shoulders, that sight is incredibly reassuring.
They are the best players.
The team formed by their gathering proved itself the strongest in the world last season.
I feel it every time I train with them.
So this is what it means to be the best, this is what it means to be special.
Those players make me feel it every single moment.
And those players are my teammates.
At first, it didn't even feel real that I was playing on such a team.
Why am I on a team composed of only the best players... that was how I felt.
But they say greed has no end, and satisfaction does not exist.
Now I want to stand tall even among those players.
It's an arrogant thought, but it's also true that if you don't set your goals that high, you can't even get near them.
First, I need to quickly pay off this enormous debt of 200 billion won.
And after that, I suppose I'll have no time to be satisfied there before moving toward the next goal.
Come to think of it, I suddenly grow curious.
If, by any chance, that goal were to become reality.
Would I truly be satisfied, or would I have become a body that cannot be satisfied even by that?
Hm.
I don't know.
For now, the problem is that such a day might come, so let's just think about the goal right in front of us.
...
"So? Pass?"
"...Hmm, well. I don't think it's bad, but..."
"What. How vague. So is it a pass or fail. Tell me clearly."
"Hmmmm."
Before me is food plated so prettily it feels like a waste to carelessly eat.
After taking one bite, I cross my arms and carefully savor the taste.
Before me, Jiu swallows dryly and watches me with a serious expression.
"Argh, hurry up!"
"Be quiet for a second. I'm tasting it."
"Wow, I'm going crazy."
Jiu keeps whining, and I maintain a stern expression, savoring the flavor as if I were a judge.
What we're doing right now is preparing for the opening of the small restaurant Jiu is getting ready.
You know, that thing I mentioned before.
That I'd open the shop, Dad would be the manager, and Jiu would try being the chef.
From what I occasionally heard from Dad, both had been preparing quite hard all this time.
Dad was looking for a good spot in the neighborhood, and Jiu was pouring heart and soul into menu development.
No wonder new dishes had been appearing on the dining table lately—it was all preparation for the opening.
"Hm. It's definitely not bad. But something feels a bit lacking."
"Why? What is it? Too sweet?"
"I don't really know the details. But something feels a bit lacking..."
"Ha, another fail? No, give it here. It was just delicious, what's lacking about it. Geez."
When I act quite finicky, Jiu, seemingly incredulous, takes the bowl and takes a bite, then chews mumbling, "It's just delicious!"
That sight is so cute I burst into a chuckle.
Actually, Jiu is right.
It's just delicious.
To the point that even at fairly famous restaurants, it wouldn't be this tasty.
Perhaps my palate has been trained by Jiu all this time, but not just today—everything presented so far has tasted the best to me.
Truth is, that's why I'm in no position to judge it.
The most important thing in judging is objectivity, and I'm already someone who cannot be objective.
Everything Jiu makes tastes delicious to me, so how could I be objective?
But the reason I'm just pretending to be finicky like this, well.
Other than times like these, I have no chance to get the upper hand over Jiu, so there's some enjoyment in it.
On the other hand, it's also because I'm very worried.
Well, failure is the mother of success.
Pain that cannot kill me makes me stronger.
There are many sayings that sound cool and are actually true.
But honestly, if one could succeed without going through such things, if one could walk only a flowery path, wouldn't that actually be the best?
I'm fine walking any path.
But I just hope that Jiu, at least, walks only a flowery path.
Because Jiu is the one who paved a flowery path for me.
That's why I'm acting unnecessarily strict.
I can eat anything deliciously, but customers will be strict, after all.
I want Jiu to work harder and more carefully so as not to be disappointed or hurt.
"Hey, try it again. No matter how I look at it, I think this will sell."
"Hm. Give it here."
But Jiu really has a lot of pride too.
When it comes to cooking, Jiu doesn't back down either, asking persistently what's wrong every time—it's driving me crazy.
Even now, as if unable to accept it, Jiu tells me to try it again and asks me to give it another taste.
"Here. Ahh—"
Jiu scoops the food with a spoon and holds it out.
...Wait a minute.
I asked for the whole bowl.
Jiu is trying to feed me.
"..."
"How is it? Think again."
In the heat of the moment, I accept and eat it, then needlessly furrow my brows again, pretending to be serious, pretending to focus on my sense of taste.
Why do something I don't usually do all of a sudden.
If anyone saw, they'd think we were *that* kind of relationship.
...Ah.
We are that kind of relationship, aren't we.
"...It's not bad. It isn't."
"Ha, okay, okay. I'll research it more. You happy?"
You should research more.
Because I can't bear to see you cursed out by customers anywhere.
...
There is no such thing as a match where it's okay to lose.
No matter the tournament, no matter the match.
Our purpose is solely to win, and losing is something that shouldn't even exist in our imagination.
Every match is one where we must stake our lives.
However, among them, there are inevitably some that are a bit more special.
The size of the tournament might factor in, but in football, there exist matches that are important in a more complex way.
When I was at Fiorentina, matches against Bologna or Juventus were like that.
Matches that football fans call derby matches—in simple terms, rivalries.
Usually formed between teams located in neighboring cities, teams that have some historical entanglement, or teams that have frequently fought over trophies.
If speaking of Manchester City's representative derby rivals, it would certainly have to be Manchester United.
Even being located side by side in neighboring cities creates an enormous competitive relationship.
Man City and Man Utd were two teams based in the same city.
Thus, one could tell without looking just how fierce the competitive spirit between the two teams is.
Thanks to that, matches between the two sides are not simply matches with 3 points at stake.
Rather, they are matches you must approach with the mindset that you must win even at the cost of your life, that losing means the end.
"Ready?"
"Okay!"
October 2023.
League Round 9, Old Trafford, the home ground of Manchester United.
We have come here to wage war, and now stand on the verge of heading out to wage that war.
While everyone's expressions are far more uplifted than usual.
"Hoo—"
Today as well, I leave the locker room wearing the uniform.
Putting aside this and that, today is an important match.
Because nothing earns fans' support like performing in a derby match.
If only I do well today, perhaps I might be able to pay off about 50 billion won in one lump sum from that 200 billion.
That is what it means to me.
"Let's go, let's go!"
"Let's go!"
From now on, red shall be the color I hate most in the world.