"...Hoo."
A brief break during training.
Sitting in the shade drenched in sweat, I brush my wet hair, stinging my eyes, back and look out over the training ground.
On the training ground, the other group that rotated breaks with us is in the middle of training.
Among them is Erling Haaland.
"..."
These days, the manager's biggest worries are two-fold.
One is De Bruyne's recovery progress, and the other is Haaland's finishing.
It sounds very strange that it's Haaland's finishing worrying the manager, of all things.
But it was true that Haaland had been missing goal chances to a bizarre degree in recent matches.
What did those arrogant reporters say again?
That his actual goals were below the expected goals stat, and that he was first in the league in big chances missed, saying Haaland had fallen into a 'slump.'
Seeing things like that, I truly thought that living as a superstar like Haaland wasn't easy either.
No matter what anyone says, he's the player who has scored the most goals on our team, and the player who has scored the most goals in the league.
And yet, watching him be criticized for not scoring even more.
What was amazing in that regard was that Haaland didn't seem to care about such attention at all.
Of course, he seemed to reflect on his lacking moments and worry, but he never showed signs of self-blame or frustration because of the criticism.
All he had to do was score more going forward to make up for the ones he missed.
That was Haaland's mindset.
Watching Haaland like that from the side, I naturally ended up reflecting on myself.
Thinking, why couldn't I have that kind of composure, that I wanted to learn it.
Of course, wanting to learn doesn't mean it's easily learned, but sometimes you can gain something just by thinking about it.
Self-reflection following admiration—perhaps just that alone makes you feel like you're growing.
Well, this wasn't a story only about watching Haaland.
It was the same when watching all the other players.
Whether on the training ground, in the locker room, or even in the cafeteria.
There are many times when I admire their professionalism or mindset and think I must learn from them.
In that regard, I feel grateful that I was able to come to this team.
Just being among this group, even breathing the same air, there's so much to learn—how could I not be grateful?
Come to think of it, it was the same at Fiorentina, and it's the same now that I'm here.
I think I've only met truly good people; I feel like I'm really lucky.
I suppose wounds inflicted by people are healed by people, after all.
Anyway, Haaland is among the teammates from whom I'm always learning something.
The manager's request for me to give advice to Haaland... that's why it only felt burdensome.
Asking me to advise on how to score goals.
To Haaland, who is scoring the most goals in the league?
Even a passing dog would laugh if it heard.
But it was the manager who said it.
The manager is one of the people I've learned the most from since coming to this team.
Since the manager said it, it couldn't be ignored.
...So.
What advice could someone like me possibly give Haaland?
I rinse my mouth with water and look at Haaland, completely focused on training.
"..."
The way to score a goal is something everyone knows.
You just put the ball inside the goal.
Whether by kicking with your foot or heading it in.
As long as you don't use your hands, if the ball crosses the goal line, that's a goal.
Hmm, but since that's too obvious, if I go into a bit more detail... first, to score you need good positioning and movement, you have to smoothly control incoming passes, shooting should be with the quickest possible timing, aiming for the corners is best......
Thud.
Fwhooooom!
Thwack!
...Yeah.
That's all there is to it.
Haaland's shot crashes powerfully into the net as if it would rip the goalpost from its roots.
That's how you score a goal.
There's no way Haaland doesn't know how to score a goal.
He's more of an expert on that than anyone else in the world.
Then what is the problem?
While my eyes continue to watch Haaland on the training ground, in my head I begin to recall Haaland on the match pitch.
Haaland from recent matches.
Haaland had scored countless goals.
He pretty much scored at least one goal per match, and sometimes he banged in three or more.
Occasionally, he even forced one in to the point where, even from a teammate's perspective, I thought, "Well, this is a bit much." Like, you'd say the opponents would feel aggrieved if they hadn't messed up.
But what was clear was this.
Even so, he quite frequently missed relatively easy chances.
For example, missing a one-on-one chance with the goalkeeper during a counterattack.
Or having a perfect shooting angle open up inside the box, only to sky it over the bar or shoot it straight at the keeper.
He had even missed a penalty kick once.
Those instances had been increasing.
Early in the season, goals had gushed out like a faucet turned on, but from some point on, it felt like something was stuck, sputtering.
He needed to pull that out, but not knowing what was stuck where, the manager must have been frustrated too.
What on earth could it be?
It probably wasn't a technical problem.
Haaland only looked healthy, so it couldn't be his physical condition.
And it couldn't be just one or two coincidences—missing easy chances was visibly increasing.
Then what was the problem?
"..."
Returning to the present, I look at Haaland.
Then, the gaze I had fixed on him swings around and comes back to me.
As always when I look at him, I end up examining myself.
The time before I got my chance at Fiorentina.
I recall myself from that time.
...I was trash back then.
It wasn't self-deprecation out of habit; I really was.
In the locker room, I was crumpled up like a crushed can, and it was the same on the ground.
I couldn't show anything at all.
But if you ask whether that was purely a skill issue, well.
It probably wasn't.
There wasn't a huge difference in skill between then and after I came to Fiorentina, yet the results I showed on the ground were like heaven and earth.
In the end, it was a psychological problem.
Back then, I was so scared of the ball coming to me despite being a football player—what other explanation is needed?
I was intimidated, and I kept gnawing away at myself.
So of course, when I stood on the pitch, my body wouldn't move as I wanted.
I know very well how I overcame that.
Of course, I'm still overcoming it, but what changed me little by little was belief.
The belief of people precious to me.
But I think the power of doubt was there too.
The people around me believed in me, but I myself kept doubting.
Constantly doubting, constantly anxious, and running forward looking only ahead to escape that anxiety.
I was pulled from the front and pushed from the back.
The hand called belief pulled me from the front, and the hand called doubt pushed against my back.
With just one, I could have moved forward, yet I received both.
Perhaps that's why I was able to move forward at a speed I couldn't even imagine.
The way I overcame that difficult period.
At least, that was the case for me.
"..."
But Haaland is a different person from me.
Of course, I can't know what kind of life he has lived.
Because all I can see is his outward appearance.
But outwardly, he always seemed bright, cheerful, and confident enough to be reliable.
The exact opposite type from me.
So it's hard to think my case would help him.
"..."
The more I think about it, the more I feel the manager has the wrong man for the job.
I don't think I'm the right person to give Haaland advice.
Well, a genius who was perfect from birth will probably overcome a mere slump on his own.
"Let's go."
Without finding any real answer, I dust off my backside and get up.
I take one last mouthful of water, spit out the water that quickly turns lukewarm, and head toward the pitch.
No matter how I looked at it, Haaland didn't seem to have any problem at all.
...
The last day of November 2023.
Luton, Bedfordshire, East of England.
Today is the day of the 15th round of the league, and I've come to this small city for an away match against Luton Town.
"As you know, it's raining heavily. The pitch condition isn't very good. Variables will keep occurring. You need to be aware of that. Our goal will be to control those variables as much as possible."
I nod at the manager's words and change out of my wet training kit into my match kit.
I went out for a brief warm-up and came back, but my clothes and hair were already soaked.
That's how hard it was raining.
Of course, this being English weather, the rain could stop and the sun could come out at any moment as if nothing had happened.
But from the rain that had already fallen, the pitch looked sufficiently muddy, so I figured we needed to be careful.
On rainy days like this, it's the defense that has a hard time.
Of course, impeded vision and ball control or passes not going as intended are the same conditions for everyone.
The fact that variables are more likely to occur is definitely a more unsettling factor for the defense than the attack.
Variables aren't a very good element for a team like us.
Because variables can overturn objective strength.
Moreover, today is their home, and the opposing players will be used to this weather and pitch conditions when it rains.
I think today's match is one where both we and they have to forget about players' reputations, team rankings, and so on.
But on the other hand, it might be an opportunity.
Various variables and the fact that the defense can feel uneasy applies to the opponent too, after all.
Opportunities are fair and open to us as well.
It could be a big opportunity especially for Haaland.
Honestly, I'm in no position to worry about anyone else—it's funny even to me who's worrying about whom.
If Haaland takes today as an opportunity and succeeds in scoring heavily, if he shows everyone the Haaland they knew.
Wouldn't the unease that had briefly settled in disappear as quickly as it came?
Like a passing shower.
"Come on, let's go!"
"Let's go, let's go!"
Doubting is harder.
Running in a Man City uniform is something permitted only to geniuses among geniuses among geniuses.
Haaland is a blessed person with noticeable talent even among them.
So I don't think he won't be able to overcome difficulties.
No, would he even think of this as a difficulty?
"..."
Looking at his huge back walking toward the stadium, I didn't think so.
*
Beeeeeeep!
Even the whistle sounds damp as the match begins.
Pha-aang!
Our kickoff.
The ball Haaland sends touches my foot, and after briefly adjusting my feel, I send it back.
Thuck, thuck, thuck.
The grass is quite soggy.
Every time I run, wet sounds echo and water splashes.
If the grass were moderately wet, the ball would skid quickly, but soaked to this degree, the opposite happens.
Running isn't easy either.
I guess you could say more load is placed on the knees and ankles.
I need to be careful not to slip too, so I should pay more attention to not straining my muscles.
Pha-aang!
Pha-aang!
While circulating the ball from the back, the opponents, as expected, drop back and begin to set up a dense defensive wall.
Amidst that, the towering presence of the blond hair can't be erased even by the dense defenders, but it's true that it feels suffocating just to look at.
Pha-aang!
While taking up position near the halfway line, before long the ball comes to me again.
There's no pressure, so I turn around leisurely.
And I look forward once, but at that moment raindrops pelt my eyelids and I blink without realizing.
Irritatingly.
The raindrops have gotten thicker than during the warm-up.
So there's nothing to think about; it seems right to just cross it in.
Fwhooooom!
I plant my foot deep into the grass as if tearing it up and send the ball lofted high.
The target is inside the box.
Haaland's head is the target, so the defenders' heads naturally turn skyward.
It's not just the ball that's falling.
Thick sheets of rain are falling too.
I believe that will be the key point of today's match.