I am naturally inclined to be lazy.
I think I was born lazy.
And perhaps because this is not a matter of personality but disposition, it hasn't changed one bit until now.
The fact that the first thought every morning when I wake up is that I don't want to go to training... is proof enough of that.
Even though training has been part of my daily routine for more than half my life, it's still the same now.
Even now, getting out of bed is more bothersome than anything else, and the road to the training ground feels like the longest in the world.
Still, I just get up and do it because I have to.
Moreover, the fact that I only work hard when I'm absolutely forced to is probably evidence that I'm hopelessly lazy.
It would be nice if I did things a little ahead of time.
Before hearing the news that Jiu was coming, hadn't I literally just been breathing and nothing else?
If it weren't for Jiu, perhaps I might still be living that way.
Anyway, I am lazy.
And being lazy is a bad thing.
But sometimes, very rarely, being lazy actually helps.
Honestly, I'm not sure if it's appropriate to call this "helpful."
But I do think that because I'm lazy, there are times when superhuman strength is brought out.
When I've put off and put off what I need to do until I absolutely must do it, when the fire is at my feet, there are times when a power that makes the impossible possible comes out.
For example, well.
Finishing a week's worth of homework in one hour.
Memorizing all the English vocabulary words during the break before a pop quiz.
Vacation homework was naturally something I started three days before school reopened.
Nothing else comes to mind right now, but there must be more than one or two other instances like that.
Looking at things like that, it seems I ultimately need something like that.
A tight deadline or something along those lines.
Even now, I feel as though every sense in my body is fully open, my mind whirring sharply as if the top of my skull has been bored through.
Thwack—!
Thwack—!
I exchange passes with my teammates in the midfield and seek out space.
By the time the scoreboard clock has already passed the 20-minute mark.
We had succeeded in creating a few opportunities that led to shots on target, but we still hadn't scored the equalizer.
The opponent's defense was certainly solid.
It was a defense that showed no gaps even when viewed from above, but coming down to face it at eye level, it was breathtakingly stifling.
It was enough to give me chills. Watching ten players move in perfect unison as if they were one body.
I felt admiration at how hard they must have trained to make that possible, yet at the same time, the fact that they were our opponents, that we had to break through them, felt utterly overwhelming.
What concerned me most in particular was the presence of Griezmann.
He was clearly a forward.
Yet his presence did not diminish even when defending.
It wasn't to the extent that he often dropped back to help on defense despite being a forward.
When he deemed it necessary, he dropped all the way near the box like a real defender.
He got back and actively defended, even making tackles.
He definitely looked like someone who wouldn't run around much.
To the point that seeing him made me reflect on myself.
Because while I can't even do that much in attack, I only thought of defense as secondary.
Anyway.
Dribbling the ball, I move from the center to the right and observe the opponent's movements.
As the ball flows to the right, the opponent predictably shifts right to narrow the space.
The simplest way to open up space at a time like this is a side change.
Drawing the opponent to one side like this and quickly switching to the opposite to start the attacking play in relatively more space.
I had already attempted it a few times.
Since the wingers positioned on the left and right today were Grealish and Foden, I thought that if we frequently pushed opportunities for one-on-ones, we could create good chances.
But even that wasn't easy because, from the start, the opponent didn't seem particularly bothered about giving up the flanks.
It felt like they were saying, "If you want the ball on the side, go ahead."
Instead, they built up their defense even thicker in the center.
They compressed it completely, blocking off the space in front of the goal entirely.
As if saying, "You have to break through the center to score anyway."
Since the goalposts are ultimately in the center, not on the sides.
Attacking through the flanks is ultimately to connect to the center, so it could be seen as quite a clever defensive method.
Anyway, because of that, switching play didn't seem like it would yield great results either.
My worries deepened.
Even if I couldn't expect much, should I break down the sides, or should I try a different approach?
It wasn't that no methods came to mind at all.
But I couldn't easily choose one.
Because of Griezmann, of course.
There was no place on this pitch beyond the reach of his vision.
He was seeing everything, seeing every path.
Even when standing in a place unrelated to the ball, he was gesturing to his teammates and adjusting their positions.
That meant that to break through that suffocating defensive wall, I had to stab at a place that he and they couldn't see.
I wonder if such a place even exists, so I can't easily make a choice.
Could he fail to see what I can see?
I am not confident.
Thwack—!
Thwack—!
As my deliberation drags on, only the number of meaningless passes increases.
Then, suddenly.
A method that looks quite decent comes to mind, so instead of knocking the ball back where it came from, I trap it.
Tap—!
And after turning to face forward, I look for Griezmann.
As it happens, he is right in front of me.
After nodding to myself, I slowly advance with the ball.
No matter how broad a player's vision is, there are definitely times when they can't pay attention to their surroundings.
When they need to concentrate on the opponent right in front of them.
With an opponent right in front holding the ball and trying to get past you, turning your head to look around in that situation is nearly impossible.
Until now, I had moved while avoiding Griezmann.
Because breaking through the opponent's midfield line was already difficult enough; I thought advancing while dragging one more man with me was inefficient.
But to ultimately break through to the end, I have to steal the watchtower's gaze.
I have to focus his gaze on one spot so that it can't reach far.
If I can be that spot, couldn't I definitely create space elsewhere?
My teammates are the best players in the world anyway.
What they need is not a large space, but just a very small one.
If I can create just that much, it will be enough.
Tap—!
As I advance with the ball, Griezmann naturally blocks the way ahead.
Perhaps because we are still a few steps apart.
He lowers his stance and is on guard against me, but I can see him turning his head furtively to check his surroundings.
That head—I have to make sure it can't turn.
Taptap—!
I suddenly accelerate and rush straight at him.
At this, he too pauses for a moment, and I can see him contemplating.
He seems to be deciding whether to fall back or close in.
Naturally, that deliberation doesn't last long.
Tap—!
He turns his body halfway and steps back.
It's not a welcome choice.
I had hoped he would close in on his own.
Then it can't be helped.
I have to make him close in.
Pow—!
The ball bounces far from my foot.
Accelerating quickly, the ball bounces far as if I had failed to control my strength, rolling to an ambiguous position between me and Griezmann.
He can't just keep falling back after seeing this.
Tap—!
Sure enough, he reacts.
Having been stepping back, he quickly turns his body and starts rushing toward the ball.
It was only because this was somewhat intentional; if it had been a genuine mistake, I would have had the ball stolen from me helplessly and given up a counterattack.
Tap—!
I run a step faster and stick my left leg in first to shield the ball from the opponent.
And with my back to him, I protect the ball.
Perhaps because my back-to-him posture looks clumsy, he seems to get greedy.
I can feel the opponent pushing my back while stretching his legs here and there.
Tap—!
Flailing about, I exert every ounce of my strength to protect the ball.
At the same time, in my head, I try to picture what is happening behind me and ahead.
As I said, today in particular, I feel like all the senses in my body are refreshingly open.
The reason is probably because time is running out.
We are down 0-1, and time is on the opponent's side.
For me, who thanks to my laziness has always been pushed to the last minute and has much experience unleashing superhuman strength, this situation is not necessarily a bad one.
The simulation running in my head is drawn before my eyes.
If anyone saw this, they might think I have psychic powers, but it's simply the result of training.
Even without checking with my eyes, I know who is where and how they will move.
Everything has already been agreed upon.
Therefore, guessing what is behind me is not difficult either.
By now, the opponent's defense will be positioned like this.
Grealish on the left will be spread wide... De Bruyne will be running to attack the left half-space, Silva the right half-space... and Foden on the right... now.
Tap—!
I push away the opponent behind me with my arm and instantly step back one pace.
And after opening up the angle with a long touch to the left, I strike the ball forward as is.
Wham—!
At the same time as I strike the pass, I lift my head and track the ball with my eyes.
Swoosh...
\-The ball quickly advances toward Bernardo Silva.
Silva, who was in the half-space, darts forward to receive the pass.
I can also see a defender closing in from behind to pressure him.
But if it's Silva, he must surely sense it.
That this is not a pass meant for him.
Because the power of the pass is too strong for it to be a pass to him.
Swoosh...
\-There is no room for doubt.
Silva, who had been running out as if to receive the ball, spreads his legs wide as is.
The ball passes straight through between them, and the defender who had been sticking close behind has no time to react.
Swoosh...
\-Having safely passed through one layer like that, the pass continues onward.
Near the right side of the box.
It is Foden who is running in toward the pass's destination.
Whether he started the moment I turned, he is running a step or two ahead of the opposing fullback.
So naturally, Foden becomes the owner of the ball.
Wham—!
Without trapping the ball, Foden immediately pushes it toward the goalmouth.
Between the defense and the goalkeeper.
A powerful low cross driven into that space.
That is a cross that, as a defender, you cannot touch.
Because with a cross of that power and trajectory, even a slight touch would send it into the goal.
But even in that moment, the opponent's defender makes a painfully correct choice.
Instead of recklessly trying to block the cross, he decides to check Haaland, who is rushing toward it.
Thanks to that, Haaland is a little late.
He throws his body into a sliding tackle and stretches out his foot, but the ball passes right in front of him.
But behind him.
There was another net.
It is De Bruyne, who had already run near the left goalpost.
Wham—!
De Bruyne gently pushes the ball in with his left foot.
And
\-Thud—!
The goal net bulges.
At the same time, the stadium falls as quiet as death.
I look to the linesman just in case, but the linesman shows no reaction at all.
For now, that meant it was an equalizer.