Perhaps you could call him a human barometer. It was evident just by looking at De Bruyne’s expression—the match against Chelsea in Round 28 of the league wasn’t going well.
As time went on, frustration revealed itself on De Bruyne’s face like a gradient. In the 10th minute of the first half came his first puzzled tilt of the head; at 20 minutes, his first discontent; at 30 minutes, irritation. And by the second half, he finally let out a sigh. His steadily reddening cheeks were a perfect reflection of the match’s flow.
Chelsea had clearly come well-prepared. They focused primarily on defense yet pressed when necessary, using fast attackers like Nicolas Jackson and Mykhailo Mudryk to target counterattacks and exploit space in behind. Although Jackson and Mudryk showed flaws in their finishing and squandered several chances, their tireless work rate and simple yet swift attacks were effective enough to appear like a strategy tailored for Manchester City.
But if you asked whether the match was unfolding this way purely for those reasons, the answer was no. If anything, the problem was easier to find on the Manchester City side.
Everyone was exhausted. In the grueling schedule, it was difficult to find a player in peak condition. When the match began, the players wore expressions that belonged to the start of the second half, not the first. Manchester City had once boasted a squad deep enough that people claimed they could field a team of bench players and still compete in the Champions League, but now the story was different. Man City was undeniably a team with high dependence on its starting lineup, and its key resources had been ground down after competing in countless tournaments.
Mistakes that rarely surfaced were repeated. Errors appeared in basic passes, and they showed reactions and positioning a beat too slow against pressure. Even Rodri, who normally didn’t make mistakes, committed a few, and the sight of Bernardo Silva losing the ball in a baffling manner made it plain to see that something wasn’t right.
The flesh is governed by the mind, and the mind is governed by the flesh. When the mind grows weary, so does the body; when the body grows weary, so does the mind. With their bodies exhausted, even players who were second to none in intelligent football couldn’t move as Guardiola wanted. Everyone seemed to have blanked on the instructions, and naturally, the tactics didn’t function either.
Thus, the most frustrated of all was De Bruyne, who had to lead the attack from the center. With everyone unable to match pass timing and their movements sluggish, there was little he could do. Penetration runs and positioning were each a step slower, so situations to wield his main weapon—the pass—never materialized.
Of course, it was precisely in moments like these that he had to lead his teammates. He needed to shout more, communicate actively, and steady the center. While Ruben Dias and Rodri handled the leadership role in the locker room, on the pitch everyone moved trusting in De Bruyne. As the leader on the field, he needed to exert more influence.
But De Bruyne wasn’t exempt from exhaustion either. On top of major competitions, the team’s situation required them to compete in the Carabao Cup and Club World Cup as well—five tournaments all at once—so he had played every match since returning from injury. De Bruyne was in no position to spare himself either; he was so drained that even if he tried to raise his voice, he couldn’t put any strength behind it.
They needed ventilation. A hole to breathe. In such a situation, a substitution was made; Mateo Kovacic went off, and Ijian came on. As soon as he entered, Ijian ran straight to De Bruyne, and De Bruyne reached out his hand as if he’d seen an oxygen mask. And at the moment he was about to voice some complaint, he merely nodded shortly after without saying anything of note.
It was because of the look in his eyes that said he already understood everything. It was a feeling that they could communicate without having to say anything tedious. He gave the impression that he knew what the problem was and what had to be done, and De Bruyne could believe in him.
Since he’d joined the team, there hadn’t been a single day De Bruyne hadn’t been surprised. On the outside, he was just a fresh, cute boy like any other youth player, and seeing him shrink among the older brothers or scurry over to ask this and that, he was nothing more than a boy his age. But the moment he touched the ball, that fresh boyish feeling vanished into thin air, and all one could see was a gambler obsessed solely with winning.
De Bruyne had never seen a player who hated losing so much and focused only on winning. Of course, it was true that only such players could play under Pep Guardiola, but Ijian was especially so. If he weren’t, there would be no reason for him to hunger for improvement as if he were the worst player in the world despite possessing such skill.
Paaang—!
Ederson handled the goal kick short, and the match resumed. Roughly 30 minutes remained. Thinking about how they had accomplished nothing in the preceding 60 minutes, one might feel that time was not abundant, but in football, a goal could come even in 10 seconds. That was the nature of scoring.
And the air had already changed. Guardiola’s substitution to bring in Ijian itself felt like a message to the players. That they would win this match. That they would pay no heed to other circumstances, that this was a match they absolutely had to win.
Paaang—!
Paaang—!
The ball went through Ruben Dias and on to Rodri. Dias and Rodri were players with tremendous passion; they possessed the charisma to lead others as well. Sometimes Guardiola would even yield his speech time to the two of them.
Paaang—!
The ball moved from Rodri to De Bruyne. If Dias and Rodri led the players with passion and charisma, De Bruyne wasn’t that type of player. Rather, De Bruyne was the quiet type, a player who preferred listening to speaking.
But if you asked whether that meant De Bruyne lacked leadership, the answer was no. It was because on the pitch, he spoke with his skill. He was a player who always gave his teammates trust, and nothing made players follow more than firm trust. In that regard, De Bruyne too was a leader—one of a different type.
Paaang—!
The ball left De Bruyne’s foot, crossed the halfway line, and reached Ijian. Ijian, having made the left half-space the location of his first touch, quickly surveyed his surroundings the moment he took the ball.
If Ruben Dias, Rodri, and Kevin De Bruyne were leaders among the players for their respective reasons. If a person with the power to make other players run one step farther was called a leader, then this jet-black-haired number 7 boy was likewise worthy of being called a leader.
One might ask how an 18-year-old youngest kid who hadn’t even been with the team for a full season could be a leader. But it was possible precisely because he was the youngest. When the youngest was going at it like that, the older brothers couldn’t just stand still.
When you see an excellent senior, you respect him and try to follow, but you don’t feel a sense of crisis. However, when you see an excellent successor, anyone feels a sense of crisis. No one can remain at ease after confirming that someone who started after them is already right on their heels. Especially if it’s someone with the ambition to run in first place.
That boy was such a pacemaker, a whip of a youngest. Therefore, people dug up strength they didn’t know they had to run one more step; and if making surrounding teammates run one more step was what made a leader, there was no reason not to call this boy wearing the number 7 a leader.
Paaang—!
Paaang—!
Ijian exchanged passes with Grealish on the left, putting the defense on edge. Already, the tempo of the match had quickened by a beat. The opponent’s response had become much sharper as well, and the Man City players, who had seemed almost spellbound, now looked like they’d been doused with cold water and had come to their senses.
Amidst all that, Ijian didn’t disappoint De Bruyne. He began to satisfyingly scratch the very itch that had been driving De Bruyne crazy with frustration for the past 60 minutes.
Tatatat—!
Having drawn the defense to the left, Ijian showed off some footwork, shook off the opponent’s defensive midfielder, and broke free toward the center. And,
Paaang—!
After passing the ball to De Bruyne, he immediately launched a penetration run toward the box.
Fast but not flashy. A linear movement yet fluid at the same time. While everyone’s gaze was fixed on De Bruyne, who had the ball, Ijian burrowed in behind him.
Give-and-go is a basic movement. But until now, that basic element hadn’t worked. It seemed absurd that players in a top-class team like Man City couldn’t keep to the basics, but players were human too.
Now, they were finally playing the way De Bruyne had wanted to.
Paaaang—!
A lobbed pass, neither too high nor too low, was sent into the box. A pass flicked up with the right foot as if crossing, looping over the defenders’ heads. The pass naturally took on spin and curved toward the left side of the box.
Shuuuuung—
Ijian ran toward the drop point of that pass. Tilting his head back to check the ball’s position, he simultaneously adjusted his stride as he sprinted. The defense reacted too late; no one could interfere. All they could do was watch, stunned, as if caught off guard.
In front of goal, Ijian’s left foot pierced the opponent’s net like an awl.
Bbbaaaaang—!
A first-time shot struck without a bounce passed through the hands of Chelsea’s goalkeeper, Petrovic, and lodged in the top right corner of the net.
Thwack—!
Simultaneously, a massive roar erupted.
Waaaaaaah—
The players too raised both hands or punched the air and roared. De Bruyne clenched his fist; Dias and Rodri shouted as they bumped into each other. Ederson kicked a water bottle placed beside the goalpost, roaring at the crowd behind him.
Tatatat—!
In the meantime, Ijian quickly ran to the goal, retrieved the ball, tucked it under his arm, and sprinted toward the halfway line.
In the technical area, Guardiola was watching that sight with a face that looked utterly lovestruck.
*
"···"
Guardiola was gazing somewhere with lovestruck eyes.
The Etihad Stadium had grown so quiet that it was hard to believe this place had been a cauldron of frenzy mere tens of minutes ago. After the match ended, the spectators had all left, and by the time the post-match festivities and cleanup were nearly finished, a broadcasting panel was on the pitch conducting an interview with today’s Man of the Match.
The one being interviewed was the black-haired boy. The very boy Guardiola was watching with adoring eyes. In the 15th minute of the second half, he’d come on as a substitute and completely changed the flow of the match, scoring two goals on his own to flip the game to 2–1.
"Are you doing well?"
The head coach, who was no different from Guardiola’s right hand, approached and asked him. Guardiola smiled and nodded, and the coach smiled as well.
"What is he saying?"
When the coach asked again, this time Guardiola shook his head. Making a puffing sound, he answered.
"He said he was lucky."
"Again? I suppose it’s just a habit. Lucky, my foot."
"When asked how he could make those movements, he said he learned by watching Haaland and Álvarez. He learned dribbling by watching Silva, and passing by watching De Bruyne. He said he learned how to never give up and win from everyone. That’s why he was lucky, he said. Because he has so many great teachers around him."
"He’s being humble. It certainly sounds nice."
The coach burst into a hearty laugh, while Guardiola shrugged.
"I don’t think he’s putting on humility to sound good."
"Then?"
"He means it. He genuinely thinks he’s lucky. That kid."
As the coach watched intently, Guardiola continued without even moving his pupils.
"If you ask him at the training ground how he can play so well, he just says he’s lucky. That he learned from good managers and coaches, that he learned from good seniors. He scratches his head, saying that looking back, there were nothing but good people around him to a surprising degree, that he was really lucky."
"He says that every time."
"He really thinks that. He’s the type to find something to learn from anyone. Isn’t that terrifying? To have that kind of talent yet be humble and eager to learn. And more than anything, he hates losing more than death. Where else do you find a scarier player than that?"
At Guardiola’s sudden praise, the coach scoffed. Then he spoke.
"Well, sure. He dragged you out of hell today, so it’s only natural you’d want to put him in your eye without it hurting. If it weren’t for Jian, you would’ve gotten torn apart like a dog today, right?"
At those words, Guardiola finally turned his head to look at the coach. Then he spoke quietly.
"That’s why I’m standing here like this."
Guardiola didn’t deny it.