2024. 5. 11
─[CL Semi-Final 1st Leg] Paris Saint-Germain 2 : 3 Manchester City
─Man City snatches dramatic away comeback win powered by Lee Ji-an's 2 goals! Lee Ji-an rated 9, named MOTM
─Mbappé vowing to grit his teeth: "The loss is my fault... but it's only the first leg."
─Pep Guardiola, as though he had trod through hell: "Our players are the best in the world... I am proud."
24. 5. 12
♡
3,120,431 likes
mancity LET'S GO BLUES! An unforgettable night in Paris!
Manchester City 3 – 2 PSG
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2,117,775 likes
mancity Who do you think is the BEST NO. 7 in the world? ^_^
└LEE
└LEE JIAN♥♥
└LEE
└Definitely LEE!
└at least not Mbappe
└CR7
└get out
└JIAN LEE!!!!
└LEE, for SURE.
└Easy question. LEE!
24. 5. 13
─High-flying Man City to face Everton in Round 37 on the 14th... Victory clinches the title
ㆍㆍㆍ
May 14, 2024.
Northwest England, Merseyside, Goodison Park.
"Hoo, hoo—"
While the ball briefly goes out over the touchline.
I put my hands on my waist and check the small electronic board.
77:42
EVE 1 : 1 MCI
About... ten minutes left, I guess.
Since the added time will probably be nothing special, that sounds about right.
It's not a short time, but it doesn't feel all that ample either.
"Hoo!"
No matter how many deep breaths I take, my breathing doesn't return easily. My calves ache back and forth, and the feeling in my fingertips and toes has dulled a little.
There's no way I can breathe calmly when my body craves oxygen this much.
It's the hardest time.
Physically, the 70th to 80th minute is harder than the 90th.
It's hard to pinpoint the exact reason, but the psychological pressure of knowing I still have to run for another ten minutes or more is surely one of them.
With one minute left, strength you didn't have comes from nowhere, but if more than ten minutes remain, it's really not easy.
Thinking that way, it suddenly occurs to me that this very moment might be the most, the absolute hardest moment of the entire season.
If I compare a season to 90 minutes, today would be around the 80th minute.
I've run so hard that I wouldn't find it strange to have collapsed from exhaustion already, yet the most crucial ten minutes still lie ahead.
That is today, and in that today, I've entered the hardest period.
Right this moment, I am in the hardest moment of the year.
*Pa-aang—!*
The strange thing is, thinking that way makes me find the strength to run again.
How should I put it.
If every day were this hard, I don't think I could endure it, but if this is the hardest moment, then I feel like I can endure it.
If this is the hardest it gets, then tomorrow will be less hard than this.
That's when I start finding the strength to run again.
*Pa-aang—!*
After trapping the pass coming from behind with the outside of my left foot, I turn my body and sprint forward.
An open space.
I have to get into the gap between the last line of defense and the midfield.
*Tatatat—!*
I run, pushing my heavy legs that don't want to move.
Once it's over, I'll do an ice bath, get a massage, and lie down to rest.
I beg my legs to endure just ten more minutes, and though they still seem somewhat unwilling, they move, if not any lighter.
In the brief moment while the ball was out and I was lost in thought, another minute had already passed in that short span.
Time passes this quickly.
And because time passes so quickly, it never comes back again.
Just as no matter how much I long for the past I cannot return to it, this very moment—playing the Round 37 match against Everton—will never come again.
Thinking that way, I snap out of the sweet and dangerous temptation and become alert.
Today, a draw doesn't mean we can't win the title.
We can just win the next one.
Then we can be champions, and no one will think much of drawing today. It'll disappear from memory entirely.
But can you guarantee it?
That after drawing today, we'll win the next match.
Who can guarantee that?
No one.
Even if you regret it later, passed time does not return.
It remains only as lifelong regret.
And that regret, alas, does not erase easily. It is etched deeper into memory than good memories.
I know this because even now, sometimes before sleep, moments from the early days of my studies in Italy come to mind.
So I mustn't live doing things I'll regret.
I have to do my best every moment.
Because the opportunity before my eyes right now, no, every minute and every second.
Is an opportunity and a minute and a second that comes only once in my entire life.
*Pa-aang—!*
The moment I enter the space between the defense and midfield, I softly receive the pass coming from the right with the outside of my foot.
*Tatat—!*
And I stamp my foot at the defender blocking my path, threatening him.
In response, the opponent hesitates, unable to take his eyes off my feet.
He no longer has the leeway to watch what's behind him.
*Pa-aang—!*
I stab a pass into the box.
That pass goes between the defender's legs.
Because he was crouched low, the space between his legs was wide.
*Tatatat—!*
The pass heads to Foden penetrating from the right, and in the meantime, I run toward the goalmouth.
Diagonally.
Since I'm running looking for space inside the box, I can see that everyone is focused on the ball.
It seems I'm the only one who noticed there's space there.
Like an auntie who spotted an empty seat on a packed subway, I run desperately.
*Paaaang—!*
Foden's cross comes up.
A powerful driven ground cross, so strong you can't tell if it's a shot or a cross, begins to cut across the box.
Its trajectory is exquisite, flowing into an area the defenders can't touch.
*Tat—!*
What's amazing in the midst of this is the goalkeeper's decision-making speed.
If he lets this go, it's a goal, and judging that the defenders probably can't block it—
To cut off the cross, he empties the goal and throws his body forward.
Judging that in a split second is impossible, so it might simply be an instinctive dive.
From that sight, you can glimpse how hard he's trained.
However,
*Swoooooosh—*
The ball doesn't reach the goalkeeper's grasp and passes straight through, heading toward my feet.
The goal is already empty, and the ball approaches my feet like a magnet.
Just a light tap, bringing my foot to it, and it's a goal.
It's harder to miss here.
But I don't let my concentration drop.
Because this moment is a moment and an opportunity that comes only once in a lifetime.
*Pa-aang—!*
*Thwack—!*
After confirming the net is rippling, and checking whether the linesman raised his flag or not.
Only then do I let my guard down.
The joy of having achieved my goal and the relief of having created no regret mix together, arriving as several times greater satisfaction.
.
.
.
Premier League Round 37
Manchester City 2 : 1 Everton
1. Manchester City / 37 matches 31 wins 4 draws 2 losses 97 points
2. Arsenal FC / 37 matches 30 wins 2 draws 5 losses 92 points
ㆍㆍㆍ
May 18, 2024.
Manchester Etihad Stadium.
Saturday afternoon, the sky is clear without a single cloud.
Perhaps because it's a rare day with no forecast of rain, the spectators filling Etihad Stadium look lightly dressed.
Their expressions are as bright as the sunny weather.
They exude an atmosphere like an airport bustling with travelers.
Everyone seems to have set aside their worries, revealing an attitude of enjoying the festival, at least for today.
It's understandable.
Because they've already confirmed the championship.
[The West Ham players are entering the pitch first. The crowd is all rising from their seats.]
Around the time the match is about to begin.
While all 53,000-some spectators stand, the away team today, West Ham players, emerge from the tunnel first.
And the players who came onto the ground begin to line up, forming a human tunnel.
As if rolling out a red carpet, players standing side by side in two rows begin waiting for today's protagonists.
And shortly after.
Those protagonists reveal themselves under the golden sunlight.
*Clap clap clap clap—*
West Ham players and spectators alike welcome the protagonists with applause.
Guard of Honor.
A ceremony where when one team confirms the championship early, the opposing players send congratulations in the next match.
The West Ham players' feelings must be complicated as they applaud the opponents they must face.
But this is the due reverence and congratulations sent to the English champions.
[This season, Manchester City challenged a great feat. There is the achievement of back-to-back Trebles, but four consecutive league titles is a challenge no less difficult. But they did it. This is a moment deserving of applause.]
[We see Haaland, and De Bruyne too. They all walk like champions. No, they are champions. The young kings who are the conquerors of England and challengers for European supremacy display their dignity.]
[Mm, haha. Though we also see a modest king. Lee keeps bowing his head as he passes between the players. He looks a bit awkward.]
[Seeing only that, no one would guess. That that player was one of the greatest contributors in achieving that great feat.]
[The players who finished entering respond to the fans with applause. Etihad Stadium is filled with nothing but the sound of clapping.]
The players who finished entering turn in place, sending applause toward every direction of the stands.
No matter how strong an army you possess, you cannot subjugate a nation with only soldiers fighting on the front lines.
You need a solid support force backing them.
The soldiers express their boundless gratitude for that support.
Anyway.
After that splendid moment ends.
[The final league match of the season will begin. It doesn't affect the league standings, but both teams will want a beautiful finish.]
Spectators take their seats, and players scatter to their respective positions as the match is about to begin.
Today's match could be seen as the most important match, but it could also be seen as the least important.
It's the final match closing the season, yet one that doesn't affect the standings.
But the Manchester City players seem to think differently.
You can feel it from the expressions of the players gathered in the center of their own half, arms around each other's shoulders as they prepare for the match.
[The players vow victory with serious expressions. Judging by their expressions, it's no different from a Champions League final. That's probably the scariest thing about champions. Right this moment, could their goal really be winning the Champions League or the FA Cup?]
[No. It would be beating West Ham. Because today's opponent is West Ham. They are warriors who know nothing but victory. They are interested only in that. Trophies are merely left where they passed. They are merely a great legacy. They leave them behind and move on. For the next victory. That is why they are the most feared opponents to other teams.]
Players who shouted fighting with serious faces scatter everywhere.
And the moment the starting whistle blows.
*Tatatat—!*
As West Ham's kickoff takes place, all Manchester City players begin sprinting energetically toward the opponent's half.
To some, this match might look purposeless.
They've already confirmed the championship, and gaining 3 more points won't make the trophy bigger or more magnificent.
It's not a championship that would be demeaned by a draw or a loss.
But as long as there's a match, it's impossible for there to be no purpose.
At least for the Manchester City players running out there.
Victory.
That itself is the goal.
Winning itself, and sending word of that victory to the support forces.
[Manchester City wins the ball back. Foden to De Bruyne. De Bruyne targets the box immediately!]
That's enough, and more than enough.
.
.
.
90:00 (Full-time)
Manchester City 3 : 0 West Ham United
2023/24 Season
Manchester City 38 matches 32 wins 4 draws 2 losses 100 points
Champions.