“August 7th, 2023.”
“Community Shield.”
“Manchester City v Arsenal.”
Alongside on-screen text marking the date, the magnificent Wembley Stadium appears on the screen.
“A new season. And a new face reveals himself on the pitch wearing the Manchester City kit.”
“He already has everyone’s attention, but I dare say—Premier League fans will need to pay attention to this name once more.”
The screen switches to the players emerging from the tunnel and entering the pitch, overlaid with the voice of a real commentator serving as narration.
Then, a zoom-in.
A close-up captures the face of a player walking out with a tense expression, and simultaneously, the narration flows over.
“Jian Lee.”
As that narration ends, upbeat music begins and the screen shifts again.
Match scenes filmed at eye level with the players, brimming with dynamism, begin to flow like highlights.
“Not an inch of ground given!”
“A fierce battle for the ball!”
“Lee! He takes his first touch in the Premier League!”
“Lee works his magic! He shows Manchester City fans exactly what they’ve been hoping for!”
“No, perhaps even more than that!”
“Goooooal! A fantastic goal by Lee!”
“An eighteen-year-old boy arrived from Italy announces the birth of a new star!”
“Manchester City 2 – 1 Arsenal.”
“Community Shield champions.”
“However,”
“that was only the beginning.”
The screen transitions from the sight of the players lifting the Community Shield.
The season kicks off, and clips of Jian Lee’s performances play in succession.
The background is overlaid with Jian Lee’s personal chant and the excited shouting of commentators.
In between, a glimpse of him hanging an Asian Games gold medal around his neck flashes by.
Scenes pass by as if someone had collected only the greatest moments from an ordinary player’s entire career, yet for Jian Lee, these are scenes from merely a few months.
“Manchester City cruising along. Yet this could be a crisis.”
Then, the mood suddenly shifts.
Just as a tense BGM begins to set in, a scene of Jian Lee leaving Manchester Airport appears on screen.
The destination of that departure—
“Qatar.”
“The 2023 Asian Cup.”
“South Korea’s challenge for the title after 64 years.”
The tempo of the BGM picks up again, and a scene passes by of Jian Lee in a red kit handling Asian players as easily as twisting a child’s wrist.
“He seems like an existence on another level!”
“‘Kuyashii.’ How frustrating.”
“Dae-han-min-guk!”
“South Korea! They lift the Asian Cup trophy for the first time in 64 years!”
Another gold medal.
A scene of Jian Lee hanging a second medal around his neck passes by, even though the season has barely reached its halfway point.
“Champions League Round of 16.”
“First leg, Manchester City 0 – 1 Atlético Madrid.”
“Second leg, the Metropolitano.”
“City, blocked by Atlético’s shield. But today, Jian Lee has returned.”
Screen transition.
Jian Lee, back in the sky-blue kit, begins to be shown fighting against Atlético Madrid’s massive shield.
The warriors of Atleti resisting stubbornly look like a well-trained army, yet before them Jian Lee’s creativity is in full bloom.
“Jian Lee turns the game upside down!”
“Manchester City stages a comeback and advances to the quarterfinals!”
Scenes of fans and players rejoicing at the comeback quarterfinal advancement.
And the screen switches.
Men in suits appear on the screen.
“Nyon, Switzerland. UEFA headquarters.”
“Champions League quarterfinal draw.”
“Manchester City’s opponent is…”
“Bundesliga, Bayern Munich.”
The majestic Bayern Munich anthem echoes faintly, and scenes flow out of Bayern players led by Kane appearing on the pitch.
The strongest team in the Bundesliga.
Just by looking at that lineup, one instantly gets the feeling that this is an opponent no one would want to face.
However.
“The Kaiser of Germany kneels before the King of England, before his very subjects!”
“Lee scores again! Bayern no longer has any strength left!”
“Europe’s greatest striker, Harry Kane, falls here!”
Before this eighteen-year-old prodigy, they too become mere extras handing the baton to the next villains.
And the next villains are Paris Saint-Germain and Mbappé.
“Quarterfinals, Manchester City v Paris Saint-Germain.”
“Kylian Mbappé will be the worst possible nightmare for Manchester City.”
“BOOOM!”
“Mbappé, and again Mbappé!”
“Mbappé scores two goals in just twenty minutes of the first half! PSG leads 2-0!”
The screen shakes, and the Parc des Princes boiling into a cauldron of frenzy fills the screen.
A BGM giving off a dangerous feeling plays, and the sight of a PSG fan roaring with his shirt off and tongue out delivers immense pressure.
But amid that situation.
Jian Lee merely maintains a calm expression, looking toward the opponent’s half.
Without wavering.
Simply the image of him wondering how to turn this match around.
And then, magic unfolds on screen.
“LEEEEE! They pull one back!”
“Wait! Foden! And Haaaaalaaaand!”
“The air in the stadium changes!”
“Lee, Lee, Lee! He goes in! He decides it! Lee saves his team from hell!”
A great comeback.
And the protagonist of that comeback drama, Jian Lee, stands before the indignant crowd.
Shhh.
With Jian Lee’s gesture telling everyone to be quiet, the noisy screen fades to black.
“If Manchester City wins, the gap between the two teams widens from two points to five. But if Arsenal wins, first place changes hands.”
On the screen that lights up again, scenes of Arsenal players flow out along with the commentator’s narration.
Manager Arteta, and the energy of the young players, threaten to burst through the screen.
The fresh challenge of young prodigies.
Yet that challenge is helplessly blocked by an even younger prodigy.
“Lee!”
“The defending champions clearly show the challenger why they are the champions!”
“This is the champion’s attitude!”
A continuing barrage.
Countless challengers kneel one after another, and in the end, the one standing last is the champion.
The scene of Manchester City defying all challenges and finally lifting the league trophy amidst fireworks appears on screen.
“The Double! City wins the FA Cup to achieve the Double!”
And even the FA Cup victory.
The sight of conquering two competitions, the league and the cup.
Fans’ cheers fade out, and once again the screen fades to black.
“Only one step remains until a historic achievement.”
“Manchester City challenges for back-to-back trebles.”
“But it will not be an easy challenge. Their opponent is Real Madrid of the Champions League.”
The screen turns on again and Real Madrid’s emblem appears.
And highlights of Real Madrid’s legacy in the Champions League play out.
Los Blancos.
The kings of Europe.
The warriors of the king.
Vinicius, Toni Kroos, Modrić, Rodrygo, Valverde, Bellingham.
The faces of players who leave you breathless just by looking at them pass by in turn.
And what is shown at the end is the sight of Jian Lee’s back as he runs onto the pitch to face them.
“Madrid wins a penalty! They couldn’t stop Vinicius the right way!”
“Bellingham steps up!”
“Gooooal! Manchester City had countless chances, but it feels like the heavens are helping Madrid!”
Scenes pass by of Manchester City players getting frustrated and hanging their heads.
One player looks at the scoreboard with a dejected expression, and the camera zooms in on that scoreboard.
The score of 0-1 and the name ‘Real Madrid’ seem emphasized even though no special effect was added.
But shortly after.
The 0-1 score changes to 1-1.
“Lee! He brings the match back to square one!”
“An unbelievable goal! An eighteen-year-old boy pries open Real’s goal with his own strength!”
“The final starts over from the beginning!”
Jian Lee’s goal sends Real Madrid’s defenders falling like autumn leaves in the wind.
Real players with dejected expressions fall to their knees, and behind them Manchester City fans are captured cheering while shedding tears.
“They fight desperately!”
“Both teams look like they want to leave no regrets!”
“They fight until the very last moment!”
Players fall with grass flying and kits in tatters.
Yet they all get up again, grinding their teeth and running toward the ball.
Players worth hundreds of millions roll on the grass like slaves for the highest honor.
A desperate battle.
The stopped scoreboard is shown on screen, and a board indicating six minutes of added time appears.
“Six minutes.”
“Five minutes.”
“Four minutes.”
“Three minutes.”
“Two minutes.”
“One minute.”
And the whistle of destiny blows.
On screen, the referee appears with the whistle in his mouth and a resolute face, pointing to the penalty spot.
“The referee awards a penalty!”
“There is no time left! This one penalty will decide everything!”
“The kicker is…”
“Lee steps up.”
The sight of Jian Lee walking out with the ball tucked under his arm is captured in slow motion.
Him carefully placing the ball on the penalty mark.
Him stepping back.
In the midst of that, all surrounding noise disappears, and the screen captures only Jian Lee’s eyes staring intently at the ball.
And then.
Jian Lee charges at the ball fearlessly.
Bbaaaaang!
Thwack-!
Jian Lee’s shot splits the center of the goal.
“Manchester City wins the Champions League!”
“Manchester City achieves the historic feat of back-to-back trebles!”
“They etch their names onto a page of history!”
“One and Only!”
Fast BGM plays again and Manchester City’s name is engraved on the Big Ears.
Finally, the sight of Jian Lee lifting that Big Ears fills the screen.
“Premier League, FA Cup, Champions League, Asian Games, Asian Cup.”
“Champion of every competition entered.”
“MVP of every cup competition entered.”
“Premier League: 32 goals, 17 assists.”
“FA Cup: 5 goals, 3 assists.”
“Champions League: 12 goals, 6 assists.”
“Most Man of the Match awards in Europe this season.”
“Highest average rating overall this season.”
“2023-24 season.”
“Ballon d’Or”
“Jian Lee.”
*
When the lights come back on stage, I feel as if I’ve become a traveler returning from a journey through time.
Whether I’ve returned from dream to reality, or from reality to dream.
In a thoroughly dizzying feeling, guided by the host, I find myself standing before the microphone at the podium before I know it.
“Your acceptance speech, please.”
Until now, what had been harder for me than football was standing in front of a microphone.
Whether I might misspeak, whether my sincerity would be conveyed distorted, or whether my sincerity would burst out.
A microphone is something made so everyone can hear my voice; to someone like me who never wanted that, it was merely something I couldn’t fathom why anyone had invented.
“…”
But now.
Well.
In a situation where everyone is focused on my words, the microphone that amplifies my small voice feels like something to be grateful for.
The hosts on stage and everyone seated in the audience are looking at me, but
only two people enter my eyes.
Jiwoo and Dad, who are shedding tears.
But just by looking at their expressions, I can immediately tell they are not tears of sadness.
So I too smile and speak to them.
“Ever since I was a son and friend who caused you worry… I want to express my gratitude to those who believed in me without wavering.”
At times like this, I truly regret not being more eloquent.
The things contained in my heart are enough to cover the entire world, so it’s nothing but regrettable that I can’t express them in words.
But won’t those two understand?
Even without putting it into words—my true feelings.
It might be a selfish thought.
After picking up the golden ball placed beside me, I speak.
“Thank you for allowing me to stand proud now. My dream has come true.”
I had thought I was merely being misunderstood as a football genius.
But the one who was misunderstanding was me.
The notion that I was being misunderstood as a genius was the real misunderstanding.
Now, with a light heart, without feeling any aversion.
I acknowledged myself.