Who's That? -2
“Why’s the atmosphere like this?”
“Huh?”
“No, aren’t we winning?”
“We are winning.”
“But everyone looks angry. Look, that man over there! He looks like he’s about to throw something?”
“Hmm…”
At Kim Ji-u’s question, Lee Won-hun scratched his head.
It was undeniable—the stadium atmosphere was anything but good. At first, it hadn’t been so bad, but as time went on, it had only grown more hostile.
Here and there, sighs and curses could be heard, and there were even people expressing their anger by pounding their fists on the seats.
But in the match, Fiorentina was leading.
Fiorentina, having finished the first half with a 1-0 lead, added another goal around the 10th minute of the second half to take a 2-0 lead.
That had continued until now, with 20 minutes gone.
Moreover, the opposing away team hadn’t managed a proper attack more than a few times, so one could say it was a one-sided match.
Even so, the atmosphere among the spectators was hostile, so it was only natural that Kim Ji-u found it strange.
Lee Won-hun spoke carefully.
“I guess they’re not having any fun.”
“Fun?”
“Football, well, winning is of course important. But in the end, people watch it to have fun, too. The mood has already been pretty bad lately, and today there’s nothing different…”
Lee Won-hun wasn’t someone who knew football in depth. However, because his family, and especially his son, played football, there were things he couldn’t help but know.
He knew enough about Fiorentina’s recent atmosphere.
Somehow, with luck on their side, their results themselves weren’t so bad, but the current evaluation of Fiorentina was that their performance was utterly frustrating to watch.
Their build-up was nothing but passing the ball around in circles before linking to the sides, and their attack was nothing but blind crosses followed by headers.
The main cause of criticism was that they couldn’t do anything more than that even with a good striker like Dušan Vlahović. They said if you were going to use a player whose main weapons were movement, link-up play, and left-footed shooting as nothing but a heading machine…
“Hmm… honestly, it is a bit boring.”
“If it weren’t for Jian, I don’t think I’d be watching this either.”
Today was no different.
Well, if the opponent were a strong team, he’d understand, but today’s opponent was none other than Genoa, near the bottom of the league.
Since they were playing such a frustrating match even against that kind of Genoa, the fact that they were winning wasn’t the issue.
“If Jian came out, it would be a bit more fun, right?”
“Well… but I think it’ll be hard for him to come out.”
“Why?”
“Well… because he’s still too young? He has no experience either. It’s already amazing for a 16-year-old to sit on the first-team bench; it’s not easy to expect him to actually play.”
“Oh, is that so…”
At Lee Won-hun’s words, Kim Ji-u pouted.
“Still, I feel like Jian would do better than the players out there…”
“Well, it’s not that I don’t want to see Jian play either… but today will be tough.”
“Tch. If I were the manager, I’d put Jian in right away. Are they all idiots?”
Lee Won-hun smiled at Kim Ji-u’s grumbling.
Well, it would be a lie to say he didn’t have a faint hope. But he didn’t have high expectations.
The expectation of seeing Jian play today, that is.
It was only natural.
To send a 16-year-old kid who was playing for the U17 team until last week straight into a match—
—wasn’t it impossible unless the manager was head over heels and desperate to send him in?
“In the first place, it’s truly amazing, incredible even, that he’s sitting there at that age. So not being allowed to play is perhaps only natural, and there’s nothing to be disappoint—”
“Huh? Mister! Mister!”
“…Hmm?”
But then, Kim Ji-u suddenly jumped up from her seat. Because of that, Lee Won-hun couldn’t finish what he was saying.
Kim Ji-u shouted, pointing at the Fiorentina bench.
“Jian! Jian! He came out!”
“W-what?”
What? Jian came out?
Frowning, Lee Won-hun jumped up from his seat and looked to where Kim Ji-u was pointing…
Lee Won-hun’s eyes went wide.
“…Huh?”
W-wait a minute.
This makes no sense.
For a 16-year-old to sit on the first-team bench is already amazing… so playing in the match was unimaginable…?
B-but…
“I-it’s really him!?”
Jian was really coming out of the bench and warming up near the touchline?
W-what is this…?
“I said he’d come out! Right? I was right!!!”
“Uh… uh…”
Lee Won-hun wondered if this was a dream.
*
“Don’t worry about anything. Just one thing.”
“Yes.”
“Do whatever you want. Okay?”
“Yes. I understand.”
I stood at the touchline with the manager, waiting for the substitution signal.
The manager kept talking to me with an arm around my shoulder that was practically a headlock.
“Even if you lose the ball, miss a pass, or your shot goes wide, I won’t say a word. But if you play passively, I’ll scold you.”
“Yes.”
“Don’t think about fitting in with the seniors. Don’t think about yielding to them either. Do as you want. Okay?”
“…Yes.”
I’m the one going into the match, but somehow the manager seems more excited.
The manager’s hot breath keeps reaching my ear, which doesn’t feel great.
But strangely, with the manager getting excited on my behalf like this, I feel a bit calmer.
No, maybe I’m not calm but so nervous that I can’t feel anything.
Either way, it doesn’t matter.
What matters is that I’m ready to run.
*Beep—!*
The whistle blows and the match stops briefly.
The assistant referee next to us raises the substitution board, and one of our players walks off.
He extends his hand to me.
I extend my hand toward his in return,
“Go for it!”
and with the manager’s hand thumping my back, I run out onto the pitch.
It doesn’t feel real at all, but this is the moment I step onto a Serie A pitch.
“Number 2! Number 2!”
But I have no time to be immersed in sentiment.
Holding up two fingers high, I relay the manager’s tactical change orders to the seniors.
A change from 4-3-3 to 4-2-3-1.
I enter as the center of the 3, the withdrawn striker position. I always played in this spot in the U17, so there’s nothing unfamiliar about it.
*Beep—!*
The whistle blows, and the match resumes with our team’s throw-in.
The ball starts circulating slowly from the back.
While the ball moves, I survey my surroundings and find the position I should be in.
The opponent is still sitting back.
A dense defense.
Especially the central gaps are very narrow. Not just the vertical gaps, but the horizontal ones as well.
They seem willing to concede crosses from the sides moderately, but they won’t allow shots inside the box.
Even while losing by two goals, they still haven’t changed their attitude.
I think they’re quite stubborn, but on the other hand, it’s also fortunate.
That they maintain their defensive tactics without changing them.
Because I’ve already scored against that defense countless times.
Of course, only in my head.
Sitting on the bench watching the match, I had run countless simulations of how I would break through that defense if it were me.
To be honest, I saw goal-scoring chances several times. It’s not that I’m better than the seniors or that I saw angles they missed.
It’s different seeing from inside versus from the bench. Everything is easier to see when you take a step back. I was on the outside, so I just saw better.
Anyway, what mattered was that the opponent’s defense wasn’t so solid that it couldn’t be broken down.
They had definitely exposed gaps several times.
Especially since it’s now heading toward the late second half, gaps would be created even more easily.
I intend to actively target those gaps.
*Tap-tap-tap—!*
I drop down from my original position toward the bottom. All the way near the halfway line.
Immediately, a pass comes my way.
*Paang-*
I take it lightly and turn.
There’s time anyway since the opponent isn’t pressing at all in this area.
The problem is how to go up from here.
*Paang-*
*Paang-*
I exchange light passes with nearby teammates and move to the left.
Seeing how the pass comes right away even without me asking for a return, the seniors seem tired too.
That makes me feel less burdened.
Since the seniors are tired anyway, they won’t think badly of me holding onto the ball longer and moving around; they’ll probably think it’s better.
*Tap-tap-*
Starting from near the left touchline, I slowly begin dribbling up.
The opponent still isn’t pressing, so advancing is easy.
If I put my mind to it and sprint, I feel like I could reach the left corner flag without any obstruction. That’s how much the opponent is practically leaving the side space open.
But I have no intention of going that way.
At best, all I could do there is cross, and I don’t have confidence in breaking down the opponent’s box defense with my crossing.
*Tap-tap-tap—!*
So I go to the center.
Moving diagonally toward the box, I enter the left half-space.
It feels as if I’m rushing toward a beehive.
Because as I approach a sensitive area, the opponent’s defenders react one by one and begin marking me.
But I don’t feel that much pressure.
After all, I’ve gone against the first-team seniors in training.
The opponent is worse than our team’s seniors.
The standings prove it, and today’s match proves it too.
So without flinching, I dribble the ball toward the defender blocking me.
*Ta-at—!*
The opponent sticks out his foot. But I was prepared in advance. I knock the ball to the side with my right foot to avoid his leg.
*Tap-tap-tap—!*
At the same time, I kick the ball forward again and momentarily accelerate to pass by the defender.
I beat one.
But defenders still swarmed in front of me.
Mountains upon mountains.
It looked difficult to squeeze through them alone…
But I am not alone.
“Hey!”
A welcome face suddenly appears in the gaps between the defenders.
It’s Vlahović.
He comes out of the box, positions himself with his back to the defense, and shouts to me.
Is this why we train?
At that voice, my body reacts before my mind.
*Paang—!*
I pass to Vlahović and run toward the slight gap that opens in the defense.
The simulation I had only run in my head begins to overlap with the reality before my eyes.
I move exactly as I had run that simulation countless times. Here, it’s to the left.
*Paang—!*
As I reach near the box, the pass comes back to me again.
What’s truly amazing is that even before receiving that pass, I can see Vlahović positioning himself in front of me again.
Does that senior have two bodies?
*Paang—!*
I avoid a defender rushing toward the ball and return it with a one-touch pass. At the same time, without stopping, I keep running and enter the box.
*Tap-tap-tap—!*
Keeping my gaze fixed on Vlahović, I control my speed so as not to cross the opponent’s last defensive line, waiting for the pass.
Of course, it’s fine if the pass doesn’t come.
But in training, Vlahović had passed to me whenever possible.
So I had been ready, and thanks to that, I felt relieved.
Because I could see the pass flowing behind the opponent’s defense. If I hadn’t been ready in advance, my reaction would have been slow.
*Tap-tap-tap—!*
I grit my teeth and run toward the ball flowing to the left of the goal.
Come to think of it, it’s quite a strange thing.
I’m running.
Together with the first-team seniors, against a Serie A team, in front of these tens of thousands of spectators.
I thought I wouldn’t be able to run.
I thought my mind would go blank, my whole body would freeze up, and I wouldn’t be able to breathe, let alone run.
But the strange thing is, right now, I’m not thinking much of anything.
My mind did go blank. But because of that, I only see the ball in front of me.
At the same time, the thousands of other spectators are invisible to my eyes. Only the thought that Dad and Jiu are watching comes to mind.
I want to show them.
Myself as I am now.
*Ppeoooooong—!*
I set the ball on the instep of my left foot.
The keeper ran out sticking to the near side, narrowing the angle, so I struck toward the far post.
Actually, I was more concerned with height than direction.
In a situation like now, a powerful low drive along the ground is the most difficult for a keeper.
So I struck with my instep fully laid out.
*Swhaaaa—*
The shot struck that way rockets forward, seeming to skim the grass.
But… why is it going so weakly?
It feels like time has stopped.
Is this underwater? Why is my shot so slow?
Go faster. Go faster, please.
Faster…
*Thwack—!!*
It went. It went in.
Thank goodness.
It went in.
*Wooooaaaaah—!*
At that moment, shouts that felt like they would tear my body apart surged at me from all directions.
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