That Wasn't Me -1
"No, for something like this…"
"Be careful."
"Ha…"
Number 12 on the opposing team receives a yellow card.
He's the player who collided with me.
Having gotten an earful from our team's seniors and now a warning too, he looks incredibly aggrieved.
Suddenly, Senior Torreira's words come to mind.
That referees are human too, so they tend to side more with weaklings like us.
Of course, it's true that I was fouled one-sidedly, but even so, I didn't think a card would come out right away.
Did I fall that pathetically?
Jiwoo is definitely watching, so that's a bit embarrassing.
Well, maybe it's because of our team seniors' acting. I really thought something terrible had happened.
Their reactions were like I'd been in a car accident.
There was even one senior who was downright terrifying.
"Hehehe…"
It's Senior Milenkovic, the center-back.
A massive frame standing 195 centimeters tall. From Serbia.
Hearing his name alone is scary enough, but seeing that senior lick his lips and smile coldly sent an instinctive chill down my spine—a feeling of danger.
The opponent seemed to feel it too and stepped back.
"Hey, punk! Get a grip! Your eyes are rolling again. Not today! You've already got too many cards!"
"Hehehe…"
Captain Biraghi had said that although he's usually taciturn and gentle, once he snaps, no one can stop him.
I naturally resolve that no matter what happens, I must avoid getting on that senior's bad side.
It's reassuring that he's on my side, but if he were the opponent… I don't even want to imagine.
"Watch it, you!"
Well, anyway.
The seniors swagger back to their positions, and I lightly touch my waist, checking my condition.
I'd acted a bit hurt in front of the seniors, but there's absolutely nothing wrong with me.
"Beep—!"
Paaang—
They restart the game with a short free kick.
Torreira receives the ball and sends it back, and as the ball circulates far from me, I'm given a bit of breathing room.
But the match definitely feels like it's caught fire.
The opponents have started pressing, and because of that foul just now, our team's seniors are heated up too.
Thanks to that, the atmosphere on the field is completely different from the calm flow of the first half.
Especially our team's seniors—their eyes are half-flipped, brimming with intensity.
Watching the seniors crash into the opposing players without mercy, I realize how much they looked out for me during training.
Thwack—!
Ugh, look at that.
They're contesting the second ball, but the ball is secondary—they're taking the man down first. That must really hurt.
But the opponents aren't easily intimidated either.
Seeing them jump right back up and charge again after colliding like that… it's clear that I definitely had been receiving special treatment.
Anyway.
On this brutal field that has become a battlefield, what should I do?
"Huu—"
I want to help the seniors too.
Since they're fighting like that for me, I can't just stay still.
I want to be of some help, even a little. I want to fight alongside the seniors.
But… even if I try, I won't be of any help.
Even if I collide with them, the opponents won't budge an inch. I'll just go flying pathetically.
To them, I'll look like nothing more than a chihuahua yapping noisily.
So fighting alongside them won't help them at all.
This is absolutely not self-justification because I'm scared.
Really.
This isn't self-justification—it's simply the objective truth.
Then in what way should I help the seniors?
As expected, shouldn't I open up the game in a way only I can?
Because enduring with pure strength and overpowering the opponent isn't the only way.
"Beeep—!"
Senior Torreira draws a foul as he goes down.
The opponent protests aggrievedly, but the referee is firm.
It's a clever play possible only because Senior Torreira is small in stature.
Right.
I have to move cleverly like Senior Torreira too.
I don't have superior physicality that lets me ignore everything, nor do I have the talent to push past everyone relying on instinct alone.
That's why I always have to think diligently and move cleverly.
Since I'm not a genius, I need to be even smarter.
Tatatat—!
I move slowly while surveying my surroundings.
I can feel an opposing midfielder sticking close to me.
Maybe that's why, or maybe because it's obvious that I'll be in danger if I receive the ball.
Rather than giving me the ball, the seniors are passing it back and forth from a distance.
What's important at a time like this?
Probably positioning.
You can't exert influence on the field only when you have the ball.
Depending on where I'm located, there are times I can sufficiently fulfill my role with just that.
Now is especially such a case.
A situation where one opponent is following me around. Not only that, but other players are also eyeing me hungrily in a situation like right now.
Of course, rather than being wary of me, it's probably because I'm the easiest target… but anyway, I'm unintentionally drawing the opponent's attention.
If I use this well, I think I can create chances.
"…"
Surveying my surroundings, the front, and the opponent's defensive line…
Tatatat—!
I move forward along the left half-space.
The opposing midfielder who had been hovering near me follows too.
Not only that, but as I take up a position near the box, I feel the surrounding space narrowing considerably.
But this is exactly what I wanted.
Making the left space narrow.
If the left becomes narrow, naturally the opposite side—the right—has to open up wide.
Vlahovic will take charge of that space.
Vlahovic preferred making runs to the right from the box.
Coming inside from the right toward the center and shooting with his left foot—that's the pattern he said he preferred.
I came to the left to create that exact situation.
I can see Vlahovic stealthily moving toward the right as well.
But it's not enough yet.
To make the situation more definite, I need to draw the opponent's attention even more.
To do that, the calculation is that I ultimately have to receive the ball.
Gulp—
I swallow my saliva loudly without realizing it.
Thinking about having to receive the ball in this narrow space swarming with monsters targeting me… fear suddenly wells up.
Needless to say, it's obvious what will happen.
If I receive the ball here, they'll pounce on me from all sides. Will I be able to endure in the midst of that?
I don't know.
But what I have to do is clear.
Then I have to do it.
"Huu—"
I want to stay on the first team.
I don't want to go back to the U17 team.
Jiwoo and Dad… they were so happy when they heard the news that I was playing on the first team.
They looked at me proudly and enjoyed watching my matches. Seeing the two of them happy made me even happier.
So I want to stay on the first team.
I want to survive here. Seeing the seniors fighting to protect me now makes that thought even stronger.
So even if I'm scared, I have to find courage.
Tatat—!
"Hey—!"
I move quickly, slipping out of the encirclement in an instant and raising my hand.
Senior Torreira, who has the ball, falters slightly when he sees me, but I gesture asking for the ball.
Then the pass comes.
Paaang—!
As expected.
Before the ball even reaches me, I feel the presence of a defender charging from behind.
But… no matter how much I'm not a genius, I'm not a fool who falls for the same thing twice.
"…"
While watching the rolling pass, I gauge the distance to the defender charging at me out of the corner of my eye…
The moment both the ball and the defender reach my vicinity.
Srrruk—
Leaving the ball as is, I twist my body and spin around.
Then I see the defender who charged at me driving his shoulder into empty air.
The opponent was targeting me rather than the ball from the start.
Thanks to that, I was able to turn without physical contact with the defender, and without even touching the ball.
Tatat—!
After receiving the ball along its trajectory, I slowly dribble forward and wait for the defenders to stick to me.
Three in total.
The defender who missed me just now from behind.
And one each from the front and right.
As those three close in on me from three directions…
Tatatat—!
I try with all my might to survive inside that encirclement.
Rolling the ball with the soles of my feet, I avoid legs stretching out toward the ball, and I try spinning around, playing a game of tag.
I figured it would be fine even if I got fouled.
Since this is a position where I can shoot directly, I protected the ball as if taunting the opponent.
Whether the opponents were conscious of that, or whether the earlier warning was holding them back.
They charged in, trying somehow to strip only the ball… Thanks to that, keeping the ball wasn't so difficult.
In my personal opinion, dribbling to avoid charging defenders is definitely easier than dribbling to break past waiting opponents.
Taaat—!
While possessing the ball like that… the moment a big gap opens to one side, I kick the ball long and run.
Thinking that I need to escape this narrow space soon.
That direction was toward the center, and having successfully escaped, I look for Vlahovic first.
Paaaaaang—!
I release the pass immediately.
It's Senior Vlahovic with his hand raised in the wide space on the right.
Paaang—
Fortunately, the pass connects accurately.
Soon one defender sticks to him, but I'm certain that one person can't stop Senior Vlahovic.
Tatat—
Booooom—!
A crisp sound echoes across the field.
Vlahovic's left-footed shot flies toward the goal like a clothesline.
This is… it's in.
Thwack—!!
"Yeeeee—!"
As I run toward Senior Vlahovic, he powerfully hugs and lifts me up.
Soon the other seniors rush at us too.
*
The opponent probably found me really annoying.
It's only natural, since a nobody kid kept getting on their nerves.
Even though I'd fall over if they just touched me, the referee kept taking my side.
As that situation repeated, the opponents had no choice but to be cautious of me.
Of course, the seniors also protected me and made my feet lighter.
Thanks to that, I could play my game even more boldly.
Wanting to show that I wouldn't be intimidated even against such opponents, I moved even more actively.
Whether it's the coach, Dad, or Jiwoo.
I didn't want them to watch me with worry.
I told you.
It wouldn't be me getting hurt—it would be the opponent's big nose getting flattened.
"Waaaah!"
Eventually, late in the second half, we scored one more goal.
It wasn't a goal I was directly involved in, but it was still a goal that included me in the buildup.
As I dug into the left, space opened in the center, and thanks to that, Senior Torreira was able to take a free shot.
That tore the back of the net.
In the end, that goal became the goal that sealed the game.
"Beep, beep, beeeeep—!"
The moment the whistle blows, I plop down on the ground.
It feels like my legs have completely given out.
Of course winning is winning, but the first thought that comes to mind is relief that I wasn't injured.
Somehow… I survived. On this battlefield.
Thanks to that, I won't get scolded by Jiwoo.
That's a relief, but…
"Good work, kid!"
"Well, well, you're braver than I thought?"
"Kid, see? This is the kind of brothers we are. We don't let anyone who touches you off easy."
"So that means you can act up even more from now on, right?"
Oh my, why are they all like this?
The moment the match ended, I'm overwhelmed by the seniors swarming around me.
They pat my head, stroke my face, and lift me up and down; I'm a complete mess.
Even though they were the most reliable seniors during the match. After the match, they've become bothersome brothers nagging me like ghosts.
Ughhh…
"Hey, you lot. Stop tormenting the kid and get out. Kid."
"Ah… yes!"
While I was being tormented like that, Captain Biraghi called me, and I quickly answered.
As expected, only the captain is considerate of me.
Barely escaping from the seniors, I run over, and the captain throws an arm around my shoulder and takes me somewhere.
"Kid, you need to prepare yourself mentally."
"Yes? What preparation…?"
"Were you the type to do well with presentations in class?"
"Presentations…?"
I tilt my head at the captain's out-of-the-blue question.
Presentations, all of a sudden?
As I tilt my head, the captain points to one side of the stadium.
There… I see several cameras and people holding microphones, preparing something.
"It's nothing much, just an interview. Don't freeze up just because it's in front of the cameras. Just answer simply what they ask."
"In… interview?"
"Yeah. It means you played well today. So take it happily."
"Ah…"
No… wait a minute.
I never even thought about this.
They're telling me to stand in front of those cameras right now?
"Go on."
Pushed by the captain, I head toward the interview area.
Then a man who looks like a broadcasting staff member explains this and that to me, but honestly, none of it really enters my ears.
My hands start sweating and my mouth goes dry.
Holy shit, I'm going crazy.
"Alright, please stand here. All standby!"
Finally standing in front of the camera, my mind goes blank.
My head, which had been working fine during the match, stops completely.
S-someone save me…
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