Wholehearted Devotion -2
Jiwoo: Ah, I want to go to Milan tooㅜㅜㅜㅜㅜ
Jiwoo: Take me with youㅜㅜㅜㅜ
Jiwoo: I can't skip school for a day, can I······?
Jiwoo: Ah, I really want to go tooㅜㅜㅜㅜ
Jiwoo: Take lots of pictures!!
From the moment she heard that the next away destination was Milan, Jiwoo started whining.
She said she didn't know why, but ever since she was in Korea, Milan had been a place she wanted to visit at least once.
She said if it had been a Saturday match instead of a Sunday match, she would have followed along, so I had subtly tested the waters asking if she couldn't skip just one day.
She said she couldn't because she had an exam, and told me to take lots of pictures instead.
"It's nothing special."
Getting off the bus and looking around downtown Milan, honestly, I'm not sure what the fuss is about.
Hmm. It's just an ordinary city.
Other than the fact that the people passing by feel a bit more sophisticated··· honestly, Florence is much prettier.
"Why suddenly pictures?"
"Huh? Ah."
While capturing the downtown scenery with my phone camera, senior Bonaventura asks with a grin.
"Well, a friend asked me to take some pictures."
"Friend? Ah, that girlfriend?"
"...Yes."
At the word girlfriend, I just nod my head. The seniors tease me so much that I've decided not to react anymore.
"Lover boy. Lover boy."
"I acknowledge you as an honorary Italian man."
"When's the wedding?"
"You crazy bastard, he's still sixteen."
...Of course, even if I don't react, the teasing is the same.
Normally, the captain would appear around now, scold the seniors, and help me out, but···
"Hey, hey. Stop fooling around and let's head up."
"Got it."
"Let's go."
For some reason, today the seniors stop first on their own and pack their things.
They're not usually like this. It seemed everyone knew the captain was on edge.
The captain had been focusing solely on training, barely saying a word for the past few days.
"Hey, youngest. Hurry up too."
"Yes."
Tatatata-
I quickly snapped a burst of photos and followed after the seniors.
*
Stadio Giuseppe Meazza, also known as San Siro.
This stadium, one of those boasting the longest history in Europe, is filled with fans.
The scale is magnificent.
The total capacity is approximately 75,000.
Today, nearly 60,000 fans have come to the stadium, and a wave of dark blue covers the stands.
Especially today, many young fans are visible.
There are children nestled in their fathers' arms, and children singing the chants in voices louder than the adults around them. Some are even predicting today's match with faces that rival those of experts.
Surely, among them, some are nurturing dreams as they gaze upon this stadium with its fantastic atmosphere.
The dream of someday wearing Inter's dark blue jersey and running on the pitch cheered on by all these spectators.
Today, too, countless boys dream of wearing the dark blue jersey.
One such boy was Cristiano Biraghi.
"..."
Biraghi looks around every corner of Giuseppe Meazza with a complicated expression.
Born in a small city on the outskirts of Milan, Biraghi cannot forget the day he first came here holding his father's hand.
Of course, he couldn't forget it.
Because that was the day his lifelong dream was decided.
A beautiful stadium, passionate fans, and stars decorating the field while basking in those fans' cheers.
That sight was enough to plant a dream in a country boy, and young Biraghi nurtured that dream with the single-minded determination to play for Inter.
When he joined the youth team at age 13 and put on the dark blue jersey he had dreamed of, he felt like he could fly.
"My dream is to become a great Inter captain like Zanetti."
The closer the dream came, the bigger it grew.
Having stood out since joining the youth team, Biraghi dreamed of a first-team debut, and after joining the first team, he nurtured the dream of becoming captain.
Just as his younger self had admired Inter's eternal captain, Javier Zanetti.
He too had wanted to become a captain loved by all Inter fans.
But now.
The captain's armband wrapped around Biraghi's arm is not Inter's.
"Good game."
"Yeah."
Biraghi shakes hands with Inter's captain, Samir Handanovic. He is no longer a boy now, but seeing that captain's armband makes him keep returning to those days.
And seeing the fans belting out Inter's chants, he somehow feels sorrowful.
I should be one of those receiving their cheers.
Why must I stand here as their enemy?
My dream was to make them happy, not to make them cry.
It's sorrowful.
But because of that, Biraghi wants to win today's match even more.
He wants to ask, in reverse, why he must become their enemy.
"Gather round."
"Okay."
The Fiorentina players form a circle around Biraghi.
They're not players who normally treat Biraghi with any special captain's deference, but today they all look at him with serious faces.
Fiorentina's captain Biraghi spoke to the players.
"You all probably have a first love."
It's a somewhat out-of-the-blue remark.
But they listen.
"Judging by your faces, most probably remain as bad memories. You've all probably thought this at least once. About becoming a much cooler person and making your first love regret it."
Biraghi adjusted his captain's armband once and continued.
"That's how I feel right now. So, please, just help me out this once."
When Biraghi earnestly asks, everyone grins.
Meeting those gazes, Biraghi smiles and nods.
"Forza—!"
"Viola—!!"
With a mighty shout, the players scatter to their positions.
Watching such teammates, Biraghi calls one player over for a moment.
"Jian."
"Huh?"
"Don't mind what I just said."
"...?"
"You have to marry your first love."
"..."
As Lee Jian nods and returns to his place, Biraghi smiles.
Isn't what's more important than first love, your last love?
Biraghi's last love is Fiorentina, and today he wanted to make his first love cry somehow.
Of course, it wouldn't be easy.
This season's Inter is truly strong.
An Inter packed with formidable players to the point there'd be no room for him.
But on this side, there's a guy he wouldn't trade for anyone at Inter.
Honestly, it's a bit funny that as captain, he's relying on the youngest.
If you think about it that way, it's more the guy's fault.
The moment he touches the ball, he shows plays that make your eyes doubt what they're seeing—how can you not have expectations?
Biraghi smiled and headed to his position.
*
Seeing the captain's unusually determined face today, I'm suddenly reminded of a few months ago.
When I played against Juventus during my U17 days.
Thinking about it, I think I had that kind of thought in one corner of my heart too.
The thought of wanting to make them regret it.
Of course, that doesn't mean Juventus is my first love.
My first love is...
"Beeeeep—!"
The match begins with the opponent's kickoff.
At the same time, red flames flare up from various parts of the stands, dizzying the eyes.
The atmosphere of Inter's home stadium, which I was visiting for the first time, was as brutal as the seniors had described.
"Hold the line, the line!"
"Don't lose the sides!"
Today's formation is 4-5-1.
Vlahovic stands at the front, and I play the role of attacking midfielder beneath him.
The opponent came out with a 3-5-2.
However, it doesn't look defensive.
You can see the opponent's defenders forming a line quite high up, and the midfielders in the center are positioned on both half-spaces and the sides.
The forwards have already taken positions near the box.
Looking at that formation, I understand what the coach meant when he said the midfield battle is important.
We also stacked many people in the midfield, and the opponent stacked even more.
It's clear the opponent will try to unfold the game based on that numerical advantage.
Whump—
Whump—
Passes circulate quickly around me.
But it's difficult to pressure them easily.
There are three players standing around me alone.
The midfield was already crowded to begin with, but with the withdrawn forward and central defender dropping back or pushing up, the midfield numbers are instantly increased to as many as seven.
No wonder it's hard to apply pressure easily.
Then what should be done?
In my opinion, rather than chasing the ball, I need to occupy space first.
Tat-tat—!
Constantly turning my head to check the players' positions, I find the space where I should be and run to it.
Sometimes, simply standing there is enough to stop the opponent's attack.
I heard the opponent likes to try passes targeting the back space using the sides.
I can see them doing that even now.
I tried to find the passing lanes and position myself there as much as possible, so that passes couldn't slice through from the back or the midfield in one go.
Whump—
Whump—
Several exchanges continued, but no notable scenes emerged.
Fortunately, our defense is good.
The opponent can't easily play forward passes and just goes round and round.
Thanks to that, quite a boring period passes by.
But it's at times like these that I have to focus more.
Because mistakes are prone to happen easily during dull situations.
Especially for the side attacking.
When the attack doesn't go well, naturally they have no choice but to attempt more aggressive plays.
For example, attempting long passes, or attempting bold dribble breakthroughs.
They're all plays where mistakes easily occur.
I have to target that.
Cut off such attempts by the opponent and go up on the counterattack immediately.
"..."
Since the opponent has advanced their wingbacks high, the side spaces are greatly left open.
While focusing on defense, I wait in preparation so that whenever the ball comes to me, I can immediately transition to a counterattack.
For exactly the kind of situation like now.
Whum—!
The pass the opponent midfielder sent slicing to the right is cut off.
It's Captain Biraghi.
The captain who intercepted the ball glances ahead and immediately sends the pass.
Whum—!
The pass heads toward me.
While the pass is coming, I check my surroundings···
Whump—!
I receive the ball, guiding it to the left.
Pressure was coming at me immediately, so receiving while standing still was dangerous.
To get away from the spot the moment I received, I deliberately knocked the ball long.
Tat-tat—!
Of course, there's nowhere to completely escape to.
The midfield space is so narrow that I soon run into an opponent.
Holding onto the ball for long here is a dangerous play. Because if I'm dispossessed, we could be hit by a counter-counterattack.
But right now, I feel I need to take that risk.
I glanced and saw Captain Biraghi gritting his teeth and running forward.
If possible, I want to pass to him.
To do that, I needed to buy a bit more time.
Tuk—!
Avoiding a foot coming in from the left, I cut direction to the right.
Tuk—!
As if they had been waiting, another foot comes in from the right, and I dodge by cutting back.
Then, with a pretty intimidating-looking opponent right in front of me, this time I quickly turn around before the foot comes in.
Tuk—!
Spinning around like that, I end up right back where I started.
But it wasn't a meaningless action.
Because while I was doing that, the captain had moved up to a position where he could receive the pass.
Bwoooong—!
Without delay, I stab a pass toward the left side space and ran toward the box.
*
Tat-tat-tat—!
Biraghi gritted his teeth and ran.
The ball was falling toward the empty space spread out before him.
Damn it.
He wanted to give the youngest an earful.
It's nice that he thinks highly of me, but don't overestimate my speed.
The space was well spotted, but isn't it too far ahead?
Whooosh—!
Ah, sorry.
I underestimated the youngest's passing skills.
Lee Jian's lobbed pass bounces on the ground, and the moment it does, the speed suddenly dies and it bounces along.
It's because he put heavy backspin on it.
Thanks to that,
Whump—!
Biraghi catches the ball.
And he dribbles along the touchline.
One defender is chasing late from behind, but honestly, Biraghi isn't confident in a speed contest.
Then there's no choice but to take a shortcut.
Hup—!
He sends the ball first into the path the defender is rushing into, then shoves his body in. Shoulder and shoulder collide strongly, and Biraghi staggers.
But he doesn't fall.
Having put his body in first to block the defender, Biraghi runs toward the ball again.
And he looks inside the box.
Two attackers are rushing in.
Vlahovic running toward the front of the goal.
Lee Jian cutting in from the relatively nearer side.
There's no room to measure who is in a better position. It's not the head but the foot that chooses. That's how it is.
Bwoooong—!
Biraghi, having driven in a powerful low cross, loses his balance and falls, rolling across the ground.
After rolling a few times like that, he soon pushes himself up with his hand and raises his head···
Shwaaa—
He sees Lee Jian sliding toward the ball.
His cross and Lee Jian's toes were meeting at one point.
Whump—!
Smack—!!
Biraghi springs up and runs at a speed even faster than when he had run to receive the pass just now.
At that sight, Lee Jian's face fills with terror, but Biraghi has no time to care about such things.
"Yaaaaaaa!"
Biraghi hugs Lee Jian tight.
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