A Fake That Seems Real -3
It was the moment when a sense of frustration was beginning to set in little by little.
The opponent had been putting up an incredibly stifling defense, and with twenty minutes having already passed in such a situation.
In other words, the fans' patience was gradually running thin.
Of course, in football, there were plenty of matches that ended scoreless over ninety, even one hundred twenty minutes.
But football fans weren't rational enough to take all of that into account.
If it was good right now, it was good; if it was frustrating right now, it was frustrating. The very charm of football was that one could feel every joy and sorrow within that short span of ninety minutes, and they were simply enjoying it to the fullest.
Thus, it was at this time that some fans were beginning to feel Vlahović's absence and voice their frustration.
"Ooh-"
"Waaah-"
The spectators' mouths fell open as if entranced.
It was because Roberto Baggio in his prime had seemingly appeared before their eyes.
From the left side of the goal, he crafted a shooting angle with a magically soft first touch, followed by a precise finish curling lightly into the far post.
But when they rubbed their eyes and looked, it wasn't Baggio—it was I Jian.
"M... Mamma mia!"
"Y-Yellow Baggio!"
"You crazy racist! Say black-haired Baggio!"
"But Baggio has black hair too?"
"Who cares!"
Anyway, it was only natural that the fans' jaws had dropped.
But soon, the cheers grew even louder.
Because I Jian was running toward the corner flag.
"Siiiiiii-!!"
"Lee! Lee! Lee! Lee! Lee! Lee!"
I Jian was a player who was nearly perfect save for one regret: he was difficult to see up close.
It was partly because he mainly played centrally, but even when he scored, he didn't do the kinds of celebrations everyone else did.
He would simply be surrounded by his teammates, receive their congratulations, and quietly return to the halfway line—that was all.
For someone who had risen to fame so early, he was not the type to revel in popularity.
So when such a bashful boy came running toward them, it was only natural that the crowd went wild.
The fans sitting near the corner flag in particular looked ready to break past security and rush onto the pitch.
"Hey! Cutie! Come here!"
"Let me hug you just once!"
"Ti amo!!"
The funny thing was, upon seeing the fans' reaction, the running I Jian faltered and stopped in his tracks.
Wearing an expression that said he'd made a mistake.
Then he began looking back and forth, stuck and unable to do anything.
Trapped in a dilemma, I Jian was eventually caught by his teammates and forced to endure their celebratory baptism, while the stands erupted in warm laughter at the sight.
At times like this, he looked like just another sixteen-year-old boy living next door.
It was a marvel—once he touched the ball, you couldn't feel his age at all.
*
"Thank you, thank you! I'll do whatever you ask!"
Senior Saponara thanked me the entire way back to our half.
No, I didn't really get it.
I was the one who had received the assist, so why was he thanking me...
Well, anyway.
After returning to our half, I tidied my uniform and pulled my stockings back up to my knees.
I quietly let out a sigh of relief.
"Hoo..."
I had scored.
Even without Senior Vlahović, I had succeeded in scoring.
Of course, it was absolutely not a goal scored by my strength alone.
Still, I had scored without Senior Vlahović. That fact finally made me feel a little more at ease.
Honestly, I had been under quite a lot of pressure.
I had been greatly worried whether I could dare fill the void left by Senior Vlahović.
They called me a fake striker, but that didn't mean I wasn't responsible for the team's goals.
To be honest, I hadn't even wanted to stand in this position.
But I had scored.
I hadn't been a real fake striker; I had played the role of a fake fake striker.
Only now did my heart feel a little lighter.
Come to think of it, my life seemed rather peculiar.
Whether on the pitch or off it... a life of a fake pretending to be real.
But if a fake becomes so real that it's indistinguishable from the genuine article... wouldn't that make it real?
I don't know.
"Beep-!"
Right now was the time to focus on the match.
*
"If we're playing this well without our starters, maybe we've actually been a strong team all along?"
"It's been a while since we've played this well."
"If you look only at the attack, it actually seems even better."
Fans watching the match, which had now entered the latter half, were saying.
In the 30th minute of the second half, the current score was 3-0.
I Jian had scored one goal in the 23rd minute of the first half, Sottil had added another in the 38th minute, and Saponara's goal had come in the 62nd minute. I Jian had assisted both of those goals.
Fiorentina had been keeping Verona penned in and beating them throughout, displaying a satisfying performance in which all three attackers had scored.
"To think we can score even without Vlahović. Is this really the team I knew?"
"Vlahović? Who's that?"
The Fiorentina that the fans had known was a team that became an entirely different side depending on whether Vlahović was there or not.
Of course, even when he was there, the performances weren't necessarily satisfying, but they had still brought results.
But when he wasn't there, Fiorentina was a team that couldn't produce either performance or results.
In that situation, it was I Jian who had appeared like a comet and solved the performance issues.
Yet there had still been doubts about whether even I Jian could create something on his own without Vlahović.
Paradoxically, this was because his synergy with Vlahović had been too good.
I Jian would penetrate into the spaces Vlahović created, or they'd dismantle the defensive line with one-two passes, or when Vlahović won aerial balls, I Jian would take charge of the second ball.
The combination of a physically dominant striker and an ace who played beautiful football had been a fail-proof partnership since time immemorial, and they were no different.
Their synergy had been so good.
So people had worried that if even one of them were missing, the team's performance would collapse again.
They couldn't help but worry more about when Vlahović was absent. I Jian was a newly risen prodigy, but Vlahović had been the team's leading striker since the season before last.
But watching today, the feeling wasn't as bad as they'd thought.
No, it was far better than "not bad."
Vlahović without I Jian had looked incredibly stifled, but I Jian was fulfilling his role perfectly even without Vlahović.
And that wasn't all.
"Saponara doesn't look half bad like this?"
"Right? When he's used like that, he's not completely useless after all."
The other players' performances seemed to be coming alive too.
Saponara especially.
In the fans' perception, Saponara had been a rather awkward player. He had his highs, but under the team's structure that funneled every chance to Vlahović, it had been difficult for him to capitalize on them.
But now those weaknesses weren't visible. It felt like only his strengths were being highlighted.
You didn't need to be a football expert to know who was responsible for that.
"Lee's keeping a lot of people afloat."
Nowadays, word was going around that Vlahović's contract renewal was being delayed.
The premonition wasn't good. Most fans pleaded for him to stay with the team, while on the other hand thinking those pleas would never work.
Thus, many fans were already preparing their hearts for the future—a future without Vlahović.
Quite a few fans had said that in the worst case, the team would be stuck in a quagmire for the entire second half of the season.
There were even fans saying they might as well go terrorize Vlahović's house since there was no hope anyway.
But watching today... it made them think that perhaps it wasn't so bleak after all.
They even felt that the team seemed more solid with I Jian at its center than with Vlahović.
Of course, one had to take into account that the opponent was Hellas Verona. But if you also considered that many starters had been absent on their side as well...
The Fiorentina fans might not have realized that they were witnessing the moment the team's future was becoming its present.
*
Around the 25th minute of the second half.
Artemio Stadium was filled with the sound of applause.
Clap-clap-clap-clap-clap-
It was applause directed at I Jian, who was leaving the pitch as a substitute. Everyone was clapping in unison for the sixteen-year-old boy who had run until his hair was soaked with sweat.
I Jian's father, I Wonhun, and Gim Jiu also stood up and clapped enthusiastically.
"Woooo!"
"Grea-eat work!"
Today too, Jian had been admirable.
He had shown the visage of a football genius without reserve. Incredibly brave, he had done his best until exhausted.
"Whew..."
"So tiring..."
Even after I Jian sat on the bench, I Wonhun and Gim Jiu, who had been clapping for quite some time, plopped back down into their seats.
Cheering for I Jian had exhausted them both.
They should have been used to it by now.
Yet watching the match was still far from easy.
Other fans could simply watch with joy, but they couldn't.
Their hearts had tightened painfully, they had grown angry, and they had jumped until their knees hurt from joy.
These two had probably watched the match harder than if they had been playing themselves.
Perhaps that was why.
There were people who noticed they weren't ordinary fans and spoke to them.
"Excuse me, are you a player's family by any chance?"
"...Huh?"
I Wonhun turned his head at the words of the man sitting next to him. Then he tilted his head.
Huh. It was a face he felt like he'd seen somewhere before.
"Yes... we are..."
"Ah, really? Then you're the youngest—ah. I mean, you're Jian's father?"
As I Wonhun nodded at the man who had widened his eyes and looked delighted... wait a minute.
Huh? This person... isn't that him?
"...Aren't you Player Biraghi?"
"Yes, that's right!"
"No way, and next to you..."
"I play with your son."
"Oh my! So you were our son's colleagues from work!"
"So you were the youngest's father!"
When I Wonhun stood up to greet them, Biraghi and Bonaventura also sprang to their feet and bowed.
They weren't well-versed in Eastern greetings, but at the fact that he was the youngest's father, their heads bowed reflexively.
"We're deeply indebted to you, sir!"
"Thank you for giving birth to him!"
"Ah, no. What are you... heh heh!"
Biraghi and Bonaventura bowed their heads as if meeting some great benefactor, and I Wonhun smiled awkwardly.
After expressing his gratitude for some time, Biraghi glanced at Gim Jiu and asked.
"Is this person family too? A younger sister? An older sister?"
"Ah- no. She's Jian's friend."
"Ah, a friend... ah? Jian's girlfriend!"
"Yes, yes."
At I Wonhun's answer, the two turned and bowed their heads again.
If she was precious to the youngest, she was precious to them as well.
"Why, what, who are they?"
Gim Jiu, who had been bewildered and clueless until then, asked, and I Wonhun answered: they were players who played with Jian.
Gim Jiu nodded with an "Ah-" and exchanged greetings with the two.
The four exchanged names and talked about I Jian.
Mostly, Biraghi and Bonaventura would go on long speeches about what an incredible talent I Jian was, while I Wonhun and Gim Jiu chuckled and nodded.
Then, Biraghi suddenly asked.
"No, but I can't quite imagine it, so I'm asking. How did you two start dating? That kid Jian doesn't have an ounce of courage; he's not the type to confess first."
When I Wonhun translated the question, Gim Jiu widened her eyes and shook her head.
"W-We're not dating?"
"Huh? But she's your girlfriend, right?"
"No, I, not yet... ah! Not yet. Just tell them we're friends, not dating."
Gim Jiu answered in confusion, and Biraghi tilted his head, unable to understand.
Everyone else knew they were dating; he couldn't understand why they themselves said they weren't.
"Why? Don't you want to date? Do you hate Jian?"
Gim Jiu couldn't answer when Biraghi asked.
Bonaventura clicked his tongue from the side.
"Looks like the youngest is just too shy to say anything."
"Then shall we help? How about it?"
Again, Gim Jiu couldn't answer and only blushed.
Biraghi thumped his chest as if making a grand vow.
"Just trust us. We'll help. We'll properly teach Jian the ways of an Italian man."
Ah, no.
I didn't know what they meant by helping, but...
Gim Jiu didn't particularly feel like stopping the two busybodies.
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