Come to think of it, maybe that’s how it is.
Maybe belief is ultimately about deceiving oneself.
Perhaps the point is that whether it’s actually true or not isn’t all that important.
You don’t believe it simply because it’s real, because it’s true.
What’s important is that if I just believe it, I too am deceived by that belief, and eventually, at least to me, it becomes real.
So, the reason all these fans call me a hero isn’t because I’m truly a hero… but simply because they need a hero, isn’t it?
The inexplicable sense of betrayal I felt when Vlahović left for Juventus—the fans must have felt it too. Perhaps even more than I did.
I can empathize with that feeling.
They must have needed comfort, must have wanted to see new hope. And what they needed for that was surely a hero.
Because a hero symbolizes hope.
It just so happened that I became that person.
…Honestly, I don’t even know what I’m thinking right now.
It feels like something out of a social studies textbook, like the words of philosophers—plausible yet empty, like grasping at clouds.
But there is only one thing that matters.
The fans want me to become a hero, and since I’m receiving those expectations, I must live up to them.
To do that, I too had to deceive myself.
By believing that I could truly become a hero.
Tap-tap-tap-!
Escaping from the clouds, like fog lifting, I return to reality.
As I dribble the ball up along the right half-space, I see the opposing defenders sprinting to their positions.
Their movements scream rigorous training. My current attempt at a solo counterattack is clearly beyond common sense, yet the opponent’s response is flawless, as if following a manual.
Tap-tap-tap-!
The closest midfielder sticks to me, while the two center-backs backpedal toward the box.
The remaining one—the opponent’s left fullback—seems to be covering the space behind the first defender marking me, preparing for when I break through.
The rest are too far away to actually affect me, so they’re out of the equation.
Anyway, if I wasn’t going to break through all four alone, it made sense to take a breather for a moment—either holding the ball briefly to buy time for teammates to push up, or passing back to secure possession.
So the fact that I didn’t stop running here meant I had decided to break through all four alone.
Tap-tap-tap-!
An opposing midfielder approaches from my left flank.
Since his goal was to close the distance, he was probably moving at considerable speed.
I was also in full stride, so if I kept running without stopping, I might not get caught.
But something tells me that would turn into a shoulder-to-shoulder sprint.
If I burn stamina here, I’ll have trouble handling the remaining three.
I have to shake him off cleanly before moving on.
Tap-tap.
—The moment he gets close, I brake with my left leg—the one without the ball—and decelerate.
And as if I’m about to turn, I step on the ball with my right foot.
Tap-tap-!
I can see my opponent slowing down in response to my movement, and I pounce on that moment.
Tap-tap-tap-!
I instantly lower my stance and burst forward again. Speed in football is relative. It’s not like the 100-meter dash where you measure records—as long as I’m faster than the opponent in front of me, I’m a fast player.
If the opponent who just stuck to me and I ran a 100-meter dash, I might be slower. But I made him stop by decelerating, and in that gap, I got a head start.
It wasn’t exactly fair play, but if it let me get past him, I couldn’t care less.
Tap-tap-tap-!
Having shaken off one man, I advance to the next step. The opposing fullback who’d been waiting behind turns his body diagonally to meet me.
With plenty of space, he was positioned to react to a long dribble. Since he’s already turned halfway, running backward is inevitably faster for him.
Then I shouldn’t play into his expectations. It’s obvious he’s preparing for that—responding accordingly would be idiotic.
Besides, I don’t have much confidence in a long sprinting race to begin with.
So, charging ahead is ruled out.
But I can’t let him realize that. I have to use it as bait instead.
I have no intention of charging, but I’ll act like I will.
He’d been waiting for exactly that, so he’d react quickly—which also meant I could easily draw a reaction from him.
Tap-!
I deliberately make a big motion and push the ball to my right. From my perspective, the opponent had positioned his body to the left, waiting for me.
In other words, I moved as if breaking through behind his back—
Tap-tap-tap-!
Naturally, the opponent tried to flip his body, showing me his back. Turning away from me rather than toward me is faster.
But the problem was that his reaction was too fast.
Of course, to me, that wasn’t a problem—it was a blessing.
Tap-tap-!
Facing his back, I switch directions sharply to the left. Only then does he check his right—I wonder if he feels like I’ve vanished from his perspective.
Before he can turn back toward me, I quickly dribble away and open up distance.
Tap-tap-tap-!
From the right half-space, I drive diagonally toward the center.
In front of the box, two huge defenders stand guard like tutelary deities.
A combination of black and white, a terrifying sight that makes charging straight ahead unthinkable.
“Go-!!”
“Break through-!!”
But the roar from the stands pushes my back against my will.
The defenders I’d already beaten were catching up from behind anyway, so stopping wasn’t an option.
Yellow charges toward the black-and-white pairing.
Somehow, it’s become a scene of racial harmony.
“Tear them apart-!!”
Honestly, while playing a match, I’d never heard the crowd’s noise this clearly before.
But today, I can hear it quite well.
Are they shouting louder than usual, or have my ears become sharper?
I confront the huge defenders.
Tap-tap-!
A 1v2 is common sense unfavorable for the one, but in a situation with this much speed and space, that’s not necessarily true.
Depending on the situation, you can turn 1v2 into 1v1, 1v0.5, or 0.5v0.5.
What this means is this:
Tap-tap-tap-!
The moment I meet the first defender, I fold left and drive in.
The other defender is waiting on that left side, but the moment I pass between the two of them, I become a rather ambiguous existence.
It becomes unclear whether the right defender should stop me or the left defender should.
Tap-tap-tap-!
Then what happens if I go deeper?
Without stopping, I keep dribbling horizontally along the box line.
Then the defender I first faced has no choice but to give up on me. I’ve completely entered his teammate’s zone.
One 0.5 drops off.
Now it’s a fight against the remaining 0.5… The reason it’s 0.5 and not 1 is that I’m already at full speed.
Overtaking an opponent standing still waiting for me when I’m already at speed isn’t difficult.
That is, if I can control the ball properly.
Tok, tok, tok, tok-!
Maintaining my speed, I increase the number of touches and change direction in short, rapid bursts.
Like whittling away… I circle around the defender along the box line.
Tap-tap-tap-!
Fortunately, the ball doesn’t leave my feet and moves exactly as I want.
I eat, sleep, and breathe football—shouldn’t this much be expected?
It’s not like I train weaving through cones for nothing.
What I do on the training ground makes me on the pitch.
Tap-tap-tap-!
Having beaten the last defender, I burrow in on the left side of the goal and steal a glance at the net.
It was to check the keeper’s position, but instead of hugging one post, the keeper was rushing out.
The goalkeeper charges out with his stance lowered as if his arms might touch the ground.
His reaction was quite fast; by the time I registered it, the angle had already narrowed significantly. It felt like no matter how I shot to the left or right, the keeper would get to it.
Then… there’s only one way.
Paaang-!
Like kicking the ground, I stabbed my toes under the ball.
The ball floated up gently.
Swoooooosh
—The ball sailed over the head of the goalkeeper who had been rushing out in his lowered stance.
The keeper belatedly reached out from that stance, but it was beyond his reach.
The ball passed comfortably over him.
Swoooosh
—But I couldn’t be sure it was a goal.
Because it wasn’t just the ball flying toward the empty net.
That Black defender from earlier was also rushing toward the empty goal.
Tap-tap-tap-!
Even after kicking it, I say something to the ball.
Hurry… hurry.
Huh? Faster…
Swoooosh
—Thud-!
That’s it.
It’s in.
The defender threw his body and tried to get his head to it, but the ball was one step faster.
“Waaaaaaah-!!”
For a moment, I felt a slight tremor, and I saw every spectator rise from their seats.
Was this what they wanted to see?
Would that goal really be enough to satisfy their expectations?
“Yeeeeaaaah-!!”
They’re enjoying it that much, so I guess that’s enough.
I nod and look at those fans.
I don’t know.
That many people want it like that, so I have to become it.
A hero.
*Ending the first half 1-1 was quite a good result. If we hadn’t managed to stop their momentum midway, it could have been a first half where the score gap widened.
The opponents were inherently fast and terrifying when they gained momentum.
“Focus more! Even if one watches the ball, one watches the man! If needed, stick three men on him! It’s unavoidable!”
The halftime locker room is filled with the manager’s roaring.
Our team’s center-backs, Milenković and Nastasić, lower their heads deeply and take the scolding.
The manager’s offensive prowess rivals Napoli’s striker. The two seniors suffer a lot inside and out.
“Listen up, everyone. If we win today, we move up to 4th place. What this means—”
The manager, finishing his concentrated onslaught, speaks to everyone. They all raise their heads, look at him, and listen intently.
“It means if we win today, we can climb above Juventus. Let’s give our fans something to cheer about, yeah? Let’s do it!”
“Let’s do it!”
“Let’s go, let’s go!”
To the manager who pumps us up with a voice that invigorates just to hear it, everyone responds by nodding and shouting.
I too nodded and rose from my seat.
And I was the first to leave the locker room for the second half.*
“This isn’t easy.”
“It’s not easy. It’s Napoli.”
“The defense looks too shaky. My heart drops every time Osimhen gets the ball.”
Kim Ji-woo, sitting in the stands, was suddenly a bit surprised. Because today, she could somehow catch snippets of the surrounding spectators’ conversations.
She’d been studying really hard and her ears had opened up to some extent, but eavesdropping on others’ conversations and interpreting them was still really difficult.
Especially the middle-aged men who came to watch football—their words were impossible to understand.
But strangely, today she could hear them bit by bit.
They say your ears suddenly open at some point—seems it’s true. The wonder of it gives her slight goosebumps.
Feeling amused, Kim Ji-woo perks up her ears.
“If we could just stop conceding, I think we could do something.”
“Right. If we don’t concede, we can win.”
“You saw earlier, right? Lee taking on four defenders alone.”
“Koulibaly couldn’t do anything. I almost lost my mind.”
Wow, she can really understand to some extent.
Of course, some words still don’t register, but she can grasp the context by filling in the gaps.
Now she realizes everyone is talking about Ji-an.
‘Geez. He just drips charm everywhere he goes.’
Kim Ji-woo clicks her tongue.
How much charm does he ooze for everyone to be so enchanted like this?
Of course, it’s a good thing, but… my own little Ji-an had already become a thing of the past long ago.
“We really need to win. If we win today, we’re in 4th place.”
“I’d love to see us above those guys for just one round.”
“Then we need to capture the league table. To look at whenever we’re feeling down.”
“Please, I believe.”
Soon, the break comes to an end.
It’s almost time for the second half to begin, and Napoli players in white kits appear on the pitch one by one.
The crowd gulps at their somehow threatening appearance.
Shortly after, the stands begin to grow loud again.
“Lee!”
“Lead us to 4th place!”
“Fiorentina’s hero!”
“Hero!”
Following the Napoli players, Lee Ji-an appears, and the crowd’s cheers pour down behind his back.
Kim Ji-woo looks at that sight and suddenly gets goosebumps. Ji-an’s back looks wider than usual today.
Hmmm.
It can’t be helped after all.
Even just walking, his charm spills over so freely; it’s only natural that everyone falls for him.