Exiting the locker room, passing through the tunnel, and stepping onto the field's grass, I suddenly felt a strange unfamiliarity.
One match per week.
Twice total—first half and second half.
It was something that had become almost routine to me now... yet I couldn't figure out why it suddenly felt so unfamiliar.
So I turned around on a whim.
My seniors were walking out behind me.
Only then did I think I understood why it felt unfamiliar.
"Let's go, let's go!"
"Defense! Let's focus on them one by one!"
It was because it was the first time I'd left the locker room and stepped onto the field before anyone else.
I'd always been the type to come out last.
Whether from the locker room or the tunnel, I'd followed behind my seniors, watching their backs.
This was the first time I'd come out first, showing them my back.
Of course, it meant nothing special.
It wasn't as if I'd come out thinking, "Today, I should go out first."
It was simply time to go out, so I had.
So, it was just a bit unfamiliar, nothing meaningful... I don't know.
What mattered now was winning today's match.
"Beep—!"
The whistle blew, and the match began with the opponent's kickoff.
Today's match was our home game, and I didn't think we were such an easy team.
The opponent seemed to have absolutely no intention of losing.
Of course, it was natural to approach every match with the mindset of winning unconditionally, but the opponent seemed to view even a draw as a failure.
Which was to say, they had started to come out more aggressively than the first half.
"Back! Keep the line!"
"Hey! Watch the space behind! Stay aware!"
The ball kept circulating in our half.
We had chosen to sit back rather than fight in the midfield while pressing, and the opponent held possession in high positions, looking for our gaps.
Therefore, as a striker, I spent most of my time looking not at the opponent's half, but at our own half.
In other words, there was a long stretch where I could only watch the ten teammates diligently defending.
I couldn't help but feel a bit uncomfortable.
How should I put it—like lying alone on the sofa while everyone else is cleaning.
Just lifting my feet slightly when the vacuum cleaner passes by.
It was the feeling of being self-conscious, as if I was the only one doing nothing.
Of course, when the ball came near me, I diligently performed the press.
But I couldn't drop down and actively help with defense.
Because I was, after all, a striker at the very front, and when a counterattack situation arose, I had to be in position to target the opponent's back.
Shortly before the second half began, the coach had spoken to me like this.
"You're a male lion. The head male lion."
"...Yes?"
"You know, when you watch documentaries, what do male lions usually do? Nothing. When the lionesses are hunting diligently, they just lie around yawning, right?"
"...Yes."
"But when an outside enemy like a hyena appears, who protects the pride? The male lion. In the second half, you have to be that male lion. Save your strength, and at the decisive moment, bite the opponent's nape and cut off their breath."
Well, it had been similar in the first half too.
But in the second half, physical exertion would inevitably be greater, so he was saying to conserve energy on defense and focus more on attack.
The metaphor was grandiose, but if I filtered it appropriately, that was more or less the gist.
I had a hobby of secretly studying tactics during class, so I had a rough idea of how tactical trends had changed.
The recent trend was not to clearly divide roles by position, but for attackers to defend when needed and defenders to attack when needed.
But no matter what, there was inevitably a division of roles. Whether a false striker or whatever, in defense, I was positioned at the very front.
Therefore, during a counterattack, I was the one furthest forward, and I was the one who could reach the opponent's goal the fastest.
If I dropped down to help defense, it would become difficult for the team to counterattack.
If the absolute distance increased, so did the number of defenders to bypass, and the time to reach the goal grew longer.
So... in the end, it meant I wasn't standing here because I didn't want to defend.
I'd blabbered on because I'd felt needlessly guilty, but anyway, I wasn't doing this because I was lazy.
I wasn't freeloading alone; I was simply waiting for the moment I had to step up, with the heart of a male lion.
...Hmm.
Maybe I should grow my hair out a bit.
No, never mind.
Since Jiwoo said she didn't like long hair...
I probably wouldn't grow my hair out in the future.
*
True freeloading isn't just about your body being comfortable.
Both body and mind must be at ease for it to be true freeloading.
In that sense, though I had only managed a few touches of the ball during the second half, I couldn't say I was freeloading.
My mind was uncomfortable.
That was how fiercely the opponent pushed us.
The opponent's front three were so good in speed and attacking prowess, and they even switched positions among themselves, tormenting our defenders.
As the match went on, I ended up memorizing not just their numbers but their names too.
From the left: Insigne, Osimhen, Lozano.
Usually when communicating, you'd say "here," "left," "right," or call out numbers.
But today, our defenders were communicating by calling out the opponent players' names.
"Don't give the ball to Insigne!" or "Don't lose your mark on Osimhen!"
I don't know why, but calling them by name instead of number made me feel like we respected the opponent slightly more.
It really was hard to explain, but I got the feeling, like, "this guy has to be stopped," you know?
Anyway, that's how it was.
Napoli's attack was highly threatening, and we had to defend with maximum focus.
Having to just watch that unfold, my mind couldn't be at ease.
I'd rather join in the defense, but I couldn't stray too far from my position, so there was nothing I could do.
Of course, it wasn't like I hadn't touched the ball once during the entire second half. There had been a few counterattacking opportunities. There were brief spells where we had possession and dictated the flow.
However, I couldn't create any meaningful chances.
The opponent was strong not only in attack but also in defense.
Especially when I had the ball, concentrated checks came in. It might have been because I looked easy to mark, but probably also because they conceded a goal in the first half, so they were more wary.
Of course, that was just an excuse.
Whether the opponent's defense was strong or concentrated checks were on me, I had to break through.
I was spared from defense for that very purpose; if I couldn't do it, I'd become a player who didn't pull his weight today, a minus for the team.
If the team couldn't win, the goal I'd scored in the first half was meaningless.
Therefore, as time flowed toward the end of the second half, I had to raise my focus even more.
Actually, maintaining focus wasn't easy.
Because it wasn't the flow of the match I liked. I preferred holding onto the ball longer, exchanging passes frequently with teammates to build up play.
A situation where everyone was looking only at me was, needless to say, not something I enjoyed.
But you can't always do only what you like.
To do what you like, you have to do what you dislike; that's the way of the world.
What I liked was our team winning, and to achieve that, I had to focus more.
The time on the scoreboard had already passed the 45th minute of the second half.
"Think of stopping just one more! Focus!"
Fortunately, we hadn't conceded yet.
But we couldn't let our guard down.
My teammates had been defending with such great concentration. It was a time when their stamina and focus inevitably waned.
But the same was true for the opponent.
Moreover, they were the team that had attacked three times for every one time we had. If they ended up drawing after attacking so much, they would be the ones feeling aggrieved.
Their line had risen even higher, a situation where all their concentration was poured into attack.
Was it because of what the coach had said?
I found myself cracking my neck side to side for no reason. I put strength into my eyes as well.
It felt like it was time for the male lion to do something...
Pa-ang—!
The moment I thought that, the opponent's pass was cut off.
A horizontal pass from the left toward the center had been intercepted, and the position was near the midfield.
Which meant it was close to me.
"...!"
My eyes met with Senior Bonaventura, who had cut off the ball.
But I stretched out my right hand and pointed to the right, and his gaze turned that way.
The space there was wide open for anyone to see, and since he seemed about to give it to me, I had hurriedly pointed the direction.
Bbeo-eo-eo-eong—!
The senior's pass went to the right—no. Now that I had turned to face the opponent's half, it was going to the left.
The space was vast.
The ball headed toward that wide space, and at the same time, Senior Saponara sprinted.
Tatatat—!
I ran too, together with the opponent's defenders.
It was the last chance anyway.
Besides, I had conserved a lot of stamina.
I pushed off the ground with both legs with all my might, propelling myself forward.
It felt like I'd become a single male lion sprinting across the savanna.
...This was all the coach's fault.
I'm still only sixteen; how could I hold back when he talks about lions?
Tatatat—!
Anyway, even if the lion is the king of beasts, before elephants, it's just a cute little kitten.
The defenders running ahead of me were elephants, and I needed to move cleverly.
Not simply just running.
Tatat—!
I adjusted my direction slightly to the right as I ran.
Because the ball was on the left, the defenders' gazes were all turned that way.
To cut off the prey's breath in one go, you have to bite the nape of the neck.
You have to move from behind.
From the blind spot.
Tatatat—!
Running on the defense's shadow, before I knew it I was near the box.
Senior Saponara, who had received the ball on the left, was dribbling deep to buy time, and the moment the defenders and I arrived one after another.
"...!"
"...!"
My eyes met Senior Saponara's.
I pointed in front of the defenders with my hand, and the senior soon drew back his left foot.
Bbeo-eo-eo-eong—!
A low, driven cross powerfully came in.
It was the space between the defenders and the goalkeeper.
"Ri!"
"Get Ri!"
I heard voices calling my name from behind.
Seeing as they weren't my seniors' voices, it seemed to be the opponent players shouting.
But it might already be too late.
I, who had been hiding behind the defenders' backs, lunged toward the cross one step faster.
Like a single lion pouncing on its prey.
Swhaaaa—
I threw my body forward, extending my foot as if baring fangs.
The cross was so strong that if I just got my foot to it, it would go in.
If only I could get my foot to it...
Paaaaang—!
...It touched—
Thwack—!!
"Waaaaaaaah—!!!"
The ball touched by my toes slammed into the net, and at the same time, a massive roar erupted.
It went in.
Tatat—!
After sliding, I naturally got up and ran toward Senior Saponara, pointing at him.
I had merely added the spoon; it meant the goal was created by the senior...
"Here!"
The senior took an awkward stance, and I saw him turn his back to me and shout.
That looked like... he wanted me to get on his back.
"Get on!!"
I wanted to end it with just a hug, and had no desire whatsoever to get on his back at all... but Senior Saponara had such an overjoyed face that it was hard to ignore.
...Ha.
"Up!"
Reluctantly climbing onto his back, the senior walked up to the scoreboard and presented me to the spectators.
Then the crowd's gazes and cheers poured down on me.
"This! Is! Our! Maknae!"
"S-stop..."
To make it worse, the senior even lifted me up and down like he was soothing a child; I felt like I would die of shame.
"This rascal! Is! Our! Baby!"
I felt like I was six, not sixteen.
...
─ Jian Ri, 90+1 minute drama goal! With a brace including the last-gasp winner, a 2-1 victory over Napoli!
└ Maknae is the best!!!!!!
└ Maknae? Who's a maknae? Show respect to the King!
└ I bow before you, Hero
└ Ri >>>>>>>>> Osimhen
└ King >>>>>>> Insigne+Osimhen+Lozano
└ Honestly, it was a bit shocking to see Koulibaly and Rahmani getting torn apart
└ They were probably the most shocked of all
└ Jian is my boyfriend.
└ Heroes appear in troubled times. To all those who said we'd be ruined when Vlahović left. Say that shit again.
└ Give all the money earned from selling that bastard to Ri. That's probably the most valuable way to spend that money
└ I'm Catholic, but from today I have two gods. God exists in reality, and He plays football
└ [Breaking] Vatican reportedly considering relocating to Florence...
─ Fiorentina led by Jian Ri overtakes Juventus, who drew with AC Milan earlier, to claim 3rd place in the league
└ Vlahović goalless!! Ri with 2 goals including the winner!!
└ Sorry for cursing you for not recognizing the god of investment and only caring about money.
└ The profit-taking timing was a divine move
└ Juve friends, enjoy washing the dishes for us
└ Sold a used car and got a sports car for free
└ A used car that guzzles gas? Meanwhile, our sports car has great mileage too
└ We're standing on the thieves' heads in 3rd place. Just how long has it been
└ Gotta capture this and put it in a frame
└ Hey, don't get ahead of yourself. We're going to rise even higher
└ If it weren't for Ri, the ones in this spot probably would've been the thieves
└ You idiots. You're gonna get demolished when you face Milan
└ Aww, did our little thieves come to visit? How does it feel? Watching the clunker you bought for 80 million euros crawl around while the prospect you released for free soars through the air?
└ Take it easy on them. The kid might cry.
└ Just you wait, you bastards. You're facing Milan in three rounds, right? The ones who'll fall will fall
└ Characteristic of the least scary person in the world: saying "just you wait."
After the match.
Gim Jiu, who had been checking the internet reactions, smirked.
Jian had become a god today as well.
Having more or less grasped the local people's sense of humor by now, Gim Jiu could laugh along while reading the comments.
Hmm. By the way.
'My comment got a ton of downvotes.'
Gim Jiu smirked after confirming that the comment left had received downvotes.
They must think it's a lie even though it's not.
Well, it was a bit unfair, but it didn't matter.
Because at the same time, Gim Jiu felt an inexplicable sense of superiority.