A penalty kick is a fight that favors the kicker.
And not just favored—overwhelmingly so.
They even call missing a penalty kick a "missed kick."
Because scoring is a given.
That is why, ironically, the kicker feels the most pressure during a penalty kick.
For the goalkeeper, conceding is unavoidable, and saving it is a jackpot.
For the kicker, scoring is only breaking even, and missing makes you a criminal.
That was why I hated penalty kicks.
Miss it, and you're ruined.
There was no way I could like something that was the very embodiment of pressure.
Of course, I had practiced a lot.
During training, whether kicking alone at an empty goal or at a keeper standing in net.
I had set aside separate time to practice.
Ever since I was in Korea.
But the training never went well.
No matter how much I set the scene during training, no matter how much I told myself this isn't practice, it's a real game, a real game...
In the end, training was just training, and it never worked.
It wasn't because there was a problem with my kick.
During training, nothing was easier than a penalty kick...
But when it came to a real match, placing the ball on the penalty mark and facing the keeper one-on-one... I suppose you could call it suffocating.
Not a single thought came to mind.
Even though I was someone who never stopped thinking on the field.
The moment I stood before it, the thought that everyone was looking only at me made my mind go blank.
Honestly, it hadn't been like that from the start.
When I had first started playing soccer—back when I played purely for fun—I took penalty kicks just fine.
Of course, I don't remember that time exactly, so my memory might be distorted, but I was certain I hadn't felt fear.
The first time I started feeling scared... was probably back then.
I don't remember the name, but it was the semi-final of an extremely important tournament.
I took a penalty kick in that match.
It was just before the end of the second half, and it was a score where if I scored, we would tie and go to extra time.
But I missed it there.
Swoosh. The ball I kicked flew over the crossbar.
That moment is still vivid.
The opposing team's kids cheering as the ball I kicked sailed over the goal, and my own team's kids looking at me with disappointed faces.
My heart pounded furiously.
That was the first time I felt as if something was closing in on me from all sides.
I felt like I was going to cry, but I held it back.
But those held-back tears burst out when I saw my mother's face after the match.
And so I got scolded again.
I think she scolded me roughly, asking what I was crying about. She also told me to take more responsibility since we had lost because of me.
Thinking back on that time, a thought suddenly occurs to me.
If someone had offered me a single word of comfort back then, what would have happened?
If that had happened, I probably wouldn't have grown to fear penalty kicks so much.
Probably...
...Well, anyway, that's what happened.
After that, whenever there was a chance to take a penalty kick, I always stepped back.
Because I was afraid that same thing would happen again.
But strangely, I'm fine now.
Why is that?
Who knows.
The biggest reason I feared penalty kicks was because I was afraid of people's reactions when I failed.
The moment the faces of those who had been watching me, expecting me to score as a matter of course, turned to disappointment.
That was what scared me the most.
The opponent's reactions didn't matter at all.
What scared me most was the people I thought were on my side looking at me with disappointed eyes.
And so, right now.
The reason this isn't so scary... is probably thanks to my trust in those who are on my side.
Whether it's Jiu, Dad, or my teammates.
They are people who would offer me comfort first, even if I missed this.
They are not people who would look at me with disappointed faces.
At least... that is what I believe.
I think that's why I'm not scared.
Tat-tat-tat—!
It's truly amazing.
That so many thoughts could flash by during that brief moment between the referee's whistle blowing and running toward the ball.
When I used to take penalty kicks, my mind would go blank.
Thwaaaack—!
Swinging my right foot lightly, I aimed for the left corner.
I didn't bother looking at the keeper while striking.
I simply looked at the ball and kicked it.
The reason a penalty kick is a fight that favors the kicker is that if you kick it accurately and powerfully, it can never be saved.
So all I had to do was kick it accurately.
Swooooosh—
Thwack—!!
The net rippled, and the stadium, which had been filled with boos, fell silent.
At the same time, my teammates rushed toward me.
That penalty kick that had been so terrifying...
Once I actually took it, it was no big deal.
*
"Woooooo!"
"Haaaaaaaah!"
No one remains sane the moment the team they're cheering scores a goal. Especially if they're a fan who followed the team on an away trip to this extent, or if they're close to a player, the moment of scoring might as well be considered an unconscious state.
"Jiaaaan!"
"Nice one! Great job! Nail another one!"
Kim Jiu and Yi Wonhun were no different.
Sitting at the edge of the away stands, Kim Jiu and Yi Wonhun rose from their seats and punched the air.
It was the moment Yi Jian's penalty kick shook Bologna's net.
"You keep all the cool stuff to yourself! Yeah! Our Jian does it all!!!"
Kim Jiu shouted.
With his rationality half-gone, his inner thoughts bypassed the filter and spilled out raw.
It was always like that whenever he watched Jian play.
There had been times when he'd belatedly covered his mouth after these outbursts, but it was fine because everyone around them was equally out of their minds.
Just like Yi Wonhun was right now.
"Where do these rotten punks get off booing! I oughta just—every last one of 'em, huh!?"
What little rationality remained barely filtered his words, thanks only to the thought that there was a young friend beside him and he shouldn't curse.
But Yi Wonhun, shouting at the Bologna fans sitting just one step away with a gap between them, was equally out of his mind.
The nerve of these punks, booing someone else's precious son. What's with the boooos. I wanted to sew all their mouths shut, but seeing them struck dumb like honey-eating mutes now feels so refreshing.
"Hoooo..."
After finally calming down somewhat and sitting back in his seat, Yi Wonhun realized his entire body was trembling violently.
Literally trembling all over.
Truthfully, he had been too scared to watch.
The moment Jian took the penalty kick.
How could anyone watch that? No matter how strong-hearted a person is, no one could watch their own son take a penalty kick with both eyes wide open.
Let alone him, who wasn't strong-hearted at all; he couldn't even glance sideways, only bowed his head deeply and prayed.
So when he realized it was successful from the cheers of the surrounding spectators, a sigh of relief came first.
The joyful cheer came after.
"He's really... incredible, isn't he. Even though he's my son..."
"That's right. Even though he's my friend, really..."
Yi Wonhun and Kim Jiu gazed at Yi Jian in the distance. Normally, he was just a son and a friend they wanted to take care of.
But now, as the two looked at Yi Jian, their eyes held a mixture of respect.
If it's this much for those watching, how much pressure must the one actually doing it have felt.
With so many people watching and hoping for him to fail, how nervous must he have been.
Feeling burdened was natural. Being nervous was natural. It wasn't because he was weak. It was only natural for a person to feel that way.
Yi Wonhun only hoped his son knew that.
Feeling pressured? It's not because you're weak. It's because you're human.
Rather, it's amazing that you don't run away, that you fight and overcome it.
"You're amazing, Jian."
"You really are cool, Jian."
The distance between the stands and the field was far, so the players looked small.
But in the eyes of Yi Wonhun and Kim Jiu, Yi Jian looked very large.
*
"It's 1 to 1!"
"How?"
"The penalty kick doesn't count! If I'd taken that, I'd be ahead!"
"If you'd taken it, you might not have scored."
"There's no way I wouldn't have scored!"
I let out a sigh at Romero, who couldn't let go of his lingering attachment even though the match was over.
We had won the match 3-0 and advanced to the quarterfinals.
I scored 2 goals and Romero scored 1.
But he's claiming it's 1-1 because one of my 2 goals was a PK. This guy.
As if.
"Anyway! Let's call it a draw today, like proper rivals!"
"Call it?"
"...D-Do it! Call it a draw!"
Phew.
Over there, the captain looked at me with a wistful smile, so I nodded at him.
Then Romero's face brightened, and I let out a short laugh without realizing it.
"Wow, got scolded again. The coach is really something."
As we all went to greet the away stands, Bonaventura, who'd joined us late, grumbled.
He was the senior who'd gotten scolded harshly at halftime too. It seemed he'd gotten called in and scolded again right after the match.
It was because he'd voluntarily given me the PK without any instructions from the bench.
Because of that, the coach had flown into a terrifying rage. Saying it wasn't like we were already winning, it was 0-0, and what was he doing dumping that burden on a kid.
"Come on. I gave it up with good intentions, and all I got was a scolding. Isn't that too much?"
"Please bear with it, Senior."
"Like I did it with bad intentions. That bald bastard, I'll—ah, no. Not you."
At Bonaventura's words, Saponara, who was walking ahead, turned his head as if to ask if he'd been called. I desperately held back my laughter.
This is not something to laugh about.
It's not funny. It's not funny.
"Anyway, where else is there a senior who takes care of our youngest as much as I do? Right? You like me best, right?"
"Of course."
"Hahaha! That's all I need!"
Come to think of it, I've gotten quite shameless too.
Living as the youngest, I think I've improved at social skills more than soccer skills.
Is this what becoming an adult is like.
"What about me! Me! Why didn't you give me the chance!"
"You? I can't give it to someone who looks like they'd miss."
"Why me! I'm a genius too! Don't discriminate against me just because I'm on loan! I'm upset!"
...He needs to grow up quickly too.
Clicking my tongue at Romero appealing his genius like a child.
Isn't it time for him to mature at sixteen?
Even though his birthday is earlier than mine.
It makes me embarrassed for no reason.
"Forza-!!"
"Grazie!"
Anyway, we reached the front of the away stands and expressed our gratitude to the fans.
I too bowed with all my sincerity.
I can't see them, but Dad and Jiu must be somewhere over there. If it weren't for those two, I might not have overcome the pressure of the penalty kick.
It was absolutely not something I overcame by my own strength alone.
If there hadn't been people who taught me what trust is, I couldn't have overcome it.
It wasn't because I'm great.
Because I knew that better than anyone, I had no choice but to express my thanks with all my heart.
"Excuse me for a moment."
While busily greeting the fans, I slipped out from between the seniors who had their arms around my shoulders and were bowing.
And I went to stand next to Romero.
"Come here for a sec."
"W-What!"
I draped my arm over his shoulder.
Jiu must be watching from somewhere over there; I did it because showing myself buried among the big seniors seemed a bit off.
Stay still. I want to look a bit taller too.
"I feel like I'm getting shorter! Don't push me down!"
"I told you to stay still."
Hugging Romero tightly, I straightened my back and waved to the fans.
Romero was useful for times like this.