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9. Now That He's Gone -2
If classified narrowly, roughly 370,000 people; if classified broadly, roughly 1,000,000.
For the Italians living in the city of Florence and its surrounding metropolitan area, the month of March had been the most difficult month.
There were two reasons for this: one was that the Italian national football team had been defeated by North Macedonia in the World Cup regional playoffs and eliminated.
The other was that Fiorentina’s core ace, the genius loved by all, Lee Jian, had been unable to play due to accumulated fatigue and injury.
To be honest, Italy failing to qualify for the World Cup had been a huge shock as well, but.
What had depressed the people of Florence even more than that was not being able to see Lee Jian in the stadium.
The World Cup is a festival held once every four years, but Lee Jian was someone who brought joy to those one million people every week.
Of course, there were surely people who placed even greater value on the World Cup because of that.
Since it is a festival that comes only once in four long years, it is only natural that not having been invited to it is a great pity.
However, just as they say not to let familiarity make you forget what is precious.
To the Florentines, what was more important than a once-every-four-years festival was the nearby happiness they could enjoy every week.
Therefore, it was probably no exaggeration.
That the expressions of the Florentines brightened overnight was, needless to say, due to the news of Lee Jian’s return to training.
—[Breaking News] Jian Lee scheduled to return to training tomorrow… If all goes well, possibility of returning for next week’s Coppa Italia semifinal second leg
└Really? Is he really coming back?
└Finally! Finally he’s back! This has been the longest month of my life!
└I almost went crazy. It wasn’t even this bad when I quit smoking.
└A weekend without Lee was like a day without morning coffee.
└It was so hard now that he’s gone…
└Lee is finally back!
└I just hope he’s not returning earlier than scheduled because of the tournament match. What’s more important than his condition right now is Lee’s body.
└I heard the club is taking extra special care of him. I think the OK sign has definitely come down.
└Lee’s return is like signing the world’s best player.
—[Photo] Lee completes light training on his first day back… Jogging, running, cycling, etc., all completed without issue
└So where are the photos? I’m blinded by the light and can’t see anything
└Who knew training photos could be this exciting
└The players are all smiling brightly in every photo. It’s the exact same expression I had the whole time reading this article
└Is it just me? Why does he look more mature?
└We watched him every week, so we didn’t even notice. Lee was growing differently in just a month. He’s sixteen, after all.
└I don’t think I’ve ever seen Lee training while smiling like that
└He looks so good! May Lee’s life be like a fine wine!
—[Interview] Jian Lee, returned to training, on his current physical condition… “No discomfort.”
……
Having finished training in a harmonious atmosphere, Lee disclosed the following in a subsequent interview.
“If I’m not in one-hundred-percent condition, I’ve decided not to play in the match against Milan. I felt that many people were worried about me during my time off, and so I’m going to focus on preventing reinjury. Therefore, if I do take the field against Milan, the me that day will be one-hundred-percent Lee.”
He hadn’t even been named to the matchday squad; it was simply a return to training, yet countless articles poured forth.
And the reactions to the news were all “Finally.”
Truthfully, a month’s time was long if it was long, but short if it was short.
Especially in the case of muscle injuries, it was common to lose several months, so a return in just one month could certainly be considered quite early.
But from the fans’ perspective, that one month had inevitably felt like a year because Fiorentina’s record over the four matches without Lee Jian had been the worst: one draw and three losses.
Including cup competitions, they had lost twice to Milan alone, drawn with Inter, and then lost again to Napoli.
A total of one draw and three losses.
Fiorentina had failed to secure even a single victory since the win against Empoli.
Of course, the opponents’ lineups had been no pushovers, but they were also opponents that Fiorentina had defeated when Lee Jian was present.
More than anything, the problem was the team’s performance having regressed to the level of the early-to-mid season.
If he had never existed from the start, it would be one thing, but now that they’d had him and lost him, that thirst was several times more severe.
Thus, to the fans, a month without Lee Jian had inevitably felt like a year.
In such a situation, news of Lee Jian’s return came, and right before the Coppa Italia semifinal second leg against Milan at that.
It was only natural that all the fans’ expectations were focused on him.
…
I wake up early in the morning, have a simple meal, take a light ten-minute walk around my neighborhood, come back, and shower.
Then I get dressed, pack my bag, and leave the house.
While walking from home to the training ground, I exchange greetings with the familiar faces I always run into.
And after arriving at the training ground and having the final tactical briefing with the manager, the coaches, and my teammates.
On time, I board the club bus and head to our home stadium, the Artemio Franchi.
Inside the bus, I watch the fans cheering for us outside the window, and when we arrive at the stadium, I quickly head to the locker room, sort my things, and change into football boots.
Then I head out to the pitch to loosen up briefly and, under the coach’s direction, go through warm-ups in the order of passing, dribbling, and shooting.
After finishing the warm-up, I return to the locker room, change into the match kit, check my phone messages for the last time, and leave the locker room.
And… standing in the tunnel to enter the stadium, I feel my heart pound at the energy radiating from the tens of thousands of spectators.
This every Saturday, or Sunday.
It was my matchday routine, something I had done so naturally every weekend.
But today, those things that had felt so natural feel new again, special.
It’s probably because I had been separated from this routine for over a month.
Having been apart for a little while, I realized.
That all of this wasn’t something that happened naturally, like the sun rising in the morning and setting in the evening.
It’s not a given that I can stand in this place, nor is it a given that I can step on the grass of the Artemio Franchi.
Moreover, receiving the fans’ support wasn’t a given either.
They were all things to be newly thankful for.
Being able to have such opportunities and experiences is luck.
Today is a day when such thoughts suddenly come to me.
“Entrance!”
With the signal for the players’ entrance, I follow my senior teammates’ backs and exit the tunnel.
Walking out of the narrow tunnel, when the pitch finally comes into view, I feel an overwhelming sense of openness and my body vibrates with the crowd’s roar.
This feeling.
Having been unable to feel it for the past month, I realized for certain.
I had missed this feeling.
And now.
Seeing the goosebumps raising all over my body… it seems I had quite liked this moment without even knowing it.
“Lee! Lee! Lee! Lee! Lee! Lee!”
Standing with my hands behind my back, lined up beside my senior teammates, the fans’ voices calling my name strike my ears.
At first, that sound had been quite burdensome.
It was hard to understand why they would cheer like that for me, and it was embarrassing because it was in front of my seniors.
But not now.
I wish they would call out even louder.
Because hearing those voices, a thought begins to spring forth: we must win today’s match, no matter what.
“Okay, gather round.”
After the player introductions and the greetings with the opposing team’s players.
In the very center of our half, I stand in a circle with my teammates with our arms around each other’s shoulders.
And I listen to the captain’s words.
“This is a match on a different starting line. Since we lost the first leg 0–2, our 90 minutes today are inevitably different from their 90 minutes. So let’s play treasuring every single minute.”
“Okay!”
“The most important thing is defense. Since we returned from the away leg without a goal, conceding one goal today is no different from conceding two. So absolutely, absolutely, we focus on defense first. Attack-wise……”
The captain, who had been continuing his words, suddenly trails off and looks at me.
With a strange smile, the captain continues.
“The attack will unravel smoothly on its own. Why?”
Then the other teammates look at me and smile before answering.
“Because Jian is back.”
“Because we have the ace.”
“Because the world’s greatest genius is on our team.”
…It’s unbearably cringeworthy.
Maybe it’s because I’m still only sixteen.
That cringeworthy feeling isn’t so bad.
The captain said to me.
“You do the Forza today.”
At those words, I nod my head slightly, clear my throat, and shout.
As loudly as I’ve been waiting for this moment…
“Forza—!!”
“Viola—!!!”
And we scattered to our respective positions for the match.
*Today’s match, there is only one thing I must do.
Just one.
Score at the earliest possible time.
Neither the manager nor the coach gave me that mission directly, but that was the goal I set for myself.
It’s a match that starts not at 0–0, but at 0–2.
It means we have to score three goals to win, and if we concede even one goal, we cannot guarantee victory even if we finish the 90 minutes with a two-goal margin.
Because of the away-goals rule.
As such, the fact that I had to score as quickly as possible was obvious without anyone telling me.
Well, putting all that aside… I just wanted to show it quickly.
To Jiu, to our team’s fans.
That I had returned here.
Paaaang—!
Facing the direction of our goal, I exchange light passes with the teammates around me.
While doing so, I gather whether the opponents intend to face us with heavy pressing, or if they’ve prepared a zone-defense.
I collect basic information one by one.
Of course, it’s a situation where every minute and second is precious, but rushing only makes you trip.
Since I was the one who had tripped exactly like that, I focus on drawing out the opponent’s information while moving lightly.
Paaaang—!
For now, the opponents don’t seem to be actively engaging.
Even when I’m playing with the ball in the midfield, they hold their position while keeping their distance.
I suppose it’s because they have a comfortable two-goal lead.
Paaaang—!
On paper, it’s a 4-2-3-1 formation.
But as my radar reads it, it’s closer to a 4-4-2 shape.
The opponent’s foremost striker, Olivier Giroud, is pushed high up, and Rafael Leão on the left is positioned at a similar height to him.
The rest, excluding those two, are in a defensive formation, with the central midfielder and right winger dropping in between to form two lines of four—a 4-4 shape.
Paaaang—!
The spacing is quite tight, so it’s not easy to see gaps.
Honestly, some teams, even when they openly park the bus, expose gaps.
But today’s opponent’s defensive positioning is highly complete. Saponara on the left and Romero on the right, who form the front three with me, move busily, but the opponents rarely reveal any weakness.
If so, I have to create them.
Tuk—!
After continuing to one-touch the passes, the moment that judgment is made, I trap the ball and turn toward the opponent’s half.
Then, a well-organized line of red uniforms comes into view.
At a glance, that sight is so perfect it takes your breath away, making it hard to muster the courage to dribble into that space.
However, that’s the old me.
Now, it means I have the courage to do so.
Because… I probably know that it’s okay to fail a few times, that our fans won’t be disappointed even if I can’t break through on the first try.
If it’s okay to fail, there’s no reason to fear failure.
Tatatat—!
From the center to the right, I dribble the ball up along the right half-space.
Then two midfielders narrow the gap and lock the space; one is Sandro Tonali, and the other is Franck Kessié.
I heard both are aggressive players with a fighter’s temperament.
That’s why I aimed this way.
Because players who rush in first are easier to brush aside.
Tuk, tuk
—When the distance closes to a certain degree, I slightly reduce my speed and increase the number of touches on the ball.
I push the ball with my left foot, then trap it again with my right foot.
While doing so, I keep my eyes on both of their reactions, gauging which side would be easier to break through.
Hmm… I don’t think I need to ponder for long.
Either side seems manageable.
Tatatat—!
Suddenly, I increase my speed.
My calves, kicking the ground without complaint, feel oddly proud.
Along with the one who had wandered for a moment before coming to his senses, Tonali and Kessié—I dash between the two of them.
And until those two extend their feet to a distance where they could reach the ball, without stopping, I keep dribbling until…
Tatat—!
The moment Kessié’s right foot extends first, I push the ball to the left with the outside of my left foot and evade that foot.
Tatat—!
But so that the direction doesn’t turn completely, I once again control the ball forward with the inside of my left foot and push on.
Thanks to that, getting past the two and coming face-to-face with the last line of defense happened in an instant.
Had they not expected the front line to be breached so quickly?
Their reaction is slow.
Moreover, I’m already at full speed.
The ensuing process is handled even more simply and quickly than before.
Just as with the method I used to break through the third line of defense, I charge straight ahead, and when the opponent reacts.
A step ahead, I evade it and set my direction toward the empty space.
Before I knew it, I was preparing to shoot from the right side of the box.
Before me, only the goal and a goalkeeper crouching tightly were visible.
Bbbaaaaaang—!
Judging that a powerful shot isn’t necessary, I strike the ball with the inner bone of my right big toe.
Wishing for the ball to head toward the left corner of the goal.
Swaaa—
—the shot skims across the turf and flies low, and I, having struck it, continue by inertia, running toward the right side of the goal.
Then, soon changing direction, I run toward the goal.
Thwack—!!
I picked up the ball lodged inside the goal to put it back at the halfway line.