The Left Hand Signal
The referee's whistle awarded Suwon Blue Sky a free kick.
It had come from a challenge with the opposing defender moments earlier. To be fair, the defender's elbow had come in—but it was equally true that Hanbin had gone down with a touch of theatrics.
Sorry about that, defender... but hey, competition is a cold, unforgiving world. If it bothers you, you shouldn't have thrown the elbow.
Kim Hanbin rationalized it briefly in his head, then decided to focus on the fact that, whatever the means, he'd won his team a precious set-piece chance.
The ball sat about thirty-six meters from goal.
In a normal situation, the textbook play from this distance was a cross—either looking for a header or hoping for a loose ball in a goalmouth scramble—rather than a direct shot.
Hanbin calmly picked up the ball and walked toward the free kick spot.
Thirty-six meters... even back in my 100 million shooting practices, this counted as a genuinely difficult range.
His mind raced. From this distance, at this angle, which kick gave the highest chance of success?
As Hanbin set up for the free kick, captain Cha Kangmin came over and asked, "Hanbin, you going for goal directly?"
Hanbin nodded. "Yes, hyung. I'd like to give it a shot."
Cha Kangmin held his gaze for a long moment, then seemed to make up his mind. "Alright. Go for it. Then you know the signal?"
"Yes, hyung," Hanbin answered shortly.
Kangmin nodded and immediately charged into the opposing penalty box.
The moment the towering center-back joined the attack, the Gangwon FC defense began to tense up.
It was, obviously, a movement that screamed expecting a cross.
"Hey! Mark Cha Kangmin! If he gets a head to it, we're finished!"
"Don't block the keeper's line of sight! Get into position!"
The Gangwon players rebuilt their defensive wall around Kangmin, and a fierce scramble of bodies and jostling for position broke out inside the penalty box.
It seemed as if every eye in the stadium had been drawn to Kangmin and the cross that was about to come.
When the referee's whistle sounded, Hanbin slowly measured out his run-up. Then he raised his left hand high into the air.
Left hand means direct shot. Far post!
Catching the signal, Kangmin quickly scanned the goalkeeper's position.
Then, moving as though he were the one about to win the header, he darted toward the near post, dragging every defender's eyes onto himself.
The Gangwon goalkeeper and defenders instinctively followed—gaze and body both pulled toward Kangmin's run.
"Mark Cha Kangmin!"
That was the moment.
Kim Hanbin didn't miss the gap Kangmin had carved open. After his run-up, he lashed a powerful instep strike with his right foot—a knuckleball with zero spin.
The ball, fast as a shot from a slingshot, whipped past the edge of the Gangwon wall and buried itself perfectly in the top corner of the far post before the goalkeeper could so much as react.
SWOOOOOSH—!!!
The net snapped taut like it might tear. All the Gangwon keeper could do was stare, dazed, at the ball being sucked into the corner of his goal.
WHAAAAAAA—!!!!!!
A roar even bigger and more delirious than the one at the kick-off goal swallowed Suwon World Cup Stadium whole.
The first to come back to his senses was the captain, Cha Kangmin. He snatched the ball out of the Gangwon net and sprinted like a madman toward the halfway line.
Then, facing the sea of blue that was the Suwon supporters, he pumped his arms violently from below, whipping the crowd into a frenzy!
"MORE! MORE! LOUDER!"
With his roar, the already out-of-their-minds supporters screamed even harder, chanting the team's name over and over.
Meanwhile, on the pitch, the Suwon players all hurled themselves at Kim Hanbin at once.
The first to arrive was Enzo, screaming in Spanish as he crashed into Hanbin and wrapped him in a bear hug.
"¡Cómo lo hiciste! ¡Estás completamente loco!"
Unable to contain his excitement, Enzo pounded Hanbin's back again and again. The rest of the team was no different—crowding around him, ruffling his hair, slapping his shoulders, thumping his back, celebrating with everything they had.
Even the players who had doubted him only days before were, for this one moment at least, celebrating his goal with a single heart.
"KIM HANBIN!!!"
"Whoa! You absolute maniac! WOW!!!"
Hanbin was swept up in his teammates' wild celebrations, his head spinning—but a smile spread across his face all on its own.
That's right... 100 million shots. Not one of them was wasted.
He smiled, overwhelmed.
Manager Kim Seongcheol shot up from the bench and clenched both fists. Excitement and relief flashed across his face in the same instant.
Twenty minutes into the second half. Twenty-five minutes of regular time remaining. Score, 3-2. One goal in it! And above all... the momentum is completely ours right now!
Kim saw the possibility.
But Gangwon FC was not a team that would simply collapse.
Though they were visibly rattled by Hanbin's rapid-fire goals, they quickly regrouped and responded fast.
The substitution board went up on the Gangwon bench.
Three attacking players—two strikers and an attacking midfielder—came off all at once, replaced by a defender and a defensive midfielder.
"BOOOOOO—!"
"Hey! Time-wasting already, you bastards?!"
"Does Gangwon have no pride at all?!"
"Eleven men playing ten-back against ten?! Seriously?!"
A torrent of boos poured down on Gangwon's blatant substitutions, but the Gangwon bench couldn't have cared less.
They had made their intent crystal clear: whatever it took, they would protect this one-goal lead until the final whistle.
On the pitch, the fresh defenders quickly settled into shape, and Gangwon's bus-parking, run-out-the-clock ten-back defense was up and running.
Breaking down a defense that had parked the bus in front of its goal—while holding a numerical advantage that was one man short—was no small task.
Time kept draining away, but Suwon's attack couldn't find an opening.
Hanbin in particular seemed to have been branded Gangwon's public enemy number one. Every time he touched the ball, at least two defenders swarmed him like hornets, refusing to give him an inch of space.
Gangwon was famous for its defensive organization even in normal times, which made shaking their tight marking all the harder.
Damn it, this is suffocating...
Hanbin felt the frustration building. The moment he got the ball, the pressure came; no shooting angle ever appeared.
Even when he tried to link up with his teammates, the Gangwon defenders had already cut off every passing lane. It was a moment when being one man down was painfully, brutally felt.
The clock kept ticking, and before anyone realized it, regular time was nearly up. The anxiety spread from the Suwon players to the bench, and from the bench to the stands.
What the hell is with that number 50...!
Gangwon FC's center-back Song Minjun stuck to Hanbin like glue, clicking his tongue inwardly.
The kick-off goal right at the start of the half, and now the free kick—both had been pure shock.
On top of that, the kid was a total unknown, which made him a nightmare to prepare for.
Normally you just watch his strong-foot side and shut down the shooting angle. But I can't for the life of me tell which foot this guy favors. It's driving me insane.
When the game briefly stopped for a foul, Song Minjun asked the junior defender who'd come on in the second half, "Hey. You were on the bench—did you hear anything about number 50? Which foot he favors, his style of play, anything."
The junior defender shook his head. "No, sunbae. The coaches were saying he suddenly appeared on the opponent's roster—no intel on him at all."
"Ugh, damn it..."
Song Minjun swept his hair back in irritation.
"Then the free kick earlier—which foot did he hit it with? Remember?"
"The free kick, sir? I remember it being his right."
Right foot, huh... Alright. I'll play him as right-footed and shut him down!
Song Minjun resolved to block Hanbin's right-footed shooting angle at all costs, holding his ground with nothing in his mind but preventing another goal.
**
In the dying moments, just before the final whistle, one last attacking chance came to Suwon.
Kwon Yeongdae, on as a substitute, floated a long ball from near the halfway line that found Hanbin on the edge of the penalty box.
There are too many people! You need an angle to shoot—half my field of vision is Gangwon players!
Layer upon layer of Gangwon defenders, Song Minjun at their head, stood between Hanbin and the goal.
There was no shooting angle to be found. But he couldn't give up.
Then, Hanbin's feet moved. He looked at Song Minjun standing in front of him and sold a feint—winding up as if to unleash a powerful right-footed strike.
Song Minjun instinctively threw his body to block the right-foot angle.
In that exact instant, Hanbin snapped the ball inside with his right foot, cutting past Song Minjun completely. A narrow shooting window, open for just a heartbeat.
Without hesitating, Hanbin unleashed a powerful shot with his left. But the angle had been so tight, and the Gangwon keeper threw himself at it desperately.
Clack!
The ball grazed the keeper's fingertips and was tipped out of play. A deep groan rolled through the stands. Hanbin clutched his head at the near miss.
The referee didn't drag things out—he pointed for a corner. This was truly the last chance.
Every Suwon player crowded into the Gangwon penalty box. The taker was Enzo, walking to the corner flag with the ball.
And then an urgent voice burst from the Suwon bench.
"Hyunsoo! Choi Hyunsoo! You go up too! Now!"
It was Suwon's manager, Kim Seongcheol. Goalkeeper Choi Hyunsoo pointed at himself in disbelief. "Me? Me, Manager?!"
"Yes, you! What are you waiting for—move!"
At the manager's order, Hyunsoo didn't spare another second. He abandoned his goal and sprinted at full speed toward the opposing penalty box.
His sudden foray into the attack stunned the Gangwon players—and honestly, the Suwon players too.
Several Gangwon players who knew Hyunsoo personally shouted at him.
"Hyung, why are you coming all the way up here?!"
"Come on, Hyunsoo-hyung! This is a league match! It's not some tournament final!"
But Hyunsoo brushed them off lightly as he stepped into the box.
"Hey! Losing 3-2, losing 4-2—either way it's zero points! It's the last chance, so I might as well try something!"
Meanwhile, Kim Hanbin had drifted to the outside edge of the penalty area—not to contest the header directly, but to lurk for a possible second ball.
With the towering center-back Cha Kangmin and the equally tall goalkeeper Choi Hyunsoo both joining the attack, the Gangwon defenders went on full alert.
Every nerve they had was stretched taut, dedicated to stopping the two giants.
PEEP—!
Finally the referee's whistle sounded, and the corner kick left Enzo's foot, slicing on a sharp trajectory toward the goalmouth.
The ball flew precisely toward Choi Hyunsoo's head, and Hyunsoo leapt with everything he had, going for the header.
Thud!
But the Gangwon keeper was desperate too. His superb reflexes got a glove to it, and the ball—agonizingly—failed to cross the line, bobbling out in front of goal.
And that spilled ball dropped directly at the feet of Kim Hanbin, waiting at the edge of the box.
There it is!
But shooting himself was impossible—the goalmouth was packed.
Players from both teams were tangled together in a heap; no shooting angle existed.
Taking it myself won't work—!
In that instant, amid the chaos, his eyes met Cha Kangmin's. A fleeting, split-second exchange.
Hanbin didn't hesitate. He shouted at the top of his lungs and flicked the bouncing ball gently up into the air with his instep.
There wasn't even time for the honorific—the urgency stripped it bare.
"CHA KANGMIN!"
The ball Hanbin had lifted with exquisite touch sailed just over the heads of the defenders and dropped perfectly onto Kangmin's forehead.
Kangmin didn't waste the moment. He threw himself upward with all his strength and hammered down a thunderous power header.
BAAANG—!
The ball threaded through the forest of bodies and was sucked into the bottom corner of the net before the Gangwon keeper could lift a finger.
WHAAAAAAA—!!!!!!
Sanwon World Cup Stadium—Suwon World Cup Stadium shook as if it might lift off the earth.
Two goals in the second half alone, despite playing a man down—an unbelievable match. And now, at the very death, a dramatic equalizer.
The score: 3-3.
The moment Kangmin saw the ball hit the net, he ripped off his jersey and charged toward the Suwon supporters, roaring.
"YOU SEE THAT?! THIS IS SUWON! DAMN RIGHT IT'S NOT OVER!!"
"Kangmin-hyung! You're insane! Absolutely insane!!"
The entire Suwon squad hurled themselves at Cha Kangmin at once, piling onto him in a joyous scrum, sharing the ecstasy of an unbelievable draw.
The players and coaching staff on the bench—and even Manager Kim Seongcheol himself—came pouring out to join the celebration.