The Super Match Begins
Out on the pitch, warming up lightly before the match, Kim Hanbin and Cha Kangmin were deep in conversation.
Cha Kangmin spoke first, a thread of anticipation woven into his voice.
"Hey, Hanbin. Did you hear? They say Baek Seungnam's coming today—the U-23 national team head coach."
"The U-23 coach? What's he doing here?"
Kim Hanbin tilted his head, puzzled.
"What do you mean, why? The Olympics are right around the corner, the Olympics!"
Cha Kangmin said it as if the answer should have been obvious.
"Ah... right, the Olympics."
Only then did Hanbin half-remember the Olympic-related news he'd been seeing lately.
"Yeah, you dolt! He's here to pick the national squad for the Games! For the wildcards, it'll probably be me and Sangwon-hyung over at Seoul, the guy we're facing today... but apparently he's still agonizing over who to take as the third one."
Cha Kangmin rambled on, all fired up. Then, glancing sideways at Kim Hanbin, he added,
"You'd better play well today too. There's a good chance you're on Coach Baek's checklist as well."
"Huh? Me?"
Hanbin asked, genuinely startled.
"Yes, you, you punk. You."
"But I've only played two professional matches. And one of those was a brief second-half substitute appearance... Can someone really get called up to the national team like that?"
Kim Hanbin looked completely lost.
Cha Kangmin snorted at the sight of him.
"You think there's some rule for national team selection like 'must have played a minimum number of matches'? Well, okay, there's exactly one criterion. Be. Freaking. Good. That's it, end of list. Whether you've played two matches or a hundred, the guy who performs is the guy who gets picked. That's sports."
Cha Kangmin stretched his arms toward the sky, took one long look upward, then turned back to Hanbin.
"And in that spirit, you're almost certainly already on Coach Baek's radar. Those last two matches you had? The impact was massive. Put on another proper showing today, and who knows—national team? It's genuinely anyone's guess."
"The national team..."
Hanbin murmured the words quietly to himself.
"It would be... really amazing to make it."
"Of course it would! Just the name alone is badass—national team player! You're representing your entire country out there! Though... if you flop, the hate comes down just as hard. Kuk-kuk."
Then his expression turned serious again as he offered Hanbin one last piece of advice.
"Anyway, keep that in mind when you play today. Make sure Coach Baek's eyes lock onto you. Love it or hate it, the national team is the pinnacle in this country."
Gangmin swept his gaze across the stands before continuing.
"Honestly, K League popularity has climbed a lot compared to the old days, but we're still way behind our neighbors over in the KBO, and that's just a fact. And yet there's exactly one thing that trumps everything—football's national team. Popularity off the charts. Why else do you think people call Korea's best sports team 'FC Korea'? Make a deep run at a major tournament with the national team and put on a real show, and the entire nation knows your name. Commercials, TV appearances, the works. And broadcast money pays real well, too."
Cha Kangmin broke into a sly grin.
"And above all... your parents would be over the moon. Tell them your son made the national team, and there's no better filial piety in the world than that."
"My parents..."
At Cha Kangmin's final words, Kim Hanbin's expression drifted somewhere far away for a moment.
He thought back to his recent visit to Taeseong General Hospital for the doping test. By the time the examination was over, visiting hours had long since passed, and he'd had no choice but to turn back without seeing his parents, who had been moved to the VIP ward.
He'd asked after them over the phone, but he still wanted to see their faces in person.
After this match, I have to go visit them, no matter what. And if I really do make the national team... Mom and Dad would be so happy, wouldn't they?
While he was lost in thought, Gangmin thrust a fist into the air and declared,
"And me! I have to go to the Olympics as a wildcard this time!"
"Hyung, you're already a national team starter. Why do the Olympics matter so much?"
At Kim Hanbin's baffled question, Cha Kangmin answered with a face on the verge of tears.
"I haven't done my military service yet, that's why! This Olympics is my last chance!"
"What?! Wait, how old are you that you still haven't enlisted? Just do your stint with the Armed Forces Athletic Corps."
"The Athletic Corps is way better than regular army duty, sure, but—argh, dammit! I don't want to cut my hair! You get the buzz cut automatically with the Corps. How am I supposed to give up this gorgeous hairstyle of mine?!"
Cha Kangmin said, running his fingers through his admittedly rather long hair.
At the sheer absurdity of the reason, Kim Hanbin let out a disbelieving laugh.
"But going to the Olympics doesn't get you the exemption by itself, right? You have to win a medal. And honestly, this isn't the Asian Games—an Olympic medal seems like a bit of a stretch..."
Kim Hanbin's sober reality check made Cha Kangmin bristle.
"Hey! Do you not remember London? We beat Japan and took bronze there too! Everyone said it was impossible then, as well! You just don't understand the power of the Military-roid yet. Nothing in this world is stronger than a military exemption."
Cha Kangmin held forth with the passion of a man delivering a sermon.
Hmm... the Military-roid, huh...
Just then, one of the Suwon Blue Sky coaches waved the players in with a shout.
"Alright, alright, everyone back inside!"
At the coach's call, the Suwon players—including Kim Hanbin and Cha Kangmin—headed for the locker room.
The room they returned to after warming up was thick with taut, coiled tension. The players checked their uniforms one last time, retied their boot laces, and steeled themselves for what was coming.
Before long, Manager Kim Seongcheol and his coaching staff filed into the locker room.
Kim stood before the squad and spoke louder than usual.
"Everyone, listen up! You all know exactly how much today's match means to us, don't you?!"
Every player's eyes turned to their manager at once.
"It's the Super Match. The Super Match! The greatest derby in K League history! And today, forty thousand of our home fans have come to Suwon World Cup Stadium, spending their hard-earned money and precious time to cheer us on! Are we really going to show those people something disappointing? Are we going to show them us losing?!"
"No, sir!"
The players' thunderous reply shook the locker room.
"We lost the away Super Match last time. But today—today, on our home pitch, we win. Let's show those Seoul boys exactly why Suwon is called the capital of football! Can we do it?!"
"Yes, sir!"
The manager drew a breath, then glanced briefly at Hanbin before pressing on.
"And... as you all know, there was an ugly incident between Seoul and our Hanbin recently. Our supporters are more fired up than ever because of it. Your teammate got attacked like that—are you really just going to roll over and let it slide?!"
"No!"
The players' eyes burned even hotter now.
"Good! Let's go!"
At Kim Seongcheol's cry, the players gathered into a tight circle, hands on each other's shoulders.
Captain Cha Kangmin led the chant with everything he had.
"We are—!"
Every player roared back as one.
"ONE!"
With the battle cry still ringing, the Suwon Blue Sky players marched out onto the pitch.
Inside the players' tunnel, the two squads mingled in close quarters, and a strange, brittle tension hung in the air.
The Seoul Citizen players and the Suwon Blue Sky players stood in parallel lines, waiting their turn to step out onto the pitch.
Kim Hanbin, wearing a nervous expression as he awaited his turn, felt someone tap him on the shoulder. He turned to find a familiar face—the kind he'd seen on TV countless times.
Choi Sangwon. Captain of Seoul Citizen and midfielder for the South Korean national team. A veteran who had made over 150 appearances in England's Premier League alone.
"You're Kim Hanbin, right? Good to meet you. This is our first time, isn't it?"
Choi Sangwon approached him first, a gentle smile on his face.
"Ah... yes! Hello, sir! Choi Sangwon-sunbaenim!"
Face to face with one of football's great elders—a star he'd only ever seen on screens—Hanbin, hopelessly weak before anyone senior to him, found his back bowing all on its own.
Choi Sangwon looked at him with an apologetic expression.
"Hanbin. About what happened... as captain of Seoul Citizen, and as your senior in this profession, I'm truly sorry."
Sangwon's voice carried the weight of a sincere apology.
"Please don't apologize, sunbaenim! It's all fine! Your club's director came to see us personally, and everything's been sorted out between us! Really, don't let it weigh on you!"
Kim Hanbin waved the apology away.
"Well, I'm relieved to hear that... but even so, what happened on our side was inexcusable. Whatever the reason, that's not something a club should ever do. I'm sorry, again—truly."
Choi Sangwon looked genuinely remorseful. Then his expression brightened, and he gave Kim Hanbin's shoulder a light pat.
"In any case—let's both have a good match today."
And right at that moment—
The stadium speakers erupted with the announcer's booming voice.
"The greatest festival in K League football! The Super Match—Suwon Blue Sky versus Seoul Citizen! Presenting both teams' squads!"
At the same instant, the steward at the front of the tunnel bellowed,
"The teams are entering the pitch!"
With those words, both squads filed out of the tunnel side by side behind the referees and streamed onto the field.
WHOOOOOOOAAAAH—!!!!!
The moment the players appeared, a roar erupted from the forty thousand spectators who filled Suwon World Cup Stadium to the brim.
Suwon fans in blue and Seoul fans in red each chanting for their own teams—the wall of sound was enough to make your ears ring.
Suwon World Cup Stadium always drew bigger crowds than most other league venues. But today, befitting the Super Match—the greatest derby in the K League—there wasn't a single empty seat to be found.
THWEEEEET—!
Commentator Jang Yu-sung nodded before answering.
The caster's voice rose to a shout.
The instant Cha Kangmin collected the ball in the back line, he wasted no time launching a long pass toward Kim Hanbin up front.
"Ball!!"
Spotting the ball arrowing in fast from deep in Suwon's defensive third, Seoul Citizen's defenders snapped into coordinated motion.
They had clearly anticipated and prepared for exactly this kind of Suwon attack; each Seoul defender sprinted to his assigned position with practiced urgency.
Man-marking Kim Hanbin fell to Lee Doyoung, the biggest center-back Seoul had. Kim Hyungyun, Seoul's right center-back, moved to anticipate and cut off Hanbin's passing lanes while keeping a quick eye on Enzo, the winger who had joined Suwon's attack.
Enzo, too, had clearly seen the ball in flight, and was already sprinting at full tilt toward the open space where he expected Hanbin to knock the ball down for him.
Every eye in the stadium turned skyward.
Kim Hanbin and Lee Doyoung—two hulking figures—leapt for the aerial ball at the same moment.
"Ngh—!"
A dull thud of collision, and a short grunt of pain burst out of Lee Doyoung.
Then, with a clean clang, the ball dropped precisely into the empty space where the charging Enzo was arriving.
Lee Doyoung, the man assigned to mark Kim Hanbin, had just lost the aerial duel.
Dammit!
Kim Hyungyun swallowed a curse. He'd never imagined Doyoung would lose an aerial ball so pathetically. Now it was all on Enzo. Hyungyun had to close him down immediately.
Seoul's right wing-back, Kang Jimin, was already doing his best to slow Enzo and buy time, but with a speedster like Enzo, the flank could be breached at any moment. It was a knife's-edge situation.
"Doyoung! Kim Hanbin's yours!"
Kim Hyungyun shouted to Lee Doyoung, ordering him to stay glued to Hanbin's marking.
And as for Hyungyun himself, there were exactly two things he could do right now: stop Enzo—or cut off the passing lane that would feed the ball straight back to Kim Hanbin.
That greedy bastard Enzo will try to finish it himself, I know it...! He's exactly the type who wants to be the hero in a big game like this!
Recalling Enzo's play style and tendencies from their previous encounters, Kim Hyungyun charged in without a shred of hesitation.
Shaaaaak—!
Hyungyun launched his body into a perfectly clean sliding tackle. The sensation of the ball catching the tip of his boot came through crisp and satisfying.
Yes! Ball only—I hit it exactly right!
It was a textbook tackle—no foul, the ball swept away cleanly and nothing else touched.
Satisfied with his play, Kim Hyungyun rose to his feet. Then, flashing a smirk, he looked over at Kim Hanbin standing a short distance away.
His eyes carried a clear message: See that? We're not about to lie down for some rookie the way the other teams did.
But Kim Hanbin—whose gaze Hyungyun's triumphant stare was fixed upon—didn't spare the tackler so much as a glance.
Hanbin was standing face to face with Enzo, who'd just been dispossessed by that beautiful tackle, and the two were trading rapid-fire words in Spanish.
"Enzo, me pediste ayuda la última vez, así que te la di a propósito esta vez, pero si la vas a fallar así, ¿lo haré yo mismo la próxima vez?" (Enzo, you asked me for an assist last time, so I set this one up for you on purpose—but if you're going to squander it like that, I'll just finish it myself from now on.)
At Kim Hanbin's teasing jab, Enzo pressed his hands together and apologized.
"¡Lo siento, Kim! ¡Lo siento mucho! ¡Seguro que lo incluiré la próxima vez! ¡Prometo!" (I'm sorry, Kim! I'm really sorry! Next time I'll bury it for sure! I promise!)
Kim Hyungyun, architect of that picture-perfect tackle mere seconds ago, might as well have been invisible.
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