Ten Kicks, Ten Goals
The tactical coach fell silent at Kim Hanbin's words, lost in thought. Trickery, huh? Then, unbidden, the memory of Hanbin's K-League debut match surfaced.
'Now that I think about it... this kid nailed an absolutely absurd free kick in his debut.'
To be fair, the impact of the kick-off goal—Hanbin's debut strike that exploded the very moment the second half began—had been so electrifying that his second goal of that day, the 36-meter knuckleball free kick, had been somewhat overshadowed by comparison.
But judged coolly, that free kick goal was by no means an ordinary one either.
Scoring such a powerful, precise no-spin strike from the long range of 36 meters was never an easy feat.
The tactical coach looked at Kim Hanbin and asked.
"Would you... like to try taking a direct shot on this free kick, like you did in your debut?"
"Yes, Coach."
"Hmm..."
"Well... the truth is, I'm... pretty good at free kicks."
"...Pretty good?"
"Yes. Very good."
Hanbin answered without a flicker of hesitation, his face radiating unshakable confidence.
This was the same Hanbin who, no matter how much those around him hyped him up, would only ever respond with 'Oh no, haha, not at all.' Seeing him declare his confidence so bluntly surprised the coach, but he nodded anyway.
'That's right, Hanbin. Do whatever you want out there. All of it.'
Hanbin's insane heading ability alone had already doubled, at minimum, the number of set-piece tactics the coach could dream up going forward. For a player as valuable as buried treasure, he could afford to hand over as many free kick practice reps as the boy wanted.
'Well, he'll try it once or twice, fail, and give up... it's a free kick from this distance, after all. No matter how well he strikes it, this is a bit...'
The tactical coach thought to himself. A direct free kick goal from 35 meters out.
It wasn't impossible, of course—but to actually pull it off, skill mattered, sure, but luck had to back you up too. It was the kind of freak play that demanded both.
He honestly believed the free kick goal Hanbin had scored in his debut had owed a great deal to fortune as well.
Generally, from that kind of distance, the standard play was to whip in a cross or work a short pass before delivering the ball again—finding some other route to goal rather than shooting directly.
'In this respect, Hanbin's got a stubborn streak just like kids his age.'
The tactical coach trotted over to the squad waiting in front of the goal and pulled the attacking players aside.
"Hanbin's going to finish this free kick with a direct shot, so everyone play off that and back him up."
A fresh murmur rippled through the attackers at the coach's words.
"Wait, a direct shot? From this distance?"
"Hey, did you not see that free kick goal from his debut? I watched it and thought the earth was splitting open."
"That one though... honestly, wasn't that a fluke?"
The players chattered among themselves, half believing, half doubting.
"Well, anyway—he's taking it, so that's the plan. Move like it's a real match, pull the defenders' eyes, and be ready for the second ball if it comes off the wall or the keeper."
Having issued his quick instructions to the attackers, the tactical coach walked all the way back across the pitch to where Kim Hanbin stood at the free kick spot.
'Well, Hanbin's suffered enough with all that heading practice. Let this be a reward—a free kick or two won't hurt.'
Tweet—!
With that thought, the tactical coach blew hard on the whistle clenched between his lips.
Hanbin had retreated a considerable distance from the ball resting on the free kick spot. The instant the whistle sounded, he launched into his run-up and closed on the ball in a blink.
BOOM—!
It was not the clean, crisp thwack a football usually made. It was the heavy, dull crack of a sandbag being walloped at full swing with a baseball bat.
Drawn by that deep thud, the tactical coach's eyes chased the ball's trajectory before he even realized it.
Launched with a roar, the ball tore through the air like an artillery shell.
It skimmed just barely over the heads of the defensive wall, and before the goalkeeper had any chance to react, it slammed dead into the top-left corner of the goal.
The keeper could only stand rooted to his spot, staring blankly at the ball rippling the back of the net.
Silence settled over the training ground. Not even an exclamation of awe came out.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
The only sound was the ball, past the goal line, bouncing free of the net it had buried itself in.
Only after that strange, second-long hush did a low groan break from the players, and then the exclamations began to pour out.
"Whoa... holy shit..."
"Whoa..."
"That's... that's insane... seriously..."
The tactical coach, who had witnessed Hanbin's impossible free kick goal from point-blank range, couldn't hide his bewilderment as he stammered.
"Whoa... ha... Hanbin, you... you're really good! Yes, that's the stuff! One more—let's see one more!"
The coach hastily tossed another ball to Kim Hanbin.
Then he shouted at the squad still standing around in a daze.
"Come on! Snap out of it! Here we go again! Wall, reset!"
At the coach's yell, the players forming the wall finally came to their senses and stiffened back into position, tension returning to their bodies.
Goalkeeper Park Hansoo in particular fixed his gaze on every single one of Hanbin's movements with far sharper focus than before.
'Damn it... I only failed to stop it because I never dreamed he'd shoot directly from that range. This time... this time I'm saving it no matter what!'
"Hyunil-hyung, move a little more to the right!!"
Shouting for the wall to shift, Hansoo kept repeating it to himself. Top left corner. Top left corner. Top left corner.
Considering the wall's current position and the trajectory of Hanbin's last strike, the next shot was guaranteed to target the top-left corner again.
In a practice setting it was a bit of a dirty trick, but goalkeeper Park Hansoo began quietly shuffling his position toward the top-left side of the goal.
'I know it's cheap to pre-shift like this in practice, but I don't have a choice...!'
At the Olympics he'd have to compete for the starting job against Kim Yeongyun, the wildcard and Ulsan's ace national team keeper.
His reputation had already taken a beating today during corner kick practice, when Hanbin had terrorized him all afternoon. He couldn't afford to sink any lower.
He shouted at the defenders in the wall once more.
"Hanil-hyung, jump higher when the ball comes over!"
And then—tweet—! The whistle rang out across the training ground again.
'Here it comes!!'
Hansoo poured every ounce of his attention into Hanbin's striking foot, straining to track the ball's every motion.
'Top left...! It has to be the top left— wait, no?!'
But Hansoo's prediction sailed beautifully wide of the mark.
The ball that left Kim Hanbin's foot was not flying toward the top left Hansoo had expected—it was curving toward the exact opposite side, the top-right corner, tracing a trajectory no one had ever seen before.
It clipped just barely over the leaping defenders and bent in a way that was utterly unpredictable.
Hansoo flung his body instinctively, desperate to deflect it with even a fingertip, but it was already too late.
His reflexes and his leap alike fell hopelessly short against a ball traveling at terrifying speed.
Swishhh—
The harsh rasp of the ball churning violently through the goal net rang out.
It had been struck with such ferocity that even after burying itself in the net and dropping to the ground, it kept spinning for a long while, dragging friction-squeals out of the netting.
'Last time it was no spin... and this time it's a curling strike... to the exact opposite corner? Ha...'
Park Hansoo stared hollow-eyed at the ball sitting inside the goal.
He'd been certain the wall had completely erased the shooting angle to the top right.
And yet that bastard had cleared the wall by a whisker with a curling strike—into the right corner, the one spot Hansoo had never even considered.
"You son of a bitch... you're really damn good..."
Hansoo muttered to himself, a curse slipping out before he could stop it. There was nothing else left to say.
BOOM—! Another goal.
BOOM—! Another goal.
BOOM—! Another goal.
Head coach Baek Seungnam and the coaching staff, watching this unbelievable spectacle of consecutive free kick goals from up in the stands, were struck dumb for a long while.
They were simply overwhelmed by Kim Hanbin's free kicks—so much so that not even a gasp of admiration escaped them.
Hanbin kept alternating between his left and right foot as he converted each attempt.
Being able to strike free kicks freely with both feet was an enormous advantage for any forward.
Depending on where the foul was given, he could choose the more favorable angle and pick whichever foot suited the shot. And above all, the psychological warfare of it—forcing the opposing keeper to guess which foot was coming—was a powerful weapon for raising set-piece conversion rates.
Stack on top of that that absurd accuracy. He was the complete free kick specialist.
Head coach Baek Seungnam, still wearing an expression of pure disbelief, quietly asked the head coach standing beside him.
"Coach, that was... how many free kicks for Kim Hanbin now?"
"Uh... that's... ten in total. And... all ten... are goals, Coach."
The head coach answered haltingly, as if he himself couldn't believe the situation.
Thirty-five meters. A distance that was never easy, even for professionals.
A distance where scoring once in ten attempts would earn you praise for 'striking it well'—and Hanbin had taken ten, with a full defensive wall built in front of him, and turned all ten into goals?
In his long lifetime of football, Baek Seungnam had never seen, nor even heard of, anything like this.
Faced with a situation he simply could not believe, Director Baek turned to his head coach.
"Right now... I mean, it's not like Kim Hanbin and Park Hansoo the keeper are colluding and staging this together... right?"
The head coach shook his head slowly.
"No, Coach. There's no way... Hansoo's already in over his head because of Yeongunie being a wildcard... And even if—hypothetically, an extremely remote hypothetical—those two had planned it in advance... the fact that all ten shots from that distance ended up on target is already..."
The head coach couldn't finish the sentence.
Then he glanced at goalkeeper Park Hansoo, still standing before the goal with a look of utter desolation, and added:
"Besides... judging by Hansoo's face right now, it absolutely does not look rehearsed, Coach."
"...I only brought it up because I honestly couldn't believe it myself..."
Head coach Baek Seungnam turned his eyes back to Kim Hanbin on the pitch.
Come to think of it, there was something Manager Kim Seongcheol of Suwon had mentioned in passing during their phone call.
"This Kim Hanbin kid is really, really good at free kicks!" —he'd said.
'Seongcheol, my friend... this isn't just "good" anymore...'
At this level, the moment a foul got conceded anywhere in shooting range, it was a tactical weapon that went straight into the back of the net.
A free kick that looked like it belonged to a man who'd spent a hundred-some years locked away somewhere, doing nothing but practicing free kicks.
"Coach."
Baek Seungnam called to the head coach beside him.
"Yes, Coach."
"The friendly against Argentina next week. Hanbin starts."
"...Understood."
Once Kim Hanbin's ten-strike free kick demonstration was over, the tactical coach called an end to training.
Still unable to shake off the shock of what they'd just witnessed, the players kept muttering about Hanbin's free kicks as they filed off the pitch.
"Hey... you still think that first one was a fluke?"
One player asked his teammate, disbelief written across his face.
"No..."
"If that was a fluke, he shouldn't be playing football with that kind of luck—he should go buy a lottery ticket right now."
Another player shook his head in agreement.
"Our starting forward, Honggeun... he's really in trouble now. Having to compete against a monster like that."
Yet another player clicked his tongue in sympathy.
"Honestly, if I were Coach Baek, I'd bench Honggeun and start Kim Hanbin without a second thought. The kid wins everything in the air and shoots like that—there's not a single reason not to play him."
"His start against Argentina next week is basically locked in already, right?"
"Honestly, forget the U-23s—Hanbin could walk straight into the senior national team for A-matches and smash the door right off its hinges."
"No lie. Wait, that guy has only played three matches in his whole career? That's a legitimately insane talent."
"European transfer rumors are gonna explode after this Olympics."
And so, marveling at Kim Hanbin's ability in their own ways, the players made their way to the locker room.
Once the squad had cleared out, Kim Hanbin and the tactical coach remained behind on one side of the now-empty training ground.
Eyes blazing, the tactical coach was peppering Hanbin with questions without giving him a moment to breathe.
"Wow, the tactical coach is totally floored. Completely floored."
A few of the players, watching the scene from a distance as they headed to the locker room, snickered under their breath.
"Well, honestly? After that free kick just now, anyone would be floored."
"Fair point."