National High School Football Championship Finals (3)
"In the second half, Ian and Gwanhui switch positions."
During the halftime break, we filed into the locker room with the coach and gathered around the whiteboard. Our players' names were written across it, and the coach swapped mine with Yu Gwanhui's.
"In the second half, the pressure that's been stuck to Ian is going to ease up. One man at most. That'll probably be Seohyeon High's defensive midfielder — the same one who was on him in the first half."
The coach tapped the blue magnets representing the opposition. He was right. Committing two players to me had been inefficient from the start. With a winger and a defensive midfielder both glued to me, the middle of the park had opened up wide, and Seohyeon High had already paid for it with a goal.
"So here's what I'm thinking. Ian, you stay up front. A little deeper than Junhyeok — that's your spot."
"You want me as a second striker?"
"Exactly. Gwanhui, Jimin — drop a little deeper. Second-half formation is a 4-2-2-2."
"Yes, sir!"
A 4-2-2-2 sat close to a 4-2-3-1. On paper it looked similar to a 4-4-2, but the character was completely different. A 4-4-2 pressed across the whole pitch and refused to split attack from defense — everyone covered both ends. A 4-2-3-1, by contrast, divided the labor cleanly: the defensive midfielders in the third line pressed, while the second-line players attacked. A 4-2-2-2 simply took that 4-2-3-1 and pushed the attacking midfielder all the way forward into a two-striker setup, handing free roles to the remaining pair in the second line.
A two-striker system isn't bad at all…
You could call it a 4-2-2-1-1 if you wanted to be pedantic, but two players standing at the tip of the attack was the same either way. I still needed one more assist for the assist-trick. Playing as a second striker would make setting those up easier — and that worked in my favor.
"All right. Last half. Go out there and do it properly."
"Yes, sir!"
We finished listening to the coach's instructions and headed back out onto the pitch.
The referee's whistle opened the second half. Seohyeon High had the ball.
Tak—!
As I pushed up alongside Seo Junhyeok, their defensive midfielder tracked me. Seohyeon High's winger, meanwhile, dropped back into his own position, and Choi Seungwon shifted into the attacking midfielder's role — just as the coach had predicted.
Choi Seungwon received the ball from their striker and launched a long pass out to the right-sided winger, stretching the pitch wide. The winger took it with a soft first touch. Jeong Inho stepped in to cut him off.
On pure individual quality, Seohyeon High's winger had the edge. But Inho wasn't defending alone.
Tuk—.
Yu Gwanhui appeared from behind and nicked the ball with a perfectly timed challenge. Following the coach's order to drop and switch with me, he had been holding in the second line — and with the free role he'd been given, he was cutting freely between the second and third lines.
"Going straight!"
Gwanhui fed the ball to Kang Junmin, Baekhwa High's defensive midfielder nearby. Junmin switched it long toward Jeong Jimin, who was already racing down the flank. Seohyeon High's left fullback managed to shepherd it out of play, but it had been a sharp counter.
Seohyeon High's players closed down every Baekhwa man coming to receive as Jimin stood over the ball on the touchline.
"Hey!"
Junmin called for it and burst forward. Jimin threw the ball in; Junmin barely managed to kill it under control as two Seohyeon players lunged in. In that instant Jimin spun off his man. Junmin held both of them off with his back, spotted the run, and slipped a heel pass through.
The ball threaded between a Seohyeon player's legs. Jimin took a long first touch and tore down the flank.
"Ian!"
Jeong Jimin cut the ball back to me between the defenders. I turned the approaching Seohyeon center-back with a single pivot and struck.
Tang—!
The keeper flung himself across and got a hand to it — but the rebound spilled straight to Seo Junhyeok. He nudged it with his right foot and sent the net bulging.
"Ian!"
Junhyeok wrapped me up the moment the goal went in, and I only managed to wriggle free once his celebration finally wound down.
Already four–one…
Seohyeon High's defense was more fragile than I'd expected. Three goals already conceded — of course the back line was cracking. Junhyeok's finish would only pry that crack wider.
Seohyeon High's coach clenched his trembling hands.
The second half was nearly over and the score still sat at four–two. The gap refused to shrink any further. Midway through the half, Choi Seungwon's chase-down goal had seemed to open a path. But Baekhwa High's defensive midfielder had clamped onto him as a dedicated marker, and Seungwon could barely get a touch. How many times had he touched the ball since scoring? Fewer than ten. For an attacking midfielder who was supposed to be the starting point of every attack, that number made no sense at all.
No space, so he can't even hit those trademark long-range shots… and when he tries to pass, the other side reads it perfectly.
Across both halves, Choi Seungwon had delivered more killer balls than anyone else in a Seohyeon shirt. Every single time, a Baekhwa player named Seo Taeseong had stolen them with uncanny positioning. Even when a Seohyeon man did receive a through ball, the tackling and pressure that followed were so ferocious that most of the chances simply evaporated.
Thirtieth minute of the second half. Fifteen minutes of regulation left, plus maybe three of stoppage. Seohyeon High's coach checked his watch, then waved Choi Seungwon over with a big gesture.
"Switch."
"Hah… hah… Yes, sir…"
Seungwon jogged over to his teammate, breathing hard. The Seohyeon striker wearing the number nine listened, nodded, and dropped deeper. Choi Seungwon took his place up top.
The coach's call wasn't a bad one. Finishing decided games, and Seohyeon High's current striker simply didn't have it today. He was a capable player under normal circumstances, but Baekhwa's physical defending and relentless pressure had gotten into his head. Seungwon, on the other hand, had looked sharp every time he touched the ball — put him on the last line and he would put chances away.
Against the Baekhwa High of the early tournament, the move might have worked. They might even have already lost. But this Baekhwa High was different. Because—
Tang—!
Seong Ian was on the pitch.
Ian dragged Seohyeon High's defensive midfielder out toward the touchline, and the space he left behind opened like a door. Junmin planted the ball there and screened the trailing midfielder off Ian's back. In the gap, Seong Ian spun free. The distance was considerable, but he had the run-up and the power behind it.
The ball flew in a straight line and hammered into Seohyeon High's net.
Chwareuk—.
36' Second Half — Goal by No. 10 Seong Ian
Seohyeon High's coach lowered his head. A three-goal deficit this late? Catching up was unrealistic.
After that, every Seohyeon player poured forward, and they managed to claw one back. But Seong Ian answered immediately with a breathtaking right-footed curler.
The referee's whistle ended the second half.
Final score: six–three.
Seong Ian completed both a hat-trick and an assist-trick in the same match — a record almost without precedent. Four matches played, thirteen goals, four assists. And the man of the match, once again, was Seong Ian.
The referee's whistle closed the second half, and we all pulled our kits back on and took our places on the pitch for the celebration. The substitutes and the coach joined us.
Seo Taeseong, who had worn the captain's armband in place of Lee Gwanghyeon, received the trophy from the official handing it over.
"Wooooh…"
Taeseong gripped the cup in both hands, shook it toward the ground a few times while looking around at the rest of us, then hoisted it high overhead and roared.
"Waaaaah—!!"
For once I let myself grin as wide as any seventeen-year-old should. Counting everything before the regression, this was my first championship. The first taste of winning was sweeter than anything.
We hung the gold medals — proof of the title — around our necks, took the team photo, and headed back into the locker room.
"Are we not doing interviews today? Feels like we should be."
"Nah. They don't do same-day interviews. They'll get permission from the people involved and do it another day."
The seniors, still buzzing from the win, were grinning and needling each other. I answered as someone who'd already been through the interview circuit.
"Still — Ian's man of the match today. Four games, thirteen goals, four assists. Is that even a human record?"
"Who even are you? Don't tell me you're some alien who stole Ian's body."
"Ronaldinho? Please… Sure, I might be a drill of a man between the sheets, but…"
It was an all-male locker room, so a slightly off-color joke just got laughed off. I played along with the seniors' gags until the end, then stepped outside.
"Congratulations, son~"
"Thanks, Mom. Dad."
I took the medal from around my own neck and hung it around my father's.
"Ian…"
"Aww… what about mine?"
"I'll hang something else around your neck, Mom. Something like… a Champions League winner's medal?"
"Pfft… Even if it's just talk, I'll take it~"
My mother ruffled my hair, and before long we were in the car heading back to the hotel.
And just like that, my final high school tournament ended in a championship.