West Ham United (2)
West Ham United U-19 built every attack and every defensive shape from precise passing.
But with Jeong Woo-jun pinning their left full-back, the full-back-driven attacking patterns they relied on were as good as sealed off. Unable even to construct a proper build-up, they had only Daniel James dropping deep to keep them afloat.
The first half ended 1–0. Yet the locker room was nothing like the buoyant mood of earlier matches.
It's because of the Alletti game, isn't it…
They had scored first that day too—and still lost. The memory kept every boy sitting serious and focused through the half-time break.
"You're all doing well. Ian, the free role seems to suit you, doesn't it?"
"Still feels a bit awkward… but yeah."
I was carrying out the free role exactly as the manager had instructed. Free role meant precisely that—no fixed assignment, the freedom to move wherever the game demanded. It required creativity and a touch of genius, and at the same time a massive work rate and stamina, because you had to shuttle between the flanks and the center and still drop into defensive work. I met those demands at a certain level, which was probably why I was managing it as well as I was.
"Don't get cocky. Keep this tempo all the way to the end. Understood?"
"Yes, sir!"
We made almost no changes for the second half. Same formation, same personnel.
West Ham, however, were a different story.
5-4-1…?
They had shifted from a 4-2-3-1 into a 5-4-1 and rotated several players as well. The wide midfielders came off; central midfielders filled the middle. The attacking midfielder was withdrawn and a center-back came on. A shape like that meant they had clearly abandoned the full-back-oriented build-up.
Then there's no need to press their full-backs anymore.
I relayed it across to Woo-jun on the far side. He understood at once and stopped hunting their full-back.
West Ham United U-19's full-backs began to push high. Their three center-backs exchanged short passes to build from the back while the full-backs advanced to support the attack. Even if the resulting shape looked like an unusual 3-3-4, they were managing it well. The real problem was Daniel James holding the line; none of our players dared break shape too freely.
Then I'll have to do it myself…
I was the free-role winger, after all.
Tak—.
I collected the ball in midfield and drove it forward in short touches. A closing midfielder came at me; I slipped him with a La Croqueta and laid a soft touch out to Woo-jun arriving from the right flank. He took it and immediately found Lee Jeong-min, who had stepped a few yards higher from the center.
Swaaak—!
A sound like grass being scythed flat, then something tumbling hard across the turf.
"Daniel James…!"
He had launched a sliding tackle at Jeong-min the moment the ball arrived. He took the ball cleanly, but Jeong-min's foot was already planted; he went down whether he wanted to or not. The referee's whistle stayed silent. Once a player wins the ball first, the game rarely stops unless someone is badly hurt.
"Shut it down right now!"
James scanned the pitch and immediately launched a long lofted pass toward the left, where a West Ham runner was already bursting into space. The ball sailed a touch high; Baek Nam-gi rose and headed it clear beyond the touchline.
"Get back!"
"Press the throw-in!"
West Ham's left wing-back stood on the touchline with the ball in both hands. Two of their players waited high near our box, but both were tightly marked by Korean defenders. Under the pressure he simply rolled it back to a midfielder standing deeper and spun away.
Toong—!
The midfielder switched play with a long diagonal toward the opposite flank. West Ham's right winger controlled it, but his first touch ran a fraction long.
Tak—!
Seo Jin-yeong, our left full-back, pounced on the loose ball and played it safely backward. Goalkeeper Han Seung-woo collected it calmly and, instead of releasing immediately, began organizing the line.
"Push up! Higher!"
"Just play it!"
"Can't you see the man right in front of you?! Raise the line!"
As our defensive line advanced, the West Ham players gradually retreated, and gaps opened between them. I raised my right hand high and made a penetrating run that sliced straight through the half-space.
Tang—!
Seung-woo's long ball, unfortunately, was not meant for me.
Tuk.
Midfielder Kang Min-sang received it and immediately fed Lee Jeong-min on his right. Jeong-min took the ball, feinted left as if to escape the midfielder marking him from behind, then exploded the other way. The defender bought the fake completely and was caught on the wrong foot.
"Seung-wook!"
Jeong-min could now play it into Kang Seung-wook. The moment the pass left his foot he was already moving again, squeezing between defenders and peeling toward the far side.
"Pass!"
I had briefly stepped beyond the last defensive line and dropped back again, pointing at the space at my feet. Seung-wook found me. I took one glance around me.
"Hey!"
Jeong-min was looping his run, eyes locked on mine. It didn't take much. All I needed was to read how the defenders were moving, the length of their strides, and the single lane that would open if the ball arrived at the right moment. Then I simply put the ball along that lane.
Tuk—.
The ball threaded between a defender's legs and rolled perfectly into Jeong-min's path. He struck it low and near-post, and the net bulged.
KOR 2 : 0 WTU
The moment the second goal went in, West Ham United U-19 manager Kevin Caballero grabbed two fistfuls of his own hair. It was not yet hot enough for the weather to explain it, but his face burned and the world in front of him swam.
Two goals? To a random side that isn't even a professional club?
Their momentum had already been low; now it was on the floor. The senior first team had suffered a relegation and then clawed its way back up, and in the process a host of first-team veterans and the most gifted youth prospects had left. Daniel James was one of the few who had stayed through all of it, and Caballero felt genuine gratitude toward him every week of the season—because lately James was the only one still playing real football.
Even he, though, had created nothing of note today.
Second half… a little over thirty minutes left.
They had to claw something back in whatever time remained.
"Substitution!"
He barked toward the players sitting on the bench.
No. 18 OUT
No. 9 IN
The assistant referee raised the electronic board. It wasn't our substitution—the player waiting on the touchline wore West Ham United colors.
…Why is he here?
I almost doubted my eyes, but that distinctive grin and the name printed across his back left no room for mistake.
Philip Jonas—Germany's next great striker, the man who would become Arsenal's primary goal threat. He was standing right there. I dimly remembered the story: a West Ham academy product who later moved to Arsenal. Probably something I'd caught on Spotv.
As Philip Jonas matured, his goal tally climbed steadily until he eventually claimed a league Golden Boot.
…And now that kind of opponent is coming on.
Our back line was going to have to stay razor-sharp. He was still short, but his pace and finishing instinct had been exceptional from a young age—and he had never abandoned that style of play.
"Cut it out!"
West Ham's attack began from midfield; our center-backs stepped up to close the space. A West Ham midfielder slipped a pass into Philip Jonas, who was lingering inside the penalty area. The ball dropped at Jonas's feet—
Swaaak—!
—but center-back Ju Won-woo had already read the movement and stretched a leg. He took the ball cleanly enough; it rolled out of play. That, however, was not the end of West Ham's attack.
"Aaagh—!"
Philip Jonas went sprawling across the pitch after Won-woo's challenge. I had dropped a few yards to help the defense, and even from a position slightly removed from the contact I could see it perfectly. A grown man nearly six feet tall rolling three full revolutions over a minor tackle—anyone watching would call it Hollywood acting.
But the referee's angle was awkward. Another West Ham player had briefly screened his view; by the time the official had a clear line of sight, Philip Jonas was already thrashing on the ground and screaming.
The referee put the red whistle to his lips.
Peeeep—!
He pointed one hand straight at the penalty spot inside our box where Jonas still lay.
"Referee! VAR!"
"How is that a penalty?!"
Several of our players stormed toward him in disbelief, but the official only shook his head from side to side.
VAR was never going to work properly here…
This wasn't an official match to begin with, and only a handful of officials had been assigned. The VAR system wasn't even running. You could tell from the first half, when several clear offside situations had gone without an immediate flag.
So we faced a penalty. Goalkeeper Han Seung-woo locked his eyes on the taker—Daniel James. At the referee's whistle James began his run-up. He planted his standing foot beside the ball as if he meant to drive it into the bottom-right corner, and Seung-woo launched himself that way.
At the last instant James opened his plant foot a fraction.
Swaareuk—!
The ball rocketed into the opposite corner—bottom left—while Seung-woo was already airborne the other way.
KOR 2 : 1 WTU