Chapter 63
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Translator: Silver Dragon
Chapter: 63
Chapter Title: The Cruel Demon Park Si-hyun
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[Hiddink's Team Crushes France 2-1! Historic Victory Shaking the Heart of Europe]
['I Apologize for All the Remarks Disrespecting Korea,' 'Korea Is the World Cup's Biggest Wild Card.' David Trezeguet Bows in Apology After the Match and Acknowledges Korea's Strength.]
["Park Si-hyun, I Want to Meet You on the European Stage Someday." David Trezeguet Admits Complete Defeat to 17-Year-Old Korean Striker]
Did you see that last free kick? Is it even possible for the ball to curve like that? I was so scared I had to change my pants.
He's only 17, but that's not just genius—that's a monster. Finally, Korea has a guy who'll surpass Coach Cha Bum-geun.
I put on a diaper like my kid while drinking beer. That was dangerous for real.
LOL why would you wear that? 😂😂😂😂😂
I'm jealous. I was at the stadium so no diaper...
You must be soaked now 😂😂😂😂
Went to the bathroom and wrung it out...
Time passed after the exhibition match, and May 29, 2002 arrived.
The national team headed to Gyeongju for final preparations ahead of their World Cup opener against Poland.
The city was usually peaceful and quiet, but the air felt different that day.
Fans in red T-shirts waved Taegukgi flags and sang songs, while children laughed with red paint drawn as Taegukgi symbols on their faces.
Reporters set up tripods and held their breath.
Everyone was waiting for just one thing: the arrival of the Republic of Korea national team.
As the bus pulled up in front of the stadium, cheers exploded in an instant.
"They're here! They're here!!!"
"It's Si-hyun! Park Si-hyun!!!"
"We love you, Coach Hiddink!!!"
"Kyaaaaaaaah!!!"
The bus door opened, and the first to step out was Coach Hiddink.
As he smiled brightly in his red tracksuit, the fans erupted as if the president himself had appeared.
Right now in Korea, the national team players enjoyed popularity hotter than any celebrity.
Their names spread faster than news from mouth to mouth, and their faces covered posters on streets everywhere.
In a word, their fame pierced the heavens.
That was why so many families visited the stadium early in the morning.
To them, the national team wasn't just a soccer squad—it was the very embodiment of Korea's 'dream.'
Following Coach Hiddink, Park Ji-sung, Lee Young-pyo, and Seol Ki-hyun stepped off one by one.
Before entering the stadium, the players paused for short interviews with the reporters.
"Park Ji-sung, you've kept up a perfect record in recent exhibitions by beating France. Can we expect good results in the World Cup too?"
"Since we've shown strong performances against world-class teams, I believe we can produce good results in the finals as well."
The microphone then turned to Seol Ki-hyun.
"Seol Ki-hyun, you perfectly avenged last year's loss against France. One word on your thoughts, please."
"Last year we were dragged around, but this time we dictated the game. It's boosted the players' confidence for sure. We can carry that momentum into the World Cup."
And finally—
Stepping on the bus's last stair, Park Si-hyun appeared.
"Si-hyun!!!"
"Si-hyun, we love you!!!"
Cheers burst amid the red wave.
Every time his name was called, the air vibrated.
By now, Park Si-hyun in Korea was more than just a player.
The entire nation that had watched every match knew it.
He was the national team's ace, the 'heart of Hiddink's squad.'
The confidence that might have been called 'arrogant' in the past had now become a symbol called 'Park Si-hyun style.'
His words, his expressions, his play—everything was the Park Si-hyun brand.
"Park Si-hyun! You scored two brilliant goals in the France match too. Fans are now calling you the 'national team's ace.' At 17, holding a whole nation's ace position... isn't it burdensome?"
Park Si-hyun smiled as he looked at the microphone.
His eyes held leisure, his shoulders certainty.
"As I said before, I don't feel burdened."
Park Si-hyun tilted his head slightly with a smile.
"I just prove it."
The reporters pressed on.
"Group D is being called the 'Group of Death.' Can Korea survive Group D?"
At that, Park Si-hyun let out a short chuckle.
"The Group of Death... yeah, you're right. Group D is definitely the Group of Death."
He paused, then stared straight into the camera.
"Because Korea's in it."
A split-second silence.
In that brief but heavy quiet, the reporters' eyes widened all at once.
Everyone knew why Group D was called the Group of Death.
Europe's powerhouse Portugal, North America's strongest the USA, and Poland, who topped Europe's qualifiers.
The world viewed Korea as mere cannon fodder in that hell.
But Park Si-hyun flipped that perception with a few words.
"The other three teams better watch out. Hell always has... a demon living in it. A cruel one that crushes its opponents."
Park Si-hyun.
The demon's name, who would kneel opponents more cruelly than anyone in the World Cup.
Park Si-hyun raised his hand high and shouted.
"Everyone, shout it with me! Korea is a powerhouse!"
"Korea is a powerhouse!"
"Voices too quiet! Louder! Korea is a powerhouse!"
"Korea is a powerhouse!!!"
The red wave roared.
That cheer shook the fans' hearts, and at its center, the 17-year-old boy smiled brightly.
"Now... I'll go prove it."
"This is troubling."
Poland national team coach Jerzy Engel muttered lowly, rubbing his forehead.
Before him played footage of Korea's final exhibition against France.
On screen, a boy in a red uniform moved like lightning.
Park Si-hyun.
Instant direction change, touch, explosive acceleration, and finish.
Engel stared at the screen, unable to pause the remote.
Beside him, assistant coach Andrzej Żukowski crossed his arms and let out admiration.
"Fast yet powerful. And his movements are so concise."
He too was a former Poland national striker.
So he knew better than anyone how close to a complete forward the boy on screen was.
"I thought we'd only need to worry about Portugal and the USA..."
Engel sighed lowly.
"Korea's strength has surged too suddenly. Enough to make even us tense."
Żukowski nodded quietly in agreement.
Poland fundamentally relied on physicality, grit, and individual skill.
Coach Engel wasn't a flashy tactician.
His soccer was simple.
"If we're stronger and fight harder, we win."
Jerzy Engel's philosophy was straightforward, and that simplicity had always worked so far.
In European qualifiers, Poland went 8 wins, 1 draw, 1 loss—top of their group.
Securing finals advancement ahead of Italy, they were dubbed 'Eastern Europe's Awakened Warriors.'
But there was a clear weakness.
'When shaken by one decisive ace, the whole team crumbles easily.'
Engel pressed the remote again.
On screen, the boy in red tore through France's center in a flash.
Right in the space with Trezeguet, Vieira, and Thuram—
Park Si-hyun created a crack with one touch.
"Look at that."
Engel's voice dropped low and firm.
"This kid isn't just playing soccer on talent. He understands tactics like a coach. And he executes that understanding perfectly with his body."
He paused the screen and pointed at the center.
"The moment our center loosens even a bit, this guy will rip through it for sure."
Poland's tactic was traditional 4-4-2.
Strong physicality and pressure, quick long-ball switches.
Wing midfielders build up, two strikers target behind the defense.
But in trade-off, if the midfield line lagged one step, the center emptied.
Engel knew that better than anyone.
"No choice."
His gaze turned to the assistant coach beside him.
"Żukowski, bring Dudek."
"Yes, Coach."
Żukowski rose quickly and left the room.
Engel stared at the remaining footage for a long while.
Park Si-hyun, the 17-year-old Korean striker who toppled France.
Tracking his every movement with his eyes, he breathed heavily.
'Can't change tactics now. That would be a bigger risk. In the end, it's not the system... it's the people.'
He always believed in players' power over tactics.
That conviction hadn't changed.
'Alright. Then we'll trust our best goalkeeper.'
Engel muttered quietly.
"Have Dudek analyze everything about this guy—eye movements, hand gestures, footwork. Miss nothing, no matter how trivial."
In the end, the answer Engel found after all that worry was painfully simple.