Chapter 68
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Translator: Silver Dragon
Chapter: 68
Chapter Title: Park Si-hyun Does It All
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As soon as I stepped onto the pitch, there was only one thing I did.
Establishing the hierarchy.
The American players had been rough from the opening whistle. No, "rough" didn't even begin to cover it.
Their eyes alone screamed they were here to fight.
They threw elbows even for loose balls, shoved shoulders while sprinting. There was a good reason our captain had gotten injured.
'The fans watching wouldn't have noticed, but these guys were doing it on purpose.'
They knew all too well the bad blood between Korea and America.
They couldn't even hide it on the pitch.
A pride clash between representatives of their nations—it seeped into every single action.
So I had no reason to hold back either.
Not that I'd ever bothered with courtesy anyway.
Didn't need the ball for it.
I crashed into them deliberately.
Shoved with my shoulder, hooked with my arm,
and every time we brushed past, I whispered low in their ear.
"Weak."
That one word was enough.
Trezeguet had already proven that shorter taunts cut deeper than long-winded ones.
As expected, the American players lost it at that.
The scattered tussles with our other guys all converged on me.
They kept charging me, but the results were always the same.
They were the ones who collided—yet they were always the ones rolling on the ground.
After a few such clashes, the Americans' eyes changed.
They'd started cocky, but now they flinched whenever I got the ball.
The moment it touched my feet, their breathing lagged a beat.
'Yeah. That's the feeling you should get looking at me.'
"Sang-chul! Pass."
Hierarchy established.
Now it was time to show them.
Yoo Sang-chul flicked the ball over right away.
A defender stood in front, but to me, he was just an obstacle.
I smirked seeing them hang back, not daring to rush in.
'What to do.'
Two options.
Bust straight through and face the keeper,
or draw the defense's eyes as bait.
The smart player plays bait.
The confident one breaks through head-on.
But—
I do both.
Park Si-hyun is smart and brimming with insane confidence.
Plus destructive. And beautiful.
So why should I pick just one?
No, I do it all.
I'll cleverly draw their gaze while simultaneously crushing their pride head-on with destructive force.
Beautifully—not as bait, but as the protagonist.
To create a moment that ranks among the super plays I've shown so far or will in the future.
Turn the celebration into a dribble.
Hunch the waist, swing the arms, glide across the ice—that exact short-track posture, fused straight into play.
The reason Jeong-hwan hyung turned that into a celebration instead of play was simple.
Because of the "hunched waist."
In soccer, an attacker dribbling with a hunched waist is nearly impossible.
Vision narrows, balance crumbles.
It's outside soccer's common sense.
'Then I'll just shatter that common sense.'
The kind of crazy thing Jeong-hwan hyung wouldn't even dream of.
That's why I do it.
'Totally doable.'
193cm long legs, low center of gravity, insane balance.
My body's limits are different.
Plus, soccer has one footwork rhythm almost identical to short track.
Scissors dribble.
The cocky guy who dared call me "rival," Ronaldo—he loved that move.
Scissors disrupts the opponent's center with waist rhythm.
But I'm different.
Combine it with short track, and you hunch the waist—so I ditch waist rhythm for arm rhythm instead.
Hunch the waist, whip the arms sharply, toes ceaselessly flicking the ball side to side.
As I advanced in that motion, the defenders started panicking.
They had reason to.
Park Si-hyun, waist hunched with just his head up, charging fast—not a straight sprint, but whipping across like a short-track skater, legs crossing.
A mad scene of full speed while controlling the ball.
No way that doesn't scare you.
The defenders reflexively backpedaled.
They couldn't track the ball or my feet properly.
Waist hunched, ball out of sight—instead, just my eyes and arm rhythm filled their view.
'Tougher than expected... but fine.'
Couldn't see the ball with my head up.
But the ball's feel was crystal clear.
Vibration through my toes,
rhythm pulsing through my body,
and the sensation controlling it all perfectly.
'Now.'
I slammed the ball hard with my left foot. In that instant, the defender's leg whiffed through empty air.
The moment he lost balance, I cut the opposite way.
Second defender.
He lunged too, but too late.
My short-track curve-whip grazed the turf past him.
Ball flowing from my toes, body sliding low behind it.
One last thing left.
The keeper.
He rushed out, but he was already out of my sight.
His pupils quivered faintly.
Probably couldn't see the ball properly.
No way you'd spot it on a human charging hunched over.
I lifted my head just a bit and cocked my right foot back.
Whoosh—
The ball curved viciously into the far corner.
Bam!
The stands erupted.
Cheers exploded, red waves rippled.
And I bolted straight there.
To the stands?
No.
To the cameras.
Lenses swiveled to follow me.
As every eye locked on, I slowly raised both arms.
Arms up, hands clasped like gripping a medal around my neck.
Then one finger shot up.
Number 1.
Slowly, I lowered that finger, slamming it hard on the "Republic of Korea" emblem etched on my chest.
The finger rose again.
This time straight to the sky.
Then down again,
to the red taegeuk on my chest.
1 → Republic of Korea.
The first to sense something "off" about Park Si-hyun's dribble wasn't some casual soccer fan.
It was the commentator, versed in multiple sports with deep insight.
"Hmm... Isn't there something strange about Park Si-hyun's movement?"
"Strange how? Look, he's driving forward in an incredibly low stance right now."
"Exactly. See that? Waist bent deep, upper body nearly at a 45-degree angle. You almost never see that posture in soccer. Balance falls apart. But this player... he's actually accelerating in that position."
"Now that you mention it, yeah. His posture's so low he can't even see the ball."
"Right. But the moment I saw it, another sport came to mind entirely."
"Another sport?"
"Yes. Everyone remembers. Just four months ago, the 2002 Salt Lake City Winter Olympics. Our Kim Dong-sung getting his 'gold medal stolen'."
"Ah— that infamous short-track 1500m where the American took it with a foul."
"Precisely. Look at Park Si-hyun's dribble now—it's a perfect match for that short-track motion. Waist hunched, eyes fixed ahead, arms and legs whipping in rhythm together. Gliding over the ice, now gliding over grass as he bursts forward."
"Whoa... you're right. That's not just a dribble; it's an intentional 'motion'."
"Yes. And what's even more intriguing is the opponent. This is against the USA. The nation of Apolo Anton Ohno, who stole Kim Dong-sung's gold with that foul."
"No way... Is Park Si-hyun doing this on purpose, aware of that?"
"Very possible. Park Si-hyun isn't just technically gifted. He embeds 'messages'. That dribble is art and a statement."
And finally—
Park Si-hyun scored.
He sprinted to the cameras and expressed everything in one short, powerful gesture.
Number 1. Then "Republic of Korea" on his chest.
In that split-second motion, the commentary booth fell silent.
The commentator swallowed, then murmured low.
"Ah... now it's certain."
"Wow... that's cool. Park Si-hyun is reclaiming Kim Dong-sung's stolen gold medal right here on the soccer pitch."
"Truly magnificent. Different sports, but one junior athlete restoring the honor of his senior who was robbed of gold—on the soccer field."
The Korea vs. USA match ended 3-1, a perfect victory.
Park Si-hyun's opener, Park Ji-sung's follow-up, and Lee Chun-soo's dagger after subbing in late.
Everyone scored, but the press's eyes were fixed on one man.
Park Si-hyun.
His unprecedented dribble and the ceremony that shook the nation.
They wanted confirmation straight from him first.
Was that scene really targeting Kim Dong-sung's unjust gold medal loss?
The press room door opened, Park Si-hyun appeared, and flashes exploded.
Reporters thrust mics forward.
"Park Si-hyun! Was that dribble and ceremony during the match referencing Kim Dong-sung's incident four months ago?"
For a moment, Park Si-hyun halted.
He looked the reporter dead in the eye, then slowly spoke.
"Whatever meaning I put into my play... that's up to how people receive it."
His tone blended leisure and conviction.
"I just let the world know. That the Republic of Korea, where I stand, is number one."
As he turned to leave after that, Park Si-hyun suddenly paused again.
"Oh, totally different topic, but one more thing."
His lip curled in a sneer.
"Ronaldo. I heard he said if we meet in the final, he'll acknowledge me as a rival. That's decided by the guy on top."
Park Si-hyun eyed the reporters and continued slowly.
"If he wants to be rivals... tell him to level up his skills first."