Chapter 74
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Translator: Silver Dragon
Chapter: 74
Chapter Title: Is This Park Si-hyun's Country?
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Is this Park Si-hyun's country?
Time flew by, and the 2002 World Cup Round of 16 was underway.
New matches were held every day across Korea.
On Jeju Island, it was Germany vs. Paraguay; in Suwon, Spain vs. Ireland; in Jeonju, Mexico vs. the USA.
Crowds poured in from all over the country to catch a glimpse of the famous players.
But even greater attention was focused on Japan.
Narita Airport in Tokyo.
As soon as people in crisp white shirts and yellow jackets emerged from the gate, hundreds of camera flashes exploded in unison.
"Waaaaah!!"
"It's Brazil!! Brazil!!"
It was utter chaos.
Japanese fans formed a sea of humanity, while reporters jostled for position, thrusting microphones forward.
Because the gods of true soccer, as they saw it, had just set foot on Japanese soil.
Ronaldo, Ronaldinho, Rivaldo, Cafu, Carlos, Lucio.
Flashes and cheers blended into a roar that shook the entire airport.
The reporters shouted frantically.
"Ronaldo! Interview! Please, just one!"
"Ronaldo! One word on your first impressions!"
Dozens of microphones thrust out at once.
The interpreter hurriedly sorted the questions and passed them to Ronaldo.
He flashed a slight smile.
Lowered his eyes, then lifted his head with his signature laid-back expression.
"......Is this Park Si-hyun's country?"
In that instant, the airport froze.
Camera shutters and cheers halted for a single breathless moment.
The superstar they'd waited for so eagerly, cheered so wildly.
The world's greatest striker had set foot in Japan and uttered a Korean player's name—in Korean, no less.
'What did he just say...?'
'Park Si-hyun? That Korean player?'
'This is Japan... that was a bit...'
Reporters exchanged stunned glances.
Some doubted their ears; others flushed red with swallowed rage.
Ronaldo remained unfazed amid the stares.
He just tilted his head slightly and muttered to himself.
"I practiced... Did I mess it up?"
The interpreter rushed over and whispered urgently.
"Ronaldo, this is Japan, not Korea."
At that, Ronaldo chuckled, shrugged, and turned back to the reporters.
"Ah, my mistake. Among Asian countries... I only know Korea. Sorry."
The airport air turned icy.
Japanese reporters' faces hardened, while the Brazilian press ducked their heads to stifle laughs.
His deadpan smile and curt apology rocked Japan that entire day.
And the moment Ronaldo said Park Si-hyun's name in Korean became the lead story on all three major Korean evening news broadcasts.
World's Top Striker Ronaldo's Korean Remark: 'Is This Park Si-hyun's Country?' Sparks Sensation!
National pride exploded.
And even better news followed.
Japan, which had been crowing that 'Korea will fall to Italy in the Round of 16,' lost 1-0 to Turkey and crashed out that very day.
Now, if Korea could just beat Italy, they'd have years of bragging rights to shut Japan up.
People believed.
Park Si-hyun would deliver again this time.
* * *
As the players entered, the sea of Red Devils in the stands unfurled their card section.
The card section's message referenced the miracle of 1966, when North Korea's national team upset Italy 1-0 to reach the quarterfinals—a call to recreate that upset.
To the Italian team, it was a massive provocation.
The Italian players from that match had fled angry fans by switching airports, only to be caught sneaking home at midnight and pelted with rotten eggs and tomatoes. Coach Edmondo Fabbri was fired and suspended for a year.
1966 was, in a word, a symbol of humiliation for Italian soccer.
Seeing the card section invoke that shame, Italian coach Giovanni Trapattoni couldn't contain his fury and yelled at the referee.
But it wasn't stopped, and the fuming coach turned to his players.
Meanwhile, the Korean players were focused on warming up, ignoring the Italians' rage.
"Whew, Si-hyun, let's crush 'em."
I nodded at the words from Seol Ki-hyun, my strike partner today.
The day before, Totti had run his mouth.
Classic Italian catenaccio confidence—their philosophy of clinging to one goal dismissed defenders and attackers alike.
Score one, concede none. No matter what.
Against Park Si-hyun.
'Arrogant bastard.'
Of course, I knew why they were so cocky.
Fabio Cannavaro's suspension was lifted, and Alessandro Nesta was back at full fitness with no injury.
I had no idea what butterfly effect my participation had on Italy, but their defense was rock-solid, untouched by mishaps.
They trusted their iron wall, never imagining it crumbling before Korea's attack.
'Why are people so complacent?'
Why couldn't they accept how the world worked?
If Italy's defense was an ironclad fortress, why didn't they realize Korea's attack—with Park Si-hyun—wielded a blade that could slice through steel?
Italy coming out with their perfect wall was actually good for me.
'If I dominate even Italy's defense, everyone will have to admit my attack is the world's best.'
On cue, I advanced to the center circle.
That's when Vieri, who harbored ill feelings toward Korea, glared at me and sneered.
I stifled a laugh at Vieri's words.
His arrogant tone sounded like a mishmash of Japanese anime lines.
* * *
The match kicks off the moment we speak! Korea's in their usual 4-4-2 from the Portugal game, while Italy fields a 3-4-2-1.
Italy's defense is suffocating: Cannavaro, Maldini, and Gianluigi Buffon in goal.
They're the icons of Italian soccer. But our attack is no slouch either. Park Si-hyun, who dazzled against France, pairs with Seol Ki-hyun up top.
The commentator's voice brimmed with excitement, but he fell silent in shock at one player.
[Huh...?]
All eyes turned to one spot: Park Ji-sung.
The formation looks off. It's not quite 4-4-2... more like 4-1-3-2. Park Ji-sung's not in midfield—he's almost in defense.
Unexpected placement. Why drop Park Ji-sung so deep, Hiddink?
Park Ji-sung was a natural winger, used to bombing forward.
But now, he sat deep like a defensive midfielder.
Everyone wondered.
'Why put Park Ji-sung there?'
But the question dissolved in under three minutes.
Whoosh—!
Italy's first attack.
Leading it was the monstrous Vieri.
But blocking him was Park Ji-sung.
Relentless tenacity, tireless work rate.
He challenged Vieri once, twice, three times in physical battles.
Even when beaten, he chased back—and finally won the ball with a tackle.
Wow! Park Ji-sung shuts down Vieri!
The ball rolled to Yoo Sang-chul.
Yoo didn't trap it—he one-touched it sideways.
The ball circulated short and sharp again, disrupting midfield.
As Italy's defense pushed the line up a fraction, Yoo's kick lofted long.
The ball arced high, dropping into the zone where Park Si-hyun faced Nesta.
The ball's long! Toward Nesta—!
Everyone assumed it was Italy's.
The ball was ahead of Park Si-hyun, half a step closer to Nesta.
Nesta had the edge, no question.
But in that instant—
Park Si-hyun charged like a madman, leaving everyone gasping.
Park... Park Si-hyun just launched himself!
Airborne, one leg fully extended.
Jump kick.
That long leg sliced through the air, nicking the floating ball first.
But Park Si-hyun didn't stop there.
He didn't just touch it—his toe instinctively pressed the ball's center, claiming it perfectly.
In that moment, the ball—as if drawn by his toe—dropped right in front of him.
