Chapter 86
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Silver Dragon
Chapter: 86
Chapter Title: How Do You Stop a Serious Park Si-hyun?
-----------------------------------------------------------------
With the Germany match looming, Coach Guus Hiddink's worries ran deeper than ever.
Late at night, in a quiet conference room.
The monitor endlessly rewound and replayed Germany's match footage, its light flickering across Hiddink's fatigue-worn face.
His eyes were bloodshot, but his gaze never wavered for a moment.
'Center the midfield around Si-hyun and Sun-hong... Balance it with Sang-chul and Ji-sung... Stability and attack on the flanks with Chun-soo and Chong-gug. Not bad. Really not bad.'
But that was just "not bad."
"Can we beat Germany with this tactic?"
Hiddink couldn't easily nod at the question.
Something felt off. There was definitely a gap somewhere. This setup was missing a key piece.
It wasn't just tactical—it was the crucial element that would complete the team's balance.
If other teams had overwhelming strengths in one position, he could counter them easily.
But Germany was different. They had no weaknesses. The very concept didn't apply.
Up top: Klose and Neuville.
Midfield: Ballack and Schneider.
And in goal: Oliver Kahn, the only goalkeeper to win a Golden Ball.
The squad leading Germany's golden generation.
Hiddink bit his lip.
He admitted it.
"Yeah, this won't be easy."
Korea had won so far by exploiting opponents' weaknesses. Piercing them with Park Si-hyun's sharp spearhead to break through. But Germany wouldn't even give that spear an opening.
No matter how many times he reviewed their footage, there wasn't a single "aha" moment.
Precisely calculated movements. Machine-like organization. If someone was missing, the system filled the gap perfectly.
'I need a crack...'
Hiddink quietly closed his eyes.
In soccer, a "crack" wasn't someone who outanalyzes the opponent—it was the unexpected move that topples their tactical balance.
He sketched and erased dozens of formations in his mind, searching for that crack.
'What if I do this...'
Sususuk—
Sometimes shifting Si-hyun to the center, sometimes pulling Sun-hong to the wing.
But no matter the combinations, the perfect picture wouldn't form.
As dawn deepened, a scene quietly but intensely flashed through Hiddink's mind.
A player in white bursting from deep in the defensive line, storming down the touchline like a storm. Then, amid heavy breaths, a fierce cross soaring high.
Hiddink's eyes slowly opened.
A faint smile crept onto his lips for the first time in ages.
"That's it... That was the missing piece."
He'd twisted the framework dozens of times, searching for the crack.
But he'd been trapped in the biggest framework of all: fixed positions.
His gaze slowly swept the tactical board.
Among the densely written names, his eyes stopped at one spot.
And after a brief silence—
A red pen glided firmly over one name.
'Cha Du-ri.'
In that instant, a perfect picture finally formed in Hiddink's mind.
He set down the pen at once and began transferring his vision to the board, standing before it.
Erasing, drawing, erasing again... Time passed, and the fateful Germany match arrived.
Seoul World Cup Stadium.
Revered as the heart of South Korea, it was packed with more fans than any match before.
As the players finished warming up and entered the locker room, Hiddink walked slowly toward them.
"Germany is different from any team we've faced. Their organization is honestly tighter than ours. We have to admit that. But admitting it isn't defeat—it's what lets us fill our gaps, grow stronger, and win."
As his words ended, the wall-mounted tactical board showed today's starting lineup.
South Korea's best 11, confirmed for the Germany clash.
And the most eye-catching name: Cha Du-ri.
This was his first start in the World Cup. Not as a forward, but as a fullback.
The locker room air shifted subtly.
Cha Du-ri stared at Hiddink in surprise.
"Coach, you don't mean... for real?"
Hiddink nodded slowly. A peculiar smile played on his lips.
"Yes, Cha Du-ri. Your role today is the 'Willy Sagnol role.' You studied it, right?"
Cha Du-ri was speechless. Days ago, Hiddink had called him aside, shown footage of Bundesliga's top fullback from Bayern Munich, Willy Sagnol, and made him mimic the movements all day.
Back then, he'd thought it half-joking, just to ease tension.
A psychological drill to make a forward feel a fullback's runs firsthand.
"Strong physique, tireless stamina, winger speed. You're faster and stronger than Sagnol. The issue was experience. But what I saw on the training pitch? You showed more talent as a fullback than a forward. Honestly, I can't understand why you've been playing up top all this time."
Hiddink's voice rang firm.
Cha Du-ri bowed his head briefly.
He couldn't find words.
In his silence, the other players knew why.
His famous father's name.
Cha Bum-kun.
A legend of Korean soccer.
The first to shatter Europe's walls alone.
Behind him trailed the nickname "Brown Bomber" and Korea's soccer pride.
And now, his son faced the same Germany.
Hiddink knew it well.
He paused to catch his breath, looking at Cha Du-ri.
"Brown Bomber... Incredible in Germany. Overwhelming physique, speed, dribbling, shooting—he was the complete textbook. If he'd had an environment free of hardship, focused solely on soccer, he'd be a myth, not just a legend."
Cha Du-ri's lips trembled faintly.
"...That's why I wanted to be like my father."
"No!!"
Hiddink's sharp retort drew all eyes to his lips.
"You are not the Brown Bomber."
His voice was firm, yet warm.
"You are Cha Du-ri."
Hiddink stepped closer to him.
"Play your soccer. I don't think your talent falls short of the Brown Bomber's at all. Don't chase his shadow. Build higher, your own way."
The locker room fell silent. Players held their breath. Cha Du-ri gripped his fists, head down.
His eyes wavered, then hardened with resolve.
Hiddink noted it, then continued softly.
"Today, you're not just a fullback. You're the hidden crack that will shatter Germany. Oh, and Sung-min will direct your defensive positioning and line adjustments—listen closely."
"Yes..."
"What's with the quiet voice, man? Did you hear me?!"
"YES, SIR!!!"
Hiddink smiled at the shout. He turned, eyeing each player.
"Win. If you do, I'll stake my name on giving you what you want most."
Players' eyes lit up.
Hiddink steadied his breath, resolute.
"I hear every Korean man must serve in the military. I promise: win, and I'll personally secure exemption exemptions. Show that level of skill. Fight like your lives depend on it!"
The locker room erupted.
Military exemption.
Those words made every Korean man's heart race.
Even Park Si-hyun, who knew the outcome, grinned widely.
"Now go. Smash the gate to the finals—the first Asian finals, no, championship. Claim it boldly."
"YES, SIR!!!"
Players burst from the locker room, lining up with Germany in the tunnel.
Cheers poured down on the entering players.
After the anthems, they took positions. The referee's whistle blew, starting the World Cup semifinal.
Today's South Korea tactics stunned the commentators.
Even special commentator Cha Bum-kun felt it.
[South Korea sticks to 4-4-2 today, but surprisingly, former forward Cha Du-ri is at fullback. Coach Cha Bum-kun, your thoughts?]
The camera caught Korea's legend, Cha Bum-kun.
He chose his words carefully, then spoke shortly and firmly.
[I have one thing to say: trust Coach Hiddink. There's a reason he put Du-ri there.]
His words were calm, but his fingertips trembled faintly.
As a father, he knew better than anyone.
How hard his son Cha Du-ri had it under his name, his shadow.
He prayed silently.
'Do well, Du-ri... Today, shine not as my son, but as yourself.'
The stadium was already packed with countless fans.
Korea vs. Germany—but it was more than a national matchup.
Fans from around the world filled the stands with red waves and white flags.
A match the whole world watched.
All eyes focused here.
Then it happened.
Just before kickoff, a familiar giant's shadow approached me.
"Hey."
A low, heavy voice.
Before me stood Germany's wall, goalkeeper Oliver Kahn.
His presence was symbolic in itself.
In the goalkeeper position, he was nearly godlike.
And that spot? It was my target.
Precisely: when people think striker, Park Si-hyun should be the first name.
"Hey."
I replied shortly.
Kahn scanned me with his usual stoic face, then spoke low.
"Bigger than I thought. Do your best. I'm not like the keepers you've faced."
Provocation.
Clear as day.
Normally, I'd fire back harder.
But not today.
'Sorry, but no time for banter now.'
This was my stage to prove.
Not with words—with skill.
A pure head-on clash, no fouls, no provocations allowed.
One thing I'd show:
Park Si-hyun's soccer. Park Si-hyun's class.
So I answered short and sure.
"Good. Save well. The better you are, the brighter I shine."
Today's me wasn't the usual Park Si-hyun.
Today's me was serious Park Si-hyun.
And no goalkeeper in the world could stop serious Park Si-hyun.
Why?
'Because even gods can't stop serious Park Si-hyun.'