Ties (4)
As anyone who watches soccer knows, tactics in a match always shift organically.
Sudden injuries force substitutions, you have to counter the opponent's setup, and as time wears on, the players' stamina starts to flag...
For all sorts of reasons, the initial game plan set at the start inevitably differs from the tactics midway through once things get rolling.
In other words, you can roughly gauge how effective Plan A is within the first 15 minutes or so.
After that, both coaches tweak their strategies based on the flow of the game, the opponent's tactics, and their team's situation.
With few injury concerns and stamina still high, players execute the tactics most effectively right at the kickoff.
Think of it like the moment you play your first hand in rock-paper-scissors. Win here, and just like gaining the advantage in RPS, you seize early control of the match.
And right now, Gimpo Green UTD believes we've won that opening gambit.
Defying everyone's expectations from the early going, we were overwhelming Suwon Red Motors.
It meant our specialty was working perfectly against them.
Kim Heemun, overlapping upfield, exchanged passes with Captain Chaewoo. Then Chaewoo passed it back to Heemun and accelerated down the wing.
The guy who'd been whining like a baby earlier was a whole different beast once the whistle blew—a rock-solid skipper.
Suwon's backline, aware of it, formed up their line, so Paulo and I stuck to the left flank, constantly shaking things up.
The moment their defenders bunched toward the left, fixated on our attacking cluster...
Kim Heemun faked a pass to Captain Chaewoo, creeping forward slyly before slipping it to the open Kvirin Moll.
Thwack!
Kvirin took it in one touch and spotted Lee Eunsang wide open on the right, firing it over.
You had to call it class. The ball dropped right at Eunsang's feet like it was magnetized.
Suwon's defense was tilted left, leaving just one fullback on Eunsang.
Our newly practiced pattern play was hitting perfectly.
Suwon's fullback marking him was a guy who'd played in the first division until last season, but he couldn't handle Eunsang in form.
With momentum, Eunsang shook him off with a simple step-over and immediately looked for space to cut back.
I read it and sprinted toward the right edge of the box. That pulled one more defender onto me.
Opening space for Paulo—and Eunsang didn't miss it.
His low, whipping cross threaded between the legs of the defender who'd followed me in.
But Paulo's timing was just a hair off.
He slid desperately till the end, going for the shot, but the ball slipped past by the thickness of a cabbage leaf.
No goal, unfortunately.
But we'd silenced the rowdy stadium vibe from the early minutes.
Hey, doesn't that mean we won the opening rock-paper-scissors?
Another chance would come soon enough.
"Argh!"
In a defensive scramble, when their foreign merc grabbed the ball, Donghan hyung ripped it away roughhouse-style.
The towering bald giant hit the deck, but Donghan didn't spare him a glance, hoofing it long to Captain Chaewoo.
And that sparked our key chance.
Captain Chaewoo burst down the left channel.
Linked perfectly to the incoming Paulo. The issue came after.
Paulo's shot met a sensational save. The keeper parried it weakly into the air.
It floated back... right to me, hanging slightly off.
Tap... tap-tap.
I nudged the loose ball into the box, but it was packed with bodies.
No good for a shot, but perfect for racking up assists. Worth a try.
With that thought, I darted through the charging defenders, weaving with fancy footwork toward the goal line.
Dribbling precariously along the edge of the box drew their focus my way.
Eyeing the keeper, I feinted a no-look shot and chipped it up.
A loopy ball arcing into the awkward gap between defenders and keeper.
At the end? Paulo, with another chance.
Smack!
Yes! It kissed Paulo's head by the corner flag. I pumped my fist.
Captain Chaewoo's had a bit of emotion in his, but hey—two more assists to go.
12 minutes into the first half; we'd get at least one more shot.
No sooner said than Eunsang lightly nutmegged their fullback on the wing.
"Olmunt!"
Then just lofted a casual cross my way.
What the hell? I often felt it—he saw me as some real Viking.
Problem was, inside this beast body was a fragile Korean. I still wasn't great at headers. More like, couldn't control the power?
Anyway, he called, so I went. Sprinted full tilt—flew, really? Barely grazed it with my head.
Would it work? It did. Instinctively calm, I nodded it into empty space where Paulo had positioned.
Suwon's defense froze—they never expected a header redirect.
Paulo tapped it home easy.
The Big Wings stadium went dead quiet for a beat as I patted Paulo, thinking, This is unfolding easier than expected?
**
"That Lee Eunsang—his greed's the issue. Second division suits him perfect."
Huddled in the musty corner of his dim room, Kang Dosik muttered at his tablet PC.
On screen: Eunsang burying his head in his hands after whiffing Olmunt's cross for a volley.
"Yeah... three assists? Like that's some neighborhood name. Harder than scoring yourself."
Caught between relief and regret, Dosik chugged his beer, watching the match.
Unlike his predictions, Gimpo was cruising dominant. At this rate, three assists seemed a lock.
His heart leaned toward accepting if Olmunt nailed it, but his head mulled excuses to refuse.
Truth was, he still wasn't sure. The arbitrary conditions, pushing Olmunt away despite no rush—it all stemmed from hating this shut-in life.
But he craved escape too. Just lacked the drive.
When Olmunt showed at his door, Dosik knew instantly: good guy.
Felt like Yoon Jongmun. That was the problem.
To Dosik, Yoon Jongmun meant layers.
The guy who'd dragged him—content just watching soccer in his room—into the club. Who crushed so hard he sparked inferiority. Who suggested other paths amid it all.
That was Yoon Jongmun.
Dosik still replayed that day often.
"Why you always just watching soccer?"
"Playing's a hassle. Sweat and all."
"Pfft. I'm joining the soccer club. Wanna?"
Dosik, who only loved spectating, sadly lacked top-tier talent.
Even all-nighters analyzing couldn't replicate their touches, passes at his feet.
"What you think's my issue?"
"Why ask me? You got no talent."
"What no talent? You wanna die? Guy always breaking down tactics, scouting foes."
"Then... time your passes quicker. You always pull 'em back."
"Got it. Next game~"
But Yoon Jongmun was different. Vague tips? Boom, showcased next match.
That's when it started. Jongmun never knew, but Dosik wanted to coach.
Input one, output ten from a player? He craved inputting that one perfectly as coach.
Even to Dosik's expert eye from endless overseas watches, Jongmun screamed future star.
The problem was that day.
"Gaaah!"
He couldn't forget. The malicious tackle. Jongmun's leg twisting grotesquely.
He recovered, but the leg stayed fragile—kept buckling post-injury.
Jongmun joined Seoul Dongdaemun FC, but injuries sidelined him, leading to second-division loans.
Still, Dosik studied hard. Believing someday he'd coach him.
Hoping his guidance could revive him.
At 25, he finally joined newbie Cheonan Skies as youngest coach. Reunited with Jongmun—but he was shattered beyond repair.
"Uh... long... time. Dosik-ah."
So Dosik pushed harder. Figured tough love, sparking anger at him, might ignite progress.
"Hey, injured again? Quit breaking."
"Ha... how shit's your conditioning?"
"What's that shot? Even a baby's got more on it."
But shock therapy flopped on broken Jongmun. Despite Dosik's efforts, he retired early.
Forever.
Dosik's dream snapped. He quit Cheonan coaching, became a wreck. Ignored parents, slowly dying.
Till some clueless strong foreigner cracked his door code.
To Dosik, Olmunt mirrored pre-ruin Jongmun. Overflowing confidence, nosy meddling.
Even over-believing Dosik's talent.
Glad to see it, hated it. This season, even technically mirroring Jongmun.
Who knew how that huge frame pulled off delicate skills like a small guy—but it did.
Olmunt was healthy Jongmun. A long-imagined vision materializing.
But paranoia crept: What if Olmunt breaks like Jongmun?
That physique said no, but inexplicably, injury flashes overlapped.
No matter how Dosik sliced it, Olmunt echoed Jongmun. Welcoming, repulsive.
Hence the three-assist condition. Healthy Jongmun could've breezed it.
And if not, occasional helpers? Fine too.
Such distractions faded as halftime ads ended, second half kicking off.
"Aw... no beer's left? Fridge empty too?"
Dosik dashed to the convenience store mid-match.
That fatal 10 minutes...
Score had shifted. Returning casual with beer, first sight: the lanky bald giant roaring.
Left corner board: 2-2. 55th minute second-half disaster.
"Three assists... he can do it, right?"
Dosik muttered in fluster at the 10-minute catastrophe.
Blind to his unconscious cheering for Olmunt.