Practice Match (1)
In the domestic soccer leagues, the average age of managers easily surpasses fifty. That's a starkly higher figure than in overseas leagues.
Why is that? Confucian culture? That rigid senior-junior hierarchy? Or maybe because everyone in this industry knows everyone else with just one degree of separation?
Probably a combination of all those factors.
And among them, Nam Suhyeon, who's significantly lowering that average at just forty, is quite the anomaly.
But Nam Suhyeon found the "youngest-ever" label slapped in front of his name more than a little grating.
"Whoa~ Look at you, Nam Suhyeon, all grown up. Feels like just yesterday you were scurrying around picking up my scraps."
Especially in moments like this.
There was a world of difference between "young Nam Suhyeon" and "manager Nam Suhyeon is young." And the irritation from that contradiction was something Nam Suhyeon was feeling all too keenly right now.
"Haha... Yeah, I guess I got lucky."
"Didn't think you had the balls to tweak tactics like that without asking. Being a manager's a tough gig, huh? I'll show you today. Just don't go crying about it."
Sim Hyeonjae, the manager of Jeju Mobiles, sneered lightly as he brushed past.
Back when Sim Hyeonjae was at Seongnam Magpie FC, Nam Suhyeon had been a coach under him. The problem was Sim Hyeonjae's old-school, overbearing personality and foul temper.
"Hey, you just handle the tactical details I tell you to, got it? Don't go playing hero and changing shit on your own."
"But against Busan K-League Land, we've got a higher win chance with a proactive style."
"Fuck this. Pack your bags and get out. Hey, Coach Park, drag this guy out."
That's how Nam Suhyeon had fled Jeju like a dog with its tail between its legs. A few years later, he'd finally landed a gig managing a fledgling university soccer team.
"Hah..."
It's just a practice match, but I want to crush them and shove it in his face.
That thought wrapped around Coach Nam Suhyeon like a shroud.
Thwack!
Watching Leo Olmunt launch another long shot into the air, Nam Suhyeon felt a twinge of regret. He had replacements on the bench like Lee Junkyung and Yoo Minsu who could step in.
He regretted starting Leo on a whim for some experiment, but the water was already spilled.
Thwack!
"Hey~ Olmunt's in top form today, huh?"
He tried to push down his worries as Leo smashed another home-run shot in training. But the coaching staff wasn't so easily reassured.
"Coach, you sure Olmunt's okay?"
"Yeah, no problem. It's the last friendly anyway. Worst case, we lose 3-1? He'll probably bag at least one. Plus, there's stuff I need to check with him."
At that moment, Nam Suhyeon had no idea how gloriously off his prediction would be.
"What the..."
Nam Suhyeon rubbed his jaw to hide his agitation, eyes fixed on the man at the center of the blue storm.
**
I can't figure out what the coach is thinking. Why start me?
Even after the whistle blew, the question lingered. By the time it might have been answered, the match was already underway.
Nothing to do now but think positive. Hell, it was a good thing—my time to prove myself had quadrupled.
My strategy for this game was simple: hold the ball with skill, not physicality.
What the coach wanted from me was one thing—keep possession and feed it up to Paulo, my partner on the two-top or wing.
So I'd endure with technique instead of brawn. I wasn't used to the rough stuff yet anyway.
But if I could protect the ball, wouldn't that make me a proper target man? I hoped the coach saw it that way.
Early on, the ball barely came my way. I hadn't even touched it once.
Partly because Jeju was dominating overall, but also because no one expected anything from me beyond my tank-like build.
The real issue was Jeju's relentless pressure—they weren't even giving us chances for long balls. Turning half-court, I glanced at Sim Hyeonjae.
The guy's personality was trash, but this dogged press was on another level. Ways to break it? Fluid link-up play or individual skill.
First, though, the ball had to come to me. Then I could do something.
Problem was, only one guy on the team trusted me enough to pass it.
But damn, was I glad he was the most reliable one here. Yoon Chaewoo was playing left fullback this match.
Thanks to him, Gimpo Green UTD's left flank was holding firm against Jeju Mobiles' onslaught.
And it paid off when Chaewoo intercepted a forced pass from Jeju's winger.
Chaewoo broke the attack and slipped a smooth one-two with Miguel to escape the press. Our eyes met briefly.
"Olmunt!"
I was already surging forward before his shout. My instincts proved right—the ball sailed my way.
I feigned a shoulder barge to fake out the defender. A bit clumsy, but my insane base strength let me claim prime position.
Then, as the ball neared, I released and spun around.
"Urk!"
The Jeju defender blocking me slipped. Exactly as planned. But he wasn't fully shaken yet.
Tap.
I chipped the awkwardly lofted ball lightly behind me. The stumbling defender overcommitted and collapsed.
A first-division team, alright? One down, and cover came instantly.
For the old Olmunt, who couldn't escape pressure, it was smart. For the new me? Easy prey.
As the chipped ball bounced, I melted the covering defender with a phantom dribble. Two down.
With their backline crumbling, I just nudged it to the onrushing Miguel.
Splat!
I figured everyone would cheer or roar after the goal. At least some applause.
But looking around, they were all stunned. Even Miguel, who'd taken my pass, gawked at the ball and me alternately.
Paulo broke the silence.
"Dude... you fucking insane or what? Do that for me too!"
His yell lit the fuse—everyone piled on, ruffling my hair and pounding my back. Wait, Miguel scored—why beat on me?
Still, it felt good. In my old body, I'd have been injured for sure. Hell, I'd gotten hurt celebrating before...
After my assist for the opener, the game flowed easier. A bit cocky, but the team was starting to trust me.
Ground passes finally came my way, swinging momentum.
I stayed high up, breaking presses. Probably my intimidating physique kept Jeju defenders at bay.
Good for now. It'd cover my weaknesses even after the league started.
Anyway.
Not what the coach intended, but I was holding the ball. This time too.
I tapped short feints, creating space—not for me, but for Paulo.
Dragging two defenders my way was inevitable. I chipped it to Paulo sprinting down the right flank for a cross or cutback.
My job? A dummy run.
Fake a penetration to pull defenders away.
"Hey! Hey!"
I bellowed loud on purpose as I burst forward. Remembering my earlier nutmeg, Jeju's backline flinched.
They couldn't resist—they followed me.
Paulo calmly fed the trailing Miguel, who buried it.
Splat!
Miguel slotted it hard into the corner. Practice match, so just high-fives, no wild celebrations.
The opener had been weird even for them—Olmunt breaking through?
Guess I'd make it routine.
2-0. Heading back to the center circle feeling good—until a nasty voice cut through.
"Get your heads in the game! Why the hell are you spacing out on Olmunt of all people? I said ignore him! What are you lot doing wasting time on a half-assed freak with no brain or skill, just a slab of meat?!"
Sim Hyeonjae was veins bulging, bellowing at his players. The problem? Everyone heard it.
Even possessed by Olmunt, that shit stung. Not worth marking? Just meat?
My face hardened unconsciously as I walked. Then someone tapped my shoulder.
Decoy to rattle me? I turned—thank god, it was our vice-captain, Yoo Dojin.
He glanced at me stone-faced, then glared at Jeju's bench.
"Heard from Chaewoo. You get Korean okay?"
"Huh?"
"Ignore that crap. Want revenge? Score on 'em."
Dojin shot one last icy stare at Jeju's bench before strolling back. Their side went dead quiet, like they'd felt the freeze.
Even Sim Hyeonjae flinched. Weak against the strong, strong against the weak—what a pathetic prick.
Dojin was your standard second-division midfielder on paper. Multi-role, could play defense too.
But that charisma made him special. I'd heard stories, but ally-side? Comforting as hell.
The foul mood evaporated.
Truth was, with most of the half gone, I hadn't shot once. Partly my link-up focus, but mostly no aim yet.
So I'd held back.
One wild Mount Halla eruption shot and I'd be toast.
But now? Mind changed. Wanted to stick it to Sim Hyeonjae.
Mid-range was iffy, but time to test shots. Wasn't planning zero anyway.
Decision made, opportunity knocked.
One-touch from Dojin, I surged into the half-space between flank and center—tough to defend.
Miguel nutmegged one with Brazilian flair, fed Dojin, who lofted long to me.
A bit overhit, but desperate times.
Whoosh!
Wind whistling past as I chased. Insane athleticism caught it, but position iffy.
Still, low and hard to the keeper's opposite side.
Ting!
Crisp strike—off the post.
Phew...
Sighing regret, I glared at the net before jogging back. Kept testing Jeju after, but no dice.
Chances came, though.
"Hey, Park Jeongtae! I said don't mark him!"
Blame Sim Hyeonjae.
Jeju's defense was no joke. Faded a bit now, but legendary lockdown for years.
They knew to mark me. But for some reason, their coach said no.
Result? Awkward positioning. Half zonal, half man—not man-marking, not zonal. Just gifts for me.
"Five minutes left! Stay sharp! Focused!"
Bench shouts rang out. Time ticking. Subbed at halftime. Last chance.
Five minutes? Two attacks easy. Stay ice-cold.
Then eyes locked with my marker, Jeju's Kim Jeongtae, a grizzled vet.
Not bad at all. Just ground down by his coach and me.
Time to use that?