The Nation's Call (Not the Army) (Part 1)
Aren't there players like that still playing in Europe instead of here in Korea?
Graham Porter clamped his hand over his mouth as he watched the match.
Originally, he'd lost a debate with his assistant coach and had been half-forced to come to Korea— a place that had never even crossed his mind— to watch the opening match.
Well, there were probably articles back home in Sweden too, so let's just build a good image as the national team coach who's putting in the effort, he thought, his mind filled with such rationalizations.
Once the game kicked off and Seoul scored first, those thoughts only grew stronger.
"Tsk tsk. The coach still has a lot to learn."
In Porter's eyes, Gimpo's coach's strategy seemed a bit reckless. No matter how much Gimpo's defense was their weak point, they needed more variety in their counterattack routes.
But Gimpo's coach had funneled every counterattack route straight to Olmunt, as if he were a player greater than the team itself.
Just as that doubt crept in, around the 15th minute of the first half, Gimpo— who had been pinned back— launched their first counter.
In that instant, Olmunt deftly controlled the ball, shrugged off the charging Ethan Ross in a shoulder-to-shoulder battle, and slotted home the equalizer with a gorgeous chip shot.
"Whoa!" "Damn...!"
Porter kept gasping in admiration at Olmunt's play, but realizing this was Seoul's home stadium, he hurriedly covered his mouth again.
There was a limit to how much leeway foreigners got— sharp glares were starting to gather from all around.
Ethan Ross. Porter had looked him up since he'd be facing Olmunt. A top mercenary in the Korean league, good enough for a bottom-table spot in one of the big five European leagues.
Watching Olmunt's play, Coach Porter wondered.
Could that guy beat Ilya Zavarny, who's tearing it up at Paris Saint-Germain right now?
At the very least, the thought crossed his mind.
At least, he seemed like he'd hold up better than Sweden's current attack line, with Isaac injured and Jokeres' form all over the place.
As the game wore on, Gimpo's— no, Olmunt's attacks grew even fiercer, relentlessly threatening Seoul.
Just moments ago, he'd casually taken a pass from Gimpo's winger and nutmegged the ball between Velvez's legs, sending the defender tumbling.
How the hell is a player like that still here?
He'd lost count of how many times that thought had run through his head.
Seoul managed to take the lead again afterward, but Olmunt quickly equalized once more, resetting the scoreline to a deadlock.
Beep! Beep bweeep!
The moment the first half ended, Porter set down his half-eaten yakisoba and rushed outside to make a call.
"Damn it, you were right! That guy's insane. We need to call him up now."
"Whoa... that good? He was solid in the games I saw, sure."
"Hell yeah! I'd bet everything he heads to a European league next season."
Even the assistant coach who'd recommended Olmunt sounded stunned by Porter's enthusiasm.
"We'll watch the second half too, but even just the first half is enough to convince me. Let's go with him. Tell the association and the staff."
"How the hell has a player like that flown under the radar this long? What the hell is the association thinking?"
Porter grumbled, stuffing his mouth with yakisoba.
Unaware if cameras had caught the moment and broadcast it.
**
"Everyone did great. Now it's a one-goal game. Back to the original plan. They won't give us space like before. Let's just do what we do best!"
"Yes, sir!"
With a roaring cheer, the second half was about to begin.
The first half had been a bit unexpected. More precisely, Ethan Ross. Now I got why he was so popular in Jordan.
If it had been anyone else instead of Ethan Ross, I'd have bagged four goals by now.
I glanced at Ethan Ross. He shot me a look of wounded pride.
Which made sense— in the end, I'd beaten him.
Seoul's coach Kim Gi-yeol had dropped the line deeper at halftime, abandoning the aggressive setup.
From Ethan Ross's perspective, he probably thought they were switching to a defensive tactic because he couldn't handle me. And he wasn't entirely wrong.
So the "Hero Olmunt" plan had achieved its modest goals and wrapped up.
What could I do if the demon king suddenly raised his guard? Time for an all-out war.
And honestly? I liked it this way. It was my chance to show off my linking play.
Surprisingly, Gimpo's biggest weakness was in midfield.
Kim Donghan and Yoo Dojin weren't exactly build-up specialists. Coach Nam Suhyeon's style pushed the wingers up into a 4-2-4 in attack.
Combined, that made them vulnerable on counters. And with Yoon Chaewoo— their solid defender— gone, every expert had pointed it out.
Was Kim Gi-yeol dropping the line to fight harder in midfield?
But my linking DNA had fired up, and I wasn't about to roll over easily.
At the same time, Lee Minjae kept underlapping, swelling our midfield numbers to four.
Caught off guard as their expected midfield battle crumbled, Seoul looked rattled.
No surprise there. Press Joo Yong-hyeon, and Lee Minjae or Shim Ji-ho steps up. Give me the ball loosely, and I slip the press.
Dominating Seoul Dongdaemun FC in midfield opened up more chances for me.
Taking a short pass from Jinho hyung, I twisted into a Marseille turn to shake off the onrushing marker.
After a quick one-two with Joo Yong-hyeon to peel off the Spanish merc Eric, I stabbed a deep ball to the infiltrating Jae-hyeon hyung.
Jae-hyeon hyung took it and effortlessly stepped over the inexperienced-looking fullback with a step-over before whipping in a cross.
I'd timed it perfectly, arriving a beat late into the box.
With Velvez instead of Ethan Ross to deal with— Ethan knew my power, but Velvez hadn't experienced it yet.
While Paulo tangled fiercely with Ethan Ross, I sprinted in, shoved Velvez aside, and nodded home the header.
"Urgh!"
Velvez hit the deck as Seoul's net rippled.
The players protested to the ref about a foul, but he shook his head and allowed the goal.
Velvez took it coolly too.
"What the hell are you made of, rocks?"
He clutched his shoulder in pain, but still.
After that, it was back-and-forth chaos as we traded chances, but no more goals came.
Which meant we won.
First win in the first division, first away win, first opening match victory— all in one go.
"Kinda stumbled into it, but me being the hero of Gimpo's first top-flight win? Wild."
I didn't bother saying, But you only played three minutes, Min-su.
As I turned to leave, someone tapped my shoulder. I looked back to see Ethan Ross, the guy I'd clashed with endlessly today.
"You were good out there."
"You too. Are all top-flight Korean defenders this tough?"
"Heh heh. Nah, I'm just a cut above."
For a guy with a warrior's look, Ethan Ross was surprisingly affable.
"Anyway. See you again?"
"Yeah. Probably next match?"
"Huh? I meant the World Cup. It doesn't make sense a player of your caliber isn't called up."
I stared at him blankly in confusion, and he got flustered.
"W-wait... where are you from?"
"Sweden."
Another beat of silence followed my answer.
"Sorry."
"What the hell did you take me for?"
"Some grizzled Eastern European vet striker. Wait, you're mid-20s? How are you still not in Europe with plays like that?"
That would make sense.
No, why a grizzled vet? I moisturize every night.
"Suddenly got good last season?"
"Pfft. You expect me to buy that?"
"It's true."
I couldn't exactly go full throttle with the story, so I wrapped up the chat, swapped jerseys, and moved on.
My homeland Sweden was barely scraping into playoffs anyway, the vibe was off, basically out.
Handshakes with the opposing fans, quick thanks and after-party with ours, then back to the locker room.
Come to think of it, I'd forgotten there was a World Cup this year. No one from our team would get called up anyway.
North American World Cup... nice, time for a break?
Should suggest we all cheer for Korea together.
**
The bus ride back was a bit glum.
Seoul's star defender Ethan Ross stared blankly out the window.
He'd shopped around for Europe this season, with the World Cup looming and dreams of a bigger stage.
But the offers hadn't panned out, so he stayed with Seoul.
He'd thought there was no more growth here, but he'd met a worthy opponent. One more season in Seoul wouldn't hurt.
Leo Olmunt. First attacker in the Korean league he couldn't overwhelm.
Would've been nice to see him at the World Cup too. Shame.
Looked like some aging Eastern European vet, Dex-style.
White guys do age fast, Ethan mused, glancing around before pulling out his phone.
Habitually checking Korean soccer news, a familiar face popped up on Ethan Ross's screen.
Thumbnail on the left: Olmunt. Right: Porter. Even without Korean, thumbnails spoke volumes.
Porter? The guy who bombed hard at Chelsea? Where's he at now? Sweden national team?
Ethan Ross's brain kicked into overdrive. Faster than ever, he fired up the web translator for the headline.
He got the gist, even if it mangled a bit.
"Ha. Knew it."
The bastard had bluffed him. No wonder he played it so cool. Must've gotten the heads-up from Porter already.
World Cup or league rematch, I'll make him pay.
Ethan vowed, staring out the window.
The same moment, Olmunt stared out his window too.
"Hey! Coach Porter watched our game?"
"Huh?"
"This means you're getting called up, right? Isaac or Toast or whatever's injured now."
"Ugh. For real."
Before Olmunt could finish the article, the bus erupted.
"Captain's going international!"
"Ditching us for Europe!"
"World Cup then big leagues!"
"Olmunt! Olmunt! Olmunt!"
"Yar! Yar! Yar!"
He couldn't bear to look inside, so he kept staring out the window. But that didn't block the madness ringing in his ears.
How had Gimpo turned into a Viking horde wearing a pro club's skin?
Clueless if he was the culprit, Olmunt gazed out the window the whole ride back to Gimpo, sighing.