Palestine Roster: New Faces, Turf Tantrums, and Ghosts of Regression
[Training Camp] The Palestine match roster announcement. New faces. Turf controversy. Memories from before my regression flashed by like a panorama. It started the same way back then. Voices screaming for freedom slowly twisted into closed-off nationalism, and Korean football ended up as an isolated Galápagos, rotting away from the world stage. The difference this time? In my past life, we 50 Million Bandwagon Fans slammed the door shut ourselves. Now, it's clueless power-mongers and those same fans locking us in with disciplinary proceedings.
Politicians overstepping boundaries. For votes, they package FIFA's warnings as foreign pressure, dragging the pitch into the mud.
"History's trying damn hard to repeat itself."
I felt a bit hard done by. Don't regressors usually get some system or cheat skill to avoid the bullshit? Why'd I just get memories? Sure, having them is a huge edge, and looking back, my life's flipped almost completely from my past one. Yeah, regression's straight-up OP. So, back to now—how to stop this looping history... It's still just a warning, but one more step and it's real sanctions. Banned from internationals. K League isolation. Similar but the same Galápagos rot—I already lived through how horrific the end is.
What I can do right now isn't out-arguing politicians and agitators. Only prove it on the field. The upcoming Palestine match. Win that, and we can plan the next move.
Of course, the masses will sneer, "Duh, weak opponent, of course we won," or if we lose, "Blame the association!" and burn the whole sport down. No choice now. Win to survive.
A few days later, Coach Yoon Seungwoo, fresh from European talks with the overseas players, finally dropped the Palestine match squad list.
The top of the list had the usual suspects.
My name, midfield anchors Bong Hyeoksu and Tak Go-gang, and... Mo Chanhee. Figures he wouldn't be left out. Star player, first Korean to set Premier League records. Flashes brilliant goals now and then. To fans fixated on highlight-reel results, he's the perfect hero. Yoon Seungwoo's under fire already—if he boldly benches Mo Chanhee now, that's trouble. Those unhinged fans worship him as their icon, the embodiment of National Pride High. Cut him? They'd riot.
Scrolling down slowly, my eyes stopped on one name.
"Huh?"
I rubbed them. That quirky guy from the K League All-Star friendly. Jang Kangcheol. Yeah, him. After that match, digging into him revealed tons of chatter. Peak was the economic controversy. Amid small talk about soaring exchange rates tanking the economy, his legendary quote popped up.
"Exchange rate? Just make it drop. Government says, 'From today, 1,000 won!' Done. Why complicate life?"
His pure(?) take that the gov could just decree it lower birthed the ironic nickname "Economic Genius Jang Kangcheol" on communities, sparking debate and laughs.
His vibe cracked me up. While everyone's bleeding over FIFA sanctions and hearings, he's in his own world, sunny as ever.
"They actually picked this guy?" Sure, his performance was national team level. I wondered why he hadn't been called up before. Yoon Seungwoo saw it too? He was K League coach then, so yeah. But the Yoon we know is the guy from the Brazil World Cup mess a decade ago. I'm not judging him by stale standards, but biases exist. Wild pick. Explains his K League double championship. Would a foreign coach scout Jang Kangcheol that fast? Roster's otherwise same old. Early days, I guess...
"Anyway, national team's gonna be fun."
I swiped to the next screen with a sly grin.
Teammates trickled into the training ground.
Coach Yoon Seungwoo watched us with a stonier face than usual. FIFA warning, political pressure, agitators yapping outside. Heavy load for a coach.
Mo Chanhee, oblivious or not, chattered excitedly with Ha Dohyeon and Park Jeongu. Mostly bitching about K League conditions.
Ha Dohyeon scowled at Mo Chanhee. "K League turf is fucking trash. Ball bounces anywhere."
Mo Chanhee shot back with his trademark chill grin. "If the turf sucks, just think it doesn't. That's pro life."
Hmm...
Overhearing, I pondered. Technically, not self-hypnosis but overcoming shit conditions without excuses—that's pro mindset. We conquer it.
Contextually sound. But from Mo Chanhee? Zero conviction. Wonder if he'd shrug off real errors in a match like that. Who knows.
Least I won't blame the turf one bit.
I grew up broke. While kids joined fancy youth clubs with proper pitches, I had no cash—kicked balls on rough dirt. No cleats. Even if we could afford, I couldn't ask. Poor kids wise up fast. Sad but real. Knew home was struggling; couldn't whine for cleats when becoming a pro was iffy. Grateful for three meals, not starving.
Post-training, my beat-up shoes always full of sand. Routine: flip 'em, shake out. Friends asked why no cleats. Knew I'd get teased, so lied. "Don't need 'em, still better than you punks." Acted cocky. Actually was good. Seeing classmates' shiny fluorescent kicks hung up: "You got 'em and still suck? Gimme." Twisted envy. Flashy pro designs everywhere. CR7s Ronaldo bragged about. Dude's still playing? Same age as Aspas? Nah, two years older. Ignored the boasts, shook sand from socks, class. Sucks thinking back. Not the past—these clueless armchair soccer hacks, game-taught noobs calling me old guard, Yoon lackey, association shill, YouTube rabble-rousers Park Hamsu, Mundre. Fucking...
Now? Loaded. No flashy spender. Overflowing cash, house, cars. No parents to show. Family? Gone. Same as past life—both dead.
Soccer's talent. Dirt or mudflat, doesn't matter. Kicking's innate. Rolled in dirt, bloomed my gift.
Elites walked cushions; I proved it in the muck.
To me, turf excuses are luxury. No formal training, no support—yet here in the national kit. Grateful as fuck.
No excuses.
Turf wrecked? Crowds calling us traitors? Whatever. Like shaking sand from dirt days, focus on the ball ahead.
Mo Chanhee ain't wrong. Prove it. You, me.
Palestine match soon. No time for turf gripes or polls. Win with skill, flip the narrative.