Gukppong Transfer Frenzy
The smartphone world unfolding before my eyes on the day of the Newcastle match was a complete Mo Chanhee storm, all thanks to the Gukppong transfer rumors.
Europa League group stage against Heerenveen. West Ham won 3-0, and Mo Chanhee bagged two of those goals. The media unleashed humiliating comparison articles as if they'd been waiting for this moment.
They were evaluating players based on stats. Praising Mo Chanhee's finishing as world-class, describing his goals like he was some hero from a chaotic era. Hero from a chaotic era? I got curious about just how good it really was, so I watched the footage.
First goal. Jarrod Bowen dismantled three defenders with pass work and dribbling from the halfway line. He drew out the keeper and laid it on a platter right in front of goal.
Second goal. Mo Chanhee's mid-range shot deflected off a defender, and Bowen brilliantly followed it up. Bowen disrupted the box again, pulling all the defensive eyes, and Mo Chanhee tapped in the loose ball with a one-touch shot.
Putting the ball in the net is good, sure. But exaggerating it is the problem. No matter how much they hype it, a player's class doesn't change.
I set the phone down.
The praise for Mo Chanhee had already entered religious territory. The few fans mentioning Bowen's contributions were branded Rion simps or traitors and mob-lynched into hiding.
The masses don't care about complex tactics or processes. They just frenzy over names and numbers on the scoreboard, tearing down others to prop up their thirst-quenching hero.
I agreed with that judgment to some extent.
"Whether it's a tap-in or whatever, a goal's a goal."
Really, a goal is just a goal—it doesn't make football.
I swallowed a hollow laugh.
The more Mo Chanhee's fandom spiraled into madness, and the media painted me as a failed genius, the harder my resolve solidified.
The next day. After Man City's training, back at the team hotel, I watched the masses gripped by madness once more. Mo Chanhee, who twice ate off Bowen's silver platter in the Heerenveen game, had overnight become a Real Madrid recruit beyond Korea—Earth's defenders.
Journalists feverishly wielded their pens. Baseless nonsense from Don Balon hit Korea and morphed into confirmed reports. Tabloid rags like Spain's Don Balon or Defensa Central—zero credibility—had their one-line speculations spread like official announcements.
One reporter even spun a creative economy-level novel claiming West Ham wasn't neglecting Mo Chanhee but delaying renewal for massive transfer fee talks with Real Madrid.
I turned off the screen and shook my head.
Mo Chanhee to Real Madrid? Him displacing Vinicius for starter?
Football's played with feet, but the masses' attention sometimes filters through "hope" into hallucinations. Bowen's selfless runs and passes faded from public memory. All that remained: multi-goal numbers and the glamorous Real Madrid name.
Journalists fueled the hallucination; Gukppong-drunk fans labeled dissenters traitors and collabs, unleashing mad attacks.
"Whoa... glad Romano verified my Man City move first, ugh..."
I murmured softly from my cozy bed.
This public turning Mo Chanhee sacred and me traitor—why do they buy these articles as real? That's why Gukppong's the problem. Football has coaches, players, and scouts. Gukppong ignores scouts. If stats alone evaluated players, scouts wouldn't exist.
St. James' Park, Newcastle. Stepping into this hell for away teams, I eyed Newcastle's lineup. Their Isak slacked off and left for Liverpool... curious who filled the gap. Wing: Jacob Murphy? J-Cup? How big is it to be J-Cup?