Final Jordan Tune-Up: Water, Banter, and Madrid Pipe Dreams
The final grind before the Jordan match. Amid the chatter about Real Madrid's non-EU quota, Tak Go-gang handed us some water.
"Whoa, Go-gang's got that sense. Real smooth."
I took the cold water bottle from Tak Go-gang and praised him overly dramatically. He just smiled quietly and passed bottles to Bong Hyeoksu and Jinu too. Lately, his movements had that distinctly European chill to them. Come to think of it, the national team vibe felt less stuffy, like the old hierarchy was fading. Maybe that's why everyone looked so much more at ease. Wasn't this the real power of team atmosphere?
The relaxed mood had a lot to do with Yoon Seungwoo cracking down on discipline, but I'd been chipping away at Mo Chanhee's overbearing attitude even before that.
I took a big swig and tossed out casually,
"Hey Go-gang, how'd your Champions League draw turn out? You guys drew Man City first match—must've gotten screwed with the big teams, right?"
Go-gang wiped sweat with his towel and replied,
"We got a tough draw this time. Playing Chelsea too."
Then he glanced at Bong Hyeoksu, who was drinking nearby, and added,
"Oh, hyung. Looks like we meet in the Champions League? Lucky, I guess?"
Bong Hyeoksu nearly spat out his water and turned his head. The image of Go-gang calling a Chelsea matchup "lucky" was pretty damn amusing.
I chimed in, chuckling,
"Whoa, epic. Go-gang, Chelsea's nothing special these days. Think they'd beat Man City?"
"This punk again."
Bong Hyeoksu furrowed his brow and glared at me, but I kept going without a care.
"League phase changes and now all kinds of shit happens. Back in the day, they'd lump us in one group and bitch about it, but now PSV's gotta face Man City and Chelsea at once?"
"Exactly. But Chelsea seems doable at least."
Go-gang dropped the savage line deadpan. And the dude seemed serious. Bong Hyeoksu burst out laughing in disbelief.
"Doable? You go to the Netherlands and your balls grew or what?"
I savored the vibe and said,
"Love it. Go-gang rags on Hyeoksu-hyung in the Champions League, Hyeoksu-hyung gets owned by me in the league. Perfect food chain."
"I've got seniority though."
I shrugged lightly at Bong Hyeoksu's grumble. Man City had been holding Chelsea pretty well defensively lately—that was my confidence talking.
"Even a draw would be a win."
We picked up the ball again. The Champions League draw chat went beyond light teasing—it reignited that pride in the three of us standing at the scorching hot center of Korean football right now.
Heading out from the training pitch, I spotted a group walking ahead. Mo Chanhee in the middle, with Park Jeongu and Ha Dohyeon glued to his sides.
As we got closer, their conversation sharpened into focus.
"Chanhee-ya, I heard you're heading to Real Madrid these days. Saw the articles—pretty specific stuff. What's the deal?"
Park Jeongu asked excitedly. Mo Chanhee scratched the back of his head like he was embarrassed, but the smug grin leaking from his lips gave him away.
"Nah, there's something, but... I dunno, it's all my agent's thing."
Playing dumb while looking thrilled to death inside. It was pathetic—I couldn't help but snort. Then Ha Dohyeon piled on.
"But if the domestic press is hyping it this hard, there must be something real, right? Real Madrid's a whole other level."
"Nah, no clue."
Mo Chanhee denied it again, but his voice dripped with excitement like he was already buckled into business class on a Madrid flight. That's when Park Jeongu dropped some specifics.
"Hey Dohyeon-ah. But it kinda lines up. Real's got some non-EU quota spots open lately. All those Brazilian kids grabbing Spanish citizenship freed 'em up."
"For real? Shit, then this is legit blowing up."
Ha Dohyeon's eyes went wide. Mo Chanhee waved it off like he knew zilch, but his shoulders were already towering over the Eiffel Tower.
I trailed behind, watching the circus unfold. Unreal.
Damn... life's gotten so easy for some.
Real Madrid. Do they think it's some neighborhood pickup game?
The guys rooming next door to me—fighting for spots at Man City, and if called, they go. That's the caliber. And Mo Chanhee thinks he slots right in there?
Non-EU spot open? Like it's a convenience store shelf with room for one more pack of gum. If Real left that spot empty, it's to snag one of the world's ultra-elite prospects, not just toss in some Korean dude.
Media games have limits. Mo Chanhee knows it deep down. He's just soaking up the hero treatment.
Reality's a bitch. If he'd locked eyes with Bellingham or Vinicius in the Champions League, he wouldn't spout this crap. If he goes to Real, I'll start protesting for a Ballon d'Or tomorrow.
Hotel room. My roommate for this camp was the maknae, Jinu.
He was face-down on the bed, staring holes into his smartphone. The screen was plastered with those Mo Chanhee Real Madrid transfer rumor articles from training.
After hesitating forever, Jinu glanced at me and spoke up.
"Hyung, but for real... You think Real Madrid's actually taking Chanhee-sunbae? Domestic communities and articles are treating it like a done deal."
I was leaning back against the headboard when the question hit—I cracked up, clutching my stomach and laughing for ages. Jinu blinked in confusion at my hysterics.
"Yah Jinu-ya. When'd you get such killer comic timing? This is gold."
"No, hyung... I was dead serious. With the domestic media going nuts and specifics leaking, I just wondered."
His innocent puppy eyes made me laugh harder. I sobered up, locked eyes with him seriously, and asked,
"You know what that non-EU quota Dohyeon was yapping about earlier?"
"Uh... Kinda. Like a limit on non-European players, right?"
I nodded and broke it down step by step.
"Spot on. La Liga allows exactly three. Spots for non-EU nationals. But you get what those spots mean at a club like Real Madrid? It's a bloodbath where the world's top Brazilian and Argentine geniuses fight to the death. Vinicius, Rodrygo—they held those until they got citizenship. Think Mo Chanhee squeezes in there?"
Jinu swallowed hard. I hammered the nail in with one more question.
"Yah, you know Kubo, Japan's Messi? The Sociedad guy."
Jinu nodded. "Of course. Japan's top talent. But he couldn't stick and fully transferred to Sociedad. Lack of skill?"
No Korean would miss Kubo.
I wagged my finger and shook my head.
"Nah, not a skill issue. The real reason Kubo couldn't play for Real? That non-EU quota. Know Real's non-EU roster back then?"
I ticked them off on my fingers.
"Militao, Vinicius, Rodrygo. All Brazilian, all irreplaceable cores. La Liga caps at three non-EU—and those monsters were glued to 'em."
Jinu's jaw dropped. "Whoa... lineup's insane. So Kubo?"
"Even if Kubo killed it in preseason and loans, no dice. For Real to register him, they'd have to drop or sell one of Militao, Vinicius, Rodrygo. Would you? Experiment with a Japanese prospect and bench core starter Vinicius?"
Jinu shook his head vigorously. "Hell no. That's like shooting the owner."
"Exactly. Kubo had the skill but hit that wall—four years of loans before bailing."
Jinu nodded. "Kubo's even more gutting. Their citizenship with Spanish authorities dragged, bumping him. He saw no future and left Real. Then a month later, Vinicius and crew get citizenship—spots open. Gut-wrenching: quota blocked him out, he leaves, then it frees up."
I sank deeper into the bed and added,
"Now back to Mo Chanhee. Say Real freed spots with Brazilian citizenships. Why leave 'em empty? To hook the next Vinicius-level freak from anywhere. Not snag some Asian marketing gimmick. They let go of Japan's genius early—think they'd chase marketing now? Kubo was younger; doesn't count."
Jinu's face went slack, reality sinking in.
"Hearing you... yeah, total BS. Domestic media's just writing fanfic."
"That's info asymmetry. Insiders scoff; outsiders get hope-tortured. Chanhee knows inside too. Just drunk on the fawning."
I flicked off the light and dropped the final line.
"Jinu-ya, skip domestic news if you can. Especially Real Madrid crap. Sleep. Get thrashed by Jordan tomorrow, and there won't be a 'tomorrow'—let alone Real."