Yoon Seungwoo's Knife Dance Begins
The lights at Amman International Stadium for the third round of World Cup qualifying against Jordan were glowing an especially fierce blue tonight.
"We're here live in Amman for the final qualifying match between South Korea and Jordan! Jordan tonight... they're no pushovers."
"Exactly. Jordan isn't the Middle Eastern minnow we used to know anymore. With Al-Tamari at the helm, their counterattacks are top-tier in Asia. Especially smooth in transitioning from defense to attack—if we slack off for even a second, we'll hand them space behind us."
"Right. But what's shocking fans the most today is Coach Yoon Seungwoo's lineup. Take a look on screen."
The screen showed South Korea's national team in a 4-2-3-1 formation.
"Some changes in the lineup, huh?"
"Yes! No Park Jeongu up top! Instead, the rising K League star, Kwon Dojin, makes the starting XI!"
The commentator's voice pitched up a notch.
"Park Jeongu as the lone striker was practically set in stone for the national team, but Coach Yoon Seungwoo has shattered that mold for the first time since taking over. This isn't just rotation—it's a bold statement: selections based purely on form and tactical fit."
"Seeing Park Jeongu on the bench feels so weird. But Kwon Dojin excels not just in aerial duels but in pressing too, right?"
"That's the key. He's chosen a forward who can dynamically link up with Ryu Rion's passes from midfield. Coach Yoon is stripping away name value and measuring pure combat ability—is this the start of his knife dance?"
"Hey, Jeongu hyung's face is no joke."
Following my national team teammate's mutter, I spotted Park Jeongu on the bench, biting his lip.
His expression mixed bewilderment and resentment. Hard to swallow that his guaranteed spot had gone to rookie Kwon Dojin.
I approached Kwon Dojin and tapped his shoulder.
"Dojin-ah."
"...Yeah, hyung."
His shoulder was rigid with nerves.
"Be glad this is an away game, not home."
"Huh?..."
"Away games bring out our best—don't stress. You've played youth internationals anyway. Seize the chance. You're starting 'cause you're playing better right now. You've got me and Hyeoksu hyung, plus Go-gang behind you today. Ball comes? Just bury it. No overthinking. Got it?"
Strength entered Dojin's eyes.
"Yes, hyung. I'll run till I break."
"That's right. You better."
I led him out onto the pitch.
Jordan's sandstorm?
Bring it on.
The ref's whistle blew, and Amman International Stadium erupted in scorching heat.
"First half underway! Jordan kicks off."
"Look at those eyes from Jordan early on. They'll come in hard. Asian teams always lead with rough physicality against us."
As the booth predicted, Jordan pressed ferociously from the start. Whenever our guys touched the ball in midfield, two or three Jordanians swarmed like starving beasts. Shoulder barges were standard; they'd tug jerseys from blind spots to get under our skin.
After a few scuffles, we intercepted in our half and sent it to Mo Chanhee on the left flank.
"Mo Chanhee has it! So light on his feet."
"No wonder the Real Madrid rumors! That composure—with a defender in front, zero panic."
Mo Chanhee parked the ball and dazzled with fancy footwork. Body feints like he was about to blow past, making the defender step wrong. As the Jordanian backed off tense, Mo Chanhee smirked like he'd pulled off magic, then back-passed to Jinu behind him.
"Wow! Classic Mo Chanhee! That cool head—froze the defense and picked the safest option. Pure class."
"Spot on. Pressuring mentally without forcing it—Korea soccer's treasure!"
The booth gushed, but watching from the pitch, my gut rotted. If you're passing back, why the showboating? Jinu's ball reached me quick; I lofted it forward without hesitation.
Textbook 4-2-3-1 buildup. My through ball hit Bong Hyeoksu central, one-touch to Tak Go-gang on the right. Kwon Dojin dragged two defenders into the box, creating space; Hyeoksu unleashed a vicious mid-ranger.
BAM!
"Ooh! Korea! Seamless link-up! Bong Hyeoksu shoots!"
The ball screamed toward the far corner, but Jordan's keeper dove, tipping it with his fingertips. World-class save. Jordan fans wailed from the stands.
"So close! Paper-thin margin! But the team's organic movement today is on another level."
Momentum with us, we pressed. Then another chance for Mo Chanhee. On the counter, Tak Go-gang's long switch dropped perfectly at his feet.
Thin defense numbers. I was bombing in from the opposite side; Kwon Dojin central waved for a cross. One beat quicker pass or cross, and it's a sitter.
But Mo Chanhee stalled again. Started his signature dribble rhythm.
"Ooh! Mo Chanhee's trademark dribble! Those feet—why fans go wild for him!"
"Bust one more defender, and he's gone! Trust Mo Chanhee's skill here!"
He rolled the ball side-to-side, killing tempo with the defender ahead. Meanwhile, Jordan defenders recovered positions. Perfect counter turned to stalemate. Mo Chanhee forced inside, only to get dispossessed by a rough tackle.
"Ah...! Loses it! But that's Mo Chanhee's confidence—he had to try. Jordan's tackle was borderline foul."
"Careful! Jordan counter! Tamari's off!"
Jordan snatched and transitioned lightning-fast. The hole Mo Chanhee left gaped dangerously. Their ace, Al-Tamari, blasted past halfway like a madman.
But before he penetrated deep, Bong Hyeoksu and I sealed the lane.
"Al-Tamari flies! Dangerous! Wait, what?!"
Tamari tried to turn; I read his dribble path, shouldered in to unbalance him. Simultaneously, Hyeoksu slid perfectly to nick the ball.
"Wow! Ryu Rion and Bong Hyeoksu! Perfect teamwork from the overseas duo—Jordan's storm countered in a flash!"
"Class act. Covers Mo Chanhee's lapse seamlessly. Rock solid!"
Hyeoksu passed me the ball with a grin. Panting, I glared coldly at the late-dropping Mo Chanhee and barked,
"Just circulate the damn ball quicker."
His face flushed beet red at my snap.
"I came back to defend! You think I'm not defending?!"
What a shameless prick. His voice dripped self-pity—like jogging to halfway excused losing possession.
"Hoo..."
I let out a deep sigh, deeming him unworthy of reply, and turned away. Not the time for his bullshit.
Our attack rebuilt. I linked short with Tak Go-gang central to shake pressure; ball to Bong Hyeoksu on the right wing. His immediate cross whipped sharply into the box.
"Attack resumes! Long to the middle!"
"Kwon Dojin! Perfect positioning!"
Up top, Kwon Dojin muscled past the Jordan center-back and leaped. Didn't connect cleanly, but his battle floated the ball high in front of goal again.
Mo Chanhee was right there.
"Ooh! Chance for Mo Chanhee! No one's claimed it yet!"
The Jordan defender scrambled behind Mo Chanhee to clear desperately. But Mo Chanhee fixated on the ball... then started weird contortions.
Flailing arms like he couldn't track the drop or the wind was messing it up—overly twisting away. Anyone could see: dodging contact in the duel.
Damn it all.