East Asian Cup - Korea vs China: Xi Jinping's Football Bullshit
A few days later, the second match of the East Asian Cup: Korea versus China.
Japan had just hammered China 3-0 in a light victory.
Now it was our turn.
“Let’s go, China! You absolutely cannot afford to get cocky. Just because Japan beat them doesn’t mean you’re an easy target! Under Xi Jinping’s football bullshitting policy, which is at its peak, China has poured astronomical capital into creating a complete, perfect national team power!”
“Exactly! The real essence of that football bullshitting is the lineup of naturalized players they built with insane capital! Look at China’s starting lineup today and you’ll think, is this even an Asian team?”
The commentator’s voice was trembling with excitement as the screen flashed the China national team’s best eleven lineup.
“The core of the defense, Tianya Brown, is anchoring the center firmly! In the midfield, Nico Jeneris has been pulled up to control the tempo!”
“At the front line, the Brazilian killer who’s been bombing the K League and Asian stage since his Guangzhou Evergrande days, Elkeson, and the explosion specialist Alan Carvalho who’s torn through the Champions League, along with the South American alloy Aloisio, they’re all in the attacking triangle!”
“And there’s Sérgio, Fernandinho, Enrique, Alexander Hume, Yonhou Sethér, Pedro Delgado.”
“Pedro Delgado is the first naturalized player without Chinese citizenship! Even though he’s only been with the team a short time and was a bit shaky in the Japan match, his individual skill is definitely at a high level! The question for our national team—especially the young players—today is whether we can withstand the physicality of these Brazilian mercenaries!”
What exactly is Xi Jinping’s football bullshitting policy?
A Brazilian Samba menu or whatever the hell it is.
A Brazilian-British mixed stew lineup whipped up with money.
Doesn’t it look flashy on the surface?
I’ve watched it so many times in my previous life, I know the fatal flaw of those guys who got their nationality changed after getting motivated with money like that?
They have zero patriotism toward the team.
They’re just the type who lose when they lose and win when they win.
No body-saving fighting spirit.
If injured, they never sit out, they just keep playing and the team suffers.
I wonder if Xi will finally realize the reality of this national team built with money during his second life—when they start throwing blame at each other and shatter like sand grains if things go wrong.
***
Even though I already knew, seeing the starting lineup flash across the screen made my stomach twist even more.
[SUB : Han Yideun]
‘Fuck, coach.’
A vulgar curse slipped out unconsciously.
Not even using the young rookies. That stubborn ass mentality.
No matter how much the media hyped up this twenty-one-year-old super rookie, they still kept him on the bench if he didn’t step up. That damn conservative streak doesn’t change even after I regress.
BEEEEEP—!
The whole first half was a horrific mud battlefield.
China’s money-fueled Brazilian mercenaries were just milling around lazily while our national team guys got sucked into their suffocating physical style and couldn’t unlock a single attack.
Frustrating missed passes. Meaningless back passes. And because nothing worked, the ball was forced into this U-shaped build-up on the wings.
Finally, the whistle blew for the end of the first half.
[0 : 0]
The expressions on the guys walking into the locker room were all sour, and the coach’s forehead was creased with deep wrinkles.
Only then did the desperate, blood-boiling gaze of the coach land on me sitting on the bench.
“Han Yideun. Warm up.”
If you’re gonna do that, why didn’t you use him from the start, you asshole.
I kept my inner feelings hidden and nodded politely on the outside as I pushed off the bench and stood up.
Second half started.
The moment my feet touched the ground, the electric sensation of the grass shot straight up from my toes.
‘Alright, time for a meat-slicing massacre.’
I took the ball in the center.
From far away I saw defender Brown charging like a bull, relying purely on his physicality.
I glanced to the opposite side and casually shook my shoulders to mix in some body painting.
Using the gap when Brown’s center of gravity collapsed, the movement of our starting striker was captured in slow motion as he dug into space.
Now.
PUCK—!
The ball left my foot, skimming low and fast over the grass.
A trademark through-pass slicing through the defense.
It cut perfectly between the three Chinese defenders’ legs and dropped right in front of the striker who was sprinting with that phantom-like movement.
An artistic trajectory that collapsed the offside line.
One-on-one with the keeper.
This meal has to be eaten with eyes closed.
Put it in sweetly.
CLANG—!
The ball my guy gently pushed in split China’s net cleanly.
[1 : 0]
“WOOOAAAAAHHHH!!”
The stadium erupted in a roar that shook the stands.
The striker who scored went crazy running straight at me to wrap me in a hug.
“GOOOOOOOAAALLL! It’s in!!! Korea’s first goal in the second half!!”
“Aaah!! Han Yideun! That pass just turned the entire China defense into idiots! A killer pass!”
“Who said it was just based on height? That vision and creativity moving the ball back and forth—Han Yideun is a genius attacking midfielder!”
“Kyaa, that’s a world-class through-pass you only see in big European leagues! One single pass shattered China’s Great Wall that was blocked so tight!!”
I glanced sideways at the bench from within the crowd of guys still hugging me.
The coach who’d been scowling like he’d been shitting his pants just moments ago was now pumping both fists in the air, cheering like nothing had happened.
‘If you’re gonna cheer, at least use me, you bastard.’
***
The Chinese guys, still reeling from the lead, started showing their true colors.
Where they should be passing the ball, they started kicking people. Shaolin Soccer had come to life on the pitch.
Grabbing jerseys was standard, and dirty, stud-poking tackles aimed straight at ankles rained down like garbage.
“A! China’s players are getting really rough right now! They’ve completely lost their calm after conceding the first goal!”
“Already three yellow cards for fouls! Even so, those deep tackles aren’t allowed! They’re short on team spirit!”
What the hell is this, is this football or MMA?
I had the ball in the midfield, turning to look for an outlet when a China midfielder who’d been seething all game charged straight at my planted foot like a madman.
‘Oh, you wanna step on my foot?’
I’ve been hit by dump trucks in my previous life—would a half-assed tackle scare me?
Instead of dodging, I flicked the ball aside and twisted my body to calculate the referee’s blind spot.
And then, without anyone seeing, I drove my elbow into the guy’s solar plexus coming straight at me.
BOOM—!
“GYAHHHH!!”
Along with a death-rattle scream, the China player tumbled onto the grass.
Gripping his stomach, he rolled around the pitch screaming in pain.
“Eh? The China midfielder is complaining about pain and collapsing, right?”
“Want to see the replay? Ah… Han Yideun kept possession and the back was turned, but the China player rushed in alone and collided, then overcommitted and fell!”
“Hollywood action, right? The referee saw it perfectly. No foul, stay in play!”
I flashed both hands up toward the referee with an innocent, aggrieved expression.
‘I was standing still, that bastard came and rammed into me!’
The referee, looking at my clear, sparkling eyes and that ridiculously handsome aggrieved face, simply declared play-on.
As expected, a pretty face carries its own credibility.
Hehe.
The match continued with my small revenge, but a China player who’d lost his mind came flying at our Korean defender, both feet raised.
WHAM—!
“Dangerous tackle!!”
“This isn’t right! It’s a clear assassination tackle! He came in with both feet raised, completely unrelated to the ball!”
The bench coach and everyone else jumped out the second they saw the brutal ankle-twisting foul.
BEEEEEEEEP—!!
The referee rushed in without hesitation, pulled a bright red card from his pocket, and shoved it right in the China player’s face.
[Ejected]
“Referee!! Pull the red card immediately! He’s out!”
“Totally correct call! That unsportsmanlike play should be thrown out of the stadium! Once this happens, China will collapse on their own!”
Finally the medical team rushed in, and an X marked across the bench meaning “no more running if injured.”
This way we’d go back to the original timeline again.
The coach was frantically preparing substitution cards.
“Mingyu! Ready!”
“Ah… our defensive player’s being carried out on a stretcher. It should be a minor injury, right?”
“Pulling out the substitution card from the bench in a hurry. Ah! Young blood again! The coach is finally starting to actively use the rookies!”
“Yeah! Han Yideun and his same-age buddy, the giant promising center-back Choi Mingyu who synced perfectly with the age-group team, is finally getting his A-league debut!”
I glanced at the bench. The familiar guy was desperately yanking his shorts up as he sprinted toward the touchline.
Mingyu, I told you I could run, remember?
This time, do it right.
I slapped the back of my friend’s neck as he entered the stadium with his face tense with nerves.
“You weren’t nervous, were you?”
“Huh? Wha—? Y-ya, this is my A-league debut, I’m freaking shitting myself here…”
“Nervous? Drop that. It’s a team of ten after one opponent goes down.”
My butterfly effect—how much is Mingyu’s life about to change?