The World Cup Evaluation Match – Korea vs Iran (Part 2)
The Seoul World Cup Stadium in Sangam buzzed with excitement even before the first whistle blew. Fans from all corners of the stadium had already been gathering for over three hours, their voices rising in a constant hum of anticipation.
The arrival of overseas stars had turned the atmosphere electric. Jung Tae-woo, the undefeated hero who had led Manchester City to the Premier League title, stood out in his number-one jersey. Yoo Hee-sung, who had transferred to Manchester United and was now chasing new glory, and Lee Tae-yang, the explosive young striker who had already claimed his place as Borussia Dortmund’s new forward, along with veteran midfield captain Park Seo-joon, had all joined the national team. The expectations for this debut game under the brand-new Cheon Mu-seok era were higher than ever.
Young goalkeeping hopefuls wearing Jung Tae-woo’s number-one jersey mixed with teenage fans rocking Yoo Hee-sung’s ten, while families of every age filled the stands. The largest banner, proudly declaring “Undefeated World Cup Goalkeeper,” hung high above the pitch, right next to the fiery slogan “Cheon Mu-seok’s New Team, Write the Next Myth!”
At first, Cheon Mu-seok’s bold player selections had sparked controversy, but his fearless confidence and past achievements had turned those doubts into roaring support. By the time the match began, more than forty thousand spectators had entered the stadium, shattering the previous record for an evaluation game. The Red Devils’ chants already shook the air before kickoff.
[The national anthem is being sung. Look at Lee Tae-yang—singing at the top of his lungs!]
The anthem faded, and the players scattered to their positions. The commentators’ voices filled the stadium.
“South Korea are starting in a 4-3-3 formation. There are a lot of new faces this time. Especially with Yoo Hee-sung at Manchester United and Lee Tae-yang at Borussia Dortmund, their performances in this evaluation game will be watched closely.”
“True. Yoo Hee-sung has been in a fierce rivalry with Jung Tae-woo for years, and Lee Tae-yang—being from the same school—played amazingly well with them back then. Seeing all three of them lift Olympic gold together, I can’t wait to see that same teamwork in an A-match.”
“Yoo Hee-sung, you’re gonna do great, right?”
Captain Park Seo-joon, the central midfielder, asked with a knowing smile. Yoo Hee-sung answered without hesitation, his grin confident and cocky.
“Of course.”
“And if you can’t catch what I give you, you don’t even get soup, kid.”
Lee Tae-yang, overhearing, shrugged playfully and jumped in.
“Hyung, why don’t you ever say that to me?”
Park Seo-joon ruffled Lee Tae-yang’s hair with a warm laugh.
“You don’t need to say it. You’re already going to play your best. And you… you’re too much of a hothead.”
Park winked.
“You’re not the type to get nervous. The only thing that worries me is you might go overboard and get too excited.”
Lee Tae-yang puffed out his chest and laughed proudly.
“Yeah, that’s me.”
“Korea kicks off against Iran right now! Iran are in a 4-4-2, but remember—if we concede first, Iran’s specialty, bed soccer, is right there waiting to run the clock.”
“Haha, bed soccer as their main tactic? Iran has been one of Asia’s most feared teams lately.”
“Especially their striker Mehdi Tami, who’s tearing it up at Porto and Europe’s elite clubs. This match against Jung Tae-woo is going to be must-watch.”
The opening minutes were tense but controlled. Korea’s midfield rotated the ball calmly, slowly building an attacking line. Park Seo-joon received the ball in the center and suddenly three Iranian defenders surged forward like a swarm.
“Park Seo-joon has the ball—three defenders are closing in! Iran are pressuring hard from the start. What’s his choice?”
Park scanned the field with perfect calm. Yoo Hee-sung was moving on the right, and Lee Tae-yang was eyeing the space behind the defense on the left.
Trust Hee-sung?
Training footage flashed through his mind. No matter how many new faces, the sight of young Yoo Hee-sung laughing like he was toying with defenders had always been unforgettable.
“Sharp pass to the right—straight toward Yoo Hee-sung!”
Yoo Hee-sung took the ball and three defenders immediately rushed him. Their eyes burned with certainty: We can snatch this.
But they had no idea.
They didn’t know why Manchester United had chosen this young Korean in the first place. Why the Premier League giant was completely smitten with him.
The first defender lunged. Yoo Hee-sung’s foot flicked like a snake—“Tuk!”—sending the ball between the defender’s legs. His body twisted with perfect balance, almost dancing.
“Tadat!”
The second defender came in harder, but Yoo Hee-sung had already read him. A light tap lifted the ball over the tackle, and he pivoted to regain balance. Cheers erupted from the stands.
“Tuk! Tuk!”
The third defender was fooled completely. Yoo Hee-sung sent the ball straight through their legs with a feint.
“Iran’s three defenders dismantled by pure individual skill! That’s exactly why Manchester United signed him. Personal brilliance on full display!”
“Other teams are going to regret it. A twenty-year-old who can do that? I can’t wait to see how much more he grows!”
Inside the penalty area, Yoo Hee-sung’s eyes changed. The Iranian goalkeeper rushed to cover, but the moment Yoo Hee-sung’s right foot brushed the ball… it flew into the top corner.
“GOOOOOAL!”
Yoo Hee-sung sprinted toward the corner flag, leaped high, and spun 360 degrees in the air. Fans screamed “SIUUUUU!” thinking of Ronaldo’s celebration, but the chant that left his lips was pure Manchester United pride.
“MAN! U!”
The crowd paused for a second, then exploded in a roar that shook the stadium.
“MAN! U! MAN! U!”
Arms wide open, body twisting on landing, it looked like a promise for the next era at Old Trafford.
“Yoo Hee-sung’s unique celebration! It’s like a fresh take on Ronaldo’s. Manchester United fans are going to lose their minds when they see this—new ace born!”
“We saw it at the Olympics, but now it’s even more special as a real Manchester United player. The fans’ roars already sound like the new hero of Old Trafford has been crowned!”
Teammates rushed over to hug him. Park Seo-joon ruffled his hair while laughing, and Lee Tae-yang slapped his back with pure joy. On the bench, Cheon Mu-seok smiled with satisfaction.
“He really is something special.”
Cheon Mu-seok had never planned to call Yoo Hee-sung or Lee Tae-yang into the national team at first. Their contracts with top European clubs were tempting, but the lack of senior international experience made him hesitant. He believed players without real-game tempo would struggle to keep up.
But the training videos his agent sent changed everything. Especially the scene of Yoo Hee-sung dismantling five defenders with one personal skill to score—that same electric thrill he felt when he first discovered Jung Tae-woo.
Korea kept pressing. In attack after attack they threatened Iran’s goal.
“Lee Tae-yang’s header clips the post!”
“Park Seo-joon’s long-range shot! Unfortunately, the keeper saved it!”
Iran’s defenders, desperate, grew increasingly reckless. They grabbed jerseys roughly, lunged with crude tackles, and wrapped defenders in bear hugs to slow advances.
“Iran’s play is getting uglier and uglier. The referee needs to be more active.”
“Whistle!”
The referee’s call rang out. An Iranian defender had viciously swept Park Seo-joon’s ankle.
Cheon Mu-seok stood up from the bench, face grim. Even in an evaluation game, injuring a starter was unacceptable.
“Are you okay?”
Lee Tae-yang reached out to help the fallen Park Seo-joon, who rolled his ankle and nodded.
“Of course I am.”
Park stood up, eyes locked on the free-kick spot.
Thirty meters, roughly.
His gaze sharpened. This was the perfect revenge for the cheap tackle—scoring the goal.
Park placed the ball and waited for the whistle. The Iranian wall formed—five men standing shoulder to shoulder.
“Whistle!”
Park’s right foot moved. The ball left his toe in a perfect arc…
“Ooooo! What a trajectory! Clearing the wall and hammering the top corner!”
The Iranian goalkeeper’s fingertips touched the ball, but the deflection only made it more beautiful.
“GOOOOOOL!”
“An unbelievable free-kick! Chelsea’s captain really is on another level! That’s the true value of Captain Park Seo-joon!”
Park clenched his fist and sprinted across the pitch. Teammates swarmed him, jerseys now soaked and mud-caked from the celebration. Jung Tae-woo, watching from the bench, yawned.
No work left for me.
Unlike the others, his jersey still looked brand new and spotless.