Olympic Preliminary Round 3: Wave Pressing Plans and the Call That Shook His Heart

Hotel UVE Alcobendas sat in Alcobendas, on the outskirts of Madrid.

A three-star hotel with ninety-two rooms, it was serving as the official base camp for the South Korean Olympic football team.

Head Coach Cheon Mu-seok had been given the largest junior suite, and he sat staring out at the quiet residential streets, sunk deep in thought.

Next up was Nigeria — a far more manageable opponent than Brazil or Denmark. And from the knockout stage onward, he intended to run his Wave Pressing in earnest, which meant every decision from here had to be made with care.

We've already booked our place in the knockouts with two wins.

South Korea had beaten Brazil and Denmark, banked six points, and locked up a spot in the next round. Nigeria, with two losses, was all but certain to go home. Brazil sat on three points. Denmark, likewise, on three.

Even if we lose this one, first place in the group is ours so long as we don't leak a handful of goals. That 5–0 against Denmark is going to do a lot of heavy lifting.

When teams were level on points, goal difference decided the ranking, and the five-goal thrashing of Denmark was a massive cushion for finishing top of the group.

"If I have to rest someone, it has to be Jung Tae-woo first."

I turned it over and over. Wave Pressing asked the goalkeeper to push almost to the halfway line, and sometimes to step across it. Only Jung Tae-woo could run that system the way it was meant to be run.

Jeon Hyeong-min can handle the defensive side of the job well enough anyway.

For the national team to go as far as it could, managing Tae-woo's stamina came first. If he was gassed in the knockouts, Wave Pressing would have to be shelved.

It was easy enough to say, Then just sit him — but there was a single reason Cheon Mu-seok kept chewing on the same problem.

The sense of security when Jung Tae-woo stood in goal belonged to another dimension entirely.

With Jeon Hyeong-min between the posts, the thought was Please, just keep it out. With Tae-woo, it was He'll save it anyway. The gap between them was not something you could put on a scale.

Someone was bound to mutter that he was only protecting Tae-woo because the kid fit his tactics.

He did prefer a goalkeeper who could join the attack — that much was true. But even setting that aside, Tae-woo had every tool a keeper was supposed to have: the organizing, the shot-stopping, all of it, complete.

And for a player who had earned this much of his manager's trust, he still treated his seniors with real manners when he could easily have turned arrogant. There was no reason not to like a player like that.

Well, he does cause the occasional mess horsing around with Lee Tae-yang and Yoo Hee-sung. Compared to what I've seen, that's nothing.

He measured them against the walking disasters from his coaching internship in Germany, and decided this barely even counted as mischief.

Still. It can't be helped. He's sitting out Nigeria.

I picked up the phone and called Jung Tae-woo.

It was only for his legs, but benching a kid who had started both matches and played them perfectly could plant a grudge against the manager. Better to tell him himself. Handled clumsily, it could sour the whole relationship between coach and player.

On the phone with his parents, maybe?

I waited five minutes and tried again.

Running long. If it's his folks, that happens.

Another five minutes. I called again.

He'll pick up this time, surely.

My face started going red.

Hrm. Fine. If I wait a little, he'll see the missed calls and ring back. Just a little patience.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

I drummed my fingers on the table and stared at the phone. No matter how long I waited, it did not ring.

I quietly picked it up and dialed again.

Hah… what do I do?

I had stepped out of my room and was standing there, stuck on whether to call Da-min or not.

What if I ring her and she snaps at me for calling in the middle of practice?

"No — hang ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠on. If anyone should be mad, it's me. If she had time to call Tae-yang, she could've called me and told me herself."

I realized my voice had gotten a little loud and glanced around. Fortunately, there was no one there.

Hoo… thank god. All right. Just call. It's a congratulations call to a friend. Nothing weird about that.

I worked up the courage and dialed Da-min.

"W-wait. No. It's a congratulations call, so I should figure out what I'm going to say and call back."

I was about to hang up in a hurry when her voice came through.

Oh. She picked up.

My heart started hammering.

Something about the way she said So you were upset? was not her usual teasing lilt.

Talking to Da-min settled something in my chest.

I was about to wrap up the call when her voice came through again — faint, but shaking.

"Y-yeah."

Her voice trembled, and my heart trembled right along with it as I waited for whatever came next.

Click. Beep-beep-beep-beep—

I stared at the phone for a long time, blank.

What was she about to say at the end? And what exactly was I hoping to hear?

And why are ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the two of us suddenly so awkward with each other?

I was still turning it over when Coach Joo Eun-gyeom's voice came from behind me.

"Tae-woo, what are you doing out here? The manager's looking for you."

Only then did I see the three missed calls stamped on the screen.

"Ah — yes. I'll go right now."

We started toward the manager's room together. I hesitated a moment, then found a scrap of courage.

"Um… Coach."

"What is it?"

"This isn't about me, okay? It's about a friend…"

Coach Joo looked at me, puzzled.

"There's this childhood friend I've — I mean, he's been close with since they were five. They were on the phone today, and at the end she suddenly said, in this shaky voice, 'We've been friends since we were five,' and then hung up."

"And?"

"What… do you think that means? They used to just mess around and never really saw each other as a girl and a guy, but lately it feels weird, and…"

"Tae-woo. This is about you, isn't it?"

"No, no, it's not about me. A friend. A friend."

Joo Eun-gyeom watched Tae-woo talking with his face gone red, and a smile tugged at his mouth.

Kid's that good-looking and this hopeless with anything resembling a relationship. Cute.

"Hrm… the way I see it…"

The way Tae-woo hung on his next word, wound tight, looked painfully young.

"Ah, I don't know."

"Huh?"

"Kid, I'm thirty. How am I supposed to know what a girl your age is thinking?"

"But with your experience…"

"Quit the nonsense and get in there."

Knock, knock.

The Jung Tae-woo I had been waiting and waiting for finally showed up.

"Ahem. Sit."

Cheon Mu-seok looked over the face of the boy who had taken the chair in front of him.

Might not have been his parents. Could've been a girlfriend.

Tae-woo's face made the idea of him not having a girlfriend narratively implausible.

For a footballer who trained and played under the sun every day, his skin was startlingly fair, and every line of his face looked as if it had been carved for the sole purpose of being handsome.

I've been burning up lately myself. Maybe I should ask what sunscreen he uses.

"Sorry I missed your calls, Coach. I was on the phone for a while…"

"Don't be. I'm not some petty man who'd get upset over a thing like that. I called you up because I had something I wanted to say to you."

"What is it, sir?"

"From the next match on, it won't be you. Jeon Hyeong-min's going to play."

"Ah. Yes."

"That's it?"

"Yes. It's because of my stamina, isn't it?"

Why was he this grown-up about it? With young players, getting dropped for tactical reasons usually meant complaints and a protest. Hell, even the veterans pulled that sometimes.

"You're really all right with it?"

"Yes. I think I've already shown everything I needed to show."

Ha! Look at the nerve on this kid.

"And if Hyeong-min plays well and takes your starting spot?"

"Then I'll take it back with my ability."

Arrogant, too — but with this one, he might actually do it.

"Ahem. Before you go — what sunscreen—"

"Yes?"

"It's nothing."

"Yes, sir. I'll be going."

I'll have Eun-gyeom ask him later. If the head coach starts asking about sunscreen, it might undercut the dignity of the office.

South Korea's third group-stage match, against Nigeria, ended in a 2–2 draw.

Against a Nigeria side that had lost both of its previous games, Korea's performance had been frustratingly blunt — and still the press heaped praise on them for ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠taking a point.

This was a South Korea that had been expected to crash out in the group stage. Instead they had beaten sides like Brazil and Denmark and booked their place in the knockouts as group winners.