The Unbelievable Header, the Laughable Goal, and That One Time a Striker Got Hit Dead-On
The broadcast exploded with pure shock.
GOOOOOOOOOOOOOAL!!!
Twenty minutes into the first half, against Spain, South Korea had scored first! And this player is not a forward — this is goalkeeper Jung Tae-woo!
“Whoa… what a player. How does a goalkeeper even pull off something like this?”
Lee Chun-soo was probably about to call it insane, but the word never left his mouth.
Lee Jung-hwan kept the camera locked on Jung Tae-woo’s replay. “Watch closely. He took a one-two with Park Seo-joon, then pretended to pass before realizing the Spanish players had closed the lane. They didn’t pressure Tae-woo — they just blocked the exit. So he went in. ‘Huh? They didn’t cover me? Cheeky. Then I’m definitely going in.’ He still got the ball stolen, but he tore through like it was nothing and finished it himself.”
Lee Jung-hwan’s voice rose with excitement. “Honestly, I can’t stop being pumped. This entire tactic is built around Tae-woo — the defense has to cover where he’s about to break through, and even if the backline gets pulled up, it’s just ‘Tae-woo, hold the line alone.’ And he did it. He absolutely did it.”
“Everyone knows Pedri is an absolute monster at Real Madrid, right? He took the ball right off his feet, dribbled past him, and scored! From a goalkeeper! It’s impossible to believe!”
Lee Jung-hwan looked like he’d just seen a rival’s gold chain turn into a horse. “lol lol lol But seriously, listening to it now it really is crazy.” “Cheon Moo-seok: If you’re a goalkeeper you’re supposed to be good at defense and attack, right?” “No, when did attacking become automatic for keepers lol
“Tae-woo had a blast celebrating, then sprinted straight to the stands where the fans were waiting.”
“He knows exactly how much fans matter. His skills are perfect, even his personality.”
“Wait, Jung-hwan hyung just turned into a heart-eyed emoji?”
“Yeah, Tae-woo’s celebration is the kind of thing we never get to see up close. What do you think he’ll do?”
“I have no idea… but when the camera showed the replay I realized it was an ultrasound! Hahaha!”
“Cough… Chun-soo, there has to be meaning behind this.”
“What?”
“Jung-hwan is the only guy who tells the truth, lol.”
“lol lol lol
“Wow… he jumped insanely high, landed perfectly, and then laughed with that signature smirk. That was a deadly celebration from the moment he started.”
“Haha, Lee Seong-jun looked flustered for the first time in a long time.”
“But how is this ridiculous celebration somehow still cool? His face is already so handsome, and he’s also athletic? That’s unfair.”
“It should be unfair… but it feels unfair somehow.”
“We trained together at Pungwol High, remember? The bathhouse stories are legendary.”
“It’s so unfair, damn it.”
The Korean commentators were still fired up, voices rising in perfect unison. Meanwhile the Spanish broadcast team fell completely silent.
“This… what is happening right now?”
Antonio Camacho, unable to stop mid-broadcast, muttered to himself.
“Twenty minutes in, the goal was scored by South Korea’s number one — goalkeeper Jung Tae-woo. A goalkeeper pulling off a scene like this… it’s unbelievable.”
Camacho kept his composure, but the disbelief was still thick in his voice. “Honestly, at first we thought the coach’s tactics were too dangerous. We figured if our players pushed all the way up they’d always score. Sure, Jung Tae-woo was solid in the qualifiers, but most keepers can’t even move. Tae-woo is different.”
Guillermo Amor jumped in. “Exactly, but Spain can’t panic. Right now the intense pressure has them rattled, yet it’s still a stamina-draining system. We need to stay calm.”
“Correct. South Korea has pulled their line all the way up, so their fitness is going to take a real hit. The longer it goes, the more advantage Spain gains.”
But as the second half resumed, the Spanish commentators’ energy only dropped further.
***
The match restarted. Spain launched a ferocious attack, yet the Korean formation stayed rock-solid. Cheon Moo-seok’s core idea had always been “attack by attacking.”
“Press!!! Block every passing lane!”
When two attacks collided like that, the deciding factor was always the presence of an ace. Spain had plenty of stars, but in South Korea’s camp there was one absolute monster — Yoo Hee-sung, the protagonist of this novel.
I ran everywhere in our defensive line, covering every inch, while simultaneously calling out space to the defenders and shielding the ball. “Since it’s real play, it’s even tougher than training. If the axis hadn’t given me a gift I would’ve been barely holding on.”
Then, the moment I took the ball, my eyes locked onto Yoo Hee-sung sprinting into the empty space with absolute trust. His movement looked like he was shouting, “If you’re you, you’ll never miss this path. Pass it quick!”
“I knew you’d be watching.”
Of course I had. I’d already spotted the perfect passing lane the second I saw his run.
I took a deep breath, poured everything into the shot —
“Whiish—!”
The ball screamed through the air like a guided missile and smacked straight into Yoo Hee-sung’s chest.
Spain’s defenders rushed toward him in panic, but it was too late. Hee-sung took my pass, exploded forward, and weaved through two Spanish defenders like they were standing still before slotting it home.
“Tink~”
“Man… Yoo!!”
36 minutes into the first half. With the score still 0-0, we had suddenly taken the lead 2-0.
***
32 minutes into the second half.
The entire stadium was heavy with fatigue. Players’ movements had noticeably slowed, and the roar from the stands, once electric, was fading.
Our team switched tactics immediately at the start of the half. Following Coach Cheon’s orders, we dropped the Wave Pressing and reverted to a standard 4-3-3. Even so, the earlier intensity was taking its toll — shadows of exhaustion darkened every face.
Spain wasn’t any different. Pedri and the rest were still huffing and puffing despite the brutal pressure.
But my face was calm. Almost… smiling.
“This is more overpowered than I expected.”
I’d thought it was just stamina earlier, but now I realized recovery was improving too. A quick breath and the energy would refill like magic?
“Of course, even with that I still had no reason to push forward. We’re leading 2-0 — there’s no reason to risk it.”
“It’ll end 2-0.”
That was when Spain’s goalkeeper took a pass and struck hard.
The ball curved like a missile and rocketed straight at the center of Lee Tae-yang’s face.
“What the— why is it coming toward me?!”
Exactly on target. The ball smacked him dead-center and bounced off like a pinball toward the right corner of the goal.
“WAAAAAHHH!”
Tae-yang clutched his face and howled.
“Tink!!”
“WOOOOOOOOAHHHH!”
I rubbed my eyes. “What? It actually went in?”
Lee Tae-yang, who had been dazed just seconds ago, suddenly started posing like a world-class striker.
“That’s right! I was aiming for that the whole time!”
He slid across the ground with blood pouring from his nose, then struck a dramatic pose like he was the star of a movie.
“This is Lee Tae-yang! Hahaha! Spanish guys, you never even saw a shot like that coming!”
“Seriously, what an idiot…”
I couldn’t stop laughing. The way Tae-yang turned pure coincidence into “I planned the perfect power shot” was both ridiculous and hilarious.
“He’s definitely going to get roasted in the gallery later.”
I imagined the post-match chant and started brainstorming the perfect comeback line. “Thirty days. I’ve got thirty days to get even.”