The Day the Impossible Became Possible
The first half of the match had ended with Manchester United in the lead, but for some inexplicable reason, their mood felt far from triumphant. On the vibrant green pitch of Old Trafford, the players stood frozen in place, eyes fixed blankly on the goalposts as if the entire world had stopped turning. The eighty-thousand-strong crowd that had once roared with electric energy was now buried beneath a heavy silence, the vast stadium vibrating with an almost vacuum-like quiet.
"Don’t just stand there. Get moving."
Raul Cruz’s low voice cut through the stillness, breaking the unnatural calm. His players began to shuffle slowly, their steps heavy, much like defeated soldiers. Ahead of them, the coach maintained a composed expression, but the faint ticking of the pen in his grip betrayed the storm raging inside him.
Tick… tick…
The ominous sound echoed in their ears, making their shoulders feel heavier with every step. They had given everything, played at a level that should have bewildered City, yet one man—Jung Tae-woo, the Iron Wall—had turned every effort into nothing.
Moreover, the coach who usually exuded the elegance of a gentleman had become someone else entirely once inside the locker room. The players knew both sides of him all too well.
Tick… tick…
As the players entered the locker room, they bowed their heads in complete silence. The anger already seeping into Raul Cruz’s face was impossible to ignore, slowly spreading through the deep creases of his brow.
Tick.
The pen rang out one final time before it slipped from his hand and clattered against the cold floor. The sharp sound reverberated through the entire room, causing the players’ shoulders to twitch involuntarily. Raul Cruz slowly surveyed them, his voice surprisingly calm, almost detached.
"It must be frustrating."
"…"
"We gave our all, didn’t make a single mistake. City couldn’t even mount a proper counterattack against our tactics. Anyone could see we had the advantage."
His steady voice filled the locker room.
"If this had been against another team, our fans would be cheering right now."
The players remained silent.
"And that’s exactly why it’s even more infuriating. We poured everything into it, yet the opponent’s defense held firm… Honestly, I’m so angry right now that I’d kick that wall if I could."
He took a breath, then continued.
"But I won’t. No, there’s no need. Even though we dominated the first half, a goal not scoring doesn’t change the fact that we were superior."
He lifted his gaze and looked at each player one by one.
"So stop making those faces. Show the look of champions. We’ve overcome far worse situations than this when we won the title last season."
"Yes, sir."
"Yes, stay proud. If anyone dares to blame us after seeing such a performance, they were bound to complain anyway."
* * *
Every football player understands that special, inexplicable moment.
It can’t be explained to anyone, yet every player experiences it once in a lifetime—the magic that happens when everything aligns perfectly, from the moment the ball touches the player’s foot.
It feels like fate itself has decided to help. All the seemingly impossible things suddenly become possible.
Gutierrez had experienced it at Real Madrid.
He was always just a normal central defender, but sometimes… he became unstoppable.
We called it “Gutierrez’s Day.”
And today, I felt it with every fiber of my being.
The sensation rising from the soles of my feet, the intuition brushing past my thoughts, the unshakable certainty deep in my heart—everything was perfectly aligned.
Like fate had chosen to side with me.
The saves I made today weren’t just extraordinary reactions or skills; they were pure magic.
‘Did God descend upon this pitch?’
When I sensed a shot coming from the left, it arrived exactly there. When my intuition whispered right, the ball followed without fail.
It was as if the entire match obeyed my instincts.
“As a goalkeeper, this feeling is new to me.”
I had experienced it often as a striker.
Days when every shot seemed destined to shake the net.
But as a goalkeeper, the feeling was different—absolute certainty that no matter what came, I could stop it.
‘This is my day. I should call it Tae-woo’s Day.’
[Alex Turner seizes Sanchez’s ball and launches a lightning counterattack!]
“…If only we could score one goal right now, United would collapse.”
Manchester United had controlled the first half with overwhelming possession, sharp attacks, and flawless tactical execution. Yet every time those attacks failed at my fingertips, their confidence began to crack.
I was certain they would break in the second half.
Even the strongest team cracks under too many missed chances.
But Raul Cruz remained the world’s greatest tactician. Even in the second half, United showed no signs of losing momentum; if anything, they pressed us harder, as if the frustration of the first half had never existed.
Of course, if we scored first, that perfect unity would shatter in an instant…
‘Why can’t we score…’
Sanchez’s ball control was off, Castillo kept leaving gaps on the flank, and even Guerrero couldn’t win a proper header in the forward line.
No matter how fierce United’s pressure was, this wasn’t our usual self.
‘Or should I… go out and score?’
Honestly, there was nothing I couldn’t do. My striker instincts were still vivid.
But without the manager’s permission, it could cause serious trouble.
‘I could be seen as insubordinate…’
The manager wouldn’t mind, but outsiders might question his authority.
I didn’t want to create unnecessary controversy for him.
I pulled off my goalkeeper gloves and erased the fantasy from my mind.
My job now was to protect our goal. That alone would devastate United.
[Unbelievable! Jung Tae-woo stops Turner’s decisive shot again! Is this goalpost going to stay closed all match?]
[No, I don’t hear even a sigh. Old Trafford, the most passionate stadium in the world… is completely silent.]
With ninety minutes gone and two added minutes, the second half ended.
United’s valid counterattack began.
[Guerrero cleverly cuts through United’s defense! Fast! And— ah! He goes down after a tackle from behind!]
[Referee blows the whistle! Free kick! In this crucial moment before the final whistle… the destiny of the match might be decided by a Manchester City free kick!]
Old Trafford held its breath.
The eighty thousand hearts of the crowd seemed to beat as one.
Tense gasps rose from the home section, while expectant cheers erupted from the away end.
The entire stadium fell into silence as if time itself had stopped.
It was then.
From the bench, Manager Peter Guardian gave me a firm signal.
“Tae-woo, you take it.”
“Me?”
“You, I know you’re good at free kicks.”
Had he been watching?
I had secretly trained on free kicks during the summer, even though I was a goalkeeper now.
After team training, I stayed behind on the pitch alone. Under the clear sky, every night I would stand in front of the goal and rehearse the countless shots I had saved.
The shape of the opponents’ feet, the trajectory of the ball, even the microscopic spin. All the experience I had gained as a goalkeeper only made my shots sharper.
No one knew.
That even after becoming a goalkeeper, I still practiced shooting.
At least, that was how I saw it.
[What a scene! Manchester City’s goalkeeper Jung Tae-woo is preparing the free kick himself. This is truly… unprecedented!]
I walked slowly toward the free-kick spot.
[No, this is insane… Jung Tae-woo had already made impossible saves today and now he’s taking a free kick. I feel like the goalkeeper’s commonsense I know is completely shattered. This is the first time I’ve seen anything like it!]
While the referee marked the wall with spray, I took a deep breath.
The distance to United’s goal, the wind direction, the height of the wall… Every factor I usually calculated as a goalkeeper now felt different, viewed through the eyes of a world-class striker.
[The wall is up. United players look tense. They must be remembering Jung Tae-woo’s incredible saves today, right?]
[Jung Tae-woo is waiting for the referee’s whistle. Old Trafford is holding its breath…]
‘Today really is my day! If I score at the end…’
[Jung Tae-woo runs up! SHOOOOOOT!!!]
[With a spectacular knuckleball free-kick goal, Jung Tae-woo stabs Manchester United—the champions of the previous season—straight into the heart!]