Racial Slurs and a Ghostly Smirk
The match had been halted. The referee was trying to calm things down, but what was supposed to never happen had happened.
This wasn’t just a problem between the players anymore. The fans were fully involved now… and things would probably cause a huge stir even after the game ended. As a fellow Englishman, I was thoroughly ashamed. Tae-woo was already as skilled as any adult player, yet they still treated him like an eighteen-year-old boy they’d conveniently forgotten.
The game resumed, but the tension on the pitch had reached its peak.
Oh… the match is getting very rough. Castillo just hurled Hendrickson hard!
“Ugh!”
“Try me one more time. If you do, I’ll rip you apart.”
Castillo looked down at the fallen Hendrickson and whispered with a dangerous threat in his voice.
The Arsenal players rushed over and shoved Castillo roughly.
“What kind of stunt is this?! Show some respect!”
“Respect? Hearing that word come out of your mouths is hilarious.”
“Uuuuuu!”
Yells and boos rained down from the stands again.
The referee sprinted between the players and warned them in a firm voice.
“This is your last warning. One more time and you’re off the pitch without delay.”
“I was the one pushed! Why?”
“You provoked first. And you’re no better. One more of those gestures and you’re gone instantly.”
At those words, Hendrickson spat on the ground, shot a glare at Castillo and me, then headed back to the Arsenal side.
“Castillo…”
“Tae-woo, don’t worry. That guy won’t ever dare do that to you again.”
Castillo was a player who took his English pride very seriously.
But his pride didn’t mean he looked down on players from other nations—it came from being a true gentleman.
That was why Hendrickson’s disgusting act of racism today had stirred up even more anger in him.
Same Englishman, so obsessed with British food he probably thinks that’s the only thing worth eating, yet he still dared to do something like this.
That was why, right now, he was pushing harder than usual.
Castillo always spoke roughly when he was angry—“I’ll send you flying!” or “You’re dead today”—but in reality he was the kind of player who never fouled and fought with absolute fairness.
His proof? As a defender, he hadn’t received a single yellow card in the entire 24th round of the league.
“Don’t act out of character for you. I’ll handle it.”
“But I…”
“I know how you feel. But don’t worry. If Britain is the land of chivalry, then ours is…”
I smiled coldly at the corner of my lips and continued.
“The nation of warriors.”
Castillo’s expression flinched slightly when he saw my face.
He must have been shocked by the look I’d never shown him before.
“Ah, okay! Tae-woo. Just… go easy, okay? Don’t kill him…”
Eh?
Why was this big guy suddenly looking at me so nervously?
Even though he was huge and broad-shouldered, the sight of him fidgeting like a kid in front of me was strange.
Castillo was definitely hot-tempered, but how much did he care about me to be sweating like this?
“Don’t worry. I’ll handle it.”
“Hiiik!”
When I placed my hand on his shoulder, a weird sound came out—something that didn’t match his size.
Ah… I guess he was really worried about me.
* * *
I already knew exactly how I wanted to punish him, but I couldn’t do it yet.
The plays I wanted were different from the tactics the team needed from me in the first half.
I still had to stick to the team’s plan for now.
But in the second half, I’ll ask the manager to somehow get a goal and show those bastards a ridiculous celebratory run.
A ridiculous celebratory run.
I’d dare call it the representative celebratory run of our country.
Remembering Park Ji-sung’s legendary moment—how he walked proudly across the Japanese boos, looking them straight in the eye, his steps slow and majestic.
Huuu~
Every time I saw that legendary moment again in my childhood, it sent shivers down my entire body. It was forever burned into my memory.
I had upgraded that celebratory run in my own way back when I was Kim Chan-ki and got really angry.
And in the second half, they would all need to be hospitalized after seeing it.
Of course, that doesn’t mean I’m going to sit quietly in the first half.
A faint smile appeared at the corner of my lips.
The sweet scent of revenge seemed to brush past my nose.
[Arsenal’s corner kick chance. The kicker lifts the ball cleanly with an outswinger. From the center of the penalty box, Hendrickson leaps over two defenders and unleashes a powerful header!]
[But Jung Tae-woo’s lightning reflexes catch the ball flying straight toward the top left corner perfectly.]
“Shit…”
“Second-division match? How easy is this?”
Eh?
Hendrickson sharpened his glare at me the moment he heard my words, but when he glanced at the referee beside him, he didn’t dare come closer.
I laughed at the sight.
“Pathetic little shit.”
It was the perfect provocation.
If he took the bait and charged, he’d get a card. If he ignored it, his mental state would crack. Either way, it was a win for me.
And he chose to charge.
Hmm… he really fell for such an obvious provocation?
I could have just taken action right here and handed him a card, but ending it like this felt too cheap.
Too easy for a guy like him.
I ignored Hendrickson charging at me and kept running forward while holding the ball.
I hurled it as hard as possible toward the front.
“What… what the—?”
Hendrickson’s dumbfounded voice came from behind.
I considered the ball juggling I did with my feet to be on the level of a master.
But what I lacked was the kind of ball juggling suited to a goalkeeper.
So lately, instead of practicing with my feet, I’d been focusing on my hands.
This talented body even had extraordinary hand sensitivity.
The ball I launched from my hand cut through the air at breakneck speed, as if it had been kicked by a foot.
[Jung Tae-woo’s throw sails across the pitch at insane speed and heads straight toward Guerrero’s running direction.]
Ball juggling famous for its speed—baseball, basketball, volleyball, handball, American football—those were the sports.
Just like my volleyball spike pass last time, this time I’d practiced the quarterback’s long pass form and it was paying off.
American footballs were oval-shaped with the weight shifted to one side, allowing spiral passes that boosted speed and accuracy.
But my hands were even bigger and stronger than that, so I could control even the heavier soccer ball easily.
And Guerrero, who received the ball, looked furious after hearing what Hendrickson had said earlier.
[Guerrero receives the ball and explodes forward at explosive speed.]
[Two defenders are holding the line in front, but Guerrero’s movements are off the charts. Oh! He simply fakes with an upper-body move and fools the defenders completely! Their legs tangle as they collapse!]
Players with monster physical strength still showed overwhelming destructive power even if they were slow.
Those with good speed but weaker physicals threatened with sharp attacks.
But players like Guerrero—blessed with both overwhelming physicals and explosive speed—turned the defenders into pure nightmares with just a simple upper-body feint.
[Guerrero bursts past the defenders and charges into the penalty area! Keeper versus one-on-one! Guerrero shoots with his right foot… GOOOOOOOOOOAL!!!!!
Goal! It’s an unbelievable finish! Jung Tae-woo made no reaction at all! Guerrero calmly curled his right foot inside for the perfect goal!]
[Perfect finish after mocking the defenders with a dribble! This is exactly why Guerrero is ranked second in the Premier League scoring charts this season!]
In the current Premier League scoring table, Man United’s monster striker Garzo was leading with 22 goals.
Right behind him with 18 goals was Guerrero.
A four-goal gap.
Not small at all, but with today’s goal he now had 19, closing in on Garzo by one step.
With the season still having plenty of time left, it looked like the scoring title race was still very much possible.
Guerrero ran toward the stands after scoring, roaring like a beast.
“Try one more time! Then I’ll slam another goal in your net!”
“Hey, you bastard! Stay down!”
“Throw away that ugly skull!”
Profanities poured from the stands.
But Guerrero just smiled cheekily while looking at them and cupped one hand behind his ear.
With the other hand he repeated a provocative motion, pushing it up and down from below.
It was a mockery of “Keep going.”
Piiiip—
“I clearly told you not to cause any more trouble.”
The referee spotted Guerrero’s provocative celebratory run and immediately raised a yellow card.
Guerrero just grinned without a word, as if he’d expected it.
“That pathetic little shit… your whole team is full of idiots, brutes, and even monkeys… those people leading the league are really pathetic.”
Hendrickson continued in a venomous voice from behind me.
“If I were you, I’d rather be the pathetic, brutish monkey than a striker like you who can’t even score a goal.”
My words made Hendrickson’s face twist instantly.
“How ridiculous. Wait, I’ll put the ball in your net soon.”
“Sure, I’ll wait.”
I gave him a relaxed smile and waved at the man heading back to his own side.
That gesture would probably piss him off more than actual insults.
“But among all the strikers I’ve seen so far, your shots were the slowest. How about trying harder? From my eyes, you’re more like second-league level.”
Hendrickson spun around at my words, but I just continued smiling.
Keep glaring. What exactly can you do about it?