The Triumphant March: Manchester City's Pursuit of Unbeaten Glory
The news that I would not be playing spread like wildfire.
[Manchester City One Step from an Unbeaten Title: Jung Tae-woo’s Absence Shakes the League] [Guardian’s Decision? Jung Tae-woo, Showing Signs of Fatigue, Bench-Sits in Preparation for the Chelsea Match—Fans’ Worried Voices Echo]
Fans were stunned by the sudden announcement right as their team stood on the brink of an historic record.
At the pub “Merry Dis Pub” near Etihad Stadium, where supporters gathered, heated arguments filled the air.
“No matter what, removing Tae-woo from the lineup is a mistake by Peter. Just a cold? That’s enough time to recover!”
“Exactly, it’s all Peter’s fault we’ll fail to clinch an unbeaten title. Damn it!”
People always did this—forgetting what they already had, staring only at the next peak, as if their current achievements were inevitable.
“Damn, Tae-woo lacks commitment to the team. If I were his age, I’d still play even if I was hurt!”
A middle-aged man in a shirt stained with beer rings shouted with a flushed face.
“That’s why kids these days are useless. Their loyalty to the team comes last; they only care about themselves. Aigoo…”
The pub’s patrons didn’t argue. They secretly hoped Tae-woo would play too.
But Seo Jin-woo, who had joined the others for drinks, stood apart.
“That’s not right. How much has Tae-woo devoted himself to our team since he arrived?”
“What?”
Seo Jin-woo rose from his seat and spoke firmly to the crowd.
“Let me ask you this—right after Tae-woo joined, our team rose from mid-table to clinching the title this season. It’s not about missing a player; if our star player is hurting, the first thing fans should do is worry about him. He should play even if he’s hurt… that’s what a true fan says.”
“Defending a fellow Asian, huh?”
“I’m a Korean-British supporter who grew up in England. I’ve never even visited South Korea. Think about it—every league match, Tae-woo played. How much pressure is that on a young player?”
The pub patrons nodded in agreement after hearing him out.
But the middle-aged man disagreed.
He slammed his beer bottle down hard, the sound echoing.
Clang!
“That’s exactly why kids these days are hopeless… but that’s what happens when you get paid to play as a pro!”
“You really believe that?”
“Of course! If you’re a professional earning money to play, you owe the team your loyalty. That’s the deal, right? And you—how old are you? What makes you think you can talk to me like that when you’re so much younger…”
“I’m old enough, and I have kids. And of course football players get paid. So what? Do you go to work sick just because you’re paid?”
“What did you just say, you brat!”
The middle-aged man’s face turned crimson in an instant.
He staggered toward Seo Jin-woo, eyes burning with fury.
The crowd held its breath, tense.
The man reached for Seo Jin-woo’s collar.
“You little—”
But Seo Jin-woo, as if expecting it, calmly sidestepped and replied coldly.
“You want to resort to violence? You have nothing to say. You can rest when you’re sick yourself.”
“Shut your mouth! What do you know, you brat!”
The man steadied himself on the table and grabbed the bottle, lifting it high.
People screamed around him.
“Kyaa!”
“Stop it!”
A massive hand suddenly seized the man’s arm.
The middle-aged man slowly turned his head toward the owner’s grip.
“Damn it, let go! Who are you? Want to die? Get out of my pub!”
The owner’s voice cut through the chaos.
“Someone causing trouble in my pub, eh?”
A deep shadow fell over the middle-aged man.
The pub owner’s frame was enormous, blocking the doorway entirely.
His bulging muscles strained against the shirt buttons, and his forearms were thicker than the bottle he held.
A framed photo of a previous tournament win hung behind him, telling his story.
“Uh… I…”
The middle-aged man was silenced by the owner’s overwhelming presence.
“If you’re drinking, just drink quietly. You’re bothering the other customers. And…”
The owner’s gaze sharpened.
“That bottle in your hand—did you think you were going to swing it?”
The middle-aged man’s eyes followed the owner’s to the bottle.
“Haha… caught red-handed. Sorry, boss, I had too much to drink…”
“Then it’s time to go home.”
“Just a little more…”
“Go.”
“Hic… okay, fine…”
The middle-aged man staggered toward the door, but his foot caught air once, and he slammed his shoulder into the frame just enough to steady himself.
“Argh, damn it…”
He muttered and stepped outside, followed by a crash and a cry from the stairs.
The owner sighed, turning back to Seo Jin-woo.
“You should be careful too. No need to argue with a drunk. Just let it go…”
Warm advice laced the owner’s voice.
“Yeah… I’m sorry.”
“Be safe.”
The owner stepped out to check on the fallen man.
Once he was gone, a heavy silence settled over the pub.
Yet within that quiet, quiet thoughts slowly stirred.
A flicker of regret and reflection began to bloom in those who had just been cursing Tae-woo.
*Maybe we were too harsh?*
*The players are still people too...*
*Yeah… our City has grown so much since Tae-woo arrived. He can rest when he’s sick.*
No one voiced it, but everyone saw the same regret in one another’s eyes.
* * *
On the day of the match against Chelsea, I sat on the bench.
The coach didn’t even want me sitting there, but fan and media backlash left him no choice.
I had heard him say repeatedly I would never play, but the situation might change.
*My condition isn’t at 100 percent, but it’s not bad either. I can still play.*
And it turned out to be strange.
I looked back at our fans.
It was our home stadium, and I had expected them to explode in protest at the news I was benched.
I expected them to blame the coach or me.
But not a single angry voice reached me.
*That’s weird. At first the fans were furious...*
When the first article appeared, the reaction had been explosive.
Fans even showed up at training to protest.
I understood why.
Their beloved team was about to achieve an unprecedented unbeaten title, and their star was sidelined for a simple cold… it was hard to accept.
So I braced for the abuse.
But it never came.
Instead, the stadium was more passionate than ever.
The fans shouted louder and cheered more fiercely than before.
As if to prove their unwavering faith in the team.
[The match between Manchester City and Chelsea is underway. As Peter Guardian predicted, Jung Tae-woo will start from the bench today.]
[Indeed, I’m very curious to see how this unusual choice will affect the result.]
Whooosh—
The whistle blew, and the match began with Manchester City taking the kick-off.
I sat on the bench watching our team play.
The Tiki-Taka combination of Mathias, Oden, and Sanchez was unbreakable even by Chelsea.
*Having me absent only changes the defensive setup; nothing else shifts in our attack.*
Before the match, I remembered the captain’s words.
The players had gathered in the locker room.
“If we lose this match, everyone will blame Tae-woo. ‘Why didn’t he play?’ But we are City. If one player can make us lose, then let’s forget about the unbeaten title. Show them who we really are.”
The players’ eyes had changed after hearing that.
We were City.
We had never been a mid-table team struggling.
Now we were the Premier League’s top side—Manchester City.
A team that had already secured the title.
The DNA of victory ran deep in every player’s veins.
[Two-two-one pass from Mathias and Oden breaks through the defense!]
[Mathias to Oden to Sanchez! The two veterans of Manchester City are showing us true Tiki-Taka beauty!]
[Oden passes to Sanchez the moment he receives it! Sanchez—two defenders are sprinting toward him!]
Sanchez.
Because of his slight build, fans often called him “one-touch passer” dismissively.
His performance had improved since his debut, but critics still belittled him as a “complete” passer.
Yet the opposite was true.
His passing ability was so special that he could thrive in the Premier League even with weaker physicality.
[Ah… oh! Incredible! Sanchez picks the perfect moment and threads a flawless pass between the defenders!]
“Wow, he slipped it right through! That’s insane!”
[Ball controlled by Guerrero! He immediately strikes with a volley!]
The Chelsea goalkeeper made a miraculous save, but it was irrelevant.
The stunning play Manchester City had just produced erased any lingering doubts from the fans in an instant.
*What? I didn’t even play and we’re dominating.*
I felt strangely unsatisfied.