Unmatched Victory
The Etihad Stadium was a cauldron of sound, packed to the rafters and roaring as if it might lift off its foundations.
While the players finished their warm-ups and headed for the tunnel, the hearts of some sixty thousand spectators began to beat as one.
Manchester City have just one match left. A win against Nottingham today, and they will complete the first unbeaten Premier League title in the club's history!
The commentators' voices rolled out across the airwaves.
Fans had poured in from every corner of the globe for this moment. What caught the eye most of all were the Korean flags rippling through the stands. Waves of Taegeukgi rolled among the sky-blue City shirts like a second ocean.
"Are you from Korea?"
"Yes, that's right!"
"Oh! Tae-woo's country! You must be so proud! He's absolutely incredible!"
Whenever the local English supporters spotted Korean fans, they came over with open, easy smiles. Respect and genuine warmth lived in their eyes.
"Your country's goalkeeper is writing a new chapter for our club!"
"Tae-woo's a real legend. He's going to be City's new symbol!"
One local fan pointed proudly at his little boy.
"My kid watches Tae-woo's highlight reels like ten times a day. He won't even take the keeper gloves off anymore. Thanks to him, we've finally seen what a goalkeeper can really be!"
Pride sat full and bright on the faces of the Korean fans listening in. Someone quietly blinked back tears and squeezed the shoulder of the person beside them. To stand here as a Korean and witness this with their own eyes—how could it not swell the chest?
"A player from our country, keeping goal for an unbeaten Premier League champion..."
"Bong Joon-ho, BTS, Jung Tae-woo, let's go!"
"Hey, these days you've gotta throw Queendom in there too."
"Bong Joon-ho, BTS, Jung Tae-woo, Queendom, let's go!"
Then a roar went up that seemed ready to tear the stadium apart. The players were walking out.
Every time the broadcast cameras found another face, a different name exploded from the stands.
And then the lens found Jung Tae-woo.
In that instant, the entire Etihad Stadium spoke with one voice.
Race did not matter. Nationality did not matter. Every spectator became a single choir, singing his song. For a moment the whole ground was nothing but his name.
His chant rose louder, and lasted longer, than any other.
Jung Tae-woo, wherever you may be,
You're keeping clean sheets for Man City,
With angel face and lightning saves,
The youngest keeper making waves,
He's our Number One from Ko-re-a!
Tae-woo! Tae-woo!
The players have gathered at the center circle. Manchester City to kick us off.
Twenty-nine wins, eight draws this season... a staggering record. City have already sealed the title without a single defeat. Today they have to clear the last hurdle.
Win this, and they finish on ninety-eight points. Another landmark in Premier League history could be set this afternoon.
Can Nottingham halt City's unbeaten run? Every fan in this ground is holding their breath.
Right now, in this moment, history is about to be written at the Etihad Stadium.
A sharp blast of the whistle.
The ball left Guerrero's foot and flew toward Sanchez.
A soft touch. Sanchez lifted it gently into Mathias's path.
Another touch. Mathias never let it settle, returning it at once to Guerrero.
Touch, touch.
Nottingham's players chased shadows in City's wake, but the ball never stopped—left to right, center to flank, back to front. It kissed the toes of City's players and drove steadily, relentlessly, into Nottingham's half.
Magnificent Tiki-Taka from Manchester City! Nottingham are chasing nothing but the ball's shadow!
It looks like Barcelona in their prime. Every pass is a chess move, pulling Nottingham's shape apart.
Touch. Touch.
Like dancers who had shared a stage for years, the City players did not even need to look at one another. They already knew where the next pass would go. Instinct, carved by thousands of hours of training.
It was a passing pattern far beyond what Nottingham's defense could live with.
The final ball.
Waiting at the top of the penalty area, Guerrero met it with his right foot.
A crack like a gunshot—then the net bulged.
Goal! Ruthless finishing! Guerrero puts the stamp on that breathtaking Tiki-Taka! Six minutes in, and Manchester City lead!
City's assault did not end there.
In the eighteenth minute, Mathias unleashed a thunderous strike from outside the box. The ball flew like a cannon shot, only for Nottingham's keeper to get a hand to it—fingertips clawing away a ball that had been arrowing toward the top corner.
The true highlight, though, arrived in the thirtieth minute.
A Nottingham foul, a free kick, and Jung Tae-woo stepping up to take it himself.
Jung Tae-woo over the free kick. Thirty meters... that's a long way...
Hah. It doesn't even look strange anymore, watching Tae-woo take a free kick. And he's a goalkeeper!
Tae-woo began his run-up, unhurried.
Then he struck it.
The ball left his foot with no spin at all, a laser punching through the corner of the goal. It was in the net before Nottingham's keeper could even graze it with his fingertips—a perfect free kick.
"Waaaaaah!"
The Etihad Stadium shook. From the Korean end, the roar rose even louder, even fiercer.
After that, the match simply slipped away.
Three-nil down, the Nottingham players never stopped running, chasing a consolation until the last. The gods of the game were not in a generous mood.
Tweet— tweet— tweeet—
The referee's whistle ended it.
Nottingham left the pitch with their heads down. For Manchester City, the real celebration was only just beginning.
Not merely the title the fans had ached for—an unbeaten title, something rarer still.
"Yesss! You legends!"
City had clearly seen this coming. The instant the match ended, a glittering podium rose on the field, and the players began climbing it one by one.
"Manchester City supporters—the architects of an unbeaten championship are taking the stage!"
With the stadium announcer's cue, the ceremony City had prepared swung into motion.
"Waaaaaaaaah!"
Peter Guardian stepped to the microphone on the podium, and the cheers slowly ebbed.
"Good evening. Peter Guardian, manager of Manchester City."
"Peter! Peter! Peter!"
"I am a manager who never played the game. Thank you for trusting a man like me, for putting this club in my hands, and for respecting the choices I made. Because of you, we did not stop at a championship. We went further. We went unbeaten."
He let his gaze travel slowly around the stands, as if meeting every pair of eyes, and poured the rest of it out from the heart.
"We are City! We are City!"
The chant rose from the stands of its own accord.
"To everyone who came here today—your passion carried us to an unbeaten title. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart."
The players on the podium began to clap, and the Etihad filled with roaring once more.
Captain Mathias took the microphone next.
He had been here through City's darkest years, and when the moment finally arrived, the tears broke free.
"I... I never thought I'd see..."
"Mathias! Mathias!"
"Don't cry, skipper!"
The fans' voices only made him weep harder.
"I will... I will give City everything I have!"
Mathias wiped his eyes and stepped back. Guerrero bounced up to the mic with a spring in his stride.
"Yo! Everybody! We just went unbeaten!"
He launched into an impromptu rap, and laughter burst out of the stands.
Sanchez followed with thanks to the grandmother who had raised him. Castillo delivered his winner's remarks in that same calm, unadorned way of his.
Last up.
"Tae-woo! Tae-woo!"
The Etihad Stadium chanted my name. From the Korean section, the roar came even louder.
I wonder if the Soccer God is watching...
The letter I'd received lately still sat uneasily in my chest—the anxious sense that he had been dragged off somewhere. But I set the worry aside. This moment deserved all of me.
I took the microphone and looked out over the crowd. Between the rolling waves of sky blue, the Korean flags found my eyes.
"To every fan who came all the way from Korea to support me—thank you, truly. And to the manager who believed in me, my deepest thanks as well."
I drew a breath, called up Guus Hiddink's famous line from 2002, and went on.
"Tae-woo! Tae-woo!"
And so a beautiful day at Manchester City slowly, gently, came to a close.