Preparing for the World Cup: Coaching Session and Aspirations

While Jung Tae-woo was back in Korea filming Legend Soccer, a meeting was underway at Manchester City, with Peter Guardian at its head.

"The way I see it, we've already got a squad that can chase an even better finish next season. What's missing, though..."

"We don't have the right players on the bench."

The assessment came from James Brown, the man who had done more than anyone to bring Jung Tae-woo to Manchester City, and Peter Guardian nodded.

"That's right. Lucan's there to cover Tae-woo's spot, so that one's fine — but everywhere else, the gap between the starters and the backups is huge. Has anyone put in a transfer request?"

"Most of the players currently on the bench have."

City's reserves were, by and large, men who had been squeezed out by incoming prospects. They were good enough to start for a mid-table side, but they were not the kind of players a club chasing a higher finish next season could afford to keep.

"Let every player who's asked to leave go. For next season, we reinforce the squad primarily with veterans who can cover for the young prospects."

"Yes, sir."

Around the table, everyone copied Peter Guardian's instructions into their notebooks.

"And..."

The next item was, in truth, the most important matter of the entire meeting.

"Which clubs have come in for our Tae-woo?"

"Plenty. If we're talking about the ones that are actually serious, there are four."

A flood of transfer inquiries for Jung Tae-woo had been only a matter of time. Relative to what he could do, his current wages were remarkably low, and there was no buyout clause in his contract. It was no exaggeration to say that every financially stable club on the planet had taken an interest.

"Serious," here, meant the clubs that had made it clear they would use any means necessary to sign him.

"Which four?"

"First, Manchester United. They've tabled a transfer fee of four hundred million euros. A figure befitting the best goalkeeper alive."

"Four hundred million for a goalkeeper..."

Peter Guardian muttered it under his breath and let out a long sigh.

Three hundred and fifty million euros for a goalkeeper would already have been a sum without precedent in the history of the game. Offering that kind of money for anyone other than an outfield superstar was, by any measure, an extraordinary bid.

But if the player in question was Jung Tae-woo, the conversation changed.

Anyone who had watched the Premier League this season would have conceded that he was worth every penny. Tae-woo's game had long since burst clean through the frame of the goalkeeper position.

"And the others?"

"Paris Saint-Germain, Bayern Munich, and Real Madrid. All three say the fee is irrelevant — they'll match any contract terms we want."

"What's Tae-woo on a week right now?"

"Fourteen thousand euros."

Peter Guardian's eyebrow twitched.

"And even that started at ten thousand five hundred. We only raised it in the early-season renegotiation."

"Has his agent said anything?"

"She just called and said she's looking forward to seeing how sincere City is about this."

"That's the scariest line of all..."

Peter Guardian's expression hardened in an instant. Looking forward to your sincerity meant she already knew every offer on the table. This was no longer a problem that could be solved with a modest bump, and he knew it perfectly well.

"Make it three hundred and eighty thousand euros a week."

"Sir...?"

Everyone in the room sucked in a breath. Player wages had been soaring of late, but three hundred and eighty thousand for a goalkeeper who had just turned twenty and had only a single senior season under his belt?

It was a figure that sat a mere twenty thousand euros below what Mathias, Manchester City's captain, was earning.

"But, Manager, if we do that, our entire wage structure—"

"That's what it's going to take to satisfy that agent of his. She's not an easy woman to please."

Peter Guardian cut him off without hesitation.

If Tae-woo grew disappointed with City's offer and walked across town to Manchester United, the unbeaten-title momentum they were riding would collapse overnight. Next season they might ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠not even finish mid-table — ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠they could slide all the way into the bottom half.

Tae-woo is a player City cannot afford to lose.

The owner had already issued a special directive: whatever it costs, keep Tae-woo.

Faced with Peter Guardian's unyielding tone, everyone in the room could only nod. The aide quietly moved his pen across his notebook.

After the variety-show filming wrapped, time ran fast, and before I knew it June had arrived.

I was at the Paju National Football Center, linking up with the players who had joined the national ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠team to prepare for the World Cup friendlies.

This World Cup squad looked nothing like the usual faces. For starters, the manager had changed.

"Gentlemen. Are we ready to play attacking football — and enjoy it?"

That was Cheon Mu-seok, the man who had led us to Olympic gold, speaking just before training began.

Every player's eyes, however, were locked not on his words, but on the sunlight gleaming off the crown of his head.

That's right. Sadly, Coach Cheon Mu-seok had grown considerably thinner up top.

"Ahem... What are you all staring at? Get ready for training, now!"

The moment he realized where their gazes were pointed, he cleared his throat and barked.

He'd still had a full head of hair during the Olympics. How had it come to this?

"Heh. Tae-woo, think the boss has been stressing pretty hard?"

That was Lee Tae-yang, who had joined the national team with me.

"You shouldn't say that, Tae-yang."

Yoo Hee-sung cut in from beside us.

The two of them were the new faces called up alongside me this time. They had made headlines transferring to Borussia Dortmund and Manchester United respectively, but the public had pushed back all the same: they were still kids who hadn't proven anything in Europe — why were we picking them?

Cheon Mu-seok had answered that criticism with a single line.

No one could argue after that. He was the manager who had proven his selections right with Olympic gold, in the teeth of every critic.

"Gather round, guys!"

At Seo-joon's call, everyone clustered together, and training began.

Cheon Mu-seok's methods hadn't changed: brutal fitness work, tactical drills, and mini-games that felt like the real thing. The new arrivals adapted quickly.

When the fitness session ended and everyone was sitting down to rest, Coach Cheon walked over.

"How far do you lot want to go at this World Cup?"

"I'd like to write a new Miracle of the Semifinals," Seo-joon said first, smiling, and the others chimed in with their own answers.

"I'd die happy if we just made the quarterfinals."

"Ahem. If you're a man, you've got to reach the semis at least."

Cheon Mu-seok allowed a small smile, then looked at me.

"What about you, Tae-woo?"

I thought for a moment.

If we actually won this World Cup, I could play football without a single worry left in the world... but was this squad really capable of that?

First, Yoo Hee-sung had improved so much even he seemed surprised. He hadn't even started training at United yet, and already his level was hinting at a sensational breakout.

Then Lee Tae-yang. A textbook target man — a complete forward with the kind of physicality Korea had never had, plus excellent technique on the ball. He still had gaps, but he was more than good enough to decide matches at a World Cup.

Add the new faces, veterans like Seo-joon, and Cheon Mu-seok's attacking system, and...

"The title."

"Hm? What was that?"

"Winning it is the goal. A goal's got to be big, after all."

I genuinely believed we had a squad that could chase the championship.

Originally I had been targeting ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the next World Cup. I had planned to build the side around a genius midfielder named Yoo Seung-min...

Yoo Seung-min. One of the world-recognized talents I had discovered during the football mini-game on Star Mission Big Operation.

In the original timeline he would have played for Argentina at the U-20s, won the Golden Ball, and moved to Real Madrid. Now he was growing under Ga-young's guidance.

He was about to sign with Manchester City's academy.

Ahem. Helping him sign with City to keep United — and Yoo Hee-sung — in check? That is absolutely not why I did it.

When City were at their peak, they poured enormous money into youth development. A systematic program, world-class facilities, outstanding coaches... there was no better environment for a young player to grow.

If it was Seung-min, he could become a world-class player here.

"The title, huh... That's a good goal. That's why I like you, Tae-woo. You go all out, just like me."

Cheon Mu-seok grinned as he said it.

The air on the training ground shifted.

One by one, the players who had been lost in their own thoughts found the look in their eyes changing. Our goal was no longer simply surviving the group, or the round of sixteen, or the quarters, or even the semis.

"Let's allow ourselves a little more hope. And let's show the fans that hope — starting with these friendlies."

Everyone nodded. Some people would call it reckless. But at City, I had already erased the word impossible.

We could absolutely chase a World Cup title.

The look in every player's eyes had changed. A small spark had caught in each of their chests. And that spark would soon become a blaze roaring through all of us.

Soccer God... I don't know what you're up to, but watch closely. I'm going to win the World Cup. So you'd better show up before then, you gambling addict.