Chapter 12
Chapter 12
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 12
Chapter Title: Goal
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The strengths of Manager Martin Leo, as I see them.
First off, he’s someone you can actually communicate with.
And not just adequately—he communicates exceptionally well, beyond what’s necessary.
Just look at my actions over the past few days.
Before even signing the contract, requesting a position change.
Asking him to sign one specific player I wanted.
And now, telling him that the coaches seem incompetent, so he should talk to me instead.
Even a veteran player pulling this would be slammed for challenging the manager’s authority.
If anything, it’s because I’m a rookie that this boldness is somewhat tolerated.
Even accounting for that, Manager Martin Leo is remarkably open-minded for such a young coach.
His second strength is his actual skill as a manager.
A coach who just listens well might make a good puppet for a while, but that’s temporary.
No matter who I am, I can’t take over every single one of the manager’s roles.
I even considered scouring my memories from my past life for an up-and-coming coach who had both talent and was easy to communicate with.
But now, there’s no need.
With Manager Martin Leo, I’m confident we can achieve all my goals at Espanyol.
My goal at Espanyol is, naturally, a treble.
Sure, if you include the minor tournaments, we could aim higher than a treble, but those are just bonuses—no need to make them official targets.
La Liga title, Champions League, Copa del Rey.
That alone would mean we’ve conquered Espanyol.
Luckily solving the manager issue has me all pumped up, dreaming too big.
"Let’s focus on what we can do right now."
For now, it’s returning to the first division—promotion.
Get promoted first, then we can talk.
Talking treble while stuck in the second division would just earn mockery.
They’d point out we can’t even enter La Liga, Champions League, or Copa del Rey.
These are all things we’ll achieve anyway.
No need to rush—just tackle the steps in front of us as planned.
"Si-eon!"
Adam Dolan, who couldn’t approach while I was talking to Manager Martin Leo, rushed over.
He’d been fidgeting and glancing my way the entire time, right in the corner of my vision.
"How was it?"
"It was... really fun. Lately, soccer felt so overwhelming. My mind wore out before my body, and it was brutal. Physical fatigue? Rest up and go again. But soccer just stressed me out, making it feel impossible. With you, though, it’s so easy!"
Just 30 minutes ago, this guy hadn’t trusted a word I said, but now his eyes were filled with faith.
I’d wondered if he could change this much, but it seems Dolan’s real weakness was his mentality.
Having a teammate who can always cover your mistakes changes how you play.
Dolan must have felt like the pitch was thin ice all this time.
Everyone’s had that feeling.
In games, grabbing an extra life to prepare for the worst keeps you alive for ages.
But if you lose it, or remember last time you got one but couldn’t use it, and skip it—bam, you die quick.
Once you start obsessing over having just one shot, it’s hard to play at your best.
Of course, some players stay calm in that pressure, even thrive on it.
Adam Dolan was the type who needed that extra life to show his true skill—a bit mentally fragile.
For a guy like that, the insurance of “in tough spots, just pass to me” acts like having an extra life.
With it, he can even attempt bolder plays.
Of course, only when his own sharp judgment allows it.
"From now on, just trust me and play your game."
"Yeah! I’m so glad you joined our team... Ah, I’m just bench fodder anyway."
"You really think that?"
"Huh? Even I admit I played well this time, but it’s just one training match. Jumping straight to starter feels too soon..."
"So if you become a starter, it’s thanks to me, right? If that happens, you have to back me up no matter what I do."
"If I can become an Espanyol starter, of course. Thanks to you, I finally feel like I’m growing again after so long. Even if I don’t make starter, I’ll support you."
"Alright, then play the second half just like the first. And after today, if anyone asks why you suddenly got so good, tell them I taught you."
"Obviously! It’s the truth. Can’t wait for the second half!"
The second half lacked the dramatic twists of the first—if fans had watched, they’d have called it boring.
Those who know soccer would’ve seen something different, though.
As Manager Martin Leo instructed, Lee Si-eon played defensively.
Beyond defensive—he completely held back on attacks.
The reasons? First, to prove his defensive skills. Second, to see what kind of attacks the team could muster without him.
We’d led 2-0 at halftime, but both goals were his long-range efforts.
In other words, even dominating the game, the team couldn’t score without his individual brilliance.
And in the second half, with Lee Si-eon not joining attacks at all...
Score: 2:0
Team 1’s attacks were all shut down by Lee Si-eon. Team 2’s were a disorganized mess that collapsed on their own—no one even needed to try.
Maybe I should adjust my assessment of Espanyol’s youth squad.
I’d thought it impressive to gather so much talent in one generation, with even more promising kids beyond these.
But it doesn’t seem that way.
‘Guess these guys are the real monsters.’
Still, same youth academy, years together, yet no proper link-up play.
Makes you wonder if these are really the guys who’ll pull off a miracle two years from now.
None of their talents have bloomed yet.
But at the same time, a strange anticipation welled up.
How to mold and combine these quirky rejects overflowing with personality.
What the end result would look like.
"Everyone must have felt a lot from today’s match. Especially Team 1."
The overall mood wasn’t great.
Team 1 got crushed, so naturally, emptiness, despair, irritation—all negative emotions crashing in.
Team 2 won but couldn’t celebrate openly, and as the game wore on, they felt firsthand that their win wasn’t due to their skill but one new player. Not exactly joyful.
I’d firmly imprinted my presence on every member of both squads—first goal accomplished.
After light recovery training, I waited for Camila to head home.
"Si-eon. Got a moment?"
Espanyol’s captain, Paul Hernandez, approached.
"Ah, Captain, good work today. Sure, if it’s quick."
"You were very impressive today."
"Ah, thank you."
...
"Anything else...?"
"Mm... yeah. Take care going forward."
Paul Hernandez suddenly offered his hand with a “take care.”
Thinking what an odd guy, I shook it.
"See you tomorrow."
He’d spoken so resolutely that I wondered if he’d overheard my talk with Manager Martin Leo, but he just left with a plain greeting.
It seemed like his way of looking out for the newbie as captain, but combined with his naturally taciturn personality, it felt strangely surreal.
"Player Si-eon! Hop in quick!"
"Ugh."
"Hehe..."
Lost in thought like I’d triggered some weird event, staring at the sky—Camila must’ve snuck right up during that.
Her voice right in my face startled me.
Sorry to say, but she’s so short I thought it came from below.
"How was training today?"
"Not bad. Seems like there are quite a few good players."
"Right?? Espanyol doesn’t belong in the second division at all!! It’s the bullfrog of Segunda División! We feel bad for the other teams, so we gotta promote quick... Being this good isn’t a crime, you know~?"
One little compliment, and Camila was over the moon, hamming it up.
I wondered if “quite a few good players” was that high praise.
"But why are we sixth?"
...
"Eek...! Come on! Let’s go home and rest..."
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ That evening’s menu was three chicken breasts. That was it.
"Camila~? Dinner feels kinda light, doesn’t it??"
"Hmph! Espanyol’s sixth, so Player Si-eon needs to manage his diet and pull us up!"