Chapter 70
Chapter 70
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 70
Chapter Title: The Goddess of Victory - 4
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As the game continued, there were moments when I was struck by a sudden thought.
...
Is this for real?
No, it really is.
The first goal, officially recorded as an own goal by the opponent, was like that, and a series of fortunate incidents had continued to follow us ever since.
Even after the opening goal, the opponent had dominated the game.
They were clearly a step faster than us, more threatening, and had created far more decisive moments.
The problem was that our side kept getting all the luck.
For example... first, there was the goalpost.
Thoooom-!
Paaang-!
"Ugh...!"
A mid-range shot from Theo Hernandez, and a header from Zlatan.
Both of those decisive shots hit the goalpost and saved us.
Even the trajectories were such that it wouldn't have been strange if they had gone in, but they all bent weirdly and failed to cross the goal line.
For the opponent, it was misfortune. For us, it was a stroke of luck.
And it wasn't just that.
Deflected passes would inexplicably keep coming our way, and an opponent trying to clear a ball would inexplicably slip and fall.
And that happened several times.
Above all, the most decisive factor was the red card.
"Aaargh-!"
It was around the 30th minute of the first half.
A ball bounced in the midfield, and two players charged at it at the same time... The opponent's midfielder went in for a reckless tackle and was given a straight red.
Honestly, it was hard to call this luck.
After all, a tackle coming in with studs up was a legitimate reason for a sending-off, and more importantly, Torreira, the one who took the tackle, was in immense pain.
Fortunately, Torreira was just in a lot of pain but quickly got back on his feet, and the opponent, now a man down, showed a sharp drop in their momentum...
So, in the end, it could be said it was indeed luck.
"I told you this was a winnable game! Just relax!"
"We are under the blessing of the Goddess!"
...
Given the situation, I was at a loss for words too.
Honestly, judging by the quality of play alone, it was hard to say we were winning this game.
Of course, you have to score to win in the game of football... but it's still clear that the opponent was the one dominating the game.
But we were the ones leading the game 1-0... So, does Ji-woo really have something up his sleeve?
...
I don't even know what I'm thinking right now.
What could he possibly have...
Paaang-!
...
As I was thinking that, a misplayed pass deflected off an opponent's body and rolled right to my feet.
I really don't know anymore.
To be honest, I felt a little uneasy. It was after a player was sent off and the second half began.
The opponent took off a forward and brought in a defensive midfielder.
Leang, the winger who had been the most threatening throughout the first half, came off, and the opponent had no choice but to drop their line and enter a defensive posture.
Thanks to that, control of the game had passed to us, but... for some reason, I felt uncomfortable, as if we hadn't earned this with our skill.
Of course, that's an arrogant thought.
It wasn't an unfair sending-off; it was a legitimate one. That too is just a part of the match.
Managing cards is also a skill in its own right, so in fact, it's strange to feel uneasy about it.
Even knowing that... the strange feeling of unease lingered.
Why?
"Push them back!"
"Go up, go up!"
Anyway.
Unlike me, who still couldn't shake my childishness, the seniors relentlessly targeted the wounded opponent.
They moved the ball around to make the opponent, who had to cover more ground with one man down, run even more, and they deliberately initiated physical battles.
To torment them more, to tear them apart more.
Unable to do my best because of an indescribable unease, I couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt watching my seniors.
No matter the situation, no matter the conditions.
Winning the game is the pro's mentality...
I wondered if I was still far from becoming a true pro, like my seniors.
The mentality emanating from the seniors was transmitted to me as well, and I tried to change my thinking.
I started to dig in, thinking relentlessly about how to attack the opponent, now a man down, more effectively.
It wasn't being cheap.
It was simply a desire for victory.
Paaang-!
It was about ten minutes into the second half.
I picked up the ball in the midfield.
I had dropped slightly from my original position to get the ball, but as soon as I got it, a defender closed in.
Tat-tat-tat-!
Even with a man down, the opponent was trailing by a goal. They couldn't just sit back and defend, which meant...
I could pull their defense out as much as I wanted.
I waited for the defender to come to me, then...
Paaang-!
I passed to a nearby teammate and moved into space.
Paaang-!
The ball came right back.
The defender chasing the ball came right back at me.
I repeated the process.
Paaang-
Paaang-!
If there was one thing I was good at, it was running away. As if in training, I exchanged short passes and moved around,
"—!"
When I judged that the opponent's defensive line had been sufficiently drawn out,
Thoooom-!
I sent the ball forward without hesitation.
Shoooooooom-!
With their minds in a panic after going a man down and coming up to steal the ball, it was only natural they would leave space exposed.
And it was incredibly easy to spot that space and drill a pass into it.
Paaang-!
As soon as I confirmed the pass was delivered to the left, I sprinted forward.
It's the same even now. With a man down, a space is guaranteed to open up somewhere. It's not hard to find and run into that space.
Tat-tat-tat-!
As I ran toward that open space... I suddenly felt like I understood why I had felt so uneasy.
Until the red card, we had been struggling badly.
The opponent pressed us hard, we had trouble with it, and I was thinking about how to turn this situation around.
But after the game turned this way, I no longer had to worry about that.
Thanks to that... it had become boring.
Paaang-!
Sanabria's cutback flowed toward the back of the box. It was in the direction I was running.
I decided to shoot the cutback directly and adjusted my stride.
It was a funny thought.
They say a puppy doesn't know the fear of a tiger... Here I am, with a weakness exposed in the opponent, and I'm thinking a childish thought that it's boring.
I know it's funny too, but it's just my honest feeling.
I can't help what my heart feels...
Thoooom-!
I timed my stride to the incoming ball and struck it.
I aimed for the left post, focusing on accuracy over power, and curled it with the inside of my foot.
And my shot...
Shoooooooom-!
Slap-!
Slammed into the corner of the net.
And I was still as cocky as ever.
I wasn't particularly happy, just like before.
I had to find some fun.
I couldn't spend the rest of the time meaninglessly.
A new kind of fun... I wondered what that could be, and then I thought of a childish form of revenge.
Paaang-
I picked up the ball on the right and turned.
The opponent's fullback, Theo Hernandez, blocked my path.
This was the player who had tormented our right flank relentlessly until the first half.
So, now it was time to get revenge for my seniors.
I'm going to torment you now.
Tock, tock-
I dribbled in slowly, gauging the opponent's reaction.
It was a pure one-on-one.
With a man down, the opponent couldn't afford to defend in pairs. I slowly moved in, focusing all my nerves on my toes and the opponent's movements.
Tock, tock-
With every touch I made, the opponent flinched. He was reacting to every single movement... Usually, players with great reflexes are like this.
If that's the case, let's use that against him.
Tock-!
My rhythm, which had been steadily tapping the ball, was suddenly broken. I touched the ball a little too hard, and it bounced awkwardly.
It was a long touch.
The ball bounced long, right toward the opponent, and with his quick reactions, there was no way he'd miss it.
Taaat-!
The opponent's foot shot out toward the ball.
Patience is the foundation of defending, but not many defenders can wait that long when the ball is right in front of them.
The opponent was no different, and he took the bait I'd thrown.
Tock, tock-!
I touched the ball with my left foot a split-second before him, then immediately pushed it forward with my right and burst past him.
He was a fast player, but he couldn't keep up after his timing was broken like that.
Tat-tat-tat-!
After beating the defender, I dribbled forward.
From here, the direction was key.
If I just ran straight toward the corner flag, he'd catch up to me in no time...
I had to go inside.
Even if a defender was waiting there.
Tat-tat-tat-!
I cut inside to the left, driving the ball with me.
He was so fast that the fullback I had beaten was already charging at me, so I had to get my body in front first.
If I shielded the ball with my body, there was no way to stop me other than a foul.
Just as I thought, he couldn't touch me.
"Hoo, hoo-"
I exhaled my ragged breath strongly and didn't stop dribbling as I approached the box.
At the same time, I kept my eyes inside the box, watching my teammates' movements and the opponent's defensive reactions.
Hmm... There was no one to pass to.
It was strange. With a man down, a space was guaranteed to be open somewhere, but no teammate was running into that space.
I didn't know why, but I had no choice but to decide to finish this myself.
Tat-tat-tat-!
I passed the corner of the box and faced the defender.
Left or right.
I shook my upper body to create confusion.
The opponent reacted to my movement, but I could see he reacted more strongly to the left.
Probably because cutting toward the center was more threatening.
That's the direction that opens up a wider shooting angle.
Paaang-
Tat-tat-tat-!
So I cut in to the right.
It was true that as I got closer to the goal line, the shooting angle narrowed, but I figured it was fine as long as I could get a shot on target.
It wasn't a situation where a goal was desperately needed.
When you're the one winning, it's this easy to control the game.
Thoooom-!
I put my right foot through the ball.
The shot was the same. Instead of carefully aiming, I just hit it with a "whatever happens, happens" attitude.
The funny thing is, when I shoot like this, sometimes a shot I never could have imagined goes in.
It's far more spectacular than when I aim carefully.
It's like a random box, you could say.
Zwaaaaaaah-!
Slap-!
A hit.
I absolutely wasn't aiming for it, but it was as if I had. The shot went right between the keeper's legs and rattled the net.
If someone saw it, they'd think I aimed for that spot on purpose.
"Aaaargh-!!"
"You bastard, how did you aim for that spot from there?!"
I'd caused a misunderstanding, but I kept my secret with an awkward smile.
Beep, beep, beeeep-!
Three whistles signaled the end of the game.
The stadium had been quiet for a long time, and in that quiet, the only loud ones were us.
"We won!!"
"Bow to the Goddess of Victory!"
"The Goddess's blessing has protected us!"
"Proclaim it! We have won, for the Goddess has blessed us!"
The seniors raised both arms toward our team's stands and kept bowing.
I watched them, clicked my tongue... and was immediately dragged away by the Coach.
As always, it was time to stand in front of the cameras and become a robot.
"Congratulations on the win!"
"Thank you."
For some reason, it feels like there are more and more cameras each time.
I'd like to close my eyes and do the interview, but then I'd be treated like a weirdo.
"We expected this to be a very difficult game, but you achieved an unexpected, decisive victory. Did you expect a 3-0 scoreline?"
"Hmm... I didn't know about the score, but I was confident we could win."
My answer made the journalist react with exaggeration.
They have a knack for blowing even insignificant things up into something huge, so I have to be careful.
"What part of the game gave you that confidence? Were your conditions good during training? Was the team atmosphere good as well?"
At the journalist's question, I scratched my neck for a moment, buying some time to think.
But the only answer that came to mind was one.
It's true my conditions were decent, and the team atmosphere was good.
But what gave me the confidence for victory was...
"...I think it was because I believed the Goddess of Victory would raise our hand."
"...The Goddess of Victory?"
At my answer, the journalist's eyes went wide, then he burst out laughing.
"Haha! You got me there. I thought I'd hear about the key to breaking down AC Milan. Well, I'll let that one slide."
...
I answered honestly, mustering up my courage.
Well, at least one person understood, so that's enough.
"If you have any final words you'd like to say, feel free. Please."
At the journalist's final question, I didn't deliberate, but just blurted out what came to mind.
I didn't really need to say it, but I felt like I had to say something to escape this suffocating place.
"Hmm... I hope we can have a proper match next time. Today's victory didn't really feel like a victory."
After answering, I escaped from the suffocating cameras as if running away, and I saw an old man standing behind the cameras clapping for me.
I couldn't figure out why.