The Unchanging KFA
Somewhere on a Korean football community board.
Lee Jino's heart was hammering with anticipation.
Everyone said they were boycotting, so even when ticketing opens, barely anyone should buy, right?
After the incident in which a KFA executive reported to the coach without so much as checking a player's nationality, public opinion had naturally turned ugly. Watching it unfold, Lee Jino decided this was his chance.
The outrage is burning hot right now, but give it a few days and it'll go limp. And once that happens, those KFA bastards will just skate past any real accountability for this mess.
It was the same script Lee Jino had watched play out every single time. That was exactly why he wanted to push a boycott before the heat died down — to show the KFA that the public was not a herd of pigs to be herded around.
The association had handed down a disciplinary measure to the executive who'd made the blunder.
These KFA sons of bitches. How little do they have to think of the public to slap him with a one-million-won fine and call it done?
Reading that article sealed it. Lee Jino resolved to boycott. And luckily, most of public opinion was tilting the same way.
Alright. One minute left until ticketing opens.
He sat waiting to log into the A-match ticketing site.
Even with the mood like this, a few thousand people will still buy tickets.
But that was inevitable, he told himself. Wherever there were people for something, there would always be people against it.
Even if a few thousand get tickets, tens of thousands of seats will still be empty. That counts as a win.
A few thousand showing up wouldn't matter. The match was at Seoul World Cup Stadium in Sangam, which held roughly sixty-six thousand. Even if a tenth of the seats filled, Lee Jino figured that would still look sparse enough.
"Finally."
While he was thinking, ticketing time hit. Lee Jino connected to the site immediately.
"Huh? Why is it doing this?"
The page wouldn't load. Fortunately, after about ten seconds of waiting, he got through.
God, this piece-of-shit computer. There's barely anyone trying to get in and it's still lagging like this.
Telling himself he really needed to replace the machine, he got onto the homepage — and froze solid.
"Fuck?"
Because every seat he could see had already turned red.
"Same as always."
Lee Junho was staring at the seats painted solid red.
I got my hopes up when they said boycott. Should've known better.
After the KFA executive was hit with that one-million-won slap on the wrist, the nation had been furious. On the internet, at least. They'd howled about a boycott — and then the tickets sold out ten seconds after sales opened.
"What was I even expecting."
He said it, but he couldn't help the bitter smile. Korea might not have given him many good memories, but it was still the place he'd been born, the place where he'd played football until the day he died.
My condolences to everyone playing football in Korea.
In the end there was nothing he could actually do. All he could manage was a silent word of comfort in his own head.
He was sitting in that low mood when my door opened and Jieun walked in.
"What were you looking at?"
She strode over, rested her chin on top of my head, and peered at the monitor.
"Sold out completely?"
"Yeah."
"Hmm. All that talk about boycotting."
"Right?"
"What, Lee Junho, are you in a bad mood right now?"
She'd known me since we were kids, so she picked up on it right away.
"Well… you did everything you could."
"I did."
She was right. From where I stood, I'd done what I could. I'd even told the press the executive's punishment felt too light. It still ended with a one-million-won fine, of course.
Haa……
"Ah! Seriously, Lee Junho, just this once……?"
"Just what?"
Watching me sink into that gloom again, Jieun spoke up. Curious, I looked over — and her face flushed as she took my hand and pressed it against her chest.
"Mom told me. She said if you let a guy touch your chest, even a bad mood clears up fast."
"Huh?"
"You're not going to touch?"
The sudden permission threw me, but there was no way I was letting this chance go. I cupped her chest and started to feel her.
"Nnh. This feels weird."
I kept at it for a while, and the heavy mood that had been sitting on me just melted away.
"Thanks, Jieun. I feel better because of you."
When I thanked her for pulling me out of it, she started undoing her bra strap. I was still reeling from the sudden move when, just like that, she slipped free of it completely, bare underneath, and looked at me with a mischievous little expression.
"Yeah? Then don't you want to feel even better?"
I couldn't hold back.
About two weeks had passed since the KFA incident.
In that time Barcelona had played three more matches, won all three, and pulled clear into sole first place in the league. And ever since that day, my relationship with Jieun had moved up a whole level.
Thanks, KFA.
The Korea Football Association had always been a bad influence on my life, but this one time it had given me something good as well.
Still. Let's not do that again.
My feelings about the KFA hadn't vanished, but they had diluted a little. Knowing I probably wouldn't get tangled up with them again from here on out was enough to lift my mood.
Yeah. Get out of my life already.
The people still playing football in Korea would keep suffering, of course, but there was nothing to be done about that. There was a limit to what I could do from where I stood.
"Still, someday……"
Still, I believed the KFA would change someday. Not on its own, of course. It would take the public keeping a steady eye on them and putting in the work, so it wouldn't be easy.
Three weeks after the KFA mess, our families finally found out what we'd been doing.
"You used a condom, right?"
"Yes……"
"Well, that's a relief."
"Lee Junho."
"Yes……!"
I'd been standing there listening to Jieun and Mom talk when she called my name and I answered.
"Jieun said she was the one who asked for it first, so I don't have anything to say about that."
Mom paused for a breath.
"But you still understand that choosing to do it with Jieun was your decision, right?"
"Of course I do."
"If anything goes wrong, you take responsibility together. Obviously."
"Yes."
Don't worry. Jieun and I are going to spend our whole lives together.
The day of the match against Real Madrid arrived.
Naturally, the thought of playing Real had me buzzing with excitement.
El Clasico.
I'd faced Real's youth side back when I was in Barcelona's academy, but I honestly didn't count that as a real El Clasico.
"You can lose other matches, but you know you can't lose today, right?"
At the manager's words, the Barcelona players nodded.
"Good. You already know, so I won't say more — but today, at the very least, we take a draw."
He made it sound like he was worried for them, but the truth was Manager Frank wasn't that concerned.
We already had a good shot at winning, and once Lee Junho and Messi came in, the odds tipped hard toward Barcelona.
There was one small worry, though. For Messi and Lee Junho, this would be their first El Clasico. Still, he had a feeling those two would be different — the same way they had been different ever since their debuts.
And so, with both nerves and expectation running high, the match kicked off. Lee Junho and Messi did not let Manager Frank's hopes down.