Champions League Group Stage Matchday 3: AC Milan
The demands placed on strikers in football keep growing by the year.
In the old days, all anyone asked of a forward was the ability to put the ball in the net.
Modern football, though, expects far more than goals alone. Defensive work rate is the prime example. Strikers used to be exempt from tracking back; now even the men up front are expected to put in a shift at the back. That was exactly why I had worked so hard on my defensive game.
Messi and Ronaldo types might get a free pass, of course.
But I was neither Messi nor Ronaldo, so while I polished every attacking trait a striker needs, I drilled the defensive side just as diligently.
Those hours of grind clearly hadn’t been wasted.
Not when moments like this kept happening.
I stepped across the path of a player trying to dribble past me, got my foot to the ball, and simply took it away.
“Huh?”
The opposing attacker looked stunned. He clearly never expected to lose possession.
Whatever he thought was his problem. I immediately fed the ball forward to Iniesta, who was already ahead of me.
Iniesta didn’t cradle the pass; he took it first-time and slid Messi clean through for a one-on-one with the keeper.
Only Iniesta’s exquisite weight of pass and Messi’s magical first touch could have created that chance.
Messi waited for the onrushing goalkeeper, then chipped him.
The keeper stretched every centimeter he had, but the ball was already beyond reach. It bounced twice in front of the empty net and rolled gently home.
Thud-thud… rattle-roll.
Messi’s twentieth goal of the season.
After Messi’s goal the tempo only accelerated.
The score stood at 3-0, yet Barcelona kept hammering at AC Milan’s door as if that still weren’t enough.
Milan knew a win tonight was virtually impossible, so they dropped into a compact double bank of four, determined not to concede again.
They tried the odd counter, but I kept appearing out of nowhere to rob them, and every attack fizzled before it could properly form.
Lee Junho cuts out another AC Milan attack!
Milan still possessed Kaká, a future Ballon d’Or winner, so their counters always carried danger.
Flip that thought, though: cut the supply lines to Kaká and Milan’s entire attack would lose its teeth.
So I spent the night sprinting into those passing lanes, and most of the balls headed for Kaká never arrived.
That alone drained the life from their offense.
Every now and then Kaká did receive the ball, but with so many bodies committed to the low block they never had the numbers for a proper counter. Barcelona’s back line handled those moments without breaking a sweat.
The endless failed attacks began to rattle Milan.
Finally, in the eighty-fifth minute, they conceded again and completely collapsed.
AC Milan were strong. Barcelona were simply stronger.
“I don’t know about the other attackers, but Kaká was the real deal,” Jorge said.
I nodded.
“He showed exactly why he’s Milan’s ace.”
“Right.”
Most of the supply to Kaká never reached him tonight, so he barely touched the ball. Every time he did get it, though, he looked dangerous.
He just never found the net.
“I need to bulk up more.”
“Why?”
“Attackers like Kaká are still tough to handle.”
He wasn’t wrong. Jorge wasn’t yet at the level where he could completely nullify one of the world’s elite forwards. That didn’t mean he’d been overrun. All night he had marked Kaká and made the physical difference obvious. By the dying minutes Kaká looked nervous just seeing Jorge approach.
“What does stopping Kaká have to do with putting on muscle?”
“If I get bigger I’ll mark him better, won’t I?”
“?”
Something about the logic felt off, but it wasn’t worth arguing. We chatted about a dozen other things on the way home.
“You’re back?”
As always, Jieun was there to greet me.
“Where is everyone?”
“Eunha’s sleeping over at a friend’s. Mom and Dad said they’ll be back tomorrow evening.”
“So it’s just the two of us tonight…?”
“Yep.”
She gave me that little smile of hers.
“Oh—have you eaten?”
“Not yet.”
“I figured. That’s why I got everything ready!”
She pointed toward the kitchen. The table was loaded with side dishes; the smell was incredible.
“What are you waiting for? Dig in.”
“Right.”
I sat down, still half-hypnotized by the aroma.
“Here—try this.”
She picked up a piece of meat with her chopsticks and held it to my mouth.
“You’re not going to eat it?”
I hesitated a second too long and her face crumpled into the saddest expression in the world.
“I’m eating.”
I couldn’t keep looking at that face, so I opened my mouth and took the bite.
“Good boy!”
She ruffled my hair. Being treated like a toddler was embarrassing, but she was smiling, so I could live with it.
I swallowed the rest of the meal under that same gentle humiliation. When I was nearly finished she spoke again.
“I already filled the tub. Go soak for a while.”
“Got it.”
After dinner I stepped into the bathroom. True to her word, the tub was full of steaming water. I couldn’t resist; I sank straight in.
“Haaah…”
The heat wrapped around every muscle and melted away the fatigue of the match.
I stayed until my thoughts started to blur, then decided enough was enough and stood up. Water cascaded off me as I climbed out. I dried off, pulled on clean clothes, and returned to the living room.
“Feel better?”
“Yeah. A lot.”
My answer clearly pleased her; she flashed that bright, fresh smile.
“Want to watch a movie?”
“What are we watching?”
I sat down beside her.
“Anything you feel like?”
“Action?”
“Perfect—there’s a huge action flick that just came out. Let’s put that on.”
“Sounds good.”
So we settled in for an action movie.
“Lights off?”
She flipped the switch and the house sank into darkness.
“This should be fun, right?”
“Probably. It’s popular.”
That was what I told her. Internally I expected nothing. Movies from nearly twenty years before 2024 always looked crude to my eyes.
I started with zero expectations. When the credits rolled I was smiling with genuine satisfaction.
That was actually pretty good.
Maybe the complete lack of hope made the enjoyment hit harder.
“That was fun.”
“Yeah.”
Jieun looked just as content.
“Shall we head to bed?”
It was already past midnight.
“Hmm…”
“What’s wrong? Not sleepy yet?”
She wore the expression of someone who still had unfinished business.
“There’s something we haven’t done yet.”
“Haven’t done what?”
She made a frustrated little noise at my clueless reply.
“Come on… at this point you should just know…”
“……”
“Ugh… you’re really going to make me say it out loud…”
She hesitated, face burning red, then whispered:
“Let’s make a baby…”
I couldn’t hold it in. A snort of laughter escaped.
“Pff—”
Of course I had known. Even someone as dense as me couldn’t miss signals that obvious. I had only pretended not to notice because I wanted to watch her squirm with embarrassment.
“Ah… Lee Junho, you knew the whole time!”
“Of course I knew. I’m not an idiot.”
My shamelessness made her shoulders shake with fury.
“Haa… fine. Forget it for tonight. The mood’s already ruined.”
She started to stand.
“Good night, Lee Junho.”
I caught her arm before she could leave for the bedroom.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“……”
Park Jieun tried to pull free, but the look on my face froze her in place.
“Let’s do it.”
She opened her mouth to refuse… and never managed a single word.
In the end Park Jieun spent the entire night being thoroughly worn out by Lee Junho, and only woke up the next morning.