A New Family
They had clinched La Liga without a single defeat.
It was the first time such a feat had been achieved in the twenty-first century.
Of course, there had been undefeated champions back in the twentieth century.
In the nineteen-hundreds, two clubs had gone undefeated through a La Liga season: Athletic Club and Real Madrid. Athletic's undefeated title had come in 1929–1930; Real's, not long after, in 1931–1932. Nearly seventy years had passed since then without another undefeated champion — until Barcelona did it, becoming the first club of the new century to finish La Liga without a loss.
An undefeated league title alone would have been more than enough to earn the Barcelona squad endless praise. But they had piled on the Champions League and the Copa del Rey as well, completing a Treble — and the Cules had plunged into a frenzy of pure ecstasy.
"Six years without even a league title, and then Barcelona not only goes undefeated in the league but wins the Champions League and the Copa del Rey too — the first Treble in La Liga history. Who saw that coming?"
"I believed the whole time."
Jose scowled at Miguel's claim.
"You 'believed'? The same guy who asked me before the season even started if he should just root for Real Madrid instead?"
"Ah— that was a joke. Obviously."
"Didn't sound like a joke to me…"
"Come on! My grandfather's a Cule. Do you really have to keep doubting me?"
Jose gave him a look that said he was letting it slide — this once.
"Fine. I'll take your word for it this time. But no more jokes like that."
"Got it."
Miguel let out a quiet sigh of relief.
Did I see this coming? No way. Six years without a league title, and then they suddenly go undefeated, win the Champions League and the Copa, and pull off a Treble? I'm happy, sure, but…
"Next season's going to be something else."
Every Barcelona fan was thinking the same thing.
Where Barcelona blazed like the sun, another club sank into the dark: Real Madrid.
"To lose the league title to those guys… and not just any title — an undefeated one."
"That's not even the half of it. They pulled off a Treble no one in La Liga history had ever managed."
Isaac and Luis looked grim as the reality settled over them. Both were die-hard Real Madrid fans, and Barcelona's joy was their misfortune.
After a stretch of heavy silence, Isaac spoke up.
"Still — the summer transfer window's opening. What if we poach the players who carried Barcelona this season?"
"How?"
"Throw enough money at them, wave the chance to play for the greatest club in the world… it wouldn't be impossible, right?"
Luis's dark expression slowly brightened.
"There's a chance."
Real fans could dream all they wanted about stripping Barcelona bare. It was nothing more than wishful thinking.
"Hmm… so no one's leaving, then?"
Messi and Jorge both said they're staying. I've got no plans to go anywhere either. Ronaldinho and the rest of the core aren't making any moves. Looks like we'll start next season with the same squad intact.
Lee Junho's prediction hit the mark. Players who might otherwise have moved on were so buoyed by the glory of the season that they declared they were staying. Barcelona kept its squad exactly as it was.
Once the season had fully wound down, every Barcelona player — myself included — was given time off.
"You all worked hard this season. Rest up, recharge, and we'll see each other again. Especially you, Dinho — take care of that body of yours."
At Coach Frank's words, I glanced over at Ronaldinho and saw it: a belly already starting to push out.
The season just ended. How is that even possible?
Watching Dinho, who had apparently launched into a binge the second the final whistle blew, I thought to myself, This time I really need him to manage his body so his prime lasts longer. I should figure out a way.
There was a reason Junho was thinking about it so carefully. At his peak, Ronaldinho had played like something not quite human — so otherworldly that people still said the history of football itself would have been rewritten if he'd only looked after himself. In the original timeline, though, Dinho had failed at that, and eventually drifted out of the game. The brilliance of his prime still lived on in the memories of every Cule — and Junho was one of them.
"Ronaldinho with proper body management? I am not missing that."
We were having a baby.
"I didn't think it'd happen this fast…"
I hadn't expected it to come so quickly. Even if things went well, I figured it would take a few months at least. Instead, after only two weeks of going bare, she was pregnant — which basically meant it had happened the moment we started.
"You put it in every single day without missing one. Of course it happened right away."
Jieun, apparently not loving the look on my face, spelled out exactly why we'd gotten pregnant so fast. Well… she wasn't wrong. We really hadn't skipped a day. Then again, how was anyone supposed to hold back when we were going raw?
But now that there was a baby, I was going to have to restrain myself for a while. Sex in the early stages of pregnancy could risk a miscarriage.
"Can't be helped. I'll take care of you with my mouth."
She must have seen the disappointment on my face, because Jieun offered that instead — and of course I had no reason to refuse. I agreed on the spot.
"Just hold on a little. It won't be long before we can do it again."
With that, she went back to working me over, and I lost myself in the pleasure while thinking about the child who would soon join us.
The new family wasn't the only thing that happened over the break.
"You too?"
"Yeah. Four weeks along."
Messi was having a baby as well.
"We broke up."
"Ah… hang in there."
Iniesta and his girlfriend had split.
"I finally cleared two meters."
"Whoa…"
Jorge's height had climbed past the one-nineties and crossed into the two-meter range.
Plenty of things had happened — and some of them were outright absurd.
Articles had come out claiming that both Ferguson and Mourinho wanted me. I checked to see if it was real, and sure enough, both men had said as much in interviews.
Reading those interviews, I found myself thinking that dipping into the Premier League someday might not be such a bad idea. If I ever went to United, of course, it would have to be before Ferguson retired. Still, there was no rush — he had eight years left before hanging it up.
"Even so, if I'm going, better to go sooner rather than later."
Waiting too long wouldn't work either. The Manchester United squad right before Ferguson's retirement had been so thin you almost wondered how they'd still managed to win the league. If I was going to make the move, it would be best to do it now — or in two or three years at most — while United's squad was still whole. That way I'd actually get to play for a complete side.
Maybe it was just the nature of time off. The season had felt endless, but the vacation seemed to vanish in a blink. It barely felt like we'd started resting, and already tomorrow was the last day.
"It's a shame… the break's already over."
Watching Jieun look so wistful, a thought hit me. Did I really need to pour everything into football? In my past life, football had been the only thing I had, so of course I'd given it everything. This life was different. I had Jieun — my childhood friend, my girlfriend, my wife — and soon we'd have a child as well. There was no need to live with football as my sole obsession.
Lately, that shift had started changing how I thought about retirement. I used to figure I'd keep playing as long as my body allowed, no matter how old I got. Now I found myself wondering if it might be perfect to wrap everything up cleanly around thirty — accomplish everything worth accomplishing, then walk away.
"We've already won a Treble."
Doing it in the very first season meant I'd already checked off most of what you could achieve at club level. What remained were the international trophies. If I could take the Euros, the World Cup, and a Ballon d'Or on top of that, I'd have done everything a footballer could do. That was the goal I set for myself.
"The World Cup is more than winnable."
If I'd chosen the Korean national team, it would have been a fantasy. But in this life I'd chosen Spain.
"The Euros won't be easy, but they're doable. That leaves the Ballon d'Or as the real question."
The Euros didn't look impossibly hard. Which meant the last piece was the Ballon d'Or.
One of those might be within reach.
If I could keep putting up the kind of performances I'd delivered this season, a Ballon d'Or felt entirely possible. After all, I'd finished second this year.