U-19 Friendly Tournament -1
April 3rd, Incheon International Airport. Before departure, Coach Han Gwang-jong gave the players some free time to say goodbye to their families who had come to see them off.
April 3rd was a Saturday, but since it was the first week of the month, it wasn't a play day off from school. Gyeowol could only shed tears again in the group chat.
Unfortunately, he couldn't exchange greetings with Gyeowol.
"Son, take care of yourself."
"Yes. I'll be back. Thanks for worrying about me."
"Son my ass! I told you to call me father-in-law!"
He was able to receive send-offs from his father-in-law and mother-in-law. Smiling as he watched the bickering pair, he asked his father-in-law,
"But is it okay to take off from work this often?"
"If the company doesn't run without the president, it's already doomed."
"Then you're not going in today?"
"Nah, I gotta swing by later. Employees work harder when the boss shows his face—no slacking off."
"Come on, loosen up a bit."
"If they wanna earn my money, they gotta bust their asses. No loafing around! I won't stand for my staff slacking until dirt's in my eyes!"
He burst out laughing at his father-in-law, who spoke with arms crossed and a resolute expression. Sure, he talked tough, but he was the type who actually cared for his employees' comfort.
The company run by his father-in-law was a dream workplace that maintained a steady 4-star rating even after corporate review sites popped up in the future.
'Did you rig the reviews by any chance?'
'...That obvious?'
He had fudged some reviews, sure. But even without the fakes, it stayed in the 3-point range. In a Korea full of companies averaging 1-2 stars, that was damn impressive.
Anyway, after bidding farewell to his mother-in-law and father-in-law, as he was about to board the plane, a message arrived from Gyeowol.
He chuckled at Gyeowol's worried messages, boarded the plane, and the Korea U-19 national team departed for the UAE.
A news article went up about the Korea U-19 national team's departure. Since it was just a friendly tournament, it didn't draw much attention, and coverage was sparse. Still, a few soccer communities buzzed briefly about it.
This UAE friendly featured host nation UAE, along with Egypt, Korea, and Germany.
Korea's first opponent was Germany. The name alone suggested a powerhouse, but in Europe, most talents were already in pro first teams, so their youth friendlies weren't that stacked.
"What're you up to, maknae?"
"Checking if any familiar names on the participating roster."
"Find anyone you know?"
And sure enough, his hunch was spot on.
"Nobody. Looks like we're winning this tournament."
"Ooh~ Maknae's victory declaration."
Players like Mario Gotze and Ter Stegen from the 2009 Nigeria FIFA U-17 World Cup weren't on the list.
Makes sense—they were settling into clubs by now. Mario Gotze had debuted this season under Borussia Dortmund's Jurgen Klopp, and Marc-Andre ter Stegen, Barcelona's starter but backup to Neuer for Germany, had been called up to Borussia Monchengladbach's first team last year. Probably Bundesliga debut next season.
'Huh? This guy's?'
Swallowing his disappointment, he scanned the list again and found a semi-familiar name.
"Just watch this one guy."
He pointed out the player's name to Cha Dong-won, who was still lounging nearby.
"Kevin Volland? Striker?" Cha Dong-won read it, and he explained Volland's weaknesses and how to shut him down. By tomorrow, it'd reach Coach Han Gwang-jong's ears.
April 7th, 2010. At Al Ain Club Stadium in Al Ain, UAE, the Korea vs. Germany men's U-19 friendly kicked off.
"Mark number 10—!"
Contrary to expectations of Germany dominating, Korea pinned them back and battered them relentlessly.
'Jinho?'
Germany's coach Marco Pezzaioli eyed Korea's number 10 with intrigue.
'Didn't expect this type from Korea.'
Having served as Suwon's assistant coach from 2004-2006, Pezzaioli knew Korean players well. Korea's 10 stood out as utterly alien. Unlike typical Koreans—basic skills-focused, poor under pressure—this kid handled Germany's press with veteran midfielder poise, cool and calculated.
Once free, his passes, leveraging insane vision, were pure danger.
'What's Kevin doing?'
Pre-tournament, with no reliable striker, Pezzaioli had yanked Volland from his club's first-team preseason prep. If he developed right, he could be Germany's next national team ace striker.
Talented, proven. Yet somehow, Korea had him completely shut down. His strengths vanished; his slow feet glaring.
'Like he's stuck in quicksand.' As Pezzaioli racked his brain for counters in the 16th minute of the first half, Volland, frustrated, forced a dribble and lost the ball.
"Maknae—!"
The center back who stole it fired it straight to Son Jinho.
"Milk carton!"
Son Jinho shook off Germany's press smoothly and slotted a pass to Lee Ho-jong bursting down the flank.
The ball skimmed the dew-kissed grass perfectly, slowing just right for Ho-jong to control and admire inwardly.
'Damn, what were all my previous passes? Were they shots?'
Ho-jong smashed it forward and sprinted.
"Scheiße!"
Maybe 'cause scary white dudes were charging like they'd snap his legs.
'...If they catch me, I'm dead.'
Channeling every ounce of energy, Ho-jong bolted faster than usual, closing on goal in seconds.
"Ah! Fuck!"
But anxiety skewed Ho-jong's shot; it grazed the keeper's toe and was parried.
As Pezzaioli sighed in relief—
Thwack—!
Son Jinho, sprinting full tilt from the center circle, unleashed a net-ripping rocket into the goal.
- Hoooooo—!!!!
Followed by the Hoo celebration.
"Fuck. Soccer's such bullshit." Witnessing Son Jinho's Hoo ceremony, Marco Pezzaioli spat Korean profanity for the first time in ages.
- Hoooooo—!!!!