2012 Ballon d'Or Ceremony - 1
Dortmund's Round of 16 Pokal clash against Hanover ended in a resounding Dortmund win.
Dortmund capped off their final match with a victory, heading into winter break on a high note.
Our family had planned to spend the time cozily at home.
Especially with Gyeowol's pregnancy starting to show—her safety was a top priority.
With transfer rumors flooding in, it wasn't smart to draw the press's attention.
Some players even fueled the rumors on purpose to drive up their value.
Whatever. Mino Raiola was already churning out headlines by contacting clubs left and right, even without me.
'Gotta leave Dortmund with a fat transfer fee.'
And separate from any transfer, I planned to sign a one-year extension with Dortmund.
Sure, going as a free agent would net a higher salary...
'But do I really need to burn bridges with Dortmund fans over it?'
I already had more money than I'd ever spend in a lifetime. What was the point of greed now?
'Come to think of it, they say money leads to chasing honor...'
Might be true. In this life, Dortmund was my home team. No way was I free-agenting out and hurting the fans.
Dortmund was a home I'd return to someday—like a hometown.
And deep down, I figured: 'Leave 'em a massive fee, come back to retire someday, and maybe they'll retire my number.'
Heck, Jude Bellingham got his number retired by Birmingham at 18.
Okay, my #10 made it tricky right now, but retiring at Dortmund? Who knew.
Anyway.
"...Jinho. You're going to Man United, right?"
Han Gyeowol approached with an anxious look as my agent Mino Raiola made contact with Madrid and Barcelona.
I was about to reassure her I'd go to Manchester United unless the terms were insane.
- I'm wrong. I can't pick Manchester United and my husband.
The memory from days ago flashed back.
"Maaaeaeang! and I'll go to Man U."
Teasing her over her cheeky words from back then, I'd replied just to mess with her.
"Go to Man U!! Maaaeaeaeang—!" Gyeowol had yelled, face like 'What the hell?'
Uh.
She didn't need to flop on the living room floor kicking her limbs like a toddler tantrum.
"Hey. Son Jinho."
"What."
"...Just look once."
"No way! Don't look! Go home!"
While Son Jinho was enjoying his break playing board games with family at home.
Back in Korea, Football Online 3's open beta kicked off. Featuring Korean soccer star Son Jinho, it drew tons to the pre-event, and community boards were flooded with rave reviews.
Maybe due to the fiercer backlash than expected?
Football Online quickly rolled out a new event.
Time flew by, and January rolled around.
As the VDV Bundesliga Player of the Year and Ballon d'Or ceremonies approached.
"Screw it! If Son Jinho doesn't win, it's racism!"
"Discriminated cuz he's Asian!!!"
Public opinion united as one.
Korean media mentioned racial bias, saying he might miss out on World Best.
Honestly, though, being Asian wasn't all downside in my eyes.
Premier League shifting kickoffs for Asia market showed how massive it was.
Even just East Asia's population was a fifth of the world.
And East Asia wasn't just populous—it was rich.
Japan once threatened US economy pre-Plaza Accord; China rising to G2 but turning puppet; Korea sprinting from poorest to advanced, tanking birth rates.
Their spending power was proven.
Messi even lip-serviced that far. All cuz Asian money's sweet.
Hm... Maybe not just lip service.
Anyway, being racially close, they buzzed with hope for Asia's first World Best.
East Asia's fervent gaze turned to Zurich, Switzerland.
January 7, 2013.
The FIFA Ballon d'Or ceremony in Zurich awarded soccer's highest honor—the Ballon d'Or—along with Women's Player of the Year, World Best 11, Puskas Award, and more.
"Mind a quick interview?"
As I stepped into the venue, steadying my nerves, a reporter approached cautiously.
"Of course."
"Who do you think takes Ballon d'Or?"
Grinning at the playful question, I named history's actual winner without hesitation.
"Lionel Messi. He's the best."
Finishing the interview and turning to leave.
A sharp glare hit my back.
I turned, creeped out, and there was Cristiano Ronaldo, scowling at me.
'Uh... incoming 5700-char "respect" essay?'