Even You, Jinho?!
The Red-Faced Alex Ferguson, emperor of the Premier League, barely managed to suppress his rage. In the opening minutes Phil Jones had looked solid, but one decisive blunder handed Dortmund the lead. Dortmund pounced on the chance without mercy, and Manchester United’s game plan lay in ruins after conceding first. Seeing Jones shrink into himself after the mistake, Ferguson rose from the bench and strode toward the touchline.
“Fuck!!! Phil, get over here you bastard!!”
While Son Jinho was busy celebrating, Alex Ferguson summoned Phil Jones.
Definitely a drop in squad quality compared to the old days.
Ferguson knew exactly what his Manchester United players were capable of. Ever since the Glazers bought the club, crushing debt had made a proper rebuild impossible. The result was a roster full of names that didn’t live up to the giant called Manchester United. Compared to Dortmund, the gap in individual quality was at least one clear level.
That was why he had tried to replicate the fast, powerful counter-attacking style that had worked for Hamburg against Dortmund. Unfortunately the current United squad simply lacked the Champions League experience and familiarity with Dortmund’s system. A mistake was inevitable, and it led directly to a goal.
In any case, Manchester United were trailing 0-1. The Champions League is decided on aggregate, with one home and one away leg. They could not afford a limp defeat at home. With the second leg scheduled for Dortmund’s Signal Iduna Park, they needed at least a draw from this first match.
Ferguson comforted the approaching Phil Jones while simultaneously acknowledging that his original plan was dead. He immediately began issuing new orders.
“Scrap the original tactics. We press high and we press hard.”
A sudden, bold tactical shift carried a high risk of failure, but the name Alex Ferguson made such risks irrelevant. He had no signature system like Pep Guardiola’s tiki-taka or Jürgen Klopp’s gegenpressing, yet his tactical flexibility had kept him at the very top for forty years. All that accumulated wisdom now blazed to life.
From the touchline Ferguson delivered his instructions with masterful precision. The moment he finished, the momentum of the match began to swing.
Manchester United’s sudden high press rattled the Dortmund players. Phil Jones, apparently having eaten something crazy after his private chat with the manager, was also rampaging around the pitch. But the biggest factor was Wayne Rooney.
Rooney’s burning competitive fire and selfless hustle were enough to drag the entire Manchester United squad up a level. After winning the ball from Gundogan he powered forward with that trademark barrel-chested dribble.
With everyone focused on him, he slipped a pass to Robin van Persie. Van Persie watched the ball all the way and fired a shot toward the near post. The calm left-footed strike flew straight into the bottom-left corner.
“Woaaaaaaaaa!!!!!!”
The equalizer had come out of nowhere, and Old Trafford erupted.
At the exact moment Manchester United equalized, Han Gyeowul punched the air like the fans on her screen and roared.
“Uwaaaa!! Are you watching, Dortmund?! We gave up the first goal just to build momentum!!”
“Your husband’s team just conceded and you’re happy?”
Hwang Miyeon, watching her daughter, gave her a light scolding.
“Ah.”
Only then did sanity return to Han Gyeowul. She let out a tiny groan.
“…Mom, this is a secret from Jinho.”
She immediately turned on the aegyo, begging her mother to keep quiet.
“We’ll see how you behave.” “Eiiing!” “Ugh, that’s disgusting. One more cute act and I’m texting Jinho right now.”
“…Mom, did you seriously pick me up from under a bridge?”
Her mother’s cockroach-level disgusted reaction wounded Gyeowul’s heart, so she responded with a burst of fiery filial piety.
“I pushed you out after nine months of pain, that’s why I ended up raising a Manchester United-supporting daughter. If your uncle had been in charge he would’ve thrown you out of the house.”
“…But I’m still your daughter?”
“Sigh. Just wait until you give birth to a daughter exactly like you.”
At those words Gyeowul pictured her own future child, born after painful labor, trash-talking Manchester United.
Only then did she truly understand the depth of her mother’s love.
“…Thanks, Mom.” “Right? There’s no mom like me anywhere.” “Yep.”
Just as she was basking in maternal affection, the first half ended and halftime began.
In the halftime locker room the sound of Alex Ferguson’s legendary hairdryer could be heard all the way from the home dressing room to the away end.
“Nuri!! Why were you invisible in the first half?!”
“…I wasn’t even in the starting lineup.”
“I know that!!”
Aside from Jürgen Klopp deciding to deploy the hairdryer at a very strange target, nothing particularly noteworthy happened during halftime.
When the second half began and the players returned to the pitch, the Manchester United squad looked positively venomous.
“Wow. They must have gotten absolutely roasted.”
Ivan Perisic walked over and spoke. I nodded in agreement.
“Looks like it.”
It seemed I would need to stay alert once the second half kicked off.
Manchester United came out for the second half like men possessed, hammering Dortmund from the first whistle.
Carrick had read the passing lane, won the ball, spotted Danny Welbeck making a run into the space behind Dortmund’s defense, and threaded a perfect forward pass. The through-ball sliced between the defenders and landed right at Welbeck’s feet.
The Manchester United fans who had traveled to Old Trafford rose to their feet in anticipation. Welbeck checked the position of Roman Weidenfeller, who had rushed off his line, and calmly chipped the ball.
Everyone thought it was a goal. Instead the shot floated harmlessly into the air.
The chance had been so clear-cut that a collective groan rose from the Manchester United supporters. Although Welbeck continued to create opportunities with clever link-up play and intelligent movement, he simply couldn’t finish.
“Agh—!” “How the hell do you miss that, you idiot!” “Just pass it back next time!!”
After failing to convert such a golden chance, the Manchester United players gradually ran out of steam. The momentum of the match slowly shifted toward Dortmund.
Even though he had started as an attacking midfielder, Son Jinho began dropping all the way back to the left full-back position to help build from the back. The moment he exchanged a crisp one-two with Sebastian Kehl to escape United’s press—
“Jino!”
Marco Reus shouted his name and sprinted into the space behind the defense.
“Mark him!”
Manchester United’s defenders instinctively turned their eyes toward Reus. Instead of passing to him, Jinho decided to use his teammate as a decoy. The moment the defenders were distracted, the gap between them widened.
Jinho immediately drove into the open space. As Michael Carrick rushed out to block him, Jinho spotted a Dortmund teammate making a late run into the penalty area from the right flank.
With a perfectly weighted outside-of-the-foot pass, Jinho sent the ball into the box. The pass flew at just the right speed and met the foot of Kevin Grosskreutz, who slammed it into the back of the Manchester United net.
As Dortmund took the lead and the expression on old man Ferguson’s face grew darker, the Korean spectators inside Old Trafford waved their Taegeukgi in delight. At the same time I turned to glance at the Manchester United bench. Ji-sung hyung was already beginning his warm-up. The Korean broadcast team was probably thrilled about the “Korean derby.” But the flow of the game had already shifted decisively toward Dortmund. Even though Ji-sung hyung ran his heart out after coming on and gave everything for the team, it wasn’t enough to stop the defeat.
And then, right before the final whistle—
“Finally, I stand in the heavens.”
The moment I received Marco Reus’s pass I struck a first-time long-range shot half a beat early, adding one more goal and putting myself firmly in contention for Man of the Match.
With Son Jinho’s decisive third goal the match ended. Having scored two goals and provided one assist to become the clear hero of the victory, Son Jinho walked into the interview area with a bright, sunny expression.
“I want to dedicate this victory to my wife.”
Han Gyeowul, watching the interview, felt as if she had become Caesar witnessing Brutus’s betrayal. She clutched her chest in agony and cried out.
“Urgh! Son Jinho!! Even you!! After everything I’ve done for you!!”