Ho Dongsaengs - 2
Sunday after his date with Gyeowol. Jinho returned to Geum-sun High soccer team training for the first time in a while.
"Lucky charm! How was the U-19 national team? Think you'll get called up again?"
Coach Choi Gi-hyeon greeted him with a grin plastered from ear to ear. Jinho stared at him with a baffled look, wondering what was up with this guy.
"Eh... it wasn't bad. And from the vibe, yeah, they'll probably call me next time too."
"Kuhuhu... yeah! Get into the national team just like this! Huh? Transfer to the EPL and become the next Park Ji-sung, the ultimate sports star!"
And he had good reason. Even though Jinho had bypassed the chain of command and gotten vacation approval straight from the chairman, Coach Choi hadn't thrown a single fit.
What's with this? With his personality, even if he doesn't go full meltdown, he should at least bitch a little, right?
Wearing a puzzled expression, Jinho chatted while scanning the surroundings.
He nodded upon spotting the massive articles plastered on one side of the training field like giant posters.
While Jinho was away with the U-19 national team, Geum-sun High had kept training under the system he'd set up.
It was still clumsy since they weren't fully accustomed to it, but they'd pulled off some pretty solid build-up soccer and maintained their undefeated streak in the national high school soccer league.
And thanks to that, the media had slapped Coach Choi with the title of "next-gen mastermind who implanted build-up soccer."
Hmm. Yeah, it made sense why the coach was grinning like that. He hadn't done jack shit—just sat back—yet the press was hyping him up as a genius. How could he not be thrilled?
...Or maybe doing nothing is the hardest part. Mastermind? Nah, that didn't fit no matter how he spun it. Lucky charm coach? Sure.
"Lucky charm. Got any new tactics brewing? Some other schools are starting to figure out counters lately."
As Jinho mulled over his assessment of the coach, Choi Gi-hyeon asked about tactics.
Haa...
Jinho sighed—not because of the coach yelling "Do it, Jinho!" while pocketing his salary like some Lupin thief.
The reason was that a few high school teams had recently—clumsily, sure—adopted Gegenpressing, cribbing from Borussia Dortmund's Jurgen Klopp.
Honestly, it was a good thing. If coaches kept studying trendy overseas tactics and adapting them, Korean soccer would level up fast.
But the problem was, this was Korea. And his opponents were high school teams.
For now, the weekend league meant games once a week. But summer vacation was right around the corner.
Once vacation hit, the high school league went on hiatus, and tournaments kicked off—from the President's Cup to the Baekrokgi, Geumgangdaegi, and more. Schedules were tight, so games happened every other day.
Most coaches stuck their starters in the lineup for every match during these tourneys.
High school teams had a massive gap between starters and benchwarmers—way bigger than the national team—so it was unavoidable.
Up to here, it's the usual annual crap. Nothing special...
The issue was grafting Gegenpressing onto that. The tactic demanded insane activity levels, burning through stamina like crazy. Drop in fitness, and injuries spiked.
Hmm. Kinda like true essence in wuxia novels?
Sacrificing life force (soccer career) for the greater good (victory). Spooky similar.
Or a demonic art that grants quick power but dooms you to ruin?
Then Klopp's the Heavenly Demon? Jinho shook his head, imagining a German wielding Heavenly Demon Sword Dance.
Anyway, key point: Dortmund stars like Gundogan and Reus got wrecked by injuries under it. Later, at Liverpool, Klopp fixed it with zonal pressing—pressing only in specific triggers.
If grown pros struggled with frequent injuries, what about high school kids not even fully developed?
Especially in tourneys with games every two days, starters playing every time.
100% injury waiting to happen.
Even if they dodged bullets by luck, it was still grinding away at their player lifespan. Sure, someone might argue no youth coach's that dumb to ignore stamina management.
Forget that. In Korean sports teams, churning through talented kids for results was the grim reality.
No wonder high school baseball aces hit the surgery table right after pro drafts.
So, Jinho's job now: For the future of Korean youth soccer, expose early Gegenpressing's flaws. Force coaches to ditch it or evolve to zonal pressing like Klopp.
"Just hoof it long to the wingers!"
With full authority from Coach Choi, Jinho drilled the counter to Gegenpressing. Honestly, countering it was way easier than implanting build-up soccer.
Gegenpressing meant aggressive immediate press after losing the ball—no dropping back. So, space naturally opened between keeper and defenders. Yeah, the weakness was behind the backline. Drop the line, clog the center, put speedy wingers on the flanks to exploit that space, and Gegenpressing teams were toast.
No wonder Son Heung-min got called the beekeeper.
Bundesliga coaches about to get smacked by Dortmund next season might wonder why they never thought of this easy fix.
Humans are like that. They figure counters after getting punched, then trial-and-error to implement. And hindsight makes everything simple.
"Why didn't I think of something this easy?"
Like Coach Choi muttering to himself right now.
As a regressor, Jinho just skipped the errors and cherry-picked the wins.
Thus, they prepped a sensational "long-ball soccer" tactic to smash Hojin High's Gegenpressing.
Time flew to Saturday's match.
They say superstars draw crowds to the stadium. Ten Hoo Siblings showed up at Madeul Stadium to watch Son Jinho play.
"Ah, hello. You're Bayern Hoo, right?"
"Ah, yeah. And you...?"
"I'm Kkure Hoo. Nice to meet you."
"...I'm Hoo Madrid."
Their first encounter was awkward. But sharing soccer fandom, they hit it off quick.
"Man U Doc didn't come?"
"That guy's just an attention whore, imo."
"What's that mean?"
"Attention seeker. Kid slang these days."
Chatting and laughing till kickoff, the Hoo Siblings turned tense as game time neared, eyes glued to the pitch. While players warmed up, their idol Son Jinho sat on the bench.
"Kkure, bro's playing today, right?"
"He'll sub on at least. Fuck. Took the day off work—if he sits, I'm legit pissed."
"You say 'fuck' irl too?"
"Yeah. Can't hear it over El Clasico chants?"
"...Fucking 4-3-3 bastards."
"Hey..."
As Real Madrid and FC Barcelona fans nearly brawled—
"Huh? Bro's coming this way?"
Son Jinho rose from Geum-sun High's bench and headed toward the Hoo Siblings.
"Son Jinho fan—! Can we get autographs!?"
"Hoo just once—!!"
A barrage of handshake requests poured toward gallery owner Son Jinho. He handled them with the familiar, friendly charm of the gallery's first "Son Jinho encounter post," giving fan service and thanks.
"I'll Hoo after scoring later!"
"Ooh—! Starting today?"
"Yeah, probably subbing in the second half."
Watching from afar with family, Man U Doc—no, Han Gyeowol—pouted her lips.
"...Son Jinho's super popular."
Jealous of her boyfriend laughing and chatting with the Hoo Siblings—guys, no less.
Jealous over dudes? Ridiculous.
Gyeowol let out a wry chuckle as Geum-sun High vs. Hojin High kicked off.