One Hundred Hoos - 2
Before the match kicked off, the players were lightly stretching their tense bodies.
“I see you came today too. Thank you.”
I approached the crowd, waved my hand, and thanked them for showing up to the stadium again.
For pros, fan service is just as important as soccer skills. There's that saying that without fans, soccer's nothing but pointless play with zero productivity, right?
These folks come all the way to the stadium on the rare weekends we have off, just to see me. A little fan service like this is the bare minimum decency for any human being.
Unlike that one ppatda player who whines that too many autographs kill the rarity value.
I'd been a starter in the K-League for over fifteen years, delivering fan service that fans raved about every single year.
The glowing praise from K-League fans over my fan service was still fresh in my mind.
Hmm. Fan service is one area where I can proudly say I've reached my own little mastery.
As I reminisced about old memories from long ago,
“Son Jinho, you're starting today too, right?”
A fan in a Barcelona jersey asked cautiously. Using polite speech with a player younger than him—what a polite guy.
“You bet. Get ready for some Hoo today.”
“Hoo—!!”
“Not right now, man.”
I answered the Barcelona fan who showed up every match, then scanned the stands.
Even for a high school game, a hundred people had gathered just to see me.
This is what star power looks like.
“Hoo—!”
“Hoo hoo—!”
Nah, was it the power of Hoo? Whatever. Doesn't matter if it's the egg or the chicken first—as long as it tastes good.
Hoo comes first, and I amHoo.
To me, who'd reached the realm of Hoo is All, it was a meaningless debate anyway. What mattered was the K-League pro teams drooling over my ability to draw crowds.
In fact, several clubs had already reached out for pre-contract talks. Even though the semi-pro system wasn't in place yet, and as a minor, labor laws kept me from signing pro deals.
Yeah, most offers were like that: join the youth academy first, then draft later.
If this were before my regression, maybe. But no need for that now.
Verbal promises mean jack until the ink dries on the contract.
Never trust anyone until the signature's on the paper. That K-League senior Park Joo-young who sparked the draft revival? Promised Pohang, then stabbed them in the back for Seoul.
That could easily happen to me.
If they have brains, they wouldn't screw over a prospect like me...
Who knows. And honestly, the biggest issue was...
I couldn't imagine commuting to school without Winter by my side.
Hmm. Is this too much showing off?
Whatever. Plus, when I head overseas later, it's easier to transfer from a regular soccer club than a youth academy.
Yeah. Plenty of reasons not to transfer.
Two tense-faced Gwanghwa High players took position in the center circle for kickoff.
“Oppa, fighting—!!”
The match kicked off amid a somewhat one-sided atmosphere.
“Ooh—!”
My hundred hoo siblings erupted in cheers every time I touched the ball. When I shook off Gwanghwa's pressure, the roars grew louder.
Is this a home game or what?
I could see the Gwanghwa players stiffen at the cheers for Geum-sun High. Makes sense—usually, crowds were just schoolmates dragged in or parents. Facing a hundred random adults? Tense city.
Anyway, I was playing attacking midfielder this game. Or free role, really.
"A coach who doesn't limit player creativity? It's me."
Coach It's Me Choi Gi-hyeon basically said play however I wanted.
I was calling the tactics anyway, so why would he need to instruct? But I played along for his pride: Got it, coach.
Hard to find a coach who listens to players like him. The game rolled on.
At the 15th minute of the first half, Gwanghwa—expected to concede early—were holding up better than thought.
“Don't chicken out—push up!”
I directed the fullbacks to join the attack, passed to a teammate nearby, shook pressure, and got the ball back.
We lined up in 4-3-3; weak Gwanghwa went ultra-defensive 5-4-1 with three volante defensive mids—like Greece's Euro 2004 winning setup.
Already tough with all those defenders, but they squeezed the lines tight, leaving zero space.
That widens gaps between attack and mids, killing proper offense. But for them, a draw against us was a win—they were parking the bus.
Still, buses can be cracked. Blunt force or smash with long-range shots.
Other tricks like box zones or pulling defenders to pass on the run... training wasn't there yet.
So I went with...
Thwack—!
A long-range screamer. Since Kang Chan joined, our main striker had drilled dummies to drag defenders, opening shooting lanes.
I unleashed into that space.
I'm a midfielder, after all.
With that magic chant, the shot grazed the keeper's fingertips and rippled Gwanghwa's net.
I bolted straight to the corner flag, where my hoo siblings waited.
The moment my jumping feet hit ground...
“Hoo—!”
A thunderous Hoo boomed from the stands.
See? Sports need crowds.
“Hoo—!!”
Hmm... isn't that the Suwon scout from before? Why's he Hoo-ing over there?
“Ahem.”
Na Hyun-seok, the Suwon scout, realized he'd shouted Hoo without thinking. Feeling other scouts' stares, he cleared his throat awkwardly.
“Wide vision, precise passes, and shooting prowess too...”
Son Jinho, the K-League-wide sensation, lived up to the hype of generational talent, proving his worth.
They say what drives ppawa and kkawa crazy is the mark of a superstar.
And beyond skills, his real value was that magnetic pull on people.
Has Korea ever had a player like that? True to the land of Eastern etiquette, most were humble and ordinary...
"I'll shine here and head to Real Madrid."
Er, yeah. Right. As Na Hyun-seok recalled K-League's wild child, a tongue-click sounded nearby.
“Tsk. If we sign him for Seoul, first thing: ban that ceremony. What even is that freakish nonsense...”
Na turned toward the voice.
What? Ban that ceremony? Does this idiot not get how epic it is? Total soccer noob.
The moment he spotted Seoul's scout, he sighed.
God. A guy like that scouting for a club? Seoul that desperate for talent?
What a tragedy.