School Life
The unusually short winter break came to an end, and high school began. The kids who had entered school with excited hearts had now become gaunt from the nightly self-study sessions that happened every day.
They said the night study was optional now, but in reality, it wasn't. Just like most parental consent forms, the night self-study application required a parent's signature.
Maybe it was more accurate to say it gave freedom to the parents, not the students? Whatever. It wasn't my business as a soccer player.
Anyway, my school life felt so repetitive it was like I was regressing every day.
During class, I'd collapse on my desk and sleep. Then, during breaks, I'd head to Class 1 where Gyeowol was and stare at her face the whole time.
"Ugh, please. It's embarrassing. Just go already…."
The cool beauty with her cold looks flushed red and bowing her head was….
Is this what they call gap moe?
It wasn't just because she was my girlfriend. She was really cute.
"Hey, isn't that a new form of bullying?" "If they weren't dating, I'd have told the teacher right away."
I ignored the jealous voices of the losers whispering in my ears.
Ding-a-ling~ Ding-dong!
"Kids, take your seats. And you lovebirds over there, get back to your own class."
After gazing at Gyeowol's embarrassed face for a good while, fate—or rather, time—pulled us apart.
"Gyeowol, after school ends, don't go home alone—come to the soccer field, okay?" "I know, so hurry up and go!"
I dragged my reluctant feet back to Class 3, where I belonged.
Ah, why wasn't I in the same class as Gyeowol? Maybe this was a curse from a jealous god.
As I grumbled to myself, I arrived at Class 3. Peeking through the window, I saw the teacher already in the middle of class, and the students diligently studying.
I slipped in through the back door as quietly as possible. My eyes met the history teacher's, but whether he was used to it now or just given up….
"…Anyway, in the Manchu Invasion of Korea that served as the backdrop for the recently aired drama Slave Hunters, the incompetent King Injo, unable to even run, performed the humiliating triple prostration at Samjeondo with his flexible waist…."
He lightly ignored me sneaking in from the back and continued the lesson. I sat down silently to avoid disturbing the studious atmosphere, then buried my head on the desk with the teacher's droning voice as my lullaby and fell into a deep sleep without any interruption. This was the real perk of being on the sports team.
Honestly, it was sad that even this benefit was coming to an end. The long-debated "studying student-athlete" policy had been implemented starting last year.
Thanks to that, weekend leagues were introduced as a plus, but from now on, soccer teams and all sports clubs could only train after regular classes ended.
It's all because of the seniors.
To be honest, I couldn't say the seniors bore no responsibility. I couldn't help thinking, "Study a bit for the underclassmen's sake."
Ah, of course, I'm not saying "studying student-athletes" is bad. We know it's tough for everyone to become elite athletes. There were practical challenges, but reality was reality.
In fact, in our current soccer team, no one except me was heading pro. It might be hard now, but this system could be better for the players' futures.
With those thoughts, I drifted off to sleep—and apparently too deeply.
"End-of-day ceremony's over. Someone wake the soccer kid. How does he sleep through till the end?"
I ended up late for soccer practice.
"Sorry—!"
Geum-sun High soccer coach Choi Gi-hyeon inwardly carved the character for "endure" as he watched Son Jinho bow his head in apology.
Part of him wanted to snap that the kid had no sense of time because he'd lost his parents young.
But the Son Jinho bowing before him now was the player who'd shone since middle school, someone the chairman had painstakingly recruited through connections when K League youth high schools were after him.
Ha… fuck. Hold it in. I have to hold it.
Coach Choi swallowed his boiling anger by recalling the intra-squad scrimmage from a few days ago.
It was a practice match between the Blue Team—mostly third-years and a few second-years—and the White Team, made up of most first-years and bench players.
First-year Son Jinho naturally played for White Team and completely dominated the midfield against the Blue Team starters. He dished out game-changing passes like it was nothing, slamming thunderous mid-range shots into the corners. "Slow it down! Take it easy!"
When the players got too hyped, he'd circulate the ball to control the tempo. Just like that, Son Jinho became White Team's commander, dictating the flow, while the gutted Blue Team couldn't do a thing and got crushed mercilessly by the bench-filled White Team.
"That's a first-year?"
That was what everyone muttered without thinking while watching. It was unbelievable skill—like watching adults vs. kids, a one-sided flow dominated by midfield battles.
Even now, the thrill lingered. He didn't know how winter training had turned him into an even bigger monster after just a month, but….
Fine, as long as he performed. Whether he'd sold his soul to the devil, regressed, possessed a legendary player's body, awakened a status window—whatever, what did he care?
From Coach Choi's perspective, one thing mattered.
That kid is my career… my shining stroke of glory.
The coach who scouted a national team player? It's me. The one who raised the next superstar after Park Ji-sung? It's me. Imagining his future interviews mentioning him, the coach's irritation melted into peace.
"Warm up and do your thing."
Having found inner peace, Coach Choi assigned Son Jinho basic drills and conditioning, then let him train on his own.
He knows soccer better than I do—what am I gonna teach him?
Essentially, it was the advanced "autonomous learning" system.
And Son Jinho adapted to this system eerily well.
"Everyone, gather up!"
At Son Jinho's command, the players assembled. The coaches grumbled, "Acting like he's the coach now," but their eyes sparkled with curiosity and enthusiasm.
"Today, like I said yesterday, counterattack drills!"
At his call, the first-years dashed out, grabbed cones, and formed a center circle at the two-thirds mark of the halfway line.
As players split the pitch in half and gathered on one side, a coach took the opposite.
It looked natural now, but Geum-sun High soccer hadn't always been like this. A student—a first-year freshman—taking over training from the coach? No one would stand for that.
Even with the chairman's shield, it was overstepping—heads would roll. But Son Jinho, equipped with LV3 Steel Willpower, pulled it off.
"Our wingers are fast, right? How about trying Ferguson's usual 4-4-2? I even found training methods for it…."
Since school started, Son Jinho had relentlessly visited the coach's office, debating tactics endlessly.
"Argh! Let's eat already!"
Even when Coach Choi scolded and chased him out harshly, it was no use. He wanted to bomb him, but the chairman's "no violence in education" mindset made physical discipline impossible. It turned into a pride battle between the two men.
Ding-dong. Ding-dong. Ding-dong. Ding-dong. Ding-dong. "Hello, I'm here to share some good advice. If you didn't like the 4-4-2 I mentioned at lunch yesterday, how about Pep Guardiola's recent 4-3-3 from FC Barcelona…." Son Jinho even ambushed the coach's house at 4 a.m. for persuasion.
"Fuck, do whatever! Tactics, training—you handle it! But if it's half-assed, you're dead to me!"
He finally got the hungover, weakened coach to surrender.
"FC Barcelona's tactics are widely known as tiki-taka, but Pep prefers 'positional play.' Why? Simple: he divides the pitch into 24 zones, assigns 15 positions, and defines roles for each spot. It's not fixed roles per player for the whole match, but temporary roles based on position."
And with permission granted, Son Jinho proved himself that very day. He ran tight, professional drills that convinced the coaching staff.
"Fuck, what bullshit is this? You get it?" "…Just nod sternly like me. The kids are watching."
The coaches grew hooked on the expert training and soon actively assisted.
And here, Coach Choi—ever pragmatic in admitting defeat—had just one gripe.
I wanna learn up close too, but my pride as coach…
Staying back to save face, he watched from afar. When Son Jinho nailed a pass to the coach, he nodded sternly.
Damn, look at that precision.
Anyway, from Coach Choi's view, it was all his achievement—so just watching filled his belly.