BVB Dortmund - 2
August 29th. Sunday. As he was about to head out earlier than usual for the Dortmund training ground, a voice called from behind—Gyeowol's.
"I'll come cheer for you at the game later!"
"Yeah! See you later!"
Jinho waved back at her with a smile and stepped out the door. Her footsteps sounded light; she must be in good shape.
"Nice weather for a game."
Today was match day for the Borussia Dortmund U19 team he played for.
The Dortmund U19 side competed in the A-Junioren-Bundesliga league. Germany's top youth soccer league was divided into three regional divisions, with the winners of each plus the best runner-up from the past three years advancing to a four-team national championship playoff—the Deutsche Fußballmeisterschaft der A-Junioren.
It was kind of like Korea's national high school championship tournament. The key difference? In Korea, tournament results could make or break college scholarships, while in Germany, the focus was on individual player development.
Whoa, big crowd today.
Lost in thought, Jinho arrived at the Hohenbuschei soccer field (Fußballpark BVB Hohenbuschei) inside the Brakel Training Center before he knew it.
He slipped past the packed stands to join his teammates.
"Hoo! You're here!"
Pascal Nimpfshu, the assist shuttle No. 2, greeted him warmly.
"Yeah. Good to see you."
Jinho nodded casually in return, but silence fell between them. The language barrier at work.
Damn... gotta figure out this German thing first.
While Jinho burned with resolve to study German, kickoff time approached.
"The stadium is packed with fans who've come to support us."
Coach Hannes Wolf addressed the starting lineup. He spoke slowly, using simple words—probably for Jinho's benefit as a beginner—and Jinho caught the gist.
"Don't let down all those fans by losing to those dumb Schalke bastards!"
At the word "Schalke," the Dortmund youth players' faces hardened—like warriors before battle.
They really hate Schalke that much...
Jinho shook his head inwardly, recalling the Dortmund-Schalke rivalry.
Dortmund and Schalke shared the infamous Revierderby. If the Bayern-Dortmund "Der Klassiker" was a media-hyped fake rivalry, the Revierderby was the real deal—two clubs from the same Ruhr region in North Rhine-Westphalia, fueled by raw emotion. The atmosphere? If Munich fans were coffee, Schalke was straight fire. Matches drew full police mobilizations from the area. And apparently, that rivalry extended to the youth squads.
"Heute wollen wir siegen, wir gehen mächtig ran. (Today we want victory—we're coming at them hard.)"
Even for a youth game against Schalke, over 300 Dortmund fans had shown up.
"300 people, Jinho! 300 fans watching us play!"
Unlike assist shuttle No. 2, Rico Benatelli—whose brain held a drop of actual knowledge—babbled excitedly in English.
Huh... I drew 100 fans with just one 'Hoo'...
...Was this the gap in star power?
Jinho patted the shoulder of Rico Benatelli, who had zero star appeal, offering silent consolation.
This guy's already losing his hair big time.
For a bald guy to gain star power, he'd need Zidane-level skills and looks. Pity.
Meanwhile, the Hoo Gallery lingered on, ghosts refusing to abandon it even after their leader vanished. They posted away.
"Heh. Nobody believes it."
Gyeowol burst out laughing at her phone. There was a thrill in sharing the truth only for no one to buy it. Imagining their faces when it all came out? One of her little joys.
Beep!
As she typed another gallery post to stir the pot, the referee's whistle blew. Borussia Dortmund vs. FC Schalke 04 was underway.
Gyeowol pocketed her phone instantly. Time to watch Jinho on the pitch.
It's wild...
She'd known he was good at soccer, but Germany? Never dreamed of it.
And hearing he'd nearly turned down the chance just to stay with her...
—Mom! I wanna study abroad in Germany!
Her mind raced: she had to follow him there.
Impulsive? Maybe. But so far, everything was perfect.
"Ooooh—!"
The crowd roared. Gyeowol's eyes locked on Jinho winning the ball and threading a perfect pass to the onrushing striker.
"Heja BVB, Heja BVB, Heja, Heja, Heja BVB!"
It was a spoon-fed layup—the kind where fans thought "goal" the second it left his foot.
"Argh—! How do you miss that?!"
The Dortmund striker flipped the table.
"Argh! Argh! You the center back or what?! Why keep blooting it over the bar?!"
Jinho cracked up at Gyeowol's voice cutting through the German chatter—the one Korean phrase ringing clear in his ears.
Well... she's right. Finishing's trash.
He gave a thumbs-up to the awkward teammate, waving it off.
The guy—Assist Shuttle No. 2—lacked practice sharpness; his shots were off-target.
Tsk. Exactly what a midfielder like me provides. Too bad he's a striker.
Oh well. Nothing for it. Korea's top box-to-box midfielder would handle it.
"Hey! Hey! Hey!"
In Dortmund's attacking phase, Jinho raised his hand from outside the box. Star-power-deficient Rico Benatelli passed anyway, puzzled. The ball rolled to Jinho's feet. Schalke players rushed to block. From the spot that'd one day earn him "Son Heung-minzon," Jinho unleashed an outside-of-the-foot righty. It swerved away from the keeper's dive, bending back in to nestle top right. As the net rippled amid the roar, Jinho bolted straight to Gyeowol's section.
Her bouncing amid the whites? Easy to spot.
"Hoooooo—!"
He dashed to her, unleashing the Hoo celebration. A few Dortmund fans grimaced at the weird ritual. Soon enough, though, they'd be hypnotized into chanting it too.