Vs FC Schalke 04 U19
“Hoo! What a brilliant goal!”
“Reus. Nice pass from you too.”
I high-fived Rico Benatelli, who'd fed me the ball, and glanced at the Schalke players.
“Hoo! Look at those Schalke guys' faces—they're frozen stiff. Gotta be freaking out.”
“They shouldn't be rattled by just this much.”
Up until kickoff, the Schalke players had looked down on me like I was an easy mark. But now their expressions had shifted.
Before the goal, it was all 'An Asian guy starting? Dortmund's scraping the bottom of the barrel with these has-beens.' Now it was more like 'What the hell? This Asian kid's got some bite.'
By halftime, it'd probably turn into 'Eek! Korea's soccer power is number one in the world! We'll lose to them in the World Cup group stage and get knocked out!' So I wasn't too bothered.
'Ugh, trying to lie to myself gives me the hiccups.'
Honestly, I didn't love those looks that treated East Asians as a step below. But there was nothing for it yet. There just weren't many East Asian players in Europe.
Narrow it down to ones making waves, and there were none at all. Park Ji-sung from Manchester United—not Man U, the other one—was probably the most recognized by Europeans.
'But even Park Ji-sung sunbaenim wasn't the star at his club, right? He's famous as the unsung hero.'
In this climate, you felt that subtle disdain for East Asian soccer players more often than not.
Son Heung-min got offers from Blackburn and Portsmouth FC, went over, and they stuck him in a guesthouse—that story's infamous.
Those clubs probably saw him as an Asian marketing ploy. That was the average European club's view of Asian players back then.
No wonder Asian players in Europe stuck together. The Europeans acted like total assholes, so we Asians had to band together.
Still, unlike England, Germany had a better view of Asian players thanks to Coach Cha Bum-geun's exploits back in the day.
'Man, what a legend. He pulled that off in an era when views on Asia were even worse than now.'
I mentally bowed in worship to Coach Cha Bum-geun. Hell, he deserved fanboy-level worship.
And sure enough, thanks to his legacy, my Dortmund teammates were celebrating like they'd scored themselves...
“Hahaha! You dumb Schalke fucks! Hoo ain't the kinda Chinese you know!”
“This Hunnic bastard?”
I'd tolerate being called Japanese at a push. But Chinese? No way in hell.
“Huh? What'd Hoo just say?”
“Chinese, so who knows!”
“Ooh! I've always wanted to learn Chinese.”
I decided to impart some life wisdom to my idiot German friends. “China sucks total ass at soccer, you morons.”
“Aha! So he's Japanese?”
“Korean.”
“Oh! Korea! Kim Jong-il!”
“Idiot! That's the north! Hoo's from the south! You know ssamssong, ssamssong?”
I sighed at my German buddies' reactions. Soccer aside, this was the reality of my homeland, South Korea. In the future, K-pop and K-dramas would flood the world and fill us with national pride, but right now, we had less recognition than a northern absolute monarchy.
Finishing the ceremony, I headed back to position, thinking I needed to grind even harder at soccer.
With the ref's whistle, play resumed, and Son Jinho tore across the pitch with insane work rate, shining on both ends of the ball.
“Ooh—! That kid's a beast of a worker!”
“Wheee—! Rookie! Smash those cocky Schalke punks!”
Dortmund fans cheered Son Jinho wildly. No soccer fan hates a player busting his ass for the team. Especially ultras—real diehards—who'd show up for youth games just because it's against Schalke.
“Pass it here!”
Son Jinho sprinted back, calling for the ball.
Schalke's defenders swarmed him the second he touched it. His vicious mid-range shots were bad enough, but they'd clocked that Dortmund's build-up started at his feet.
Jinho wedged the ball under his instep and scanned around quick. With defenders zeroed in on him, he spotted a teammate bursting into space behind Schalke and another dropping short to receive.
'Dribble through.'
Between two options, Jinho picked a third path on instinct. It looked reckless to outsiders, but he trusted himself—his past life's endless reps screamed it was on.
A light tap outside with his right shifted Schalke #8's weight. Jinho yanked the ball back inside instantly.
As Schalke #8 stumbled—balance wrecked by the flip-flop feint—Jinho hammered left and charged.
Schalke's holding mid lunged to cover. Jinho faked a pass, nutmegged him clean through the legs.
Two defenders breached, Schalke's backline cracked wide open.
Their center-backs hesitated—mark the Dortmund forwards or chase him?—and Jinho unleashed a screamer from outside the box, ripping the net.
After the dream dribble-to-thunderbolt combo, emotion surging, Jinho spun his right arm in habit and backpedaled. “Hoo-ooo-ooo-ooo!”
The net bulged, and Han Gyeowol leaped straight up in her spot.
“You. Number 24. Girlfriend?”
A rough-looking middle-aged guy with a bumblebee tattoo on his shoulder spoke up at her reaction.
'Ugh... jumping like that drew attention.' Gyeowol's face went ghost-white in sudden terror.
“Your boyfriend's fantastic! Fantastic! Look at those rotten Schalke faces!”
The thug grinned. Sensing no threat, Gyeowol sighed in relief.
“Olé, jetzt kommt Der BVB.” The guy shot up like Gyeowol and belted Dortmund's chant.
“Olé, jetzt kommt Der BVB.” The home crowd rose and joined in.
'Huh, this melody's familiar... Korea~ ooooh~ Korea~ ooooh~'
Tension gone, Gyeowol hummed along unconsciously. “Ooooh~”
A Dortmund dad-fan thumbs-upped her. Pumped, she chanted with the fans—until Jinho leaped in front of the Schalke section.
“““Hoo-ooo-ooo!””” She echoed with the Dortmund faithful.
'Maybe I'm built for live games after all.'
Gyeowol sang chants and soaked in the match with the fans. Next thing she knew, full time.
'Time flew!'
Post-match, Dortmund's local paper ran a small piece on the U19 win.
Unbeknownst to him, Son Jinho was gaining fame among Dortmund fans as "Hoo."
Three days after the Schalke match.
“Hey! Son Jinho, hurry up! We're gonna be late for school!”
“Yawwwn... Should've just skipped the Gymnasium.”
I yawned massively in response to Gyeowol's nagging.
Germany's compulsory education ended at year 9, and the Korean FA handled my visa, so school wasn't required.
But I worried about Gyeowol adjusting, so we agreed to go together till my pro debut.
'But now that it's time... it's a drag.'
Stepping out, a cool breeze hit. Autumn was starting.
“Weird how the school year starts in September.”
I muttered at the sky. Gyeowol smirked.
“Wanna know why?”
This was her cueing me. I played along.
She tilted her chin up smugly. “To avoid peak farm and factory season! School starts in September for that!”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yup. Leagues kick off then too. Europeans see September as the year’s start.”
“Cool.”
“Sigh... You're not even listening. Watch out, or noona'll scold you!”
Noona my ass. I ruffled her walnut-sized head. She'd grown more since January—perfect patting height.
“Ack! Don't mess up my hair!”
We bickered the whole way till a building screaming "school" appeared.
We'd picked Dortmund Kant Gymnasium, close to the stadium, so we arrived quick.
“Ugh... Nervous. What if the kids bully me?”
The fearless pup from minutes ago turned total loner at the gates.
“Tell me. I'll handle it.”
I slung an arm around her shoulders, soothed her, and headed to class. The school, considerate of no other East Asians, put us in the same one.
I smiled at her gulping nervously, then eased the door open.
“He's here! It's Hoo!”
“Whoa! The transfer student's really Hoo!”
“Hoo!! Hoo!! Hoo!!”
A barrage of handshake requests hit me.