AFC U19 Championship - Path to Glory
The day after their resounding victory over Japan, the South Korea U-19 national team wrapped up a light recovery session and headed back to the dorms, chatting along the way.
“We meeting up at Dongwon Tuna’s and Makdong’s room again today?”
Jeong Seung-ryong, who shared the starting striker spot with Dongwon Tuna, asked. I shook my head.
“I gotta call my girlfriend tonight. Pick somewhere else.”
“Sigh… our little Makdong’s hit puberty or something? Getting all cold on us.”
I let out a sigh as I looked at Jeong Seung-ryong’s hurt expression.
“No helping it, then. Let’s head to the keepers’ room tonight.”
With my stance as firm as a locked door, Jeong Seung-ryong switched targets.
“Hey, what about our say in this?”
The room leader of the keepers’ quarters, goalkeeper No Dong-in, protested, but it was futile against the tide of democracy.
“Yup~ majority rules. Any objections?” “None~”
“Sweet! Keepers’ room it is~”
I shook my head as I watched the meeting spot get decided as the goalkeepers’ room.
Even after the blowout win against Japan, the outside world’s perception of the U-19 team had shifted dramatically, but life inside the team hadn’t changed a bit.
We were still stuck with two-to-a-room.
When the hell do we get single rooms?
Then again, even the A-team only gets them at World Cup base camps. Dreaming of singles for youth squads might be too pie-in-the-sky.
But seriously, why two-to-a-room?
Maybe the association’s broke, or maybe they really think it builds teamwork and performance. The higher-ups who blow 100 million won of public funds on booze and golf probably know the details.
Either way, it made zero sense.
…At least after the 2018 Russia World Cup, the senior team starts getting singles.
Youth teams still doubled up then, too…
But by then, I’ll be on the senior squad anyway?
Not my problem.
“Anyway, hey! Cha Dong-won! Makdong hooked you up with that sick assist—shouldn’t you get him a gift or something?”
“Yeah, true. What do you want, Makdong?”
Like most teams after a big win, the mood in the squad was sky-high after crushing Japan.
“An assist’s no big deal for a gift. I’m good—don’t stay out too late, gotta manage condition.”
I brushed off Dongwon Tuna, who took the joke seriously, and headed back to the dorm to fire up my smartphone.
There was a message from Gyeowol.
Gyeowol followed up with what looked like screenshots from the Hoo Gallery, labeled as Japanese reactions.
“…One message and I get six back?”
Instead of typing replies to the message flood, I decided to call her.
— …Hello?
A tense voice came through the phone, and I burst out laughing.
“Why so nervous?”
— …I’m not.
Talking with Gyeowol melted away the stress I hadn’t even realized was building.
Thursday, October 14, 2010. Tsubo Stadium.
The AFC U-19 Championship semifinals pitted us against North Korea—the nation with the “three-generation hereditary succession,” the ultimate dictator wet dream.
…A country that stirs up all kinds of feelings. Thinking about the Cheonan sinking and such, the regime itself was utter shit, but the exploited “masses” were kinda pitiful.
A absolute monarchy in the 21st century—unique in Northeast Asia.
China and Russia are dictatorships too, but at least they haven’t tried handing power down like that.
If Kim Il-sung’s watching from the sulfur pits, wouldn’t he taunt Mr. Sparrow and that Georgian butcher dude—his sulfur buddies—with, “You losers can’t even pass on power?”
Peep—!
Anyway, the ref’s whistle blew, and the match kicked off.
“You South Korean bastards, taste the General’s personally praised kicking power!”
The North Korean players gritted their teeth like defeat meant a one-way trip to the coal mines, determined to overcome the skill gap with sheer willpower.
Swish—!
“Hoooooo—!”
But willpower doesn’t solve everything.
If it did, they’d have nuked the US with “total bomb spirit” already.
South Korea’s no different—before big matches against powerhouses, suits and journos love yapping about mentality.
Just like nobody thinks North Korea beats America on spirit, the KFA doesn’t expect us to top Brazil that way either.
“…Damn punk. Making soccer a total pain in the ass.”
Anyway, after rattling the net with a mid-ranger and finishing my celebration, some nameless North Korean player gave me high praise on the way back.
“This is Juche’s nuke bomb. Got it? This bomb doesn’t eat the people’s rice.”
I pointed at my thigh in response.
“…Crunch.”
You little shit. Loving it, huh? I grinned at the gnashing North Korean as he ground his teeth.
Friends from other countries never got my dialect jabs, but these North Korean guys—same blood, I guess—understood perfectly.
Is that why they say blood’s thicker than water?
The semifinal against North Korea ended in another South Korean win.
“We beat ’em once already! Same as the group stage!”
A few days later, the final against Australia.
[Confidence all over the players’ faces! Great to see!]
Having already topped Australia in the group stage, our squad brimmed with confidence.
We dominated from the momentum onward, overwhelming Australia with my multi-goal haul for an easy final win—a perfect showcase of youth team upside.
And then the awards ceremony.
“Hoooooo—!!” “Ha-oooo—!”
Tournament MVP and top scorer? Mine, naturally.
“Jino! No injuries, right?”
“Jino! Watched the match—great job!”
“Jino! …”
“Jino! …”
Back at Dortmund after winning the 2010 AFC U-19 Championship, Son Jinho faced the coaching staff’s welcome with a puzzled look.
“…Why keep calling me ‘Chino Chino’? Racism?”
Still a bit touchy from the China trip, Son Jinho was on edge.