Debut Match
“Jinho! Don't set foot in here starting tomorrow!”
U-19 coach Hannes Wolf's words had me nodding calmly.
So it finally came? That was probably what crossed my mind.
“Heh heh! Starting tomorrow, head to the first-team training ground instead.”
Ever since I'd seen that article last night about the DFL relaxing age restrictions for league appearances, I'd had a strong hunch I'd be promoted to the first team today.
That said...
Was Hannes Wolf seriously calling that humor?
Germans were infamous for their lack of it, after all—no surprise there.
As I shook my head at the coach's words, congratulations poured in from the teammates who'd overheard.
“Ooooh!! Jinho, congrats!!”
Some kids were genuinely thrilled for my promotion.
“Tch...”
Others shot me looks mixed with envy, jealousy, resentment.
Inevitable, really. We were teammates and rivals.
Out of dozens in the squad, only eleven could start for the first team. Factor in the youth players, and it was hundreds competing.
Someone getting called up meant one less spot for everyone else.
At U-19 level, only those dead serious about going pro stuck around.
Amid the friends cheering me on for real, I spotted Antonio Rüdiger's face—set with some new resolve.
Maybe my call-up was pushing him to transfer. I hadn't even known he'd been on Dortmund's youth team, since he never debuted here.
Would've been cool to play with him in the first team, but oh well. Pros turned yesterday's enemies into today's teammates, and today's teammates into tomorrow's foes. Had to get used to it.
Anyway, promotion didn't mean I'd made it. Carving out a spot in the first team was another battle... but whatever. For now, just bask in the joy.
I headed home and shared the news with Gyeowol and Mom-in-law.
“Ooh! First team!!”
“It's a good day—let's eat out!”
Gyeowol and Mom-in-law freaked out in delight at the great news.
Seeing a scene I'd thought lost forever brought a smile to my lips as I watched them.
The next day.
I stepped into Dortmund's first-team training ground.
With a seven-point lead over Leverkusen in the title race, the mood was electric.
“Hey! Kagawa! Your rival's here to steal your spot!”
Kevin Grosskreutz spotted me and teasingly called out to Shinji Kagawa.
“O~ Son!”
There was Shinji Kagawa, who'd hard-carried Dortmund in the first half of the season.
He'd gotten injured in the Asian Cup semis against the Korean national team on January 25th, sidelining him for the season. Now back in training, he was easing into match fitness.
Probably sub on for the finale and get a light runout.
With Nuri Sahin, he was the top reason Dortmund were champions this year. Deserved that crowd applause.
“Nice to meet you.”
Awkward Korean came from Shinji Kagawa's mouth. My brain short-circuited at the sudden greeting, so I blurted the first Japanese phrase that popped up. He'd greeted me in Korean, so Japanese in return, right?
“Itai! Mo! Yamete!”
Problem was, I panicked and recited a line from my usual(?) Japanese porn watches.
Awkward air hung between us. Shaking it off first—thanks to my age edge—I hurriedly continued in German.
“Japan's AV industry is the beeeeeest in the world!”
Kagawa got it, patted my shoulder, and burst out laughing.
Training kicked off in earnest. Dortmund faced Hamburg in round 29 of the Bundesliga.
“Pass it!”
I threw myself into drills harder than anyone.
“O. Nice ball touch there?”
Coach Klopp's gaze lit me up with happiness. “Masaka, watashi idaero senbatsu shutsuen?”
My horrific Japlish had Kagawa cracking up and cheering me on. Language was all about confidence, right?
“Good! Good! Nice pronunciation!”
“Watashi, gengo tenzai?”
Buoyed by Kagawa's encouragement, my Japlish only got worse.
Volksparkstadion, home to the Hamburg vs. Dortmund clash. Naturally, I was on the bench. No coach starts a fresh call-up in the first team—mid-season, no less.
Just making the sub list days after joining showed how highly Dortmund and Klopp rated me.
“Scheiß auf Schule und Arbeit (Fuck school and work).”
Hamburg grabbed an early lead, riding home advantage. Blue-shirted fans' cheers echoed through Volksparkstadion.
“Das macht mich nicht glücklich (That shit doesn't make me happy).”
“Sieben Tage die Woche denk ich an dich HSV! (I think of you every day of the week, HSV!)”
Even as league leaders, playing in this atmosphere was tough.
Hamburg's attack was no joke, led by legendary striker Ruud van Nistelrooy after his move.
Past his prime with injuries and age, but his experience and glittering career demanded respect.
Dortmund conceded in the 39th minute. Mladen Petrić won a penalty, and van Nistelrooy slotted it home easily.
Up a goal, Hamburg controlled the second half with ease. Dortmund got dragged along helplessly.
Then, Hamburg's Anis Ben-Hatira—booked earlier—picked up a second yellow in the 78th, sent off for accumulation. Momentum flipped.
...We need Jinho's attacking threat, but is it too much pressure?
Jurgen Klopp pondered gravely.
“Jinho!”
After agonizing, Klopp beckoned me. My eyes burned with passion to hit the pitch, melting his doubts instantly.
“Jinho! Show 'em what you did in training!”
Klopp grinned, lightly tapping the back of my head.
Stoppage time, seconds from full time.
I stamped a perfect through ball to penetrating Jakub Błaszczykowski.
“Fick! (Fuck!)”
He latched onto it at the doorstep and swung his right foot.
Thwack—!
Hamburg's keeper denied it brilliantly, ball sailing wide.
Dortmund corner. Extra time gone—this was our last attack.
Nuri Sahin signaled the set play and swung it in. But a Hamburg defender headed it clear.
The clearance fell to me. Stadium noise vanished. Time froze—only my heartbeat thumped. I chest-trapped the dropping ball, then instinctively whipped my right foot through it calmly.
Crack—!
The instep strike bulged Hamburg's net.
“Waaaaaaa—!!”
Time resumed; stands erupted like they were collapsing.
“Heja BVB!!”
Supercharged by the fans' fire, I ripped off my shirt and charged the corner flag where away supporters packed in, roaring.
"Die Menschen im Schwarz und Gelben Ruhrgebiet."
(The black and yellow people of the Ruhr.)
"Werden immer stolz an deiner Seite sein."
(Will always stand proudly by your side.)
In the stunned silence of Volksparkstadion—three points slipping away right in front—Dortmund's away fans broke into song.
Teammates swarmed me in joy against that backdrop.
I quietly faced the away end, arms spread wide.