Vs U-23 Jordan
After returning home, I spent time hanging out with my acquaintances.
What... acquaintances, that is. It was just the Geum-sun High soccer team members including Kang Chan, my father-in-law, and Chairman Hwang Geum-sun.
"Oh! It's Son Jinho!"
"Jinho, sign my shirt!"
"Kuh, Germany must be good for you. Your face is glowing."
"My face has always been glowing. I've just gotten even more handsome."
Anyway, today was the day to meet up with the Geum-sun High soccer team members. Kang Chan couldn't join because he was in the middle of his J-League season, but that let me have deeper conversations with the other players.
"If anything, you guys look better than me?"
The Geum-sun High players' faces were generally bright. They'd won the King's Cup last season, and most of the seniors had gone on to college or straight to the pros.
According to Chairman Hwang Geum-sun, they were having a good season this year too.
"It's all thanks to you. We learned a ton in that short time—thanks."
Kim Jae-hyeon, the center back who'd been drafted by Jeju this year thanks to last season's performance and was heading pro straight out of school, said it with eyes full of gratitude.
"Me too! I got into the college I wanted because of you!"
"Honestly, training was brutal at first—I cursed under my breath a lot... but looking back, those were the days my skills improved the most. Thanks so much."
"I don't think I've got the talent for soccer, so I'm going for coach training!"
After that, more thanks poured in from the other players.
"...Uh, sorry. I guess I misunderstood you."
And then there were the awkward ones mumbling what might've been apologies or excuses. They were the kids of those parents who'd spread all the dumb rumors.
I thought about not accepting at first, but since we weren't gonna be close anyway, I just let it slide.
Do you avoid shit because you're scared of it, or because it's dirty?
No point holding grudges—if they start spreading lies online out of spite, it'd just hurt my image. 'Anyway.'
I accepted their apologies coolly, but if they ever leave hate comments later, a police station meetup is all I want. Nothing more.
As the Olympic team call-up day approached, I headed to the Paju National Training Center.
Even though it was just four days before the second round of Olympic qualifiers, only six of us had shown up, including me.
"Hello, sir!"
"Oh, Jinho?"
Before the other players arrived, I chatted with Coach Han Myung-bo about all sorts of things. We hit it off pretty well.
"You can't make the final qualifiers, right?" "Yeah, mid-season—Dortmund won't let me go."
His face didn't change much, so most people probably couldn't tell, but maybe from hanging out with the cool-looking Gyeowol so long...
To me, his emotions were crystal clear. Unlike with the other players, he started looking at me with a friendly vibe since I wasn't intimidated.
Yeah, juniors who butter up seniors instead of being all shy get way more love. "Soccer players aren't just about playing well. You gotta respect the fans cheering you on and the people helping you out."
I nodded along to Coach Han Myung-bo's words. From what I'd seen, he really valued manners.
Once he saw you as his guy, he'd stick by you to the end. That probably made him the poster boy for "connections soccer."
But now I'm in that network, right?
Felt pretty solid. Well, not that there were zero issues.
"Uh... I can't play striker though?"
Not a big deal.
"It's just a test—no pressure."
"No, really, I can't score if I'm up top."
"What're you talking about?"
Coach Han Myung-bo stared at me, and I stared right back. We were chatting casually, but for some reason, everyone around looked nervous.
"Coach, if you put the maknae up front, he really won't score. I heard he gets too pressured."
Cha Dong-won, called up to the Olympics after A-matches, jumped in with his "testimony" to the coach.
"For real?"
For the first time since we met, Coach Han Myung-bo looked a bit dubious. I met his gaze confidently.
So, Myung-bo hyung, you not gonna use me?
"...Hmm. Where do you feel most comfortable?"
"Midfield, anywhere's fine."
Of course, nothing like that happened.
Finally, the full Olympic team roster was assembled. No mandatory call-ups, so aside from me, it was mostly domestic players.
"He's not strutting around?" "Guess that's why the coach likes him."
"He jokes around sometimes, but he knows where to draw the line."
With Park Ji-sung retired from internationals and Coach Park Kwang-ryeol's love for overseas players building resentment among domestics...
Lots of guys were wary of me.
But I'd only played in the K-League for 15 years in my past life. My identity leaned more domestic than overseas.
"Hyungs, what's for dinner tonight?" "Shouldn't the maknae be the one figuring that out?"
Plus, I was the only overseas guy called up, so I made the first move, led conversations, and worked to ease their guards.
"I told you, Jinho's different. I've never seen him memorize the menu."
Dong-won Tuna's help smoothed things over too, and with the mood relaxed, proper training kicked off.
"...Team vibe that bad?"
I sidled up to my training partner, Dong-won Tuna, and cautiously asked about the senior national team.
"... "
I patted his silent shoulder quietly. The team atmosphere seemed worse than I'd thought.
June 19, 2011.
Seoul World Cup Stadium, hosting the South Korea Olympic team vs Jordan Olympic team.
"Korea, fighting!!"
The stands were packed like it was a senior team match.
"Kyaaah! Son Jinho, fighting—!!!"
Fans who'd come to see Son Jinho, the Bundesliga Dortmund star.
"...Jealous."
"Whoa... even that white guy's cheering for Jinho."
"Black folks over there too?"
"...World class."
Seeing foreigners chant Jinho's name made the domestics realize just how big he was.
"Well... he's that good."
"Good but not arrogant."
"Last time, he carefully explained how I should move."
After three days together, the domestics who'd quietly come to respect Jinho nodded.
He didn't crave special treatment for his fame, approached them openly first, and shared his Bundesliga experiences. "Hyung, come to Germany sometime—let's grab food. Seriously think about visiting."
"...Think I'd make it in the Bundesliga?"
"What? I'm just saying I'll buy you dinner if you visit."
"Kids, looks like we gotta school the maknae. Grab him."
He'd tease mischievously sometimes, but never crossed lines—and laughter never stopped around him.
So when Jinho hit the turf, leg grabbed by a Jordan foul...
"You fucking bastard!"
Cha Dong-won and the team raged.
"Good."
Coach Han Myung-bo watched with satisfaction. The Olympic team was finally becoming the one-team unit he'd preached.
Once the fired-up players calmed, the game restarted with Korea's free kick.
Son Jinho stood in front of the ball to take the free kick himself. It was a spot better suited for his left foot, but it didn't matter.
Korea's soccer scene obsessed over ambidexterity, so Jinho was great with both feet. The ref blew the whistle, Jinho ran up slowly, and smacked the top of the ball hard. Thwack—! The low-driven shot skimmed under the Jordan wall and shook the net.
"Waaaaaaah—!"
The crowd roared at Jinho's goal, then flushed with excitement as he spun his hand and headed to the corner flag.
And the moment he leaped...
"Hoooooo—!"
Young and old, men and women—everyone chanted Hoo as one.