U-19 National Team Call-Up Training - Part 1
One week before the U-19 national team call-up list was announced.
Han Gwang-jong, the coach of the South Korea U-19 team, looked flustered as he answered a sudden call from his old senior who had always looked out for him during his playing days.
"Yes, Sunbae-nim. This is Han Gwang-jong. I should have reached out first..."
- "No, no. If anything, I'm sorry. With the tournament right around the corner, you must be swamped..."
A calm, pleasant voice flowed through the phone into his ear. His senior was still using polite speech, just like back in their playing days.
'I heard he uses polite language with his students out of respect for them.'
He was definitely a senior worth learning from, both as a person and professionally.
"Yes... So, what brings you to call?"
Han Gwang-jong felt certain this wasn't some backdoor request for a player selection, so he asked more relaxedly what it was about.
- "I called because I'd like you to watch one player's game."
And just like that, his expectations shattered. He felt a sour taste in his mouth. This was a senior who never once pulled strings, which was why he'd answered without hesitation. Had even he changed?
"...Yes. But the call-up list is already finalized; we're just waiting for Monday's announcement."
- "You don't have to select him right away. Just come watch one game. You'll see the talent he has."
He knew he should refuse... But as someone who owed his senior a debt of gratitude, he couldn't bring himself to say no.
"Sigh... Fine, because it's you, sunbae-nim. What's the player's name?"
Han Gwang-jong sighed, figuring he'd at least hear the name.
- "Geum-sun High's number 10, Son Jinho."
Han Gwang-jong froze at the name echoing in his ear. Not because it was unfamiliar—far from it. Son Jinho was a rough gem of talent he already knew about. The issue was his young age; they'd hesitated to call him up three years early due to the burden of skipping grades. And it wasn't like there weren't suitable replacements anyway. So the real reason for his shock was something else.
"Pardon? But sunbae-nim, you're from Hanyang High..."
- "Yes. We're facing them in this match, and that's why I'm recommending him as a pillar of Korean soccer. He's grown tremendously over the past year—practically unbeatable at the high school level."
"... "
Recommending a player from a rival school, not even one of his own? Han Gwang-jong felt a twinge of shame for doubting his senior, mixed with growing curiosity about just how impressive this kid must be.
- "You'll feel it the moment you see him. That there's a Zidane in high school soccer."
'That's a bit of an overstatement...'
March 13th, Saturday. Han Gwang-jong headed to Madeul Stadium for the Geum-sun High vs. Dongmyeong High match.
With the four-nation friendly in the UAE looming, he was slammed with final roster checks and tactical prep, barely catching his breath. Still, he couldn't outright ignore a request from the senior who'd taken such good care of him as a player.
'Hmm. A Korean Zidane, huh? How good could a high schooler possibly be to earn that praise?'
Truth be told, he was a little curious. Comparing a kid to Zidane? It was absurd, almost like the senior had lost his mind for a second. He knew he shouldn't think that way.
As he entered the 500-seat stadium, parents filled the stands.
'Huh. More students from the same school showed up to cheer than I expected.'
Since he'd come at his senior's request to scout Son Jinho, he sat in the Geum-sun High supporters' section.
And that's when it happened.
"Ugh, what's a first-year doing starting in a tournament already?"
"Connections with the school chairman, they say."
"Shouldn't we tip off the media or something? Our kids' futures are on the line here—picking starters based on nepotism instead of skill? Ridiculous!"
Han Gwang-jong's face hardened at the parents' whispers reaching his ears.
"Tch. If he's an orphan, he should just keep his head down and stay quiet. No need to drag everyone else down with his soccer delusions."
"Hey... "
About to intervene as they crossed the line, he paused when—
"Son Jinho, fighting—!! Your noona's cheering hard for you!"
A girl with a slightly sharp, cool look shouted at the top of her lungs.
'Family? No, he's an only child, lost his parents, no relatives—lives alone, from what I know. Girlfriend, then?'
Han Gwang-jong glanced at the gossiping parents. They looked flustered, clearly not expecting any of Son Jinho's acquaintances nearby.
'If they apologize and back off now, that'd be best...'
But no such luck. One particularly venomous-looking parent started heading toward the girl.
"Hey... "
This time, as Han Gwang-jong moved to step in for real—
"Go get 'em, son-in-law! Your future wife's cheering you on loud and proud!"
A middle-aged man, apparently the girl's father, stepped up beside her and bellowed.
The parents who'd badmouthed Son Jinho scattered at the man's arrival.
"...Makes you realize all over again—Jinho's grown up so well. Lost his parents young, but never got into trouble once."
"Of course. Think I'd call him son-in-law for nothing?"
A smile tugged at Han Gwang-jong's lips as he overheard the couple. They weren't even blood-related, yet they cared so deeply. It explained why Son Jinho hadn't gone astray after losing his parents young.
'Ah, right—not the time for this.'
While the minor scuffle had played out in the stands, Son Jinho was warming up on the pitch. Han Gwang-jong turned his eyes to the field to assess him.
'Definitely grown a lot taller since last time. But won't that mess with his balance?'
Around 175cm, with a solid build. The potential issue was whether his changing proportions would throw off his balance.
'Nah. Balance looks solid.'
But that worry was premature. Son Jinho's balance was impeccable.
'Great first touch too.'
His ball control, including first touch, was top-notch.
'Unlike these flashy kids obsessed with skills, his fundamentals are rock-solid all around.'
So far, he could give a passing grade.
'Still, the real test is in the match.'
But more than raw tools, match performance was key. Great hardware didn't guarantee great software.
'Hope he does well, though.'
Han Gwang-jong secretly hoped for a strong showing from Son Jinho.
Soon, the referee's whistle blew, and the game kicked off. From his seat, the coach watched the players who might shape Korea's soccer future.
"Cut inside!"
Not long after kickoff, Son Jinho took the ball, eyed the box, and chipped a perfect pass with a subtle touch.
'Whoa... If the striker was a notch better, that'd have been a goal.'
The ball nestled sadly in the keeper's arms, but Han Gwang-jong's eyes lit up watching it.
'Great coach? Nah. Jinho's the one dictating positions out there.'
Geum-sun High dominated thanks to the clear level gap, but their passing alone made it entertaining.
Then, in the 5th minute of the first half: A shot deflected off the Dongmyeong keeper's fingertips, and Son Jinho, surging into the box, slotted it home.
"Hoo—!"
Followed immediately by Son Jinho's Hoo celebration.
"What the hell kind of ridiculous..."
Han Gwang-jong first thought it was some idiotic ceremony, but after three single "Hoos" and six double ones, he watched Son Jinho sub off with an odd pang of regret.
'Definitely not youth level.'
That evening, Han Gwang-jong dreamed. Of the upcoming 2010 AFC U-19 Championship final in China, where Son Jinho scored and—
- "Hoo—!!"
—shouted his Hoo.
Paju National Training Center.
"Thank you! I'll be off!"
"Yeah, watch for injuries. If anyone bullies you, you tell us, got it?"
"Don't worry! I'll work hard and make the roster for sure!"
I thanked Gyeowol's parents, who'd insisted on seeing me off despite their worries, then headed inside like it was routine.
Gyeowol, true to form, had gone to school as usual and was shedding bitter tears in the group chat.
"This one's the new young addition—a promising prospect we're excited about—so take good care of him, everyone."
After bidding farewell to my makeshift family, I entered the Paju National Training Center, where Han Gwang-jong suddenly introduced me to the national team players.
That mischievous smile on his face suggested he was looking forward to their reactions when I showed my skills.
'Hmm. Guess I should play along then?'
Whatever—later for that. I bowed 90 degrees to my seniors.
Maybe because my baby face stood out, some team members shot looks like 'Who's the kid? Why's a rookie here?'
Made sense—they were mostly college or pros, four years older.
I scanned the U-19 roster. This was the cream of the youth crop, and it showed. Most had solid pro careers ahead; some even made the senior team for the World Cup.
'Ah, Dong-won and Bit-hyun were on the youth team around now too.'
Anyway, Han Gwang-jong announced 20 of the 28 called up would go to the UAE. Originally 27, but my surprise addition bumped it to 28.
Despite the extra competition, the incumbents didn't ice me out—they looked after me.
"Where's our maknae from?"
"Geum-sun High."
"Whoa... That's the rich kids' school."
"Parents left a bit of inheritance."
"Uh... Sorry. Tough break at your age."
"It's fine. They passed when I was really little, so it doesn't faze me now."
"Man... Kid's got his head on straight. Hey, just call us hyung from now on."
"Got it, hyung."
"...Do kids these days adapt this fast?"
"I'm pretty cute like that."
"Not cute, but whatever. Maknae's a first-year, right?"
"Yeah, high school first-year, born '95."
"'95? How's he in high school... Oh, skipped grades?"
"Whoa, our maknae's a total baby. Baby."
"Nggae~"
"Pfft—insane."
"Dude's built like a mountain but pulling the baby act—hilarious."
Which made sense—I'd entered school early due to my young age and had just turned 15 last month by Korean reckoning.
"Maknae! Let's grab food! You don't know where the cafeteria is, right?"
Maybe the age gap hit home—they showed me around despite my older physique.
'I know it all already.'
It was a familiar spot before moving to Cheonan, so I already knew the layout. But I played along. Social life, right?
But the warm vibes didn't last. Next day's training, I smashed a coach-served ball into the top corner.
"...Crazy. Not a prodigy—a freaking monster showed up."
From then on, they saw me not as a talented junior, but a rival.
"Hoo—!"
Their attitude shift from doting seniors to wary competitors? Thrilling.