Vs Marseille - 3
"Jinho! Take this to Roman!"
As Sebastian Kehl, nursing an injury and heading off the pitch, handed the captain's armband to me—the closest teammate around.
"Me?"
"You're the baby of the team."
He meant for me, the youngest, to pass it to vice-captain Roman Weidenfeller since he was injured... but...
Hmm. That's too far. Guess I'll wear it for now and hand it off later.
Roman Weidenfeller was too far from my position, so I decided to slip it on myself.
And yeah, there was a bit of excitement too.
Who knows? Maybe they'll say it suits me and tell me to keep it on.
But judging by the Dortmund players' reactions, that wasn't happening.
"What? Why's Jino wearing the captain's armband?"
"Did the skipper tell Jino to put it on?"
"What about Roman?"
"Whoa... Roman's aura is no joke right now."
As I fastened the armband I'd received from Sebastian Kehl, I could see the Dortmund players' confused faces.
I turned at the murmurs and looked toward Roman Weidenfeller.
Indeed... that's Dortmund's vice-captain for you.
Roman Weidenfeller, Dortmund's goalkeeper who rarely strayed from his penalty box, was radiating an immense pressure now that his captain's armband had been "stolen."
I ignored the chilling vibe from behind me and focused on the game.
Beep!
The referee's whistle blew, and play resumed with Dortmund's free kick.
I lofted a long ball into the penalty area. The whip-like, sharp cross sliced past Lucas Barrios.
The ball crossed the goal line untouched, and Marseille got a goal kick.
"Ah!"
Dortmund fans let out disappointed sighs, while Lucas Barrios pulled his jersey over his face.
Marseille's goal kick followed. Their keeper, Steve Mandanda, launched it long toward the front.
A fierce battle for possession erupted near the center circle.
Under pressure from attacking midfielder Robert Lewandowski, the ball fell to Ilkay Gundogan.
"Pass it!"
I yelled at the sight, and Gundogan fired it straight to me.
I scanned around quickly before receiving it. Marseille players were charging from both left and right.
I timed it right, feigned a trap, then let it roll past while spinning away, shaking off the Marseille press with one fake move.
I slotted a pass to the right foot—the preferred foot of striker Lucas Barrios up top.
"Lucas! Here!"
The ball reached Barrios, who, back to the pressing Marseille defenders, one-touched it to Mario Gotze infiltrating the left half-space. Thwack!
Mario Gotze's direct shot rattled the Marseille side netting.
"Verdammt! (Fuck!)"
Mario Gotze kicked the turf in frustration after missing.
"Good! Nice one, Mario! Put the next one in!"
I lightly touched the armband and encouraged him. This is the dignity of a captain, right?
Mario Gotze nodded with a sour look, and I got a little drunk on my captain-clad self.
The game continued with Dortmund dominating attack and Marseille bunkered down.
Is it the armband? Feels like the game's flowing weirdly well.
I roamed the pitch energetically, oiling both attack and defense.
Marseille's solid backline began to crumble under Dortmund's relentless pressure.
Beep!
But frustratingly, before Dortmund could break through, the ref's whistle ended the half.
If we'd had just a bit more time, we could've torn their net apart.
I headed to the locker room with a regretful expression.
"Jino—!"
Right behind me stormed Roman Weidenfeller, face like thunder.
"Ah! Roman! Here's the armband. Skipper said to pass it on."
I quickly removed it and handed it over.
"..."
Roman Weidenfeller looked like he had a lot to say, but my innocent, beaming face shut him down.
"Whoa... if a stranger saw that, they'd think you were a neo-Nazi bullying an Asian kid and call the cops."
Dortmund vs. Marseille's second half kicked off.
During halftime, Korea's broadcast crew, who'd been hyping Jinho's "captain debut," could only sigh in defeat.
The viewers, done roasting the broadcast, started fighting among themselves.
Fighting again? Business as usual?
The broadcast crew regained composure and continued with the second half.
The Dortmund-Marseille match flew by.
Time ticked down, and anxious Dortmund fans started rising from their seats one by one, against their will.
"Olé! Olé! Olé!"
Desperate cheers from the home crowd rang out as Jinho, dropping deep near the halfway line, attempted a long pass.
The long ball pinpointed Ivan Perisic on the left flank.
A smile crept onto Perisic's face at the perfect pass.
He shrugged off a Marseille tackle with light footwork and charged into their half.
"Heja!! BVB!!"
Home fans roared as Dortmund attacked.
Feigning a central run to fool the defender, Perisic cut back to the wing and whipped in a cross.
Perisic's cross sat perfectly on Lucas Barrios's forehead, and Dortmund fans held their breath, eyes glued to the pitch.
But Marseille keeper Steve Mandanda's beastly reflexes denied the header.
"Ah...!!"
As Dortmund fans clutched their heads in despair...
The blocked shot dropped into the penalty area.
"...!! Stick with 'em, you bastards!"
Mandanda spotted Jinho sprinting toward the ball.
Thwack!
Jinho, who'd sprinted full tilt from the halfway line with the long pass, unleashed everything into the shot. Marseille's net rippled.
"Fuck."
Mandanda muttered blankly at the shaking net.
"Hooouuuuuw!"
Jinho celebrated by racing to the corner flag.
Beep! Beep! Beep!
Soon after, the final whistle blew.
Dortmund players, craving that round of 16 spot, poured onto the pitch at the whistle.
"Roman! Gimme the armband! Fuck! Today, Jino's captain!"