I'm a Midfielder - 1
A week had passed since I was called up to the U-19 national team. With just one week until the final squad selection and eight days until departure for the UAE.
Coach Han Gwang-jong had kept his word.
"I'm announcing the starting lineup for the practice match against Korea Polytechnic—er, Yonsei Polytechnic—right now."
Thanks to my standout performances in training over the past week, I'd made the starting lineup for the March 30 practice match against Yonsei Polytechnic University.
I shared the news in the family group chat right away. Winter replied first.
Winter playfully congratulated me, but then she realized the match was on a weekday and started crying.
It was truly heartbreaking. It had already been a week since I'd last held Winter in my arms. I was running low on my little Winter inside.
But Winter didn't get my sincerity. So I tossed out a famous drama line in a joking way.
No reply from Winter for a while—I started panicking, wondering if I'd messed up. Then...
The in-laws, checking the chat, reported that Winter was in her room squealing like a roe deer in delight.
The moment I saw Chairman Hwang Geum-sun opening the 46th battlefield, I bolted from the group chat.
'...I was just quoting a drama line. Why's everyone reacting like this?'
Pondering my family's over-the-top reactions, I suddenly realized the drama hadn't aired yet.
'Is this how you become a romanticist?'
Suddenly labeled a romanticist, but it wasn't bad. In my previous life, after losing Winter, how much had I regretted? My goal this life was to make her happy.
To do that, I'd promised to grant her wish.
'Man U's Champions League win...'
I wondered if it was even possible, but a promise was a promise—I'd give it my all.
I'd been mulling over the smoothest way to lift the Big Ear trophy.
'The best path: Join Man United in the winter transfer window at age 18 in the 12-13 season, before they devolve into darkness, and claim the Big Ear!'
I'd even found an answer. 'But how do I join Man U?' The problem was the details.
March 30. The Korea U-19 national team headed to Korea Polytechnic University for a practice match.
Why go to Korea Poly for a game against Yonsei Poly? There was a backstory.
Originally scheduled against Korea Poly, but...
Nothing surprising anymore. With infrastructure like this, it was miraculous that the Korean national team had made the first overseas World Cup Round of 16 in South Africa.
Anyway, when the U-19 team arrived at Korea Poly, the students gave us a roaring welcome.
"Youth national team, fighting—!!" "Crush Yonsei Poly—!!"
I hadn't known as a pro in my past life, but the rivalry between the two schools was fiercer than I'd thought. Even though we weren't playing Korea Poly, the students jeered at the Yonsei players.
'Ah, so that's why they said to use their stadium.'
Prestigious universities must have a lot of academic stress.
"Boo—! Get out of here, Yonsei Poly!!" "...I'm from Yonsei Poly too."
Of course, some U-19 players were from Yonsei Poly, wearing awkward expressions.
Still, the U-19 team got to play a surprise home game with Korea Poly students cheering us on.
Just before kickoff.
"Nothing's set in stone yet! Anyone who doesn't perform on the pitch gets cut from the team!"
Coach Han Gwang-jong gave a stern warning to the starters right before the game. With departure a week away, starting meant you'd made the squad unless you completely bombed. The warning was just to say: don't slack off just because you're starting—give it everything.
It worked. As soon as he finished, the relaxed starters' faces hardened with resolve. I watched them, then sidelong-glanced at the stands. My midfielder-honed peripheral vision was at a level where I could check out without the coach noticing during tactics talks.
'Oh, reporters are here too.'
Seeing them reminded me of Winter freaking out about my name in the news.
Remembering that, a smile crept onto my face. Looked like I needed to score and do my celebration in front of them. That'd make headlines, and Winter would love it.
"Coach, the maknae's smiling right now."
Cha Dong-won ratted me out, drawing the coach's sharp gaze. I quickly schooled my expression and nodded like I'd been listening intently. Dong-won looked at me in disbelief.
"...Anyway, no injuries, and give it your all."
Coach Han met my innocent eyes and finished with a satisfied smile. "Korea!" "Yeah!" The U-19 team huddled, fired up, then took positions.
The U-19 team lined up in a 4-4-2 against Yonsei Polytechnic's 4-2-3-1. I started as central midfielder. The game? Smooth.
Maybe because my baby face made me look young, Yonsei players didn't press hard, underestimating me. "What the fuck, idiot!" "Shut your mouth from the back and block him yourself, you bastard. This guy's soccer sucks dick!"
Or maybe it was just a class difference. Anyway, I casually shrugged off their pressure and slipped a pass to the right midfielder.
He accelerated on the wing. As Yonsei's defenders focused there, I snuck into the center.
Then, as he looked up—
"Here—!"
I stretched out my hand for the pass. He looked shocked—like 'Why's this guy here?'—but threaded the through ball.
I calmed myself as the ball approached.
Composure was key in front of goal. To settle my mind, I recited my mantra slowly.
'Even if I sky this shot ridiculously, it's fine. I created this chance myself. No one's gonna complain if I miss. After all, I'm a midfielder.'
The mantra worked wonders—the pressure vanished, my mind cleared.
Yeah. I'm the ultimate box-to-box midfielder. Not a goal-poaching striker.
Relaxed now, I saw everything: Yonsei's keeper rushing out, the ball bouncing off a defender's foot right in front.
I calmly chipped the underside, lofting it over the keeper. "Woooaaah—!!"
The ball sailed past him into the net. Ignoring the Korea Poly cheers, I bolted toward the reporters.
"Hoo—!"
Flashes erupted around me. Click—!
Meanwhile, watching Son Jinho's goal, Coach Han Gwang-jong chatted with his assistant like he'd found treasure.
"Incredible composure in the box? Maybe try him as striker in the second half?" "Our forwards lack finishing. Worth testing."
In the second half, as striker, Son Jinho squandered five chances with absurd shots. Coach Han stared in disbelief.
"What the hell. Is he rebelling?"