Reverse Sentiment - 1
The match between FC Barcelona and Borussia Dortmund had ended.
In the showdown between the two teams, it wasn't Messi or the three idiots who stole the spotlight—it was Son Jinho.
The public was buzzing about how the dominant defending champions, FC Barcelona, had been pushed to the brink of elimination in their home stadium, the Camp Nou, by Dortmund.
At the same time, articles poured out about Son Jinho's rapid growth in such a short time.
After the jersey swap with Messi, I had to wait for the doping test.
Post-match, UEFA randomly selects one player from each team for testing.
Dortmund's pick was me.
Well, even I couldn't believe the insane performance I put on.
If that final long-range shot had gone in instead of hitting the bar, it would've been Dortmund advancing to the semifinals, not Barcelona.
"...I'm dehydrated, no urine's coming out."
Most of the fluids in my body were gone, and I'd lost 4kg compared to pre-match.
Obviously, no urine for the doping sample.
"Here's some water. Drink up."
I sighed and took the bottled water from the UEFA official.
"Good now?"
"Yes, we'll let you know the results soon."
After barely submitting the sample, I dragged my exhausted body onto the club bus, and we headed straight to Barcelona El Prat International Airport.
We were heading home to where my family waited, leaving Barcelona behind.
'Ugh... Ran 14km, recovery's not full yet, and now night duties too?'
Seeing Han Gyeowol's message, I immediately called for mother-in-law backup.
The day we returned from Barcelona to Dortmund.
Thanks to mother-in-law's tight watch on Han Gyeowol, I got some solid rest.
And the next day, I didn't wake up until late afternoon.
Han Gyeowol, back from school, plopped down next to me on the sofa, and we cozily watched TV together.
The TV host was raving about my performance against Barcelona.
Winter snuggled into my arms, a satisfied smile as she posted on the Hoo Gallery.
"Not prepping for school tomorrow?"
"I'm done!"
Mother-in-law chimed in watching us—a totally normal family scene, the kind I'd longed for.
"Jinho, you prep early too! First school in ages!"
"Got it."
Heading to my room to get ready, my smartphone buzzed.
Vrrr—!
A call from Sir Ferguson.
Alex Ferguson's eyes were glued to the recording of the FC Barcelona vs. Dortmund match.
He couldn't look away from Son Jinho relentlessly charging at Barcelona till the end. 'Dedicated and intelligent.' Everything was perfect.
The only regret? Not spotting the gem before it shone.
'No, more like the gem shone sooner than expected.'
It might cost more than thought, but he had to sign him no matter what.
This could be his final legacy at Manchester United.
Skill was one thing, but personality seemed fine too.
After all, his girlfriend got along great with Ferguson's wife, Cathy.
He recalled overhearing a call by chance.
Cathy Ferguson and Han Gyeowol had bonded over dating advice, building a friendship beyond ages.
Ferguson remembered moving boxes without Cathy for a friendly—'Ahem, marriage to a good woman stabilizes men.'
Done pondering Son Jinho, he called the club owner.
"It's me. Get to the manager's office now."
"Huh?"
Joel Glazer's flustered voice, then Ferguson's turned icy.
"Gonna make 'em shovel snow in a blizzard? Or come now?"
"...On my way."
Who else could boss the owner like that? Only Ferguson.
He was Manchester United.
And he wasn't calling without reason.
Plenty to prep for signing United's future.
In the wait, he called Son Jinho.
"So, the kid captivating every soccer manager worldwide—what're you up to?"
"...Getting ready for school."
Prime 'likability op' time.
The chat with Ferguson was nothing special. Just recent updates and daily chit-chat.
Figured he was swamped, but... who pities whom?
"Ugh... Everyone's staring."
On the way to school, Winter pulled her cap low against the gazes.
"Jino, photo ok?"
A German-Korean approached with awkward Korean, asking for a pic.
Dortmund's West region had many mines, settled by 1980s guest workers—miners and nurses.
So you'd run into them or their kids on the street.
Some even gave unexpected thanks.
"Thank... you...."
An elderly man thanked me repeatedly—his grandson, bullied for skin color, now had friends.
His rough hands, deep wrinkles telling a hard life. Suddenly, Coach Cha Boom-geun's words hit: running with the pain of those nurses and miners in his heart.
I got it now. Nothing huge, but I decided to invite him to the next home game vs. Bayern Munich.
And vowed to show my best while in Dortmund.
CL exit meant the hellish 3-4 day schedule ended.
Well.
DFB-Pokal final still loomed.
But in 2012, the Pokal final was after the CL final, so this breather would last.
League Round 29, away at Wolfsburg.
Shortly after kickoff, Dortmund players exchanged stunned looks.
No unexpected incident.
Just.
"Hoooouuuuuwuuu─!"
The opponents were too weak.
'Is this what reverse sentiment feels like?'