Preseason - 1
A mere mortal who couldn't become the god of soccer.
That was all I thought Ronaldo amounted to.
Unlike Messi, who lifted the World Cup trophy in Qatar during his twilight years and ascended to soccer godhood.
Ronaldo, as if living out the adage a dog's habits die hard, pulled off another no-show against 1.4 billion people and ended up an honorary Chinese citizen.
I might have unwittingly dismissed him because of his petty, small-minded antics.
"Hoo-ooo-ooo!"
"Son Jinho-ooo-ooo!"
But the moment I heard the fervent cheers echoing through Sangam World Cup Stadium...
Turning these fans into haters overnight?
I had no choice but to reevaluate Ronaldo. A surge of respect welled up in my chest.
Damn... Enduring just 50 million was tough enough. And he no-showed against 1.4 billion?
He wasn't a mere mortal.
The kind of guy who could force-quit his kid's game mid-session just to yell "Hoo!", or toss his dog into the pool without batting an eye.
GOAT.
He was the one true GOAT.
As kickoff approached, the Dortmund players and U-23 Olympic national team took to the pitch for warm-ups.
"Coach! Long time no see!"
"Yeah, Jinho. Good to see you."
Having stealthily paid my daily dues to Ronaldo worship, I approached Coach Han Myong-bo and the U-23 Olympic squad for greetings.
"Oh, the baby bro's here!"
"Germany must be treating you right—look at that glow-up."
"Jinho's always been handsome, dude."
Even though friction with the federation had kept me from joining camp, they welcomed me warmly.
"Don't hold back just 'cause I'm your bro—go all out."
"For real, no mercy?"
"...Read the room and keep it moderate."
Overseas pros like Seongryong hyung had returned to Korea to gel ahead of the Olympics and made the starting lineup for this Dortmund vs. U-23 friendly.
After greeting every single Olympic player, I returned to the Dortmund side, stretching lightly while chatting idly.
"Man... Gino's a total superstar, huh? How many ads have you shot?"
"Hey, you could be one too."
The buzz among the squad was my fame back home. Right on cue, a billboard—erected specially to recoup Dortmund's Korea visit costs—blared a CF with me as the model. I was dancing with ice cream cones in both hands.
"Whoa. Dude dances like trash."
I brushed off Ivan Perisic's fact-bomb, born of ugly envy.
The match kicked off.
Dortmund stuck with last season's 4-2-3-1, new signing Marco Reus in the starting XI.
Unlike Barcelona's 2010 no-show fiasco, with a core player like me around, Dortmund pros tackled every event diligently, delighting Korean fans.
At a time when Korea was still obscure, Dortmund's enthusiastic embrace of the culture was pure national pride fuel.
Fans compared it to Barcelona's visit, roasting Barca online.
Barca got reevaluated too for the no-show. Wait, no—Messi pushing through flu got the praise.
Whatever.
Messi no-showed Hong Kong later anyway.
Anyway...
With Marco Reus shredding the flanks at blistering speed, Dortmund toyed with the U-23s one-sidedly.
Individual talent gaps played a role, but organization was the killer.
National teams lack club-level prep time.
That's why top international squads often come from club cores: Spain's 2008 Euros-2010 WC-2012 Euros treble (mostly Real/Barca), Germany's 2014 WC win (Bayern/Dortmund heavies).
"Seongryong! Watch the press!" Thwack. "Fuck!"
Dortmund snatched the ball high up with intense pressing.
Their trademark quick short passes unfolded. Ilkay Gundogan, on the ball, slotted it to me slicing into the box.
Wham!
I trapped and rifled a shot half a beat ahead. It swerved off-target slightly, but I'd beaten the keeper's timing—straight into the net.
"Yesss!!"
I hollered mock consolation at dejected keeper Jeong Seongryong, then turned to the stands.
The stadium buzzed with my goal.
All eyes on me, expectant. I obliged, slowly circling my right arm and bolting for the corner flag.
"Woooaaah!"
Cheers swelled as I neared the flag. Fans rose, faces alight.
Then, arms crossed, I unleashed the Hoo.
"Hoo-ooo-ooo-ooo!"
A stadium-shaking Hoo roared through Seoul's Sangam World Cup Stadium.