Olympic Group Stage (1)
The match got underway at an even tempo, settling into the tentative, probing rhythm typical of any tournament opener as both sides tested the waters.
"[Our Korean boys are certainly showing a completely different look compared to the friendlies.]"
"[Indeed. Lee Tae-ha, the undisputed captain of the senior national team and a key starter for Atlético Madrid, is commanding the pitch, while Lee Han is hounding the opposition with unrelenting pressure from the front line. Together, they're breathing a brand of energy into this Olympic squad that we simply haven't seen before.]"
"[Precisely. The composed, stable game management we're witnessing in this first half cleanly puts to rest the controversy that arose from a few players joining the squad late.]"
Tae-ha alone was more than enough to dictate the midfield against Egypt.
Add in veteran goalkeeper Kim Won-woo—plying his trade in Portugal's top-flight Primeira Liga and known not only for his shot-stopping but for his superb distribution—and the tempo and build-up play were resting comfortably in Korea's palm.
By the time every player had touched the ball several times and grown accustomed to the stadium's electric atmosphere, the breakthrough materialized.
Receiving the ball in the center circle under immediate pressure, Tae-ha didn't slow the tempo as he had moments earlier. Instead, he took the touch half a beat faster than expected and spun on a dime. Two Egyptian forwards rushed in from either flank to close him down, but Tae-ha scooped the ball lightly onto the bridge of his foot, hopping into the air off his other leg to effortlessly evade their sliding tackles while keeping possession glued to his boot.
In that single, breathtaking sequence, he demonstrated why he was the senior national captain and an indispensable wildcard. Breaking free from the press, he surged into the wide, open expanse of the midfield.
"Young-hwan! Take it!"
As he drove forward, drawing the Egyptian midfielders toward him like a magnet, Tae-ha slipped a razor-sharp through ball cleanly between a defender's legs. The pass arrived at the feet of Young-hwan, who was darting up the left flank. Taking it in his stride with a silky, dead-still touch, Young-hwan glanced up to gauge the forwards crashing into the penalty box.
Our eyes locked.
Immediately, the cross sailed in—a delivery we had practiced so many times over the past three weeks that I was sick of looking at it. All I needed was the audacity to step forward half a stride ahead of the backline, and the courage to fling my body into harm's way.
Tracking the trajectory, I slipped away from the Egyptian center-back and planted myself right where my head needed to be, simply waiting. The ball dipped precisely into the pocket between the defensive line and the rushing keeper. All that was left was to let the bouncing ball meet my forehead.
Right before my eyes stood an open net.
Thwack!
The crisp snap of the net rippling was drowned out in an instant by a thunderous roar from the Korean supporters packing the Brisbane stadium.
"[The 17th minute of the first half! A flawless sequence, a gorgeous cross, and positioning so sublime words cannot even describe it!]"
"[The Republic of Korea Olympic squad opens their account here in Brisbane, Australia!]"
"[Score is one to nil! South Korea takes the lead!]"
Twisted hard to his left to track the cross, the Egyptian keeper couldn't even flinch. He remained frozen, staring blankly into his own net in disbelief. But staring wouldn't change the scoreboard.
I confirmed the number next to my name on the giant stadium screen and nimbly darted away from my ecstatic teammates, who were hurtling toward me intent on dogpiling me into the turf.
...Whether it's here or Luton Town, footballers are all the same.
Perhaps because Coach Kim Shin-tae had adopted Manager Gordon Morton's 4-4-2 blueprint from Luton, it felt as though the Olympic squad had not only inherited the tactical system's football IQ, but also its players' collective brain cells. I genuinely had to wonder if everyone's intelligence had plummeted to Dominic's level.
Well, whatever.
Keeping the promise I had made to Adelia, I brought my hands together against my chest, shaping them into a neat little heart. I directed it straight at the broadcast lens, though to the spectators in the stands, it must have looked like a salute to the crowd, prompting another deafening cheer from the traveling supporters.
"[Haha! Lee Han pulled this off in the league as well, but once again he slips past his swarming teammates with remarkable finesse just to steadfastly deliver his signature celebration.]"
"[I suppose it takes that kind of agility to shake off defenders! The fans who saw the hand-heart are loving every second of it!]"
"[What a wonderfully refreshing start to this Olympic campaign.]"
Adelia had surely seen it by now. The match had kicked off at seven o'clock on a Saturday evening, Australian time, meaning the UK was nine hours behind. Knowing her habit of rising early even on weekends, there was a high probability she was already awake, mug of tea in hand, watching the broadcast. Games against Argentina or Gabon on weekdays might be harder for her to catch with her demanding schedule, but today was Saturday.
Hoping she had caught the gesture, I stepped out of the camera's crosshairs and jogged back toward the center circle.
"I knew it from the senior friendlies, but damn, that hot-pot head of yours is lethal," Tae-ha whispered, covering his mouth with a gloved hand as he fell in beside me.
"Want me to dish up a hot bowl of soup to go with it, hyung?"
"Ugh, shut up. Don't even mention dishing things up—you'll jinx us into serving the game on a silver platter." Tae-ha grimaced, leaning in closer. "You have no idea how grim the national team's striker situation was before you showed up. Hyun-bum only found his form this year; before that, he wasn't even getting call-ups."
"...Ah."
"So please, let's bag an Olympic medal this time, secure that exemption, and climb straight into the senior squad for the long haul. Please. Look at your hyung—I'm already exempt, and I'm still running myself into the ground out here."
"Got it."
For the record, Tae-ha had already earned his military exemption two Asian Games ago. Seeing him volunteer for the Olympic squad proved just how deeply he cared about the national badge.
"Anyway, since it's our first group match, I was worried things might look rusty compared to training. But everything feels crisp. I'm going to start raining down passes and crosses on you."
"Works for me. How does a four-trick sound?"
"Ha! If you bag four, steaks are on me when this tournament wraps up."
"Tae-ha-hyung says he's buying premium steak if we win!" I hollered across the pitch.
The squad erupted in cheers. Earning a call-up to the Olympic team meant most of these players were regular starters or top prospects in the K-League, so money wasn't a concern, but having a senior icon pick up the tab was a matter of pride. Naturally, the reaction was explosive.
"Hey, shouldn't you score the four goals before making promises?" Tae-ha hissed. "Can you actually pull it off?"
"Yes."
In times like this, you had to shoot first and ask questions later. If worst came to worst, I could always pay the bill out of my own pocket.
How much did Woosung-hyung say he was securing for my contract renewal again?
Brushing off the stray thought, I took up my stance and waited for Egypt's kickoff.
"[We are deep into the closing stages of the second half.]"
"[South Korea is showcasing overwhelming firepower right from the opener, currently holding a commanding 3-0 lead over Egypt.]"
"[Just as we saw during the recent senior fixtures, the telepathic chemistry between Lee Tae-ha and Lee Han continues to flourish.]"
"[To be frank, when veteran striker Han Min-sun retired following the last Asian Cup after anchoring Korea's attack for a decade, supporters were rife with anxiety.]"
"[Yet when the moment arrived, the exact player we needed stepped into the light. Watching him register a hat-trick today, it's clear why Manager Kim Shin-tae was willing to compromise some squad cohesion to install Lee Han as the focal point.]"
"[And that cohesion will only sharpen as the matches roll on.]"
"[Precisely. Training is one thing, but actual competition is another. Getting live reps together on the pitch is what truly cements a team.]"
The outcome was already beyond doubt. With less than ten minutes remaining, we maintained suffocating possession, and the opposition was running on fumes. Yet that didn't mean the Egyptians had surrendered.
Putting aside the symbolic weight of an Olympic opener, goal difference in tournament group stages could make or break qualification. Even facing a three-goal deficit, they refused to sit back, charging at us with desperate intensity. But their impatience was a weapon we could turn against them.
"Tae-ha-hyung!"
I raised my arm high. Taking the bait, Egypt's holding midfielder dropped a couple of paces to shadow me. Minutes earlier, he would have held his zone, but desperation and the agony of a three-goal margin dragged him toward me like a moth to a flame.
The core philosophy of our attacking shape was simple: by having me drop slightly deeper, I pulled markers away, granting the surrounding midfielders room to operate in the final third directly in front of the box. With the very midfielder assigned to guard that corridor chasing after me, our passing avenues multiplied instantaneously.
"Take it!"
Tae-ha barked the shout, but the ball didn't come to me. Instead, it swung wide across the pitch toward the right touchline, where central midfielder Cho Kyu-hyun had drifted into acres of empty space.
Being predominantly right-footed—though footedness hardly mattered given how rarely my boots touched the ball—I lined up on the left side of the front two. While my constant pressing from the front often blurred rigid positions, whenever we pinned the opponent back in settled possession, I strictly maintained my zone.
In other words: with all defensive attention drawn toward me, Tae-ha had sprayed the ball out to the uncontested right flank, right into the path of Cho Kyu-hyun, a man renowned for his pinpoint delivery. With no reason to force a dribble into a congested box when he had all the time in the world, Kyu-hyun did exactly what everyone in the stadium knew he would do.
"[Cho Kyu-hyun sets himself with a composed first touch, and whips in the cross!]"
Knowing an action is coming and stopping it, however, are two entirely different matters. Even after nearly ninety minutes of grinding, a cross delivered under zero pressure from an open flank was destined to possess a venomous arc.
My feet had already begun churning the instant his boot made contact. It was a soaring, looping ball, curling over the keeper's head toward the back post. My assignment was straightforward: spin behind the primary center-back while backpedaling, and during the flight of the ball, subtly herd the second center-back into the keeper's path to stall his recovery run.
Executing the movement without a hitch, the Egyptian goalkeeper and his central defender tangled together, tumbling into the grass. Alone in the pocket, I watched the descending trajectory line up squarely with my forehead.
It's a floater. Relax the neck. Take the power off.
Tap.
No jump was required. I simply dipped my upper body, redirecting the ball with a cushioned glance so it would clear the line and bounce down into the turf. The ball crossed the goal line cleanly, kicked up off the pitch, and settled gently against the roof of the net.
Four to nil.
The four-trick was complete.
Fanning out four fingers, I thumped my right fist over the tiger crest on my chest just as I often did back at Luton, then thrust my fingers forward for the cameras. This time, thankfully, the teammates who arrived in pursuit celebrated with manageable hugs rather than crushing me under a pile of bodies.
"Ah, I should've just recycled possession backward. Why did I even bother spraying it wide?" Tae-ha chuckled, slinging an arm around my shoulder.
Throughout the first half, Tae-ha's distribution had accounted for every player's running speed down to the millimeter. No matter how much pressure he was under, for a pass to drift so far wide that Cho Kyu-hyun had to sprint onto it could only mean one thing.
I fixed him with an amused stare. Feeling the heat, Tae-ha fiddled self-consciously with his captain's armband, stammering out an excuse.
"Ahem. If you pour in too many goals in the first match, you run the risk of slumping in the next one! Why can't you appreciate your veteran senior looking out for your long-term form?"
"Oh, please. Listen to the lies spilling out of that mouth. I saw the look on your face the second you shanked that pass."
Our final wildcard, defensive midfielder Yang Jung-wook—who had started on the bench due to tactical adjustments—stepped onto the pitch as fourth-official stoppage time was signaled, delivering an immediate verbal jab to Tae-ha's ribs.
"Can't you let me keep my dignity in front of the juniors for once?" Tae-ha protested.
"If you wanted dignity, you should've put the pass on a dime so your junior wouldn't have to grill you for a miskick."
"I was completely, utterly satisfied with Tae-ha-sunbae's pass!" Kyu-hyun chimed in, bowing with exaggerated deference.
"See? It was all calculated to the inch," Tae-ha declared, chin held high.
"..."
That guy, Cho Kyu-hyun.
His workplace survival instincts were sharper than Lee Yeon's.
All in all, the atmosphere in the camp was exceptionally bright.