Olympic Group Stage (3)
Hardly any time had passed since the first match of the Olympic group stage wrapped up, and already the second was staring us right in the face.
Three weeks of squad drills followed by four days of intensive tactical preparation had pumped a decent amount of confidence into our veins. Still, that didn't mean the guys weren't sweating bullets. Well, except for me.
"Hey, look over there. It's Adrian."
"...You're telling me that one guy's transfer value is higher than our entire squad combined?"
"If somebody flies in with an ankle tackle, do you think they'll get dragged across social media worldwide?"
"Getting dragged would be the best-case scenario."
Adrian Ledes. Manchester City's right winger, sporting an astronomical 350-billion-won buyout clause—essentially City's ownership declaring, Don't even bother asking. With a relaxed expression on his face, he was shaking out his limbs before heading out to the pitch.
My own market valuation had spiked significantly of late, yet it hadn't even cracked the hundred-billion-won mark. Even taking into account that I was about a year younger, he was the kind of player who ignited anyone's competitive fire in more ways than one.
"You're Han Lee?"
Having finished tying his boots, he looked up and recognized my face, which caught me completely off guard. When he strode straight up to me and pronounced my name with crisp clarity, sheer disbelief swept across my teammates' faces.
"Wait, did he just come looking for you?"
"Go talk to him, man!"
"What is there even to talk about?"
"If he's telling you to sign with Man City, you say yes right now!"
"......Ah. Hello."
Letting him stand there for a moment while I traded whispers with the squad, I eventually extended a hand. "Adrian Ledes. Nice to meet you."
Plying his trade in Manchester, his English was fluent enough that communication was seamless. He replied in English touched with a faint Spanish accent.
"I watched your analysis footage. So, which one are we getting today?"
At his question, I pulled my hand back from his grip and offered a playful retort. "Take a guess. Which one do you think?"
"How would I know? I'm just curious how on earth you manage two playstyles that are so radically different."
"Sooner or later, you won't even need analysis to find out."
Whether it came out by accident or I revealed it myself, living this double life couldn't go on forever. Take just one obvious dilemma: Lee Han was head over heels in love with Adelia Myers. But I wasn't. What if I ended up falling for someone down the road? To the outside world, it would look like an open-and-shut affair. I had zero intention of creating a disaster like that.
"...What's got you spacing out so hard?"
My mind had wandered too far. Adrian, looking more intrigued than offended—perhaps because it had been ages since anyone daydreamed right to his face—nudged curiously.
"Just thinking about how many goals we should put past Argentina to win."
"Think you can actually beat us?"
"Everyone who asked me that this season ended up sobbing after getting knocked out."
From Middlesbrough all the way to Arsenal. Whether they were actually bawling their eyes out or not, the fact remained that they got sent packing, so close enough.
"Whatever you've got prepared, give it your best shot."
"Honestly, I'd really appreciate it if you guys didn't give it your best shot."
"Haha. Sorry, can't help you there."
The prestige of Olympic football had skyrocketed over the last few years. Effectively serving as a mini-World Cup, the public's thirst for an Olympic medal had grown exponentially worldwide. For an Argentina that already lived and breathed football, there was no need to explain just how colossal their nation's expectations were.
"Anyway, see you out on the pitch."
"Here's to a good match."
Crossing himself, he turned on his heel and sauntered back toward the Argentine camp.
"...Aren't you two meeting for the first time?"
"Yeah, we are."
"Then how did you two chat like old pals?"
I wouldn't exactly say we hit it off. If anything, we'd just traded barbs back and forth.
"Insane. Absolutely insane."
"He didn't flinch for a second—just stood there shooting the breeze."
"Honestly, didn't it look like he won the psychological battle?"
"......"
Let's set aside whether that brief banter warranted being called a high-stakes psychological war. The important thing was that our squad, previously trembling at the mere prospect of facing Argentina, visibly loosened up after watching me trade words with Adrian. That was a welcome change. Drowning in useless tension only ever sabotaged a player's true form.
"Alright, listen up! Even Han, a striker acknowledged by the great Adrian himself, is on our side! Nobody here is planning on losing, right?"
"Wait, Taeha hyung."
"Quiet. Let me speak."
Just as I opened my mouth to protest that wasn't how it went down, Taeha hyung glared at me before raising his voice to rally the troops.
"Run your hearts out so we don't let down the fans who came all the way out here to back the national team!"
"Yes, sir!"
The moment the squad's thunderous roar faded, I finally pushed my point through.
"Come on, Taeha hyung, why would I need his acknowledgment? If anything, I'm the one acknowledging him."
"......*That* was your takeaway?"
Taeha hyung and the rest of the team stared back at me in utter disbelief.
What? Why? All he lifted this season was a single beverage cup. Shouldn't I be rated higher? Well, whatever.
Stepping out onto the pitch, the stands were overwhelmingly filled with red, looking almost identical to an A-match held back home in South Korea.
"They weren't kidding when they said Brisbane has a massive Korean community."
Seeing even the neutral sections thoroughly packed with Korean immigrants, any lingering anxiety about playing away from home evaporated. While Argentine supporters were certainly scattered throughout, in terms of sheer numbers and stadium energy, Argentina was the side shouldering the pressure of an away fixture.
Scanning the crowd a bit longer, my eyes caught a stout, broad-shouldered gentleman sitting near our technical area, wrapped in a Luton Town muffler and proudly sporting the club's vibrant orange kit alongside his companions.
...Why is that kit here?
Did Lee Han give that away at some point? Or did he buy it himself? Either way, seeing passionate national team fans mingling with the familiar colors of Luton Town set my mind even further at ease.
"We are live in Brisbane, Australia, for Matchday 2 of the Olympic men's football group stage—South Korea versus Argentina is about to kick off!"
"Following their victory over Egypt in the opener, our boys are hunting for back-to-back wins against the powerhouse that is Argentina!"
"With Gabon and Egypt finishing in a one-all draw earlier today, a victory against Argentina will mathematically guarantee South Korea an early ticket to the knockout stage!"
"That's right! Argentina also defeated Gabon before coming into this match, meaning whoever takes the three points today takes a monumental step closer to an Olympic medal."
Thanks to Taeha hyung winning the coin toss, the match kicked off with our ball. My kickoff rolled smoothly to Taeha hyung's feet in central midfield, and Argentina's forwards immediately bypassed me to initiate an aggressive high press.
Yet our 4-2-3-1 formation hadn't been chosen on a whim. Functioning as the vital vertex of the countless passing triangles forged by our collective movement, Taeha hyung dismantled Argentina's press with effortless poise.
Early in the match, some teammates—still adjusting to Argentina's blistering tempo—sent several awkward passes Taeha hyung's way. Yet the natural grace with which he absorbed the pressure and unlocked the game was every bit worthy of Atlético Madrid's midfield maestro.
"Watch out!"
"If you lose it, press immediately!"
Of course, football is never a one-man show. No matter how brilliant Taeha hyung was in build-up play and evading markers, eliminating every stray mistake was impossible.
And that was my cue to step in.
The moment Argentina's midfielder Felipe snatched possession and flicked his eyes toward Adrian, I had already vacated the striker's slot and charged into the passing lane, cutting out the ball before it could develop.
"Don't force it! Don't lose your heads over one giveaway! Stick to your roles! This is exactly why we drilled these backup patterns!"
If we hung our heads over a single turnover, we wouldn't be able to execute even half of Luton Town's 4-2-3-1. As Felipe lunged back in to reclaim the ball, I flicked it past him with a swift flip-flap, barking instructions across the pitch.
Laying the ball off to Taeha hyung, I drifted back toward Argentine territory. As Taeha hyung deliberately bled the tempo with measured, composed touches, Argentina's frantic pressing was forced to decelerate.
"Through the opening ten minutes of the first half, South Korea boasts a staggering seventy-three percent possession! Outside of contested 50-50 balls, Argentina has barely managed to touch the ball!"
"Our players are performing so brilliantly that the intimidating aura of Argentina seems entirely blunted. With Captain Lee Tae-ha anchoring the core and Lee Han plugging every tactical leak, the balance is flawless. Simply flawless!"
"Particularly Lee Han! After netting over sixty goals for his club this season as a lethal finisher, watching him today makes him look like the quintessential complete forward."
"Let's not overlook the fact that Lee Han also recorded over twenty assists this season."
"Precisely! That alone proves his distribution and vision outshine most attacking midfielders."
"Threading incisive passes in the final third and orchestrating match tempo are usually two very different skill sets, yet right before our eyes, Lee Han is pulling off both simultaneously!"
The tactical system South Korea deployed on the pitch was an authentic mirror of Luton Town's 4-2-3-1. While slight adjustments had been made to suit our personnel, Head Coach Kim Shin-tae's instructions had been clear enough for me to read and direct our players' movements without a hitch.
"Back to me!"
The chances of the Argentine players understanding Korean were practically nonexistent. If anything, Taeha hyung, who played in Spain, was far more likely to decode whatever Argentina shouted. Without hesitation, Taeha hyung and I recalibrated the squad's positioning in real time.
Backed by weeks of intensive rehearsals and having gradually acclimated to Argentina's intensity, our players responded faithfully to our commands. While their reactions were naturally a beat slower than the instinctive telepathy we enjoyed at Luton Town, Argentina was an Olympic squad, not a club team that had trained together day after day for years. Against a national setup, escaping their press with this level of cohesion was well within our capabilities.
Having drawn Argentina deep into our half, the ball eventually cycled back to goalkeeper Kim Won-woo, one of our dependable wildcard veterans. Before Argentina's striker could close down the angle, Kim clipped a measured pass into our defensive midfielder, Jung-wook hyung.
Without breaking stride, Jung-wook swept the ball wide to our right winger, Ahn Jaehyun—unquestionably the fastest man inside the stadium.
At club level, Ahn Jaehyun often drew flak for being a pure sprint-and-dribble merchant who lacked versatility. But flipped on its head, that simply meant his raw, unadulterated pace alone was lethal enough to thrive at the professional level.
Pushing the ball into the vast expanse behind Argentina's advanced full-back, Jaehyun opened his stride and unleashed his top gear.
Whether Argentina had assumed neutralizing Taeha hyung and me was all that mattered, or they had simply failed to do their homework on the rest of our roster, the full-back tracking Jaehyun was hopelessly outmatched for speed. Under normal circumstances, an experienced defender would have cynically clipped his heels to kill the counter before earning a yellow card, but Argentina's excessive pressing had stretched their backline paper-thin.
Coupled with Jung-wook hyung's distribution cutting through the lines far faster than the deliberate rhythm Korea had shown so far, the Argentine defender couldn't even get close enough to foul him.
A gap of two strides instantly stretched to three, then four. At that margin, not even a desperate, red-card-worthy slide tackle from behind could touch him.
"Han!"
Storming into open pasture, Jaehyun whipped the ball inside before the recovering center-backs could converge.
As if living up to his reputation as a one-trick speed merchant, his cutback veered completely off-target, nowhere near where I was lurking in the penalty box. But it didn't matter in the slightest.
I was well aware this team wasn't Luton Town, and the man delivering that cutback wasn't Emir or Dominic. My darting run into the box had never been about latching onto a pinpoint cross to score myself.
"Lee Tae-ha! He surges into the final third from deep!"
My true intention was to drag the center-backs toward the left flank where I stood, completely clearing out the central lane so an oncoming runner could strike with an unobstructed view.
"Ahn Jaehyun's cutback rolls past the defense—Lee Tae-ha strikes it first-time!"
Harnessing all the momentum of the pacey cutback, the ball struck the inside of Taeha hyung's boot and curled with lethal whip. Quicker than breath, it tore through the air and sucked cleanly into the side netting.
"GOOOOOOOAL!! What was billed as a grueling uphill battle has been shattered in the twenty-seventh minute by Captain Lee Tae-ha!"
"The chaos caused by Lee Han in front of goal completely obstructed the keeper's sightlines! He couldn't even react to the bending shot whipping into the opposite corner!"
"South Korea takes the lead, one to nil!"
I turned toward Adrian, who had tracked back too late only to watch the ball nestle into his own net with a heavy sigh, and flashed him a wide, knowing grin.
His face, stiff and drained of all its earlier composure, was quite a sight to behold.