Here to Win Gold (1)
The locker room was split into two sharply contrasting camps, hovering at polar extremes of emotion.
On one side stood those who had already completed their mandatory service through Sangju Sangmu or had earned military exemption like Tae-ha hyung; on the other stood those who hadn't.
At the World Cup, there were no exceptional rewards unless you lifted the trophy, but at the Olympics, simply winning the semifinal guaranteed at least a silver medal. And silver meant an exemption. With the entire trajectory of their footballing careers hanging in the balance, it was impossible not to understand the agonizing tension gripping them.
“Raise your hand if you're nervous.”
“......”
“Great. Everyone's fine, then.”
Tae-ha hyung chuckled. It wasn't that he was actively trying to ease the rigid nerves of the younger players... He just seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the situation itself.
“What are you guys so scared of? Everyone says we have the upper hand. Just go out there, play the way you always do, and we win.”
He wasn't wrong, but judging by the glares around the room, quite a few players found his smug teasing hard to swallow.
“You're being harsh, hyung. You probably trembled like a leaf in your Asian Games final too.”
“Not just trembled—he straight-up bawled.”
“There's literally an official national team YouTube video immortalizing him crying at halftime and right after the final whistle.”
“Last I checked, it had over a million views.”
“......”
Fortunately, thanks to the media staff's meticulous archival work, Tae-ha hyung's teasing was swiftly put in its place.
“Still, aren't you anxious at all? How can you be this relaxed?”
Yong-won hyung, who had held down our backline with staunch consistency at center-back throughout the tournament, asked me while bouncing his restless leg.
For the record, the only players in this locker room I didn't have to address as hyung were right winger Ahn Jaehyun and left fullback Kim Ilwon. Perhaps because the rest of the squad had been selected right near the Olympic age ceiling of twenty-three, everyone else was at least two or three years older than me.
I answered Yong-won hyung, whose leg had immediately resumed its frantic jiggling.
“Not particularly.”
To be fair, while this might be the final chance for the older players, those of us under twenty still had the upcoming Asian Games. In that sense, we were spared a good portion of the pressure.
“You seriously don't feel any pressure at all?”
“None.”
“Do you understand what winning this match actually means?”
“Of course I do. It means military exemption.”
Technically, you still had to complete basic military training, but close enough. Swapping a year and a half of active duty for less than a month of bootcamp was practically an exemption anyway.
“...Now I know for sure that you don't get it.”
Yong-won hyung let out a deep sigh, as if my answer had entirely missed the point. Just as I was about to ask what else there could possibly be, he pressed on.
“If we win today, we set the best record in our country's entire Olympic history!”
“Ah.”
“What do you mean, 'Ah'? Even before the Olympic format was restructured, we only managed bronze once! Winning today locks in a silver medal! Do you have any idea how huge that is?!”
At his impassioned outburst, the anxious players chimed in with fervent nods of agreement. Realizing that I might have treated this match a little too casually, I decided to indulge in a modest sliver of self-reflection. If it had been Lee Yeon, he wouldn't have spared a second thought for self-reflection, which confirmed in my mind that I was quite the decent human being.
“Then I guess I'll have to run my socks off.”
“Exactly.”
“Still, if everyone gets so wound up trying to give everything, like Tae-ha hyung said, we won't be able to play at our usual level.”
“...That's also true.”
Tae-ha hyung chimed in to back me up.
“Thinking about it that way, these three are doing better than the rest of you. Look, they're not shaking at all.”
“......”
Yong-won hyung was left speechless. Still, having successfully impressed upon me the monumental weight of today's match, he seemed to have fulfilled his duty.
“I'll make sure the game runs so smoothly you won't have to worry, so just relax and hold down the fort at the back,” I announced loudly to the half-dazed players—the older brothers. “I'll put away a quick goal in the first half and take all the pressure off your shoulders. Just play with an easy mind. Stay relaxed.”
“Well, look at that. You give a better speech than I do. Want to wear the captain's armband at the World Cup?”
“No thanks.”
The day I accepted that armband would be the day I lost my mind. No matter how thirsty one might be for authority, being captain was a trap.
“Right then, before the gaffer walks in, your captain shall personally uplift the gloomy atmosphere in this locker room.”
“...Here he goes again,” Choi Tae-wook hyung, another wildcard whose final hope for military exemption rested on this tournament, muttered, shaking his head.
“If Han scores within the first half, steaks are on me! Everyone else, put something on the line too.”
“Hyung, you haven't even honored your last bet yet.”
“...Which means we'll just go somewhere twice as expensive to make up for both.”
As expected, only the thickest-skinned individuals were cut out for the captaincy.
“Hey! If you don't pick a minute right now, all my previous promises are void!”
“Wait, that's not fair!”
“A promise is a promise!”
“Then pick already!”
Watching the captain's tearful solo performance—which I chose to believe was meant to calm the squad's nerves—I quietly retied my bootlaces.
Having no bad blood with Australia, I kept my celebration simple, tapping the crest over my heart as I always did.
“Couldn't you have scored just one minute earlier?”
“Hey, the kid just gave us the lead, and that's the first thing you say to him?”
“He's done his job for the day, so leave him alone, will you?”
“......”
To think that after sprinting over with such fiery passion, those were the words that spilled out of their mouths. Truly, the picturesque camaraderie of our national team.
Because everyone had wagered that I would score in the first half, Tae-ha hyung's bet had ended up being divided minute by minute. And Ahn Jaehyun, having predicted the latest minute among them all, was being mercilessly roasted by Kim Ilwon.
“Hey, football illiterate.”
“...Come on, I figured he'd at least spend twenty minutes testing the waters!”
“Whatever, everyone got it right except you! Your underdog bet went up in flames!”
I couldn't tell if they had rushed over to celebrate my goal or simply seized an excuse to banter, but from the outside, the fans seemed delighted and the squad looked tight-knit, so I let it slide.
“How many are you planning to bag today?”
I was jogging briskly back to our half to avoid any suspicion of time-wasting from the referee when Seok-hyun hyung fell into step beside me.
“Well, wanting to score doesn't guarantee the ball goes in, does it?”
If it did, I'd be racking up a thousand goals a season.
“Still, you must have an instinct. Usually when you're out there, you get a feel for how the match will unfold.”
“Sure, but anything can happen in football. Like the other hyungs said, winning today sets a historical first. I didn't come all this way just to lose.”
I was going all the way to the end, no matter what. That was the whole reason I had sacrificed my club's pre-season to take part in these Olympics.
By the way, due to the Olympic tournament schedule, both semifinals were taking place simultaneously. Right about now, Argentina and Brazil would be locked in a bloodbath in another stadium. Our objective, therefore, was to put the result beyond doubt as early as possible and rotate the squad, just as we had against Japan.
Give the bench players who haven't played a chance to earn their caps, too.
In a final where anything could happen—extra time, penalty shootouts—substituting players just to grant them military exemption would be an irresponsible gamble. That was why the head coach had informed us in advance that as long as today's match didn't become a razor-thin contest, he intended to rotate the lineup.
“Well, you always figure things out on your own. I won't nag. Just finish the chances I feed you and pad my assist tally.”
“Tae-ha hyung has an unassailable lead anyway, so you won't win the assist title. What do you need another assist for?”
“Nothing major. It's just that including the Olympics, one more assist brings my total for the season to a clean twenty.”
“Ah.”
Fair enough. That was something no one could resist.
Even if Olympic fixtures didn't count toward official club season statistics, fans on the internet scraped together every single match when compiling season stat recaps. Wanting a neat, symbolic milestone of twenty was completely understandable.
Besides, my own race for the Olympic Golden Boot was still on the line. While it was true that I sat at the top of the scoring charts, it wasn't impossible for someone to catch me. Considering that Argentina's Adrian (ten goals) and Brazil's Nauzinho (eleven goals) were hot on my heels compared to my twelve goals heading into the semifinals, a monstrous performance from either of them could easily overturn the lead.
So my duty was simple: hunt for goals with everything I had until the moment I was substituted.
We were past the 101st minute of the second half. Not extra time. The scoreline was already 3–1, and Australia's lone consolation goal had arrived deep into stoppage time. The allocated added time had run out long ago, but an Australian center-back had gone down injured right after the board went up, dragging out the final whistle as the referee added time on top of time.
Well, still better off than those guys.
On the screen of Kim Ilwon's smartphone, the clash between Argentina and Brazil had ended 2–2 after ninety minutes, dragging both sides into extra time. Fortunately, the very scenario we had prayed for had come to pass.
“How fried is their stamina going to be?”
“Looks like they're already running on fumes.”
“Even so, Nauzinho's dribbling is like a snake slithering through grass...”
Heading into extra time, the difference was stark. Unlike Brazil, who had dismantled Germany in their quarterfinal early enough to rest key starters, Argentina had seen their legs ground to dust since the group stage, leaving them unable to mount a proper counterattack.
“Who do you think makes it through?”
“Who knows? From here on out, one mistake settles it.”
Just as we were murmuring back and forth—
Peep! Peep! Peeeeep!
The sound we had longed for echoed across the entire stadium.
“Waaaaagh!”
“Republic of Korea! Republic of Korea!”
“Silver medal secured!”
Everyone on the bench erupted, surging onto the pitch. Without a word, we tossed the phone aside and sprinted onto the grass alongside them.
It had been an easier, more straightforward match than those leading up to it. But the sheer significance contained within today's victory surpassed anything we had experienced throughout this tournament.
“I'm free!”
“No military service in my football career!”
“I'm going to Europe!”
So... yes. It was monumental in more ways than one.
Meanwhile, Head Coach Kim Shin-tae had previously warned us never to toss him into the air unless we won the tournament, but the players had zero intention of heeding that warning. Every single one of us swarmed the gaffer on his way to a post-match interview and hoisted him straight into the sky.
“Hey! Catch me properly on the way down! If my back gives out at my age, there's no fixing it!”
Still, he looked ecstatic, so all was well.
“You really never change, do you?”
“Ah, Tae-ha hyung.”
Having finished tossing the coach, Tae-ha hyung draped an arm around my shoulders, looking on top of the world.
“Learn to enjoy life a little. Soak it in.”
“I'll enjoy it after the final. We still have one match left. Wouldn't it leave a bitter taste if we came all this way only to lose at the very end?”
“...Ha.”
Tae-ha hyung let out a dry chuckle. He understood exactly what I meant.
“Right. We still have one to go. We're already at an all-time high, but we might as well touch the absolute peak, shouldn't we?”
“Naturally.”
“Fine. But if we don't win the final, the steak is off.”
“......”
He really never changed either.