Off-Season (2)

AD Alcorcón's technical director, Iñigo Chapé, didn't believe in religion. Naturally, he thought things like gods didn't exist in this world.

But lately, he had come to firmly believe that a god did exist.

'God is helping us... helping me.'

Spain was home to countless soccer clubs. Just in Madrid alone, if you included amateur teams, there were over a hundred. Narrow it down to current professional-level clubs, and you still had six: Real Madrid CF, Atlético Madrid, Getafe CF, Rayo Vallecano, CD Leganés, and AD Alcorcón.

That meant a talented amateur player in the area had plenty of options. Factor in teams outside Madrid, and the chances of snagging a good player for free dropped even lower.

Famous clubs or La Liga sides might have an easier time. But for a La Liga 2 team like AD Alcorcón—one that had never promoted to La Liga in its history and had even been relegated to semi-pro Primera Federación level at times—the odds were practically nonexistent.

That's why AD Alcorcón invested in a youth academy despite tight budgets and even formed a B team to focus on player development. It was the only way to grab promising kids early and nurture them.

And yet...

'Theo joining our team... that couldn't have happened without divine intervention.'

Not from the youth setup, and without spending a single penny—they'd landed a talent everyone coveted, for free.

Cha Tae-oh.

He was the player who made Iñigo Chapé believe in God.

He knew it the moment he saw him. If they failed to hold onto Cha Tae-oh, AD Alcorcón would commit the worst mistake in club history.

That left one unsolved mystery. Why had this player been released from his previous pro club? And why hadn't other teams snapped him up?

...The only explanation was some divine meddling, far-fetched as it sounded.

'14 games, 75 goals in Segunda Federación... utterly insane.'

The player who joined AD Alcorcón B and led an unbroken winning streak to promotion and the title. And the one who'd bring glory to the A team next season—the 'godsend.'

To Iñigo Chapé, Cha Tae-oh had become that kind of player.

'We have to use Theo right.'

The problem was, he couldn't decide that alone. As director, his power ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠covered signings, releases, and personnel—but on the pitch, the coach called the shots.

So when hunting for a new coach, Iñigo Chapé sought someone who shared his views on this.

A few candidates marveled at Cha Tae-oh's 75 goals in 14 fourth-tier games and promised to start him as striker. But salary issues and other disagreements kept popping up.

Iñigo didn't want to drag his feet on appointing the new coach. He aimed to lock it in before the season ended.

In the end, his pick was an unexpected internal promotion: B-team coach Jordi Calavera.

There were a few reasons. The biggest? His direct link to Cha Tae-oh—the only candidate who'd actually coached him.

For rebuilding around Cha Tae-oh as the core next season, he seemed perfect.

Plus, he'd led the B team to victory, maximized prospects like Miguel Amaro and Joni Montoya, and came cheaper than outsiders.

'Tactically, he's clearly done his homework.'

Iñigo had watched him closely and even brought him back to the B team after his dismissal from CD Mensajero.

One concern lingered: no experience managing a pro club's first team. And at his young age, could he lead the players?

Iñigo had hesitated for that reason. But interim coach Dario Terraz requested a return to assistant duties and pledged to support Jordi fully, smoothing things over.

With Dario's high credibility among players, dressing room control shouldn't be an issue.

After signing the official contract with Jordi Calavera, a thrilled Iñigo said to him:

"Jordi, I've staked everything on appointing you. If you fail, I won't be able to stay on as director here."

"Uh..."

"Sorry if that's burdensome, but remember this one thing."

"...?"

"I'll give you every bit of support I can to make sure you succeed."

"...!"

The news hit, and I immediately sent coach Jordi Calavera a congratulatory message. I'd planned to call, but texted first just in case.

I hadn't expected him to coach the A team next season, so it caught me off guard.

Still, it made sense. Probably because he was the perfect guy to maximize me.

Hmm. Honestly, I wasn't sure if Jordi would succeed with the A team. Not doubting his skills—I just didn't know what La Liga 2 entailed yet.

But one thing was clear: I liked him, and his high-level soccer vision had impressed me. I'd dedicate myself to his success next season.

The call came in less than ten minutes after my text. His voice alone told me he was grinning ear to ear. The joy of becoming a pro club's head coach outweighed any pressure—for now.

"Yes, resting up nicely."

"No, at home. Heading to Madrid airport later."

"Mom and Dad are coming."

"Yeah. Thinking of traveling around Spain together."

Even mid-call, I grinned and asked:

"No vacation for you, coach?"

His laugh over the speaker carried layers of meaning. Still, I tossed in a playful jab:

"Didn't you always say coaches need to rest properly too?"

It wasn't quite worry, but since it landed better than intended, no need to correct him.

"Congrats again, coach."

"You bet. I'll give it everything."

I shared my resolve with him:

"I'll prove I'm the top option with results. Twice as good as this season?"

"Ah..."

Hmm. It added up like that.

150 goals...

Suddenly curious: Could I keep this scoring frenzy in pro leagues?

Averaging five goals ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠per game would be tough. I'd felt the gap training with the A team versus B.

But scoring every match? That, I was confident in.

And I had to deliver. If I couldn't hit those numbers in La Liga 2, how could I chase top scorer in La Liga?

Someone once said: Aim big. Even if you miss, you'll land close.

New goal: 150 goals.

...Whether it'd happen, who knew.

Seeing Mom and Dad after so long felt amazing. Being in Spain, not Korea, made it even sweeter.

I'd kept our daily calls short as promised, but nothing beat seeing them in person.

Their faces beamed. Probably relieved I'd settled well in this foreign land.

Not seeing them often felt unfilial, but easing their worries felt like my duty done.

"Sis, you've put on some weight?"

"Hitting me the second you arrive?"

"Come on, sis. Means you're healthier. Though with such a handsome, successful son, you'd feel full without eating."

"You... Hohoho."

"Jealous to death."

Aunt Han Mi-ju and Uncle Adrian met us at the airport too. Years apart, yet Mom ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠greeted her sister like it'd been yesterday—no awkwardness.

Blood ties, I guess.

We piled into Uncle Adrian's car, heading straight to my place.

First impressions split perfectly by personality.

"Nice house."

Dad's stoic verdict: short and sweet.

But Mom...

"Isn't this too big for you alone? Look, so spacious—cleaning's a nightmare. You need a clean environment for a clear mind and health. Scrub the bathroom or mold builds up."

She inspected every corner, nagging away.

Back in Korea, I'd hated it. Here? Refreshingly welcome.

"Wash the bed sheets and covers properly, got it?"

Checking the master bedroom, she seemed satisfied—spotless. Sitting on the bed: "Nice and fluffy."

Then she yanked open the nightstand drawer.

I smiled... until my eyes widened.

Wait—hold up. Not that one...!

"What's this?"

Mom pulled out a small square box. Spanish label: Ultra-Thin Condoms, Large Size.

Peeking inside, she stared shocked.

"You got a girlfriend? Wait, how many condoms? You aren't living with someone, right?"

Dad glanced and dropped his laconic take:

"...Healthy."

Hm. Did Dad just smirk proudly? Nah, imagination.