Preseason (3)
AD Alcorcon's home ground, Estadio Municipal de Santo Domingo. After several major and minor renovations and expansions, this modest stadium, which holds around 8,000 fans, was packed to the brim today, with hardly an empty seat in sight. Even the away section was filled to capacity by supporters of our opponents, Rayo Vallecano. Since Rayo Vallecano is based in Madrid, their proximity to Alcorcon probably helped draw such a big crowd.
♬ When the whistle blows, 90 minutes of war begins ♬
♬ Fear not, press forward without retreat ♬
♬ We sing only of victory ♬
♬ My land, my hometown, Alcorcon ♬
Our supporters' fervent chants filled the stadium. According to Rubén Soriano, last season's second half saw the stands at best half-full. But after our strong showings in the friendlies, and with this being our first home game, the fans had come out in force, expectations renewed.
I didn't want to let them down. Even in a meaningless friendly, I wanted to show we'd changed.
"Cha Tae-oh, fighting!"
"You got this!"
"Cha Tae-oh! Cha Tae-oh!"
Taegeukgi flags waved from spots throughout the stands. I couldn't tell if they were here just for me, tourists in Spain, or local Koreans, but plenty of my compatriots had shown up. Most were women, but there were plenty of men too. Some had already bought my jersey and were waving it wildly. I even spotted one from my Gimpo United days. If that fan came for a signature after the match, I'd sign it even if it meant missing the bus.
Thud-thud-thud-thud!
The supporters' drums boomed majestically. Then—
Beep!
The referee finally blew the whistle to start the match. We had the kickoff. From the center circle, I passed straight to midfielder Maurinho and slowly moved forward.
As we'd practiced, our attack built from the back. The keeper and back four exchanged passes, gradually drawing out the opponents' line. They had two choices: stay deep and defend without being pulled out, or press hard up front.
If they chose the former, we'd push our line up. If the latter, we'd exploit the space left behind with forward pressure, moving players into the gaps to advance the ball.
Each had pros and cons. The deep block reduced turnover risk in our half but made it hard to carry the ball into their final third—fewer spaces to exploit. The high press was the opposite: it opened gaps behind, easy to penetrate if we could find passes, but deadly if we lost possession there.
Screeech—!
Clang!
"……."
Just like now.
In the 5th minute, we conceded first. A pass from the back to midfield was read, leading to a counter and a goal.
It was our first early concession in three friendlies, and just five minutes in. The stands fell silent for a moment.
"Don't get down! Keep doing what we're doing! We have to! Don't fear the ball—stay calm! Why are you panicking?!"
Rubén Soriano bellowed from the back. He was right. We'd dominated possession those five minutes, but our passing was shaky. Rayo had watched at first, then pounced on our unsteady buildup with intense pressing.
In those brief clashes, I'd felt a few things. First…
"La Liga sides really are different."
I'd never faced a pro club before, let alone top-flight. Their class was leagues above anyone we'd met. Sure, their defending skills and physicality were better, but it was their soccer IQ that stood out—knowing how and where to press, how to move off the ball. Paired with technique, it pinned my legs like nothing before.
"Defensive transition speed is insane too."
Even when their press failed, no panic. They snapped back into shape, sealing spaces. A clear gap from semi-pros.
"Zonal marking on another level."
In that short time, I'd clocked it all. My teammates had too.
"It's fine. Just one goal!"
"No fear! Stick to the plan like Rubén said!"
"Keep moving, keep talking. We can't read minds!"
Thankfully, no one was crumbling yet. But another goal or losing possession would sour the mood.
Know thyself and thy enemy, and you'll win every battle. I knew them now. Time to know myself—at pro level.
Tap-tap!
"……!"
How good could I play?
Inside Kumon Play Studio, the AD Alcorcon vs. Rayo Vallecano friendly was in full swing. Kim Min-seok, grabbing the mic for his first commentary gig, handled it smoothly. A bit tense, but his La Liga knowledge and interview-honed eloquence kept him steady.
His face, though, was the issue. Bright before kickoff, it darkened as the 8th minute ticked into 9th. No camera on the booth, so no problem—but he didn't even notice his own grimace.
I knew it wouldn't be easy…
Neutrality was key in commentary, and he stuck to it. Inside, though, he was cheering for Cha Tae-oh and Alcorcon. Covering him up close had turned him into a fan.
So even as his words flowed, his expression hardened.
They're getting overrun. Like they're wearing the wrong shoes.
Too early to judge at 9 minutes, but Alcorcon's play felt like grinding gears.
Wasn't this bad in the earlier friendlies…
Rayo's superior pressing choked the buildup. Sloppy passes forward, midfield starved, forwards dropping deep in a vicious cycle.
Cha Tae-oh too.
He's linking and tracking back well, but…
No chances up top meant no ball to him.
Korean soccer fans were skeptical of Alcorcon's passing game too.
Kim Min-seok wasn't checking chat, but he knew Korean fans were disappointed.
It's a friendly, but they need to build hype here…
Alcorcon's passing wouldn't overwhelm Rayo. He wasn't expecting that. He wanted Cha Tae-oh to shine alone, proving his star potential for Korea's striker lineage.
He can do it.
Early invisibility? Just probing.
"Cha Tae-oh drops deep for the ball, passes right to the flank. Miguel Amaro receives on the right."
When team play stalls, the ace needs a solo spark. Soccer's about momentum.
"Amaro tries to drive but lays it back. David Fraile with it now—back to Cha Tae-oh, facing forward."
With him linking to the third line, midfield circulation improved. Rayo, press failing, set a double block past the center circle—dense wall, no gaps.
"Cha Tae-oh this deep isn't ideal. He's Alcorcon's finisher. Teammates need to step up so he stays high."
"Calm scan from Cha Tae-oh. Passes left to Maurinho—two vs. one! He's turning it on!"
The one-two with Maurinho shook the press. As he drove, defenders swarmed—but zonally, stable.
No reckless charges; they'd grinded passes into the box all game.
But.
Tap!
The clinging marker melted on a body feint and cut. The pitch's air shifted.
Anyone could see: straight-line breakthrough.
Rayo pros clocked it, scrambling nearby bodies over. Quick close = no pass, failed dribble, turnover.
But…
Tap-tap!
Unshaken physically, balanced, a few touches with both feet shed two markers!
"Oh! Cha Tae-oh's magical run!"
"Chance! Big chance!"
Full speed, he pierced the line, storming the box. Their center-back narrowed angles, shadowing at distance—no rash tackle, or it'd be one-v-one with the keeper.
Then, kick feint.
Tight angle, but shooting's the play. Marker closed to block.
But…
Tap!
"……?"
A light touch like he'd blast it…
Screeech—!
…widens the angle, half-beat quick, unleashes!
Faked marker frozen, keeper twitched in place at the rocket to the upper corner.
Cannonball sucked into the net…
Clang!
The net rippled fiercely.
"Yes! What a goal from Cha Tae-oh! Brilliant run, perfect finish! The miraculous goal machine who bags five a game never wastes a chance—Cha Tae-oh equalizes in the 10th minute! 1-1! The teams are level!"