What Can Be Sold, What Can Be Bought (1)
The sight of a seventeen-year-old blonde midfielder and a sixteen-year-old black-haired striker grinning with their arms slung over each other's shoulders made for a rather striking picture. The two were close in height and equally easy on the eyes, and better yet, both boys were remarkably photogenic.
And so Santiago sipped his morning coffee in his office, gazing fondly at the photo in an online article. Caffeine in the morning boosted productivity.
Hrrup.
One month. It had been a full month since Nicolas and Kang Doin were called up to the C team, and the pair had settled in beautifully, just as he'd hoped they would.
They had appeared in all five league matches and recorded an attacking contribution in every single one. Their records over those five games broke down as follows:
Nicolás Becker: 5 appearances, 1 goal, 8 assists.
Kang Doin: 5 appearances, 14 goals, 1 assist.
The two had established themselves as the core of Real Madrid's C team, and riding on their performances, the C team finished the season in third place, clinching a spot in the promotion playoffs.
With the league schedule now complete, all that remained for Real Madrid's C team was the playoff run. The road to promotion was a grueling one — the regional semifinals and final, followed by the national tournament — and punching through it was no small task.
Then again, even if the Real Madrid C team failed to win promotion, it wouldn't exactly be a crushing disappointment. That came down to the fundamental reason a C team exists as Real Madrid's reserve club in the first place.
Where the purpose of the Real Madrid first team is championship trophies, the purpose of a reserve club is, above all else, developing young players. And at the very least, the Real Madrid C team had achieved its primary objective. Two of the most promising youngsters in the club were growing strong and healthy right there in the squad.
Promotion would naturally be nicer, but if they fell short, it would only sting a little.
"Whew…"
That said, the mood around Real Madrid itself these days was far from good. With barely a month left in the European football calendar, the Real Madrid first team was enduring its worst season in recent memory.
Knocked out of the Champions League by Manchester City in the quarterfinals. Third in the league, behind both Barcelona and Atlético Madrid. Runners-up in the Copa del Rey after losing the final to Barcelona.
Worse still, they hadn't managed a single win in this season's El Clásico. Three meetings with Barcelona, three defeats — the bitterness was beyond words.
The defeat in the Copa del Rey sealed the decision for the current manager to step down, and once the season ended, sweeping changes were planned throughout the club. A team that had lifted not a single trophy could hardly be left to carry on as it was.
And those changes might well include Santiago himself. After all, a football director has no small share in hiring managers and signing players. Which meant that this season's failure carried his fingerprints too.
Whether you're a manager or a football director, bad results put your job on the line all the same.
So Santiago began his day's work as he did every day, drinking his coffee with a bitter taste in his mouth. An official letter from the Korea Football Association. Scouting reports from the scouting team. A review of the shortlist of managerial candidates. And on and on.
"The coffee's gone…"
Perhaps because his life itself was bitter, the coffee tasted unusually sweet today.
Sweet, indeed…!
Antonio, a scout for Real Madrid, grinned over his coffee. Part of it was the mountain of sugar he'd dumped into his cup, but the bigger reason was that things had been going exceptionally well for him lately.
The thing going well, of course, was Kang Doin.
Granted, it was only the fifth division — a semi-pro league where grown men played for a living. And in that league, a sixteen-year-old striker had smashed in fourteen goals across five matches.
Everyone who had watched a Real Madrid C team match now knew the name Kang Doin, and here in Madrid, people were slowly starting to recognize the kid's face on the street.
As a case in point:
"Doni? It's Doni, right?"
"Yeah."
"Oh my god. That hat trick last match was incredible. Could I get a photo with you? Oh, and an autograph on my phone case too, if you don't mind."
"Got a pen?"
"Gracias!"
In a quiet café in downtown Madrid, Kang Doin handled the photo request and autograph with practiced ease for a middle-aged man who'd recognized him.
Antonio watched the whole scene with a fond smile, sipping away at his coffee. As the man who had discovered the kid's talent before anyone else, nothing could have pleased him more.
It wasn't as if Doin getting famous meant a raise or a bonus for him, but watching people recognize the worth of this sixteen-year-old boy stirred up an unavoidable flicker of pride all the same. What could he say — no matter what anyone claimed, the kid's number-one fan was none other than himself.
Though it was a confession too embarrassing to say aloud, so he'd never actually told him.
As the boy wrapped up his fan service and sent the man on his way, Antonio flashed a smile.
"Our star player sure is popular."
"Star player, my ass. I've still got a long way to go."
"Oh, humble to the very end."
Antonio didn't let up on his playful teasing, even as the boy snorted at him.
"And yet for someone saying that, you looked awfully smooth with that autograph. Been practicing, have you?"
"Well… yeah, quite a bit. I've signed at least ten thousand times, minimum."
Kang Doin was stating the literal number of autographs he'd signed, but Antonio took it as the number of times he'd practiced his signature.
That was why, thinking the boy still had a childish streak, Antonio gazed at him fondly once more and slurped down the last of his coffee, letting his mind drift to the past.
"Good times… When I was your age, I used to secretly practice my signature too. Should've been spending that time practicing football instead."
"You were a footballer too, Toni?"
"Oh, did I never mention it? I was a striker, actually — even played in the second division at one point. Barely one season, and I was on the bench the whole time, but still."
"That's still impressive. How old were you when you retired?"
"Twenty-eight, was it? I judged, objectively, that I didn't have what it took to play in the first division. So I retired early, went back to school, and picked up this license and that."
Back then he hadn't even known what he wanted to become, so he'd studied indiscriminately and collected every certification he could get his hands on. Coaching licenses, a sports agent license — he'd even studied foreign languages like English and Portuguese.
Looking back now, working as a scout, none of it amounted to much. But the memory of the desperate, clawing effort he'd made just to survive still didn't feel all that bad.
And so this advice slipped out of Antonio's mouth.
"That's why you shouldn't pour everything into football alone. Make solid preparations for the rest of life too. It truly has no idea where it's going to take you. The club doesn't send its youth players to school for nothing, you know."
"A-hem…!"
"Come to think of it, how's your studying going? You had your final exams last month. How'd the grades turn out?"
"A-hem…!"
Hit with this mother-like demand to see his report card, Kang Doin felt an unspeakable trauma rise up and tried to smother the situation with a cough.
Antonio wasn't his mother, granted, but Doin still couldn't bring himself to admit he'd turned in a completely blank exam paper.
So, desperate to change the subject, he decided to ask why Antonio had wanted to meet at all. It was Wednesday afternoon, hours when any ordinary office worker would still be on the clock — the question wasn't entirely out of left field.
"S-so, by the way, why did you suddenly want to meet today? And drag me all the way downtown, no less."
"I dragged you downtown so you could have a look around the city center. And, well, to catch a breather myself while I was at it."
"…"
So in other words, he'd sold out his player's time to play hooky. When Kang Doin's eyes turned salty-cold toward the salary thief, Antonio hurriedly added,
"But don't get the wrong idea! I asked you here because Santiago wanted me to pass along a message on his behalf."
"What message?"
Doin was just taking a sip of his coffee through the straw when it came.
"A call-up request came in. From the football association."
"Huh?"
"The Korea Football Association. They want to select you for the U20 national team."
The face Kang Doin had been lazily drinking his coffee froze mid-motion.
The Korea Football Association had undergone no small amount of change since the election of its new president. The new president, Park Jung-sun, placed the greatest importance on one thing above all: public sentiment.
His predecessor had left behind such a colossal mess that plenty of people felt outright disgust at the very name of the KFA president. So the moment Park Jung-sun was elected, he set about winning the public over.
He opened the purse strings to send youth players abroad, made the selection process for the national team manager and players fully transparent, and dug out every last shred of corruption and stamped it out. A few of the old-guard football insiders grumbled, but no one dared pick a fight with a corporate executive who had the public's backing at his back.
Anyway.
Gathering the manager and the other association officials in one room to select the U20 national team squad was itself part of that whole 'transparent selection' process.
They carried on a lively debate as they cracked open the cookies laid out on the conference table, preparing for the tournament that was just around the corner.
"What's there to think about? Just build the squad from whoever had the best results this year. No gossip, clean and simple."
"Right. The World Cup's only a few months away anyway — no point stirring things up with talk of 'potential' and 'upside.' Let's just do this the easy way. Manager Kim, any objections?"
"None. Shall we start with the goalkeepers?"
Because the selections were based on tournament and professional league results, the process didn't take long. Eighteen players were selected without a hitch, from goalkeeper through defense to midfield — some were university students, some K-league players, some playing overseas.
Then came the final five spots, and the officials combed through candidate after candidate to fill them with strikers.
"Strikers are a lean harvest this year, a lean harvest…"
"Tell me about it. We dug all the way down to K League 2 and couldn't find a single guy who scored ten-plus goals last season."
"The university league's top scorer did bag twenty-two… but he's a senior, so he's too old."
With no skilled strikers among those who met the age requirement, the forward selections ate up a fair chunk of time. Still, no real problem arose. The U20 manager and the association officials worked their way methodically through the forward slots, and just as the last seats were being filled—
"Kang Doin…?"
As the U20 manager tilted his head over a single sheet of paper, the elderly association official beside him explained.
"Ah, that one? He's, what do you call it — one of the kids the president sent to study in Spain recently. Word is he signed with Real Madrid while he was over there."
"He's sixteen. Does that not raise FIFA regulation issues?"
"I heard on the news his father runs a taekwondo gym in Spain. Besides, this is Real Madrid we're talking about — they'll have handled all the paperwork so not a word of trouble comes out of it. Wouldn't you say?"
"Fair enough. Now let's see, his record… Hm?"
The U20 manager, who had nodded along readily while skimming the season stats on the document, felt his eyes double in size.
Fourteen goals in five matches did that to a man.
"These numbers are almost too good, aren't they? Looking at the sheet here, it doesn't even seem like he started every match."
"It's the Spanish fifth division, though. Semi-pro in name, amateur in practice. And the kid's still sixteen."
"As long as he's under twenty, age doesn't matter. And fifth division or not, this is plenty good enough to warrant a call-up, don't you think?"
A modest debate broke out over the matter. One side backed the U20 manager, arguing that a striker averaging more than two goals per game deserved selection regardless of division. The other backed the elderly official, arguing they shouldn't poke at a kid growing well in Spain and should just pick someone else.
Both arguments had merit, and neither was wrong. The reason Kang Doin's selection was decided anyway was simply this: the man who would lead the players was the U20 manager.
"I'll take full responsibility. We go with Kang Doin. It'll be a valuable experience for the player himself, without question."
And when the manager planted his feet with a take-it-or-leave-it defiance, the officials ultimately chose to respect his judgment.
And so Kang Doin was selected for the U20 national team.
Two days later, it became clear that the entire debate had been utterly pointless.
"No, hold on, wait a second…"
"…Yes."
"So what I'm hearing right now is correct?"
"Yes…"
"The player himself actually refused the call-up?"
"Yes…"