The Floating Knuckleball
The ball I struck floated lightly into the sky.
"Why are you seniors talking like you're doing me a favor when this is a chance I earned with my own skill?"
There was a reason the greedy forwards were willingly yielding the goal to me.
Yesterday.
After the team training session ended, I proposed a bet to the seniors. A free kick challenge. From outside the penalty box, each of us would take five shots, and the one who scored the most would win.
All the seniors who fancied their ball-striking joined in, and I crushed them completely.
"Damn it! Nice one, Hero Na! Free kicks are yours from now on. Just for the time being, though. If you whiff it in a real match, you're out immediately."
"Of course. Just give me tomorrow's game."
"But Hero, how do you hit the ball to get that kind of trajectory?"
"Trade secret."
The seniors who saw my unique shot were dying to know the trick. Of course, I didn't tell them. Even if I did, it wasn't something anyone could pull off, and for now, I wanted to keep it as my personal secret weapon.
[Hero Na prepares for the free kick. It's 28 meters from the goal, slightly to the left. Hero Na carefully places the ball at the free kick spot.]
I gently set the soccer ball down on the grass. It had to be elevated slightly off the ground. Then, I positioned the air valve dead center and horizontal. That was the most crucial part of the setup. The valve couldn't be too high or too low—it had to be perfectly level.
Next, I stepped back exactly four paces and stared straight at the black circle of the valve. The defensive wall and goalkeeper's position didn't matter. If I struck it right, no one could stop it. Not even Grandpa Yashin.
Peep!
The referee's whistle blew. I took a light deep breath and approached with my run-up, eyes locked on the black circle. This wasn't about kicking the soccer ball. It was about striking that tiny black circle smaller than a pinky nail inside it. Flatten the instep of my right foot and jab the valve precisely with the big toe, index toe, and middle toe. Don't kick it—smash it!
BAM!!!
[Hero Na! He's struck it! Uh! The ball's floating ridiculously high over the bar!]
If this shot hits dead on, the black circle exerts a terrifying force like a black hole. Just like now.
[Uh! Uh! What the hell!?]
The ball I struck floated lightly into the sky. It spun so little that you could make out the panel markings. The Sheffield goalkeeper, who'd never seen a ball like this, stood there dumbfounded like a primitive man spotting a UFO.
In that instant, the ball sailing over the bar suddenly caught backspin and dropped straight down.
Swish!
[Goooal! It's in!! Hero's fantastastic free kick goal~~!! What was that!? How did he do that!?]
As my shot sucked into the net, the muddy pitch erupted. West Ham fans jumped up like they'd won the league, hugging each other and roaring in unison. They were all witnesses to the UFO sighting.
"Hero Na! Hero Na! Hero Na!"
The West Ham fans kept chanting Hero.
I strolled back to the defensive line with a nonchalant expression.
"Lucky shot."
I glanced up at the gray, overcast East London sky. A knuckleball shot is heavily influenced by the air. Without spin, the ball rides air currents in unpredictable patterns mid-flight. That's the Karman vortex street effect.
The problem is, no one can fully control that movement. Today's particularly unstable air currents gave the ball that wild S-curve just now. My judgment to go knuckleball based on the weather had paid off.
Back in Korea, I'd studied videos of knuckleball master Juninho Pernambucano obsessively.
Peep!
The game restarted. Sheffield's momentum crumbled. They were still reeling from the free kick shock, committing error after error. Unlike their dulled attack, our defense grew ever more solid. Anton was rampaging solo, locking down their front two, Danny and Stewart. With confidence surging, he unleashed his superior physique in rough challenges without hesitation.
I used Anton to press their forwards, stole the ball, and fired a long pass upfield in one motion.
Thwack!
[Anton! Tackle success again! Hero Na picks up the loose ball and switches right! Oh!]
As I controlled the ball, Mark Noble overlapped like a madman from the right. Sheffield's defense shifted heavily that way. Thud! I faked once and slipped a switch pass left. Both feet made it possible. Our left winger Errington took it and sliced through the empty left flank. A crack opened in Sheffield's defensive line, and Jermain dove into it.
[Errington! Cross from the left! Jermain shoots~~~ Goooal!]
Jermain infiltrated the box like a killer and rifled a low, fast cross into the net on the volley. That sealed Sheffield United's fate.
Beep! Beep! Peep!
We dominated the second half, cruising to a comprehensive victory. The performance and result were perfect in every way.
"West Ham! West Ham!"
Clap-clap-clap-clap-clap!
The fans lingered long after the whistle, singing and resinging chants. Even the Hammers hooligans, thrilled with the display, skipped their post-match scraps with the Sheffield lot.
After the first home game, tales of Hero Na's knuckleball free kick spread like wildfire online. The kicker? No video footage. Eyewitness accounts from those who saw it live sparked doubts, leading to endless arguments and counterarguments.
The controversy around an Oriental player's free kick in the second division snowballed. Rumors drew crowds to the stadium just to check me out, filling the stands to capacity. West Ham was screaming with joy.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
British sports media started paying attention to us.
[...Last season, West Ham slumped into relegation and sold off key players for peanuts. Shockingly, this season they're on a winning streak in the second division... At the heart of the storm is a teenage Oriental player. His name is literally Hero. It's an English name he made up because Brits struggle with his Korean one... He's receiving full backing from the Hammers...]
My story even got a two-page feature.
From August, when the 03-04 season kicked off, through September, the hottest soccer team online was none other than West Ham from the second division—topping Premier League giants like Man Utd, Arsenal, and Chelsea.
It was early season, but no team had ever won nine straight without a draw at this pace. And the fact that an Oriental player was leading the charge? Impossible to ignore.
Broadcasters, sports papers, and media outlets that had ignored us before now swarmed. Requests poured in via the club, even from Korea. Green Street leading to West Ham's home saw outsiders poking around. Hammers pubs bloomed with laughter daily. They gossiped endlessly about last weekend's win—90 minutes of football stretched to 90 hours without tiring.
To West Ham fans, winning streak was an alien phrase. Nine in a row? A pipe dream.
But as Upton Park geared up for game 10, a sinister tension suddenly hung in the air nearby.
"The neighborhood I walk every day feels creepy all of a sudden. Just my imagination?"
"Hero, don't go out alone for a while. Those bastards might jump you."
"Huh?"
"Millwall hooligans are the worst of the worst."
This weekend, in league round 10, we faced our blood-sworn enemies, Millwall FC.