Going to England for Football Study Abroad?
“Seriously... it’s just like our old house...”
The half-day experience in my middle school football team back in Korea had given me a powerful revelation. I realized just how shitty the environment had been where I’d stubbornly played football in the past. Repeating that madness would be insane.
My body remembers.
I’d escaped from school and wandered aimlessly, only snapping out of it when I arrived at our old house in Cheonho-dong from my middle school days. It was a rundown villa on the third floor of a dirty alley near the market—not exactly a cheerful neighborhood. My parents had scrimped and saved every penny, finally moving across the street to a new apartment complex the year I turned pro.
“Son, you’re home early today? No training?”
“No training today.”
I climbed the creaky stairs, opened the front door, and there was my mom from my childhood. When I silently hugged her, she jumped in surprise.
“Oh my! What’s gotten into you today?”
“...Just happy to see you.”
“We saw each other this morning—what’s there to be happy about~?”
She said that, but she smiled happily anyway. I went into my room, dropped my backpack, and let out a deep breath.
“Phew~”
Only when I entered my own space did I finally relax. Up until now, it felt like I’d started a game with no tutorial and had to face tough bosses right away.
Paolo Maldini
Franz Beckenbauer
Ronald Koeman
I glanced at the posters of world-class defenders on the wall, and my energy surged. These three were the defenders I admired most. Superhuman defending was a given, but they also had technique, leadership, genius—and scoring ability. True icons of defenders.
“...”
I sat on the bed, staring at the posters for a while. In my previous life, I’d switched to striker and ripped them all down, replacing them with posters of Klinsmann and Ronaldo.
“Sorry, legends. I’ll do better from now on.”
I apologized to my defender seniors and sat at the desk. I opened a fresh new notebook and began writing out my future plans as a footballer.
Once I started, the ideas flowed without blockage. I’d already planned and revised them hundreds of times in my previous life—in my head. Back then, I’d pondered what choices I should have made, thought and rethought, revised and revised again.
My Footballer Hero Na's Future Plan was massive. Training methods, diet, transfer timings, salary negotiations, contract details, tactical trends, manager tendencies, player combinations... It covered every key issue for a pro footballer.
Scribble-scribble-scribble—
I spent the first night transferring the meticulously stored plans from my mind onto the notebook, one by one.
The next morning, I emerged from my room clutching the completed notebook. Dad was at the breakfast table reading the morning paper. He’d come home past midnight last night and must be exhausted, but he showed no sign of it.
“Hey, son. You’re up?”
“Dad... I have something to tell you.”
“What is it? Why the serious face?”
Dad sensed the unusual vibe and folded his newspaper. I sat across from him for this important negotiation. Mom was cooking in the kitchen. Our family was just the three of us. My parents were same-age lovebirds with a great marriage. They’d desperately wanted kids but struggled for years. After endless efforts, Mom gave birth to me the year she turned 40. As their hard-won child, I’d been showered with love since I was little. Money was tight, but they gave me anything I wanted. I’d begged to join the elementary school football team, and they let me.
Dad, who’d played football as a student, knew how those places worked and tried hard to dissuade me.
“Hero, if you join the football team, you’ll get beaten and drilled every day. If you like football, just kick a ball around with friends. You won’t have time to study.”
“Dad, I’m not scared of that. I’m going to become a national team player and play in the World Cup.”
Despite Dad’s warnings, I threw a tantrum and joined anyway. And his warnings became reality. After starting middle school, I got beaten or drilled almost daily, but I’d made a vow to myself and never told my parents.
“Something’s wrong with the football team, isn’t there?”
Dad, with his own experience, read my face instantly. I decided to get to the point.
“Dad, I want to go to England for football study abroad.”
“What? Eng~~~land?”
The reaction I’d expected. Mom rushed out from the kitchen in shock.
“Honey, what did Hero just say?”
“He wants to go to England for football study abroad.”
“Yes. First, I’ll join a Premier League youth team to build experience, then aim for a pro debut with the senior team.”
“...”
My parents were stunned speechless. From their perspective, it must’ve sounded absurd. The kid who’d been going to school fine yesterday suddenly declares he’s off to England overnight.
But I hadn’t agonized just one night. I’d agonized for the past 20 years. To succeed as a footballer, I knew exactly what choice I should’ve made back then. I also knew how world football would unfold over the next 20 years. If I used that knowledge wisely, I could build a career better than anyone in Europe and amass a fortune. This was the first step in that long journey.
“I know it sounds crazy. But it’s not impulsive. I’ve thought about this a long time. For my success and our family’s prosperity, this is the best path.”
My words didn’t convince them at all.
“Here’s the plan I made. This is how I’ll live from now on. Read it and tell me what you think.”
I handed over the notebook I’d worked on all night.
Table of Contents (By Age)
[2001, Age 15]
1) Acquire British English. Goal: Intermediate+ conversational skills. Method: Find suitable academy in Jongno.
2) Train football basics. Goal: 100+ liftings and trappings, proficient two-footed dribbling, maximize diagonal long passes and mid-range shot accuracy. Method: Secure 4 hours daily in two sessions...
[2002, Age 16]
1) Inquire about Premier League youth teams. Goal: Secure trial date. Method: Confirm addresses/contacts, send handwritten letters and follow-up calls; start with London clubs.
2) Add core strengthening to training. Goal: Build body that won’t lose physical battles, enhance explosiveness. Method: 3x/week—squats, deadlifts, barbell rows, pull-ups...
Dad looked flustered as he read the detailed contents.
“When did you start thinking like this?”
“A long time ago. Truth is, our school team is a mess. I can’t improve my football in that environment. Going to the heart of football to learn properly is the best investment for my future.”
“...”
Dad and Mom exchanged complicated glances. I knew what that meant.
“Don’t worry about money. As it says in the notebook, I’ll deliver newspapers at dawn. Half a year will cover travel and initial settlement costs. It’s exercise too—one stone, two birds.”
“Ughhh.”
Dad groaned and stood up. It was time for work.
“Fine, I get it. But go to school today at least. We’ll talk more tonight.”
“Dad, I’m not going to school anymore. Never.”
“What?”
Dad’s voice rose for the first time.
“Believe in me. I’m dead serious. I don’t want to waste time there anymore.”
“...Do whatever you want.”
BAM! Dad slammed the front door on his way out. I felt bad, but it couldn’t be helped. To walk my path, I’d have to clash with many people ahead.
“Is something wrong at school? You feel like a different kid today.”
“The problems have always been there. I just hid them from you.”
I confessed to Mom everything I’d endured in the football team. The beatings weren’t the decisive reason I was leaving. I just didn’t want to waste my time and energy on that backward system. But to sway Mom, appealing to emotion was most effective.
“Coach Park In-gyu! That bastard! He’s awful! Is what you said true? I’m calling the school right now to give him hell! Is this a football team or a gang?”
Mom was horrified by the routine beatings from Park In-gyu and the seniors’ assaults. The shock of her son getting beaten daily had her ready to storm the school.
“Mom, calm down. Now you understand my situation, right?”
“...Why did you hide it all this time? I had no idea...”
“I just endured it, planning to go pro and repay you later. But here... I can’t anymore... Mom.”
“Yeah. This isn’t right.”
Mom was fully on my side now. She called the school, saying I couldn’t attend for personal reasons for the time being, and grilled them about the violence in the football team.
With school sorted, I left home, took the train to Jongno, and enrolled in the morning class at a British English academy.
British Language Academy
No smartphones yet, no booming internet portals—I had to pound the pavement to find it. Back home, I ate lunch with Mom, grabbed my football, and headed to the park. On a weekday afternoon, only old folks were around. Kids were at school, adults at work. I stood alone in the open field with my ball.
“The team’s probably in chaos right now...”
I had no smartphone, no nagging pager. Just the football in my hand. No one could disturb me. No one could harass me.
“Nice weather~”
A plane trailed white smoke across the clear autumn sky. I was perfectly free now.
“Wait for me, Premier League. Day one starts today.”
I tossed the ball into the air, then flicked it up with my instep.
Thwack—!
The world began to move.