This Was All For That One Shot!
"Did I change history?"
Louis Saha was supposed to transfer to Manchester United around this time and enjoy his absolute prime. He would later become best friends with Korea's pride, Kim Ji-sung, who also joined Man United. They said Ferguson really wanted Saha, but my presence was gradually altering history bit by bit.
Our team's Jermain and Carrick were also supposed to leave West Ham in this winter transfer window in the original history. But now, with me on the team and promotion all but guaranteed, they decided to stay.
Anton and Mark settling into the first team faster than they should have was the same phenomenon.
"Then I'll change it for sure."
I was excited to see how the landscape of European football would shift because of me from here on out.
"Anton! Don't worry, just go in hard!"
"Okay!"
Today, I was at right center-back. Tomas Repka was on the left. Anton Ferdinand at right-back. We built the defense like this for one reason: to stop that guy.
Pabababat-!!
Portugal's express winger Luis tore up the flank. Even when Anton tried to body him, he was too fast—couldn't even make contact.
Second Division had fast wingers too, but Luis was levels above. The polish on his dribbling and balance was on another plane.
Ppeeeeng-!!
I slid in diagonally into Luis's blind spot and poked the ball away with a tackle. One wrong move and it could've been a penalty.
"Tch. You're that Eastern kid, huh?"
Luis muttered in Portuguese.
Kung-!
"What the hell is this guy."
I grabbed Fulham striker Brian for corner defense, but his body was rock-hard like a boulder. I was bigger in height and build, but Brian's muscles were densely packed from years of forging—like a lump of iron.
"Kid. Looks like you've been causing trouble in the lower leagues, but it ain't gonna go your way today."
"Shut up, American uncle."
Ppeeeeng-!
We were trash-talking in English when the corner came in. I'd defended all kinds against corners in the Second Division. The key to set-piece defense is not losing your man.
"Huh!?"
Brian at the far post dragged me out, so I hesitated—then a black shadow charged the near post and leaped high.
"Anton! You lost Luis!"
Ppeeeeng-!!
Louis Saha, hanging back, burst into the crowded space and unleashed a header off the momentum. His jump was ferocious, like a basketball player.
Paaang-!!
Goalkeeper James made an unbelievable save to keep us level. The West Ham players let out sighs of relief. A goal right then would've tilted the match.
"Anton! You're still losing your man!"
"He's too fast. Feels totally different from the videos. Can't adjust to the speed."
Anton couldn't hide his panic. He was a defender as fast as most attackers. For him to be rattled like this, Luis and Saha's pace was insane.
"Yeah, definitely."
Yesterday, we'd all watched Fulham's attack footage together and planned our defense. We rewound it dozens of times to catch patterns and habits. I was the one who started this culture before the game.
"You don't have a video analysis team!?"
What shocked me when I joined West Ham's first team was that there was no dedicated video analysis staff. I asked the employees to get footage of the Premier League teams we'd face in the FA Cup and shared it with the teammates.
Video analysis of opponents became a trend in the Premier League starting next season with Jose Mourinho at Chelsea. Anyway, our pre-game video prep was useless early on. Their power and spring we couldn't feel on tape overwhelmed us.
"Mark! Drop back and help! First, we gotta kill their early momentum!"
"Okay!"
Even Mark from midfield joined the defense, effectively making us a five-back. The rest dropped too, forming tight double lines.
We parked Marlon up top and Jermain dropped to focus on defense. With no space ahead, Saha's feet stopped first. If Luis likes to run, deny him the space to run into.
"Good."
I subtly exchanged a glance with Jermain. Fulham's defense tensed and marked him.
"These guys did their homework too."
This season, our deadliest pattern was me threading a killer pass from deep for Jermain to run onto. He'd burst the line with his burst speed, take it clean, and unleash a lightning shot. No wasted motion, like a master assassin's blade.
Second Division teams marked me and Jermain all game. But soccer isn't a sport where you stay on high alert for 90 minutes. Concentration lapses. I targeted those moments with the killer pass. Like now.
Ppeeeeng-!!
28th minute of the first half. Until my first long ball, whenever I got it, I short-passed to Mark. No dribbles, no overlaps—just camped near the penalty arc, all defense.
"This was all for that one shot!"
My ball from the backline rocketed straight to Fulham's final defensive line. Their defenders swarmed the threatening Jermain run. But.
Paaang-!
Ppeeeeng-!
Marlon's perfect turn-and-shoot shaved the post. We fooled them perfectly, but I couldn't finish it for him. It was our first shot of the day.
"Wooooooh~!"
Fulham fans started clocking me. Every time I got the ball or won it back, boos rained down.
"Wooooooh~!! Bruce Lee~~ Get lost!"
42nd minute of the first half. The game dragged on tense and frustrating. Fulham kept hammering our parked-bus defense. We took the hits but held firm.
From the back, I scanned Fulham's setup. An 11-man formation in soccer is like a living organism. It moves like it has emotions.
Players on the pitch can't see the whole field like TV viewers. They find paths through the horizontal clutter. Gaps appear when opponents get excited—like a boxer dropping guard. Punch through then, and even the underdog topples the giant.
American left-back Carlos Bocanegra had speed rivaling Luis. Their left side, ruled by the two speed kings, was Fulham's pride. Frustrated in the stalemate, he overlapped to break through. Worth a shot with first half ending.
Ppeeeeng-!!
Chak- I marked Brian in front of goal while checking Luis's position.
"Where is he?"
No Luis, so I whipped around—there he was, moving in my blind spot. Luis was a smart attacker who read defenders' vision.
I pressed Brian's shoulder and jumped. Luis timed his run and leaped too.
Paaaang-!!
I used my hands on Brian and my back on Luis, heading it clear. The ball bounced into the box. Seeing our midfielder scramble to clear, I yelled.
"Outta the way! Outta the way!"
Ppeeeeng-!!
I sprinted forward right after landing and struck it with my left instep—inside the big toe for a lefty instep kick. Hit clean, it backspins and curves right.
Ppeeeeng-!!
Jermain timed his run into the space Carlos vacated perfectly. I put it exactly where he needed. We were that synced now.
"Hero Na! Jermain! West Ham!"
The Hammers rose, chanting my name. We hugged, high-fived, soaked in the joy. Fulham fans looked deflated.
First-half shots: Fulham 12, West Ham 2 (including this one).
While Hero Na put on a mad show, one man watched from a corner of the stadium.
The man they called the manager of managers.
Sir Alex Ferguson.