The Defender Who Scored Goals Brilliantly - Chapter 40
"What happened in Saipan back then?"
"Give it here!"
"What the hell are you doing!?"
"Hand over the ball, you bastard!"
As Jermain Defoe, who'd just scored, reached into the Manchester United net to grab the ball, their goalkeeper blocked him. The two tugged at the ball in a tussle, and soon players from both teams swarmed the goal, shoving and jostling.
"Boooooo!"
Old Trafford filled with jeers.
The atmosphere grew even more hostile as play resumed. Manchester United's players shot me icy glares.
[The Hammers are chanting Hero Na's name! What a heart-pounding play that was.]
Paul Scholes controlled the ball, killing time. Manchester United, leading by a wide margin, had no reason to rush. This was the moment to dictate the tempo.
Thwack!
Anton lunged at Scholes like a black panther—a bold forward press even I hadn't anticipated.
Whoosh—thud!
Scholes calmly sidestepped Anton and lofted a pass to the right flank.
Whoosh!
[Hero Na! Intercept! He's driving forward with the ball again!]
Thanks to watching Manchester United games week in, week out in my previous life, I could instinctively read Scholes' pass timing and trajectory.
Buoyed by my interception, West Ham players surged forward like a tidal wave.
Thud! I dribbled while checking Roy Keane's position.
But he was gone.
In that instant, a sharp pain stabbed my ankle as a vicious tackle slammed into me.
Crack!
Tweeeeeet!
[Hero Na goes down after a deep tackle from Roy Keane! Is he okay?]
I floated into the air before crashing down. If I hadn't instinctively lifted my body the moment his studs hit my ankle, it would've snapped.
"Manchester United No. 16! Foul! Yellow card."
Players from both sides swarmed again, scuffling. My teammates crowded around, worried.
"Hero, you alright?"
Then Roy Keane shoved through the West Ham players, loomed over me, and spat,
"Kid, what'd I tell ya? I said I'd break your ankles if you acted cocky. You'll be crawling out of here on all fours."
"Hey, that's too much!"
"Worthless second-division scum thinking this is your playground. Tsk."
Roy Keane openly mocked my teammates. In the old days, I'd have lost it in a rage. But not anymore.
I'll never get sent off again, I'd sworn. The pitch was too joyful a place for that.
Then a brilliant idea hit me.
"Came, saw, went home~"
"You... what'd you just say?"
Roy Keane flinched, eyes locking on me—murderous intent. This guy would've caused a societal scandal without football.
My mouth didn't stop.
"What happened in Saipan back then? Weren't you ashamed in front of the Irish people? Though maybe Ireland got better after you left."
"You little shit! You wanna die?!"
Thwack!
Roy Keane couldn't hold back and swung at me. I blocked with my arm but clutched my face and collapsed like I'd been hit.
"Argh!"
Tweeeeeet!
"Manchester United No. 16, sent off! Red card!"
[What on earth?! Manchester United's captain punches a young rookie in the face and gets sent off! There was some exchange of words just now—what were they saying?]
No one saw it coming. Roy Keane stormed off the pitch in a fury. United fans were stunned; Ferguson chewed his gum like a madman.
Ahead of the 2002 Korea-Japan World Cup, Roy Keane had a massive blowout with Ireland's national team coach during final training camp in Saipan and flew home alone—a unprecedented scandal. An Irish sports paper mocked him with the headline:
"Came, saw, went home~"
Without their star, Ireland's team spirit improved, defying expectations to reach the round of 16. Analysts called Keane's absence a stroke of genius; he became a laughingstock in his homeland.
So of course he'd snap at my words.
Tweeeeeet!
Now it was 11 against 10.
Halftime mark: 30 minutes gone. Three-goal deficit. About 20 minutes left, including stoppage.
"Mark! Push up! If we take midfield control, we can turn this around!"
I beckoned Mark. With Keane gone, United's midfield was in chaos. He wasn't just a dirty tackler—a tireless worker who covered every inch, handling the grunt work. Scholes shone because Keane held the fort behind him.
[West Ham makes a sub: wingers off, central mids on. Mark Noble, who was deep in defense, pushes forward too.]
[Allan rarely changes tactics mid-game. This gamble is unexpected.]
We aimed to suffocate United's midfield with numbers. No matter how brilliant Scholes was, he couldn't handle pressure from all sides alone. Fletcher and Neville dropped back to help, but Keane's void was massive.
[West Ham dominates midfield! Late in the game! Hammers seize control! Mark and Carrick drive through the center! Oh! Neville's rough tackle!]
Tweeeeeet!
Mark and Michael Carrick exchanged passes, slicing through United—until Neville cynically fouled to stop them. He didn't realize his grave mistake yet.
"Wooooaaah!"
[The away fans go wild for just a free kick! They're celebrating like they've already scored.]
"Hero Na! Hero Na! Hero Na!"
[And that's why. The terrifying defender who's scored 14 free kicks this season. Hero Na steps up.]
My name echoed through Old Trafford. No one on our team challenged me for it. They all looked expectant, leaving it to me.
Spot: dead center, 28 meters out. Left, right, middle—all viable.
I gripped the ball, checked air pressure, inspected it, then gently placed it on the grass—valve horizontal at the center, basics.
Problem: hadn't decided the shot yet.
Knuckleball? Inswinger? Outswinger? Right foot? Left?
Too perfect a position was the issue.
"Huuuuh~"
I exhaled long, shedding distractions. Shoulders lightened, mind cleared.
Five steps back, eyed the United goal over the wall. Then dropped gaze to the ball five steps ahead.
Focused solely on it, erased everything—wall, keeper, even the goal. Nothing but the ball.
A clean strike and no keeper god could stop it.
Tweeeeeet!
"Hup."
Held breath, took five steps, struck.
[Hero Na! Free kick! Wait—left foot suddenly!?]
Thraaaaaang!
Left-foot inswinger. Fibula buzzed on impact. Final twist imparted heavy spin.
Shwooooosh!
[Hero Na's left-foot free kick rattles Man Utd's net!]
[Expected a right-foot knuckle—left foot?! Is this even possible!?]
[Hero Na flaunts pinpoint accuracy with both feet!]
The shot grazed over the wall, dipped sharply with spin, sucked into goal—exactly as visualized.
Teammates mobbed me in euphoria.
"Calm down, guys. Someone might think we've turned it around."
I checked the clock: 38th minute. I wanted the win.
Tweeeeeet!
Play restarted, revealing Ferguson's shift: Pannu up top, everyone else parked the bus. Park-the-bus tactics.
"Boooooo!"
Even United fans jeered. Defensive against second-division? Ego-bruising.
We hammered away, but United's deep block showed no gaps. Jermain got chances, only to falter against the massed defense.
United time-wasted expertly.
And finally.
Beep! Beep! Tweeeeeet!
[Full time! Man Utd beats West Ham 4-2 in FA Cup quarters, advances to semis! Home win, yet Old Trafford rings with boos. The performance, no doubt.]
[Criticism for blocking West Ham's late surge with somewhat cowardly means. But with a man down, United had little choice.]
[Tough loss, but we must mention him.]
[Hero Na. How to describe this young Asian defender's flair? Even against Man Utd, 1 goal and 1 assist—the essence of a goalscoring defender. If West Ham promotes next year, Premier League won't know what hit it. Already can't wait.]
United's wall held. FA Cup exit.
No anger—relief, even. Showed our weaknesses clearly.
"Next time, I'll win for sure."
I vowed, leaving Old Trafford.
Post-FA Cup Man Utd clash, Hero Na drew nationwide UK attention. FA Cup mattered more than second-division games.
Even famed show Match of the Day featured his highlights extensively—left-foot free kick replayed endlessly.
[Can Hero Na hack it in the Premier League?]
Legendary retirees debated as panelists. Consensus: [Free kicks and heading? Promising. But no more reckless overlaps like in the Championship.]
His first clash with super rookie Ronaldo sparked buzz—Hero Na deemed the victor.
"Huh, even Korea's going nuts."
Korea's major portal splashed his article on the front page. Second-division exploits had been niche Euro fan cafe talk; Man Utd changed that.
Hero Na's Man Utd masterclass ignited fires in two European football titans' hearts. The pair, who'd watched live at Old Trafford, secretly visited London to meet him.
Hero Na had no clue he was their target. Those encounters would rock his career.