Chapter 57
Translator 8uhl
Chapter 57
Chapter Title The Eldest Son Craves Soccer
The 36th round match between Newcastle United and Chelsea is about to kick off at the new St. James Park.
Here are todays starting lineups. First up, Newcastle United.
FW RedleySilvaOmar
MF AlbrechtRossiYoon Taeyang
DF BandiaArnoldDidaOwen
GK Ricella
Newcastle is expected to run an aggressive game in a 433 formation.
Yes, and now Chelsea.
FW BouftiniSerettiGailles
MF DeloaJensenDe Nucho
DF JuninhoWanderleyCruzKeque
GK Destanoglu
Chelsea is at full strength. Players who were out longterm with injuries have returned and regained their form, facing Newcastle with their best squad.
Chelsea is showing their determination to fight until the end in the title race.
Standing on the pitch, I stamped down on the grass.
Pretty dry, huh.
Unlike the last match, todays grass was bonedry.
Short, watered grass lets the ball roll fast, but longer, dry grass slows it down and hampers quick buildup.
This was the grass wed prepped specifically to face Chelsea.
Because they were a team that unraveled games through rapid passing centered on Deloa, the pass master.
That said, shutting down Deloawho was called a pass master and ranked among the worlds top midfielderswas no easy task.
The whistle blew to start, and Chelsea came at us like madmen.
Our players looked disorganized trying to handle them.
Just as wed prepped meticulously for Chelsea, it was clear theyd done the same for us.
Statswise this season, our team conceded the most goals in the first 20 minutes, and if we were down by two or more at halftime, our loss probability hit 79.
Thats what Chelsea was targeting.
Obviously.
In that matchup, our Rommel put me up against Deloa.
Anyone watching this game would think it was nuts.
I was a Premier League newbie just sticking my head in the door, and Deloa was one of the worlds elite midfielders.
But it was unavoidable.
Our left and right mids were in mezalla roles right now.
Albrecht was a leftfooter only, and one of his weapons was the crossing hed honed as a classic winger.
If he shifted to my spot, he couldnt use it.
Though, come to think of it, even if he crossed all day, we had no Cromwell or Habib to head it in, so whats the point?
Who knows.
Rommel had made us consistent Champions League regulars, but he was stubbornly set in his waysnever trying beyond the roles he assigned.
Why keep switching me around?
He hadnt nailed down my exact role yet, so he was testing variations.
Anyway.
Long time no see, kid.
He looked at me with the ball, flashing his teeth in a grin.
Mustve been shocked by that U23 loss not long agohe recognized me.
Wouldve been weirder if he didnt.
Im biggerwho you calling kid?
He was on the short side, around 172 cm.
!
He stiffened at my words.
He had a complex about his height.
Chill, you little runt.
His face hardened even more, but he kept moving to shake me.
No chancehe was planning to slip past and pass, but fat chance.
I ramped up my speed and stuck right to him.
Short legs slowing you down?
Shut it.
I clung to him, hitting him with trash talk nonstop.
Defenders basic courtesy.
Personal attacks laced with curses, even racial jabswhatever it took to rattle their mentality.
Thats how you force mistakes.
Runtno, goblin? Right, your nicknames Blue Goblin.
Chelseas blue kit made it stick, and he hated it most.
Its not heightyour face is the problem. You look like a goblin.
What? Grr!
My trash talkhoned with locker room punks and years of gritwas divine art.
I ignored his fuming glare and picked the ball clean from his feet.
Waaaaah!
Cheers erupted from the stands.
Family had to be in there somewhere. Gaeul, Yeoreum, Gyeoulall watching me.
First time on a Premier League stage.
Made my shoulders feel heavy.
Like I had to show something as big bro.
But I wasnt one to get swept by emotions.
Too many years grinding this game.
With the ball stolen back, I turned from the chasing Deloa and looked forward.
Matteo Silva was waving cheerfully, arm up.
Jeez, sentimental old coot.
Still, perfect positioning.
I fired a waisthigh pass to spare the old mans bad knees from jumping.
Ground passes were sluggish on this dry grass, like I said.
Silva lifted his leg smoothly to take it.
Didnt hear a groan when he raised it, did I?
His lips said otherwise.
Anyway, the key was it was brilliant.
Call it no joints or whateverhe creaked slow, but blew past a defender easy.
Slipped a charger, darted behind, then poked a shot right away.
Saved by the keeper, unfortunately, but man, he made soccer look simple.
Dont sleep on veteran play.
Anyway, we rattled Chelsea good, but their players eyes still burned fierce.
Plotting to score in 20 minutes, grab two, and own the half.
Sheesh.
I eyed the Chelsea manager.
Young guy whod come in this season with his statsbased soccer.
This season or next, hed end Man Citys reign and lead Chelsea to brief glory, entering the legend ranks young.
But stats were just stats.
Time to teach him that.
Oh, Deloas getting shut down.
Yoon Taeyangs blocking him cold in their duelDeloa cant push forward at all.
Unbelievable. A 16yearold kid has Deloa completely figured out.
Yoon Taeyang isnt just attackhe defends like a beast.
Was he a defender before? Sticking like glue.
Playing him like a fiddle on his palm. Deloa cant do shit.
Wow 2033 Ballon dOr world 3 crumbling like that?
This that thing where the backwave overtakes the front?
LOL hell never come back to Korea even if he tanks.
It was a shocking scene not just for Koreans, but for every Premier League viewer right now.
Igor Felipe Deloa.
28 years old.
Ballon dOr finalist, peaked at world 3, massive transfer to Chelseaundeniably one of the globes top midfielders.
And a mere 16yearold boy was toying with him.
Toying, straight up.
Yoon Taeyang anticipated every samba feint, pass, and touch like he knew it all in advance, snuffing it out.
Even when other teams swarmed him with two or three, hed shake them with absurd press resistance, firing dream passes or midrangers.
Now one kid had him totally isolated.
And that was the least of it.
Yoon Taeyangs doing what Deloa cant.
Chelseas defenders are solid, but from that early Silva shot on, hes creating threats nonstop.
Yoon Taeyang sealed Deloa airtightinfuriatingly sothen replicated exactly what Deloa was supposed to do.
Slipped Jensen and De Nucho, threading unthinkable passes between Wanderley and Cruz, or Cruz and Keque, ripping their backline apart.
Chelsea couldnt push their line up because of himgaps widened, pass accuracy tanked overall.
On dry grass, longrange quick passes Chelsea loved werent coming they had to ping short in tight spaces, but failing that, accuracy suffered.
Newcastles taken control.
Without Wanderley and Cruz, theyd have scored early.
And there it goeshalftime. Scores still 00, but Newcastle dominated possession, shots on targeteverything.
Halftime, heading to the locker room, Matteo Silva slung an arm over Taeyangs shoulder.
Ugh, brutal. Abuse an old man? Why feed me passes like that?
Score em next time. Hattrick in the half, coach wouldve subbed you ages ago.
If I could, Id have ten Ballons by now.
No plans for one in your twilight?
Eh, joints too worn. Left knee cartilage is shot. Thinking surgery after this season.
Taeyang paused, eyeing Matteo Silva.
What, man. Kept my promiseplayed with you on the pitch. Time to think retirement.
Matteo Silva said it, gazing at the boy whod be the next Mr. Toon.
The boy grumbled.
Retirements your call. Arm offstinks.
Taeyang dodged the arm and hustled into the locker room.
Silva sniffed his pit, tilting his head.
That bad? Huh, kid doesnt smell at all. Weird one.
Clueless to Koreans low BO genes, Matteo Silva grinned smugly and followed in.
Taeyang sullenly shoved a banana in his mouth.
That facezero cuteness.
But damn cute.
Why?
Cause hes filthy good.
Who toys with Deloa like that?
You were yapping at Deloa all halfwhatd you say?
Dida asked curiously amid it.
Matteo Silva perked up, listening.
Just height jabs, goblin shitrattled his mentals. Guys glass cannon up top.
Yeah? Thought he was tougher than that.
Duh. Asked about his folks height too. Dad taller or shorter? Total meltdown after.
Damn you really.
No 16yearold trashtalks parents without cracking.
Matteo Silva clicked his tongue.
Whered he learn that?
Usually you pick it up mimicking seniors, but this kid seemed selftaught.
Anyway, not the point.
We dominated Chelsea first half and scored zilch. Make sense?
Rommel chewed out the players, face red.
Fair.
All those chances wasted.
Silva subtly rubbed his knee.
Smiling through it now, but his knee screamed for mercy.
Taeyang had reason to gripe.
Fed gold passes, and they whiffed.
Without the pain, maybe a real hattrick.
Dulled senses to avoid shots, but pain hurt worse.
Silva slipped out to medical staff.
Last dance aint here yet.
At least one more season with that genius.
Just one more.
Words every season, but this time? Desperate.