A Crane Among Chickens
The players took their positions around the center circle.
I headed straight for the middle, quick on the uptake.
If I'm playing center, I guess that means jump ball duty too.
Sure enough, as I stepped into the circle, the ref approached with the ball.
Standing in front of me was an opponent about 2 meters tall, with a toad-like face. He eyed me with a slimy smirk.
Before the jump ball, he whispered low.
"You just started basketball, right? Someone scouted you 'cause you're tall. What'd you play before? Volleyball? Swimming?"
So my shooting gave it away.
Hit the nail on the head.
But he never dreamed it was soccer.
Whatever I said would've earned a sneer, so I crushed him with authority instead.
"You talking to me? Hey, I'm a senior. Wanna settle this after?"
"...Uh, yeah...?"
"Senior, asshole. So shut your trap and play."
"... ."
That shut him up, but it lit a fire under him—his face burned with raw fighting spirit.
Like he was gonna stomp me flat.
Then.
Beep! The whistle blew, and the ball floated into the air.
"...!?"
Distracted by the whistle, my reaction lagged. Whoosh! He jumped first.
Damn!
I scrambled into my jump.
Too late.
He was primed, knees bent and ready from experience, while I was stuck awkwardly upright and slow off the mark.
But.
For some reason, my eye level caught his in a flash, then overtook him. I swung my palm first.
"Hah!"
Smack! Full-power swat.
The ball rocketed away—no one touched it—and crossed their end line.
"Huh."
While I blinked in confusion.
Beep! The ref called it out of bounds, ball to Shinil High.
"Ahem...!"
I coughed to mask my embarrassment, but oddly, no one was laughing at me.
What? Jump balls don't matter if you miss?
Coach Choi Yoon-jung just furrowed his brow at me, no reprimand.
Focus on the game.
The real match kicked off.
I stuck to the guy from the jump ball.
This felt solid for defense.
Basketball was intuitive like that.
Soccer defense was fluid—zone-based, so man-marking could wreck formation.
Basketball? Straight 1-on-1 by position. Switching existed for scoring, but that was advanced stuff, no need now.
Just mark this dude.
Chatter pegged him as Kim Han-ul.
As the point guard dribbled up, he aimed for our paint.
I cut him off.
I knew zilch about basketball D schemes, but soccer basics as a goal-sport athlete held up.
Fundamentals gotta be the same.
Defense 101: Deny the ball near the hoop, block their view of the rim.
Had to be true here too.
His move screamed it—pushing in ball-less to get close for a catch-and-shoot.
Pure set-piece positioning.
So my job was clear.
Where you slinking in bloodless?
I body-blocked him.
Right at the painted area's edge.
He shoved to enter—fat chance.
Thud! Thud! Power clash. He oozed confidence, but so did I.
Never lost a power duel to anyone—Van Dijk, Maguire, any center-back.
No exception here.
Push back okay? Foul?
Test it.
Core locked, I shoved him from the rim toward the corner.
"Guh...!?"
Visible panic.
Point guard couldn't feed him.
Shinil coach barked.
"Quick entry pass!"
The PG lobbed it high.
Entry pass, huh.
In-bounds feed.
That instant, Coach Choi yelled.
"Don't push! No contact once he has the ball!"
"...!"
Charging foul post-catch, got it.
Soccer vibes.
I glued behind his back as ordered.
Ball secured, he glanced around, then bump-bump-dribbled, ass-rhythm pushing in.
Ooh, post-up!
Chest swelled—classic center pride duel, power meets tech in hot 1v1.
Thrilling rush.
But...
What the hell's this?
Looked like pointless flailing.
No real pressure—just shy taps on my torso.
No gains, he two-hand gripped, spun sideways to burrow closer.
Too slow.
No tech knowledge, but I wasn't that green.
Something's up. Too obvious otherwise.
Foul bait?
Charge in bolder to test limits.
Soccer? Risky FK/PK. Basketball? Five fouls—low risk.
Screech! Spin move turns to rim, steps closer for hook.
Step-step! Side-step chase.
Got you!
Ball just off fingertips.
Flyswatter block!
Smack! No mercy.
Slammed out like a bullet, hit the stands.
Check ref—clean, out of bounds, Shinil ball.
Not a foul. But pointless?
Should've angled to backboard for our rebound.
Smart plays only.
Past life slop—this one's sharp.
But value: shot clock yell from teammate.
"Shot clock 3 seconds! Lock it down!"
No reset on miss.
Ah, block perk.
Forces panic shot.
"Cut pass lanes!"
Team swarms routes. PG kicks out—rushed 3 with contest.
Here it comes!
Paint war.
Rebound grind.
Box out—first and last key.
First try, but nailed it in my mind.
Manga convinced me: pro-level easy.
Back-to-back, pin 'em—lifetime post play, back-to-goal.
Grip! Back braced, waist/legs anchor, upper body loose tracks sides.
He shoves forward—nada—sideslips in.
CoG shift seals it.
Ting! Rim-out.
Now!
Fully boxed, leap clean—two-hand snatch to chest, land secure.
Pass to nearby teammate (PG? Whatever).
"Phew!"
Defense wins.
Confident here—no fouls.
D okay. O's the beast.
Model: his moves.
Baseline push to paint.
He resists—fails. Red paint entry, PG feeds.
Now what?
Brain freeze.
Turn-and-hook first instinct.
Brick city.
His spin-layup? Nah, not instant.
Failure fine, but test mode—stack stats.
Then.
"...!"
Movements clicked.
Teammates weaving.
Predict logic, gut.
Run lines...!
Yes—talent survived 14 top-league striker seasons sans finishing.
Tight-space teammate vision.
Assists piled.
Flaws: narrow field, ball skills tanked execution under pressure.
Nonstop headers over passes.
Now? Breeze.
Back guarded, ball locked—no keep worries. Glance easy.
Narrow view: all four visible.
Calc done—pivot angle, whip to 45-degree cutter.
"...!"
Overcooked pass, but pro-trained: catch-stride, layup before Han-ul recovers.
Backpedal thumbs-up.
"Nice pass!"
Land.
Sigh relief, hustle back.
Second-floor stands.
Soccer coach Seong Jin-ho leaned on the railing, scowling at the game.
He'd figured Seojun for a thrashing.
Unbelievably, he owned the court—defense especially.
Han-ul's paint denial dulled Shinil's edge.
No midrange threat to pull him out, so rim attacks choked.
"Move, move!"
Thwack! Top 45 pass sparks cut.
Shinil SF Kim Sang-gil catches, drives—gulps at Seojun's help.
Then...!
Pocket to open Han-ul, but Seojun reacts sharp.
Screech! Pre-anticipates? Pivot seals, jumps side.
"Ugh!?"
Height crushes—ditch layup for high hook. Ting! Off-rim opposite.
Sang-gil offensive board chase...
Seojun lands once, then unreal second bounce—high tap to board.
Tap-out too quick for catch.
Thwack! Baesung grabs, fastbreak score.
"Why the hell's he good...?"
Jin-ho griped to bearded sidekick Park Eun-ho—ex-pro, college coach vet.
"Baesung, Shinil—national powerhouses, right? Seojun's devouring 'em."
"... ."
"Second-year game? Speak."
Tongue flick.
"Powers, yeah. Outplay avg seniors. Han-ul? Mid-upper senior tier."
"That guy's folded by a two-day newbie? Wasted life?"
"Checks out. Tech's null. Nothing lands."
"What?"
Hollow laugh.
"A crane among chickens fits perfect."
"Newbie crane?"
"Literal idiom."
One crane amid hens.
Or.
"Kid's a different breed."