National Tournament Finals (1)
No one really cared about the U20s.
Even I, in my previous life, hadn't paid them much mind. I'd just be scrolling the internet, spot some news, and think, Oh, there's a match on? That was about it. I never went out of my way to follow them.
Most people seemed the same—until now, at least. This time felt different.
"What the hell is this…"
It was the weekend, and I was half-heartedly scrolling my phone, reluctant to get out of bed, when I stumbled across a string of bizarre articles.
"…"
True to form for the press, the falsehoods were a little bigger than the truth. The manager had only said he was interested—nothing was decided yet—so why the reporters were overreacting this hard was beyond me.
I was planning on doing it, though…
At first I'd thought of it as a poisoned chalice and considered turning it down, but if I just kept performing the way I had been, there was genuinely nothing to lose. Just as Lee Eunho had said, it was a stage of opportunity.
The European leagues. You become a footballer, and Europe is the place you want to go—yet wanting it doesn't mean you can just walk in. Didn't a person have to set foot there at least once?
"Mmm…"
I was grinning to myself over daydreams of Europe when Jia, sleeping beside me, stirred.
…Come to think of it, if I really go, what happens to her?
I'd wondered if I'd have to go alone, but knowing Jia the way I did, she might insist on coming with me. We'd have to talk it over when the time came.
"…Yujin."
"Yeah, Jia. Did I wake you? You can sleep a little longer."
"No… I want to hold you."
Squeeze.
Despite my offer to let her sleep, she burrowed straight into my arms instead, nuzzling her face against my chest as if she liked the scent of me.
…Hmm. What am I supposed to do about this?
Going to Europe alone no longer felt possible. My body had apparently decided it couldn't function without Jia.
This was getting dangerous.
The day before the national tournament finals.
I arrived at a café to meet Lee Eunho and the others. I was the last one there; the other five were already nursing drinks and talking.
"Oh? Yujin's here."
"Hello. What were you talking about?"
"U20 stuff."
I'd given them a rough heads-up before, but we needed a proper sit-down. I took the remaining seat, sucked on the strawberry latte waiting for me, and listened as the conversation flowed.
"What are you guys going to do?"
"I'm doing it."
"I want to."
Seong Yumin, with his ironclad goal of reaching Barcelona, and Lee Juwon, who loved attention the way only a full-blown chunibyo could, both agreed without hesitation.
"Minjun, what about you?"
"I want to. Like the manager said, this is an opportunity, right? When else are we going to get a chance like this?"
"Exactly. Knowing how to seize an opportunity is a skill in itself."
"Seonwoo, you're not doing it?"
"I'm not sure."
"You should, Seonwoo. You'll learn a lot from Seoin hyung."
I'd never thought much about Hong Seoin beyond the fact that he only played in the K League, but after rewatching his matches, his talent alone was clearly top-tier.
This is going to be fun.
If Han Seonwoo and Hong Seoin played midfield together, the team's performance would jump. One was an attacking midfielder who might as well have been a striker; the other was a central midfielder who could cover both ends of the pitch. Both had monster stamina—plenty of good tactics would open up.
"Seoin hyung? Who's that?"
"The striker we faced in the round of sixteen. His main position is attacking mid."
"Ah! The guy with the dialect? The one who kept calling people Ddolgaeng-i."
"…Yeah."
From the look of it, Seonwoo was going to accept too.
"Yujin, what about you?"
"Well."
I wasn't actually planning to refuse. The thought just hit me, that was all. Seong Yumin who would go on to play in La Liga, Kim Minjun and Lee Juwon who would play in the Bundesliga, Han Seonwoo who would play in the EPL—and me, stuck in the middle of them. What exactly was I supposed to be?
Listing them out like that is weirdly surreal.
Being friends with kids who would one day make their names known across the world… I never felt anything like this in my previous life. It was strangely new.
"You're not doing it?"
"It's not that."
When I stayed a little noncommittal, Seong Yumin opened his mouth.
"Yujin."
"What."
"We've got to go up against other countries' U20 sides at least once. What, you scared?"
"Ha. Fine, whatever."
Showing even a hint of refusal here would have meant I wasn't a man.
"So everyone's in? I'll pass it along to the manager."
"Yes."
"Then just play well in the final. If you choke there, the whole mood dies."
"Got it."
And just like that, the day of the finals arrived.
The long-awaited national tournament finals.
The further we advanced, the bigger the crowds in the stands seemed to grow. Whether it was the articles or something else, today looked even fuller than before.
Today's turnout makes sense, at least.
U20 news had been burning up the headlines for a while. Even if the rumors were nonsense, people would want to check for themselves at least once. There were quite a few faces that didn't look like anyone's parents, coaches, or managers.
"Yujin."
"Yes?"
"You playing in a friendly?"
The only "friendly" Do Woojun could mean was the U20.
"Looks like I'll be doing it with the guys."
"All of Baeksan Middle?"
"Probably?"
"So that's why the manager asked."
"What did he say?"
"He asked if I was close with you. When I said yes, he hit me with every question under the sun—playing style, personality, the works."
Thankfully, U20 manager Lee Ganghyeon seemed completely serious about these evaluations.
"If I play poorly today, none of it will matter, right?"
"You planning on playing poorly?"
"Of course not. I'm pretty serious about this one."
I was also trailing Seong Yumin by a single goal in the golden boot race, so I fully intended to score no matter what.
We're winning this.
Score the goals and take the victory. Losing wasn't even in my vocabulary.
"Alright. Let's win."
"Yes."
I loosened up slowly and got ready for the match. Across the pitch, the opposing players were visible in front of their goal. Today might bring a few sharper attacking points than usual.
"Seonwoo, a little quicker on the passes today."
"Quicker? I'll do my best."
Time passed, and the moment everyone took their positions—
Beep—!
The match began.
As befitting a national tournament final of this scale, there were a commentator and a caster. Because it was a high school competition, the originally scheduled commentary team hadn't been particularly famous—but the recent articles had changed that. A well-known name had taken the booth.
Current sports TV commentator Han Yongjun. He covered the EPL.
There was a reason he was here.
I'm curious about Baek Yujin.
He wanted to see what kind of football Baek Yujin could play. It wasn't some grand motivation. At a recent drinking session with football people he knew, the conversation had drifted to middle school football, and Baek Yujin's name had come up from several mouths. The nickname he'd naturally learned: the Second Coming of Bergkamp.
Is he really that good?
Anyone who knew Han Yongjun knew his own nickname: Bergkamp's biggest fan. Biggest fan—as in, obsessed to the point of madness. He wanted to see with his own eyes, not through video, whether Baek Yujin truly played beautiful football that called Bergkamp to mind, whether he was a real technician.
On top of that, with all the U20 talk swirling, the chance to commentate had fallen into his lap. There was no way he could turn it down.
"Commentator Han Yongjun? What do you see as the key point of today's match?"
"I believe it's Baek Yujin, starting in the lineup."
As an outstanding commentator, Han Yongjun broke the match down calmly and coolly. The middle school career he'd researched and the ability Yujin had shown in recent games were objectively impressive. He was itching with curiosity.
Beep—!
"Ah, Seongil High kicks off."
The match began right on cue.
"Clean build-up starting with Han Seonwoo at the center."
"Ah~ What kind of player is Han Seonwoo?"
"Han Seonwoo is a player with wide vision and clean dribbling who can escape pressure and create chances."
As if to prove Han Yongjun's words, Seonwoo slipped free of the press with a clean touch and immediately floated a lofted pass toward the side winger.
"Baek Yujin already linked up for a one-two! Jang Hoyeon drives forward!"
After connecting the one-two, Baek Yujin sprinted straight toward the penalty box.
"One man in the box! Is he going to cross? He does!"
The clean right-footed cross didn't drop inside the box—it found Baek Yujin perfectly, waiting just outside the penalty area.
A cross that could become the first real attacking point. It was a little firm, but center-backs and midfielders could close him down instantly from that spot, so the decision had to be sharp.
He set his plant foot cleanly.
"Is he shooting!! Non-stop… Ahh!! Complete fake!!"
"…!"
Baek Yujin sold the shot with a perfect feint, then, at the exact moment the ball dropped, trapped it with the sole of his foot as if he were about to strike it.
The center-back flinched and stopped dead.
Thud—!
Without a second of hesitation, Baek Yujin rolled the ball to the side and unleashed a mid-range shot.
The ball screamed toward the top-right corner—only for Lee Juwon to dive and tip it away.
"…"
Han Yongjun went blank for a moment after that sequence of play. That touch alone had been pure art. A clean trap with zero bounce, followed immediately by the shot—enough to leave anyone watching with their mouths hanging open.
How many seventeen-year-olds in the world could pull off something like that?
Truly…
Why had he loved Bergkamp so much? Because when he was twenty, living alone for the first time and lonely, Bergkamp's beautiful play had set his heart on fire and given his eyes a feast. That same feeling from those days was flickering, just for a moment, in Baek Yujin's football right now.
"Ahh~~ It doesn't go in. Baek Yujin—clean trap into the shot!"
"That one play alone shows why Baek Yujin's name has been everywhere lately."
"And Lee Juwon, who saved it, is outstanding as well. A shame it was stopped—corner kick for Seongil High."
The ball hadn't gone in.
Thump! Thump!
But Han Yongjun's heart was racing.