National Tournament Finals (2)
Twentieth minute of the first half.
The score stood at 0-0.
The match was locked in a taut, grinding stalemate. Everyone on the pitch was concentrating so fiercely that no goal had yet broken free, and the level of play remained exceptionally high. Attack and defense traded blows with such intensity that either side scoring first would have felt completely natural; even the spectators felt their hearts might burst from the strain. How much worse, then, for the players themselves?
With the ball still refusing to find the net, the tension had to be mounting.
Lee Ganghyeon, manager of the U20 national team, watched from the sidelines and felt every bit as jittery as if he were out there running.
They have to play well…
Five players from Baeksan Middle School he desperately wanted to call up. If they performed, he could arrange friendlies without eating a mountain of criticism. As things stood, Lee Juwon, Kim Minjun, and Han Seonwoo were already doing more than enough to silence the doubters—spectacular saves that snuffed out almost-certain goals, clean cutting tackles free of fouls, long switches of play, and killer passes born of wide vision. They were earning recognition on pure merit.
The problem was the forwards.
A striker who does not score cannot prove himself. No matter how exquisite Baek Yujin’s trapping or Seong Yumin’s dribbling, the press would never acknowledge them without goals. A forward who cannot finish is no forward at all—no clinical edge, just empty flash and technical fireworks, they would say. Some would sneer at their ages alone even if the performance itself was excellent.
This match was a kind of justification. A chance to ensure no one could dismiss them as parachuted freeloaders, and to keep the media’s knives as far away as possible. Given their ages he could have waited, of course—but when a master craftsman discovers raw gems of such purity, how can he simply look away? At the very least, Manager Lee Ganghyeon could not suppress the urge to take these boys under his wing and teach them. He even felt a twinge of regret that he had found them so late.
When the clock passed the thirtieth minute and began to eye the fortieth without a single goal, his legs started to tremble.
“What’s with the shaking?”
“...Ah. Hyung-nim.”
While he was doing his best to steady his nerves and watch the game, Lee Eunho slipped over and sat beside him. They had only known each other a short while, but a single drink was often all it took for men to become friends.
“Aren’t you nervous? Those kids you like so much are going to get torn apart if they flop here. ‘U20? With this level?’—you can already hear it.”
Even faced with a nightmare scenario that might well come true, Lee Eunho remained unfazed.
“Just trust them. Yujin and Yumin are that kind of kids.”
“...You’ve been watching them since they were fourteen, you said?”
“Yeah. Known them since then.”
“You really believe in them completely.”
There was a deep, unshakable faith in Lee Eunho’s voice—as if no crisis that came their way could ever stop them.
“Ah, he scored.”
“...What?”
Startled by the sudden remark, Lee Ganghyeon peered hard at the pitch. The ball was still hovering just outside the penalty box. What on earth had made the man so certain a goal had gone in?
He found out soon enough.
Thwack—!
Han Seonwoo, collecting the ball at the edge of the area, struck it with heavy backspin. The ball rocketed forward low and hard, like a torpedo. Midfielders who thought it was a shot closed in—only for the trajectory to veer elsewhere. The ambiguous ball that was neither pure shot nor pure pass was aimed squarely at Baek Yujin inside the box.
Even if he tried to dodge it, the ball would have gone out of play.
A pass?
It seemed far too fast for a pass, yet too strange for a shot.
In that instant Baek Yujin, back to goal against Kim Minjun, shoved with his arm to create space and sprinted toward the ball as if declaring it already belonged to him. True to that will, he leapt and met it with the outside of his left foot.
The ball rose low; Kim Minjun lunged to close him down. But Baek Yujin’s shot was faster.
Thud—!
The clean turning shot appeared from an angle the goalkeeper simply could not see. Lee Juwon, who had been producing save after save all match, finally conceded.
“...He actually scored.”
At a glance it might have looked as though Baek Yujin had stolen Han Seonwoo’s goal, but to Lee Ganghyeon’s eyes it was no theft—it was entirely intentional.
“Heh. Just wait. Yumin’s going to score one soon too.”
“...There are only five minutes left.”
“Five minutes is more than enough for them. That’s how those two are. Hell, Yujin might even grab another.”
“...”
It was hard to wrap his head around, so he simply listened.
Seowon High’s attack came straight back. With time running out, Seong Yumin collected the ball. Even while trailing, a smile bloomed across his face. He tapped the ball lightly, once, twice, and began to dribble. It looked like nothing more than simple body feints, yet somehow defenders and midfielders were left in his wake. Feigning a shot, he rolled the ball ahead, timed the approaching defender perfectly, and cut inside. When another defender charged, he chopped it once more with the outside of his foot and immediately unleashed the shot—a curling effort aimed at the far post.
Thud—!
The ball nestled in the net.
“...”
It looked so absurdly easy that words failed him.
Score: 1-1.
As they jogged back into position, Seong Yumin and Baek Yujin met each other’s eyes and grinned, as if each were silently claiming to be the better player.
“...Hyung-nim, am I thinking what I think I’m thinking?”
“Probably.”
In Lee Ganghyeon’s mind, Baek Yujin and Seong Yumin were growing precisely because neither could stand to lose to the other.
Before he realized it, every last tremor in his legs had vanished.
The first half ended 1-1.
I want a hat-trick.
He had not managed many shooting chances in the first half, and the frustration lingered. Inside the locker room he was wiping away sweat when the coach walked in.
“You’re all doing more than enough.”
Because everyone was already performing beyond expectations, the talk stayed brief and tactical. They drank water, caught their breath through the short break, and before they knew it the time was up.
“We can do this!!”
“Oi!!!”
After the roaring shouts that stoked their will, the second half began.
The second half produced so many end-to-end exchanges that even people with no interest in football would have found themselves hooked. Relentless passing, dribbles that left markers spinning, shot after shot—there was simply no room for boredom.
Thud—!
Not long after the restart, Baek Yujin finished a clean trap, sold the defender with a feint, and buried a shot for another goal.
“Ahhh— SHOOOOT!! GOOOOAL!! Seowon High’s Lee Minsung! He scores and pulls Seongil High back level!”
“A textbook counter-attack—clean as they come.”
Seowon High had just answered, and the score stood at 2-2.
Both sides felt the clock pressing harder.
Seongil High began circulating the ball patiently. Eighty minutes. Plenty of time to stay composed.
“The more we rush, the more we lose.”
“Exactly. Moments like this, we stay calm.”
Han Seonwoo, recycling possession in midfield, laid it back; Do Woojun immediately switched play with a long diagonal. On the far side Jang Hoyeon returned it to Seonwoo, and the line gradually advanced.
“Looking for the pass… and in that instant, Han Seonwoo!! He threads it through the middle!!”
Something had caught his eye. Seonwoo’s pass sliced across the turf, and Kang Un was already making the run. Even Kim Minjun lost him for a moment, yet Lee Juwon stayed composed, narrowed the angle, and snuffed out the one-on-one.
“Seowon High on the counter! They launch it long!”
“Seong Yumin collects and dribbles—beats one, beats two!!”
Seong Yumin exchanged quick, economical passes to drive the counter, but Do Woojun read the lane and stripped the ball clean.
The exchanges kept coming, fierce enough that a single mistake would mean a goal.
Eighty-seventh minute of the second half.
The pitch was still burning hot.
“Seongil High attack again! They need to put one away soon!!”
“Seongil High woke up after conceding! Feels like they’re about to show us something special, doesn’t it?”
Just as Han Yongjun said, from the eightieth minute onward Seongil High’s attacking play had looked reborn.
“Baek Yujin on the ball!! He’s driving forward!!”
Receiving Seonwoo’s pass, Baek Yujin spun and dribbled straight at goal. When a midfielder closed, a body feint left him behind; a sliding tackle was casually skipped.
“Baek Yujin!! I’ve never seen dribbling like this!!”
“What a dazzling technician!! He’s already at the edge of the box!!”
Arriving at the penalty area, the options bloomed. A simple lay-off to the onrushing Han Seonwoo would produce a shot; a successful slip through a defender’s legs would open the half-space. But Baek Yujin chose neither. He chose the long-range strike.
“Baek Yujin!! He shoots!! SHOOOOT!!”
Someone once said that when you truly strike a perfect shot, you feel nothing against the instep.
This was that moment.
The swinging foot met the ball and sensation vanished; the shot simply flew.
“GOOOOOOAL!!! A wonder goal!! Baek Yujin!! Hat-trick!!”
The ball streaked like a laser, grazed a defender’s head, punched through the goalkeeper’s hands, and buried itself in the netting.
Even after conceding, Seowon High refused to fold and tried to keep their shape. But only two minutes remained.
Peeep—!
Two minutes later the final whistle blew.
The instant it sounded, Baek Yujin simply collapsed where he stood, as if melting into the ground. The warm grass wrapped around his body like a soft embrace.
Seongil High had won the match.