North London Derby (2)
Once the match began and my head cooled, I reached a conclusion: the spectator who'd hurled that anti-Asian slur wasn't a Tottenham fan.
Tottenham's living legend was Korean. No home crowd would demean him in their own stadium.
At the very least, it had to be some other team's supporter.
But what did that matter?
I was already furious, and the only place left to vent it was Tottenham's goal.
We've just received word that the spectator responsible for the anti-Asian abuse has been ejected.
Good, swift action from Tottenham. That kind of behavior has no place in a healthy sporting culture.
Tenth minute of the first half.
A killer pass from Tottenham midfielder Owell was cut out by Wright.
Wright claimed the ball at once and launched a long pass out to Davis, who was hugging the touchline.
Counterattack.
Davis tore up the right flank at full speed while Simon and Hong Seoin surged toward the box.
As the opposing defenders gradually funneled toward the ball on the right, I held my position on the far side so I wouldn't get caught offside.
Then the cross came in.
Everyone tensed — but the ball never entered the box. It sailed long and dropped right in front of me.
In the chaos of bodies packed inside the area, I lifted my head, met Hong Seoin's eyes, played the pass to him, and immediately cut across on a horizontal run into the space.
The moment the defender's eyes locked on the ball, Seoin simply redirected it — and the teammate in the path let it run through cleanly.
A crisp one-two. A rehearsed combination.
Faced with the choice between a cutback and a shot, I decided not to force the risk. I cut it back to Simon, who was perfectly placed.
"Waaaaaaaaaah!!!"
Then the roar.
Simon, more than a full twelve-year cycle older than me, finished it off as if to prove exactly how he'd survived this long in the EPL.
The cheer wasn't quite as thunderous as it had been at our home matches, but it was more than enough to put a smile on my face.
What a beautiful move!! Arsenal!! It's like watching your eyes get purified!!
Arsenal take the lead away from home — one-nil!! They're in front!!
Football is cold.
Owell, who had been playing defensive midfield for Tottenham, had long considered himself a tragic midfielder who'd never been paired with a truly outstanding striker.
You can't even take that?
Every time he threaded a pass, the striker either failed to get a touch or botched the trap, and from Owell's perspective it was simply absurd.
He'd played the ball thinking, Surely this guy can take it — and the guy hadn't.
That striker just isn't good enough either.
He believed it so firmly that friction with the team had become routine.
Different players could take different balls; what was easy for one was difficult for another. But Owell kept rating the team's strikers so highly that he only ever tried killer passes.
Clashes with a manager who preferred patient, constructive play were inevitable.
Owell kept insisting the problem was the strikers — yet the men he linked up with match after match were recognized EPL-caliber forwards.
There was no way the fault lay with them.
Even without those ambitious passes, he still contributed more than his share, so Tottenham couldn't simply ship him out either.
And so Owell, carrying years of quiet grievance, started the North London Derby.
Early in the match.
Can't take the pass again.
The lane had been good, but Wright cut it out first.
If the striker had taken a touch and then made the run instead of bursting straight through, it might have worked. Still not satisfying.
Then Arsenal's counter began.
As Owell sprinted back into defensive shape, one East Asian boy caught his eye.
Yujin… was it?
Rival club or not, he'd heard something about a sixteen-year-old signing. He knew the broad strokes.
Not a product of the academy system the way Owell himself was — but a player whose sheer ability had led a U20 World Cup-winning side.
…He's genuinely special.
The confidence in those rehearsed combinations. The sense that nerves simply didn't exist for him.
What truly stunned Owell came in the very next sequence after the goal.
Arsenal won the ball back from Tottenham.
With nowhere obvious to go, Yujin strung together successive la croquetas, wriggled free of the press, and kept possession.
…He can dribble too?
Owell had already rated him highly for the way he trapped long balls and for the unshakable confidence that refused to bow to youth or a slight frame. But dribbling at that level as well?
As a midfielder, how could he not fall for it?
A striker with that kind of touch would take every single one of his passes.
Suddenly he understood why Arsenal had signed him, why the fan backlash had been so muted, why that U20 side had been able to win the World Cup.
In Seoin and Yujin, he was seeing the midfielder-and-striker partnership he had always wanted.
"Aww, that one didn't go in."
"Ddolgaeng-a, you feelin' like crap?"
"Ah — no. I feel great, actually?"
"That's good, then."
"…"
The goal that followed hadn't come from a sudden long-range strike, but even so — hearing Korean for the first time made Owell's heart race the way it had when he'd met his first love.
…My contract runs through this summer, doesn't it?
He'd come up through Tottenham's academy and eventually worn the captain's armband.
Nearly fifteen years.
The only reason he'd kept wearing a kit that never quite fit was a little leftover affection and lingering regret.
Before the contract expired, he needed to say one thing.
Somehow, bring Yujin in as the striker.
And if that doesn't happen…
Then I'll go myself.
Free agent. Current captain. Tottenham academy graduate through and through. Transfer to the biggest rival.
Inside Owell's head, a dangerous fantasy that might as well have been career suicide kept playing on a loop.
Lately I've been thinking something like this.
Am I even allowed to be doing this well?
In my last life I got ground down at work until a car literally ground me down and sent me back here — and now everything's going a little too smoothly, isn't it?
Just look at the stadium.
Before I knew it, empty seats had opened up across Tottenham Hotspur Stadium, and Arsenal's red kits stood out everywhere.
That was what a 3–0 scoreline by halftime would do.
Early on, Simon from the cutback.
Midway through, a corner that spilled loose — I lofted it back in, and Wright headed home.
And just before the half ended, my first-time volley found the net.
One goal, two assists.
Factor in the shots on target and I'd shown quite a lot.
Not long after the second half started I was substituted, and as I came off in an away stadium, I received applause.
Clap. Clap. Clap!
"…"
A pocket of Arsenal fans, offering support, respect, and admiration.
Still not enough.
Getting applauded in only my third match was already remarkable — but I wasn't satisfied.
I couldn't be satisfied with this.
Do better next time.
Someday, well enough for a standing ovation.
The final score was 4–1. Arsenal won in a rout.
Once every obligation was finished and I got home, I found Jia already asleep.
Yeah, it got late.
One in the morning.
I'd messaged her, but even I hadn't expected to be this delayed.
Wash up quietly and lie down beside her.
That was the plan. I showered quickly — and somehow sleep wouldn't come.
Call it the early-morning mood.
For some reason, I suddenly wanted to go live for the first time in a while.
Choices and decisions — always fast.
I switched on a small mood lamp on the side desk and went live.
One person, ten, a thousand — in an instant it blew past ten thousand.
More viewers than I'd expected were pouring in.
It's weekend morning in Korea, huh?
Shouldn't people still be asleep?
Well — good is good.
I flipped the camera around, smiled, and waved.
"Hello. Baek Yujin here."
"Thank you for all the kind words. I need to buy new glasses. How am I feeling right now? Ah…"
They were probably asking about the anger from the anti-Asian abuse at the start of the match.
"I'm fine."
"I really am fine, though…"
Apparently I looked like I was putting on a brave face.
The anger had only flared because I'd thought they were insulting Jia. Beyond that, it didn't mean much.
"Am I allowed to go live? Hmm… not sure? I don't know."
"I'm the youngest — they'll go easy on me, right? Haha."
I grinned, and the chat swung toward agreeing they'd probably let it slide.
"Shall we talk football a bit? I am a footballer, after all."
"Compliments don't get you anything, you know."
"…"
I was scanning the comments rocketing up the chat when one caught my eye.
"Ah — youth contracts did come in, yeah. I just wanted to keep playing football with my friends, so I didn't go anywhere. All the youth offers were from other clubs."
I hadn't wanted to sign a youth deal and get split up from the guys.
They felt the same, so we stuck together.
Some strange misunderstanding seemed to be forming, but as I'd just said — good is good.
"What's good about Arsenal? I like Arsenal right now. The players are great, the manager too…"
I got carried away talking and my voice rose with excitement.
Jia might wake up.
"Ah! But one downside — being in London, the food doesn't really suit me. There's one Korean restaurant, and Seoin hyung and I go there every single day."
"Of course. Especially Wright, the captain — I think he sees me as a little brother."
"Hey now. Someday I'll be someone's hyung too."
I was laughing and chatting with the fans when a voice suddenly came from beside me.
"Mmm… why is it so loud…?"
"…!"
It was Jia.
I'd raised my voice and woken her.
"Uh…"
I'd already turned my head. No point in excuses.
No need for them either.
Having a girlfriend wasn't a crime.
As if she knew that, Jia climbed out of bed and stood behind me at an angle that carefully kept her face off camera.
"Hmm~ is this a live stream?"
"Ah, yeah."
"Hello. I'm Lee Jia, Yujin's girlfriend."
The reaction was explosive.
"I'm a year older than Yujin. We're childhood friends, and we've been dating for three years. Ah — isn't Yujin cute?"
"H-hey, stop."
She was so good at engaging the chat that comments were flying up too fast to read, and I answered them one by one.
Well… does it even matter?
I'd learned something: for a footballer, as long as you play well, having a girlfriend is fine.
That solves most problems.
Thankfully, they didn't seem to mind.
More like older brothers helping the family's youngest with his love life?
Everyone's reaction was roughly the same.
"…You all are pretty invested, huh."
Looking pleased with the chat, Jia covered her mouth as she laughed, then wrapped her arms around me from behind so that only her lower face appeared on screen.
Her red lips caught the light.
"We got a little heated yesterday, didn't we?"
"…What?"
That line left a lot of room for misunderstanding.
She meant the heating mat had been too warm — but I was so flustered I couldn't explain.
"Want to get heated again today?"
"N-no… that's not what—"
"Hehe. Your ears are red. Everyone, it's late, so we'll be going. Yujin's still growing, after all."
Jia ended the live stream as naturally as if she'd done it a hundred times.
My body felt strangely heavy.
"Noona…"
"Mm. Yujin."
I immediately burrowed into her arms.
"Just gonna sleep a little…"
"Go on. You looked exhausted."
"Yeah…"
I'd already been tired; only my mind had been running clear.
I lay down on the bed still holding her, and as she stroked my hair I drifted off.
Nothing of that sort happened — but the problem was that it was currently lunchtime in Korea.
The six hours until I woke up would be more than enough for the internet to catch fire.