Arsenal Daily Life
Our Yujin has played full time quite a few times since his debut. Considering his age, it’s a bit much.
There’s an interview from Manager Alexandro about it.
When the manager says something like that, his standing inside Arsenal must be rock solid.
Probably the kind of guy who’d pick up right away if Wright called.
(English sports media analysis video)
If you want the full video there’s a Korean subtitle track, so go watch that. I’ll keep the summary as short as possible.
First off, he’s insanely composed.
They say you can tell just from his expression and eyes — special-forces level calm. Whatever the exact degree, that composure means he never tenses up, so his full ability comes out. He’s covering for experience with pure composure. Probably born with it?
Second, as everyone already knows, his touch is ridiculous.
(Wolves match backheel trapping gif)
With Hern running right beside him, pulling off a trap like that is something no one else even attempts. Only a still-young, ice-calm Baek Yujin can do it. Realizing what happens when a ridiculously talented kid trains every single day from childhood. And his passing is excellent too — having people who can receive it creates real synergy. I’m still rewatching that Wolves pass on loop, still blown away.
And third.
(Smiling Baek Yujin)
Just Great Yujin.
What more needs to be said, huh?
Final summary: composure, insane touch, Great Yujin. Agreed?
“Oh…”
I woke up that morning and, before heading to training, happened to read a post. It was an English sports outlet’s analysis of me. Even reading it myself, a lot of it sounded pretty reasonable, and I found myself nodding along.
Well, composed and good touch — that much is true.
The synergy with teammates, a good manager, the timing — all of that checked out too.
…Do the other players think the same?
Suddenly curious, I decided I’d ask them once I got to the training ground.
“Sis, I’m heading out.”
“Yeah. Take care.”
After a quick bit of affection and a goodbye, I set off for the training ground.
Arriving at the Emirates Stadium, I exchanged greetings with the staff along the way.
“Hello.”
“Oh. Yujin. Good to see you.”
Just the habitual light bow of the waist, yet the surprised looks still hadn’t gotten used to it. Counter staff, cleaners, coaches — I passed a whole range of people and, as always, was the first one into the training ground.
I was lofting the ball high and trapping it while waiting for the others when the players gradually started to appear.
“Yujin. First again today?”
“Yes. Soccer’s just fun to play.”
“I like that passion.”
After a brief greeting with Manager Alexandro as well, training began. Simple warm-ups, then passing, dribbling, shooting, all the way through tactical work. When a rest period finally opened up, I called over to Padric, who was taking a break beside me.
“Padric.”
“Hm? Yujin.”
“Am I good at soccer?”
I asked it pretty bluntly, and Padric made a face like he must have misheard.
“Um. Yujin.”
“Yes.”
“Is this what you Koreans call ‘getting free praise while lying down’?”
“Oh, you know Korean?”
A Spaniard knowing Korean was a little surprising; my eyes widened.
“A bit. Had a Korean player on my last team, so I picked up a little.”
“Ah. So the answer?”
“Well…”
While Padric hesitated, Hong Seoin walked over carrying a bottle of water. He took a drink and casually held another bottle out to me — surprisingly thoughtful.
“Oh. Seoin. Perfect timing. You know what Yujin just asked me?”
“What’d he say?”
“He asked if he’s good at soccer.”
Hong Seoin blinked a couple of times and looked at me.
“Ddolgaeng-a, you into fishin’ for free praise or what?”
“…You’re saying the exact same thing as Padric.”
“What’re you two talking about?”
We switched to Korean for a moment, and Padric, left out, asked.
“Seoin hyung just said the same thing you did, Padric.”
“That so? And look, the captain’s walking by right over there.”
“Wright!”
I waved and called out. Wright tilted his head but came over anyway.
“Wright. Am I good at soccer?”
“Hmm… well. Barely starter level at Arsenal, I’d say.”
“…?”
Having been on the receiving end of plenty of jokes, I knew this was one after a single sentence. The man had given interviews about my ability, after all.
“So that means Manager Alexandro is wrong for starting me?”
I tossed it straight back.
“Just means Arsenal’s short on talent. Speaking of which, Yujin.”
Thump—!
Wright suddenly launched the ball high into the sky.
“Catch that and I’ll buy you a meal.”
“A meal?”
“Yeah. Whatever you want.”
“That’s a pretty high price for a meal.”
It looked like a good fifty meters. With the acceleration it would only get faster.
“A full Korean restaurant course okay?”
“Sure. Whatever you really want.”
“Got it.”
I stood up from the grass and took a few light steps. When does a person perform at their absolute best? When something’s on the line.
Tap!
As a Korean, there was no way I was losing a bet with tens of thousands of won hanging on it. I lightly touched the ball dropping from that height; it bounced up two stories high, and I took it cleanly.
“Padric!”
Clap, clap. Wright gave a simple round of applause, then suddenly fired a hard pass at Padric. Unprepared, Padric took the ball more than two meters off his body.
“What the…”
Before Padric even had time to be flustered, the pass came flying to me. I’d been ready inside; I moved and controlled it close, keeping possession.
“What was that for?”
“Passing and trapping skill. Composed as ever. See from just now? You’re more composed than Padric, and your touch is better too.”
It seemed to be his own answer to the question I’d just asked.
Pretty similar.
Once you reach England national-team level, the way you think lines up with the sports media.
But Padric, bristling at being called worse, and Wright started arguing. Not a real physical fight — more of a soccer-concept scrap.
“Captain. I defend better than you.”
“Padric. I’ve been handling a ball since before you were born.”
“Ugh.”
Padric let out a light sigh and made a proposal.
“Futsal bet? Loser admits the other is better.”
“Call. We’ll grab five-a-side from whoever’s inside this training ground.”
“Call.”
A futsal match sprang up out of nowhere. I stayed out of it, not wanting any stray sparks to hit me. The teams were balanced. Watching Hong Seoin play beautifully made it fun to watch. In the end, Wright’s team — the one with Hong Seoin — won.
“Hey, Padric. Don’t even think about defending. Super saves are possible without you.”
“Grr…”
“…”
It was a truly peaceful Emirates Stadium.