Suspiciously High-Level Pickup Soccer (2)
Today, a live broadcast kicked off on a YouTube channel.
Football Love.
With a subscriber count surpassing three million, the viewer numbers climbed at a dizzying rate.
“Hello, everyone. What we’re doing today is…”
Kim Geonwoo, who had personally recruited every single person involved, began explaining the content planned for the stream.
It wasn’t particularly complicated.
“That’s right. Same goes for the ones on the bench.”
Both the green team and the red team about to start this pickup match were composed entirely of current and former professional footballers.
It was a concept that had been hinted at lightly once before and then left hanging.
Everyone was in disguise, so no one could identify every player at a glance—but figuring them out first was exactly the game the viewers were meant to play.
As the pool of possible players naturally narrowed and the chat began piecing things together, the match got underway.
Just from the green team’s pressing and the red team’s ability to break free of it, people started recognizing who was who.
They were all players who had been famous in the past, so Kim Geonwoo understood the confusion completely.
…Is this really their first time playing together?
They were so sharp it was hard to believe every single one of them was linking up for the first time.
He had deliberately told the active players—excluding the retirees—that only they themselves were in disguise.
He had wanted to watch their reactions from a distance and see how they adapted, but their skill level was beyond anything he had imagined.
Well, that’s a good thing. More to watch.
He had already announced it to both the viewers and the players, but this was essentially a charity match.
Every donation that came in while the game ran, plus all the ad revenue secured for today, would be given away in full. From the second quarter onward the players would also drop their disguises and play with their faces bare.
He had gathered this many incredible players—keeping their identities hidden the whole time would just be cruel, wouldn’t it?
Even once everyone knew who they were, he still wanted to create as many memorable moments as possible, since it was a charity match after all.
In that instant the green team won the ball back and switched play the other way.
A long, perfectly weighted pass stretched across the pitch.
One of the green-team players collected that cross-field pass as if it were the easiest thing in the world.
He took it cleanly, no bounce, and the live chat instantly exploded.
“Whoa…”
Kim Geonwoo let out a breath of pure admiration at the sheer firepower of the chat.
More popular than even those glittering stars of the past.
Baek Yujin’s online popularity was beyond anything he had imagined.
Word of the live stream spread like wildfire, and before five minutes of the first quarter had even passed, the viewer count smashed past one hundred thousand.
I had thought of this match as a kind of hidden-camera prank.
Play some relaxed football with ordinary pickup-soccer guys, keep my form sharp, hide my identity and enjoy that little thrill of almost being found out.
But the moment I actually stepped onto the pitch I realized that if I didn’t take it seriously, I wouldn’t be able to show what I could do at all.
They’re way too good.
This was no ordinary morning soccer game.
Everyone was taking it easy, so the tempo wasn’t blistering, but the fundamentals and the technique on display were outstanding.
Most of them looked like actual players—guys like Han Seonwoo, Kim Minjun, and Shin Gihyeon who were running around in disguise just like me.
Well, that isn’t really the important part.
If anything, the high level made it more fun.
It felt like all twenty-two of us were wearing disguises, and I found myself curious about the identities of the ones I didn’t recognize.
“Pass!!”
The second our team won the ball I called for it and dropped deep; the ball arrived instantly.
I carried it for a beat to match our team’s tempo, then laid it out to the overlapping full-back.
He tore forward at a ridiculous speed.
But a center-back well over 190 cm on the other side covered with shocking quickness and snuffed it out.
I immediately pressed, expecting the ball to go to a midfielder, only to get completely sold by a simple body feint from the player who received it.
…What the hell.
There was so much experience in that touch that it almost felt hollow.
Then I watched a gorgeous long ball slice open the opposite flank right in front of my eyes, and somehow a smile tugged at my lips.
I was actually playing against guys like this.
It had been so long since I’d played a real match that my heart was pounding.
“Haha.”
“…You’re pretty good.”
“You’re not bad yourself.”
“…?”
Something about the middle-aged man’s tone—like he already knew me—felt off, but the ball came back before I could dwell on it.
Tak.
I peeled off my marker, took the ball cleanly, and spun toward goal in one motion, scanning the space ahead.
Nowhere to go.
If I tried to find the wing it would get cut out; if I forced a dribble three or four of them would swarm me.
Every option carried heavy risk.
Back pass.
The thought and the action were simultaneous—I was about to lay it off behind me when Han Seonwoo, who had been wide, suddenly burst into the half-space.
I didn’t even hesitate. I chipped it over the defender’s head with a soft, precise touch.
The distance was awkward for a shot.
I pretended to want the return, dropped a half-step, and collected the ball again.
In the open pocket, before anyone could close me down, I whipped my instep through it and the ball rocketed into the near post.
“Good play!”
“Nice!”
Clap! Clap! Clap!
There were no roaring crowds, but respect and fighting spirit from every player on both sides filled the air instead.
I skipped any flashy celebration, high-fived my teammates, and jogged back into position.
The red team’s attack came right back at us.
A middle-aged midfielder who moved like half of a legendary duo I remembered peeled past several players, spotted the lane, and slipped a pass into the path of a winger already making his run.
The winger took the perfect ball, took one more touch as if he were about to whip a left-footed cross—
“…He’s cutting inside?”
From a motion that looked almost like a full kick he chopped the ball back and finished with his right.
Puhng—!
The keeper had no chance from that range; the ball was in the net before he could even react.
And so green and red traded a goal apiece, and the first quarter came to an end.
When the first quarter finished, the players gathered with their own teams and finally started saying the things they had been holding back.
“Seonwoo.”
I walked over to Han Seonwoo first.
“Yeah. Yujin.”
He clearly had no intention of keeping up the act anymore either.
Well, we had played together for years—twenty minutes was more than enough time for either of us to figure it out.
“You’re really good, Woojin-ssi.”
“Thank you.”
I was exchanging awkward small talk with the green-team players when, for some reason, content planner Kim Geonwoo came over with a camera in hand.
Wasn’t this against the rules?
“Everyone knows that every bit of revenue from this match is going to charity, right?”
“We know.”
“So I think it’s fine if you take the disguises off now.”
“Finally?”
As if he had been waiting for exactly those words, our team’s winger peeled off layer after layer of makeup and revealed his bare face.
I had been quietly certain it was Shin Gihyeon, so I hadn’t thought much of it—until our eyes met and everything changed.
He was a stranger.
“Uh…”
More precisely, not a complete stranger—just not the person I had expected.
Next our center-back removed his disguise and spoke.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Kim Minje.”
“I’m Hwang Hee-chan.”
“…”
The guy I had thought was Shin Gihyeon was Hwang Hee-chan, and the one I had thought was Kim Minjun was Kim Minje.
One by one the disguises came off and familiar faces appeared.
Players I had seen at least once online.
“…What is this. Is this a prank show.”
Suddenly standing face-to-face with legendary players left my brain completely blank.
It felt like my head had locked up.
When the person sitting right next to me introduced himself, the shock hit a little harder.
“I’m Hong Seoin.”
Until that moment Hong Seoin had been speaking in careful, textbook standard Korean, so I hadn’t caught on at all.
Even if the playing style was similar, the way he talked was completely different.
“…Hyung. You can speak standard Korean?”
“Course I can. We don’t gotta use English in Korea, do we? That’s how it is.”
“Yeah. Crystal clear now.”
I peeled off my own disguise piece by piece and introduced myself as well.
“Hello. I’m Baek Yujin.”
“Whoa. The star has arrived.”
“I heard scoring is the easiest part—is that true?”
“You said if every position plays well you win, right?”
“No, no. Haha…”
I was getting playfully roasted over old quotes of mine when a sudden roar erupted from the opposite side.
They must have been taking their disguises off too—some legend had just shown his face.
Curious, I turned my head and saw the Twin Dragons I had only ever looked up online, Seong Yumin, Shin Gihyeon, Kim Minjun, current national-team players, former national-team players…
And then, right after them, the face of Tottenham legend Son Hongmin came into view.