An Ambiguous Prospect
"So? What's the verdict?"
After training wrapped up, Manager Ivan Jurić looked across the table at the defensive coach mid-meeting and put the question to him directly.
The defensive coach didn't answer right away. He pressed his lips together, his expression complicated, clearly wrestling with how to deliver the assessment.
"Well… Teo Kang is a pretty unique type of player. I understand why you moved him up as a center back, but if I'm being honest, he's not an easy player to use."
Ivan Jurić folded his arms and tilted his head slightly.
"In what way?"
The defensive coach continued in a measured tone.
"First off, his one-on-one defending is only half-finished. Against big, physical strikers who like to scrap, or forwards who win with positioning, he actually does better than you'd expect. He doesn't get bullied off the ball, and he's strong in the air, so against those kinds of opponents he's quite solid."
He made a little swerving motion with his hand as he went on.
"But against wingers — the ones who change direction fast and keep twisting you with the dribble — it's a different story. His feet themselves are fairly quick, so his recovery speed is good, but! The problem comes after he catches up. On the second and third consecutive change of direction, his reactions lag. He reads the first move fine, then gets scrambled on the follow-up."
Ivan Jurić rubbed his chin slowly, sinking into thought.
"Hmm… So you're saying he'd be better used as a libero?"
This time the tactical coach shook his head and cut in.
"That's not clean either, boss."
All eyes shifted to him.
"The strengths are real, don't get me wrong. He lists his right foot as dominant, but Teo uses his left pretty cleanly too. That means he can escape pressure and play the ball out in either direction. For a side like ours that builds from the back and wants to connect both flanks, that's genuinely attractive."
But the tactical coach's face turned regretful.
"A libero has to see what the midfield is doing and keep reading the runs of the strikers beyond that. Teo's vision just isn't there yet. His ability to look forward is pretty limited. The pass itself can come off, but his judgment on who to give it to and when is slow, and the quality of the ball into those spots is lacking."
Understanding settled over Ivan Jurić's face, and his expression hardened a fraction.
"So he's not quite ready for the libero role, and if you put him in as a stopper you've got the winger problem we just heard about. Whichever position you try, the strengths and weaknesses show up at the same time."
Ivan Jurić let out a short snort of a laugh and leaned back into his chair.
"Ha. Really is an awkward player."
The set-piece coach, who had been listening quietly until then, raised a hand.
"Still, he's not unusable. Looking only at set-piece work, he's actually quite impressive. He's only about a hundred eighty centimeters, but he wins aerial duels at a weirdly high rate. His sense for timing is excellent. Jump timing is sharp, and he instinctively knows how to use his body against an opponent."
"That's good news."
Now the attacking coach spoke up.
"I'd like to add one thing as well."
Jurić gave a small nod, signaling him to continue.
"I did a little digging — turns out he was originally a striker. That shows in the way he moves on attacking set pieces. Even as a defender, he knows when to ghost into space. His heading is a real threat too. In attacking situations that striker's instinct is still alive. The issue is after possession turns over — his recovery timing is a bit late."
Ivan Jurić nodded slowly, as if the picture had finally come together.
"Right. A player whose strengths and weaknesses are right there on the surface. Feels a touch early bringing him up, I'll grant you that. But every so often an unexpected choice like this is exactly what creates the element of surprise."
The defensive coach still couldn't quite hide his concern.
"Boss, the fact remains that his basic defensive ability is lacking. If we throw him into a real match in this state, the opposition will find the soft spots fast. You might hide it once, but the analysts will clock it."
Ivan Jurić lifted a hand lightly and cut him off.
"I know, I know. I understand exactly what you're worried about. That's why I have no intention of starting him right away. Our center-back depth isn't that thin yet. For now he's more like backup to the rotation pieces."
Jurić looked around at the other coaches as he continued.
"I'm keeping Teo with the first team. But from here on I'd like you all to give him a bit more attention. Especially you, defensive coach. For the time being, treat him as a stopper and coach him that way. Drill our style hard — one-v-one defending, stepping up to press, and footwork when he gets dragged wide."
The defensive coach dipped his head briefly.
"Understood, boss."
Jurić picked up the next evaluation sheet.
"Good. Next player, then…"
After finishing my first session with the first team, I came home and got straight to the thing I needed to handle. Luckily, when training ended and I walked in, both of my parents were in the living room.
"Mom. Dad."
"You're back, son?"
"Yeah. Training went fine. But there's something I need to talk about…"
"What is it? I'd rather not hear anything pointless."
Mom greeted me warmly enough, but Dad spoke with that blank face of his.
Right. That's how he is.
I decided not to take it badly anymore. He had always been the terse type, and he was constantly buried in work — I understood now that he talked like that because he was tired.
And as I remembered it, as long as you stuck to the actual request, he usually came through.
"Uh… I came to deliver some pretty good news, actually."
"Good news? Ah! Honey, didn't he say something about skipping another level?"
Mom had already heard bits and pieces, so she jumped in right away.
Of course, this was better than that.
"Skipping a level again? Well, that is good news."
"No. Better than that. Starting today I've been training with the first-team players at Torino FC."
"What?"
"The first team?!"
Both of my parents' faces went wide with shock.
"So one of the staff members told me. Originally, once I moved up to the Primavera they were going to re-sign me around forty thousand euros… but if I get registered with the first team, I could get up to a hundred thousand…"
Mom's eyes went round.
"Our son is about to make more than his father?"
"Ahem…"
"Honey. What's with that? Just tell him he did well. Mom's thrilled. I've got so much to talk about around the neighborhood."
For a mother who ran into the neighbors all the time, this kind of story was pure gold.
Her son playing youth football at Torino FC, skipping levels every time — all of it made for excellent conversation. And now, saying he'd been called up to the first team would draw serious envy. Italy was a country obsessed with football, after all.
If any of those other mothers had kids playing soccer too, I was prime material. Riding the elite track and now dipping a toe into the first team — her word would carry real weight in that circle.
"So, about that…"
Time for the real point.
"I'm not going to be heading out to Orbassano anymore. It'll be the Filadelfia Sports Center here in Torino. So what I wanted to ask is… any chance we could get a car…?"
"You want us to buy you a car?"
At the word car, both of my parents' faces stiffened.
Back in Korea, a high-school-aged kid driving might seem strange. Europe was different. Plenty of kids my age were already getting behind the wheel.
"Hmm… Do you really need a car already?"
"Yeah. The reason I'm asking is that getting to the Filadelfia Sports Center from school is more of a hassle than you'd think. The transit options are bad. I need to get there early and train properly, and the inconvenience is real. And honestly, from the U20 team up, everyone shows up in their own car."
"So because everyone else drives, you need to drive too?"
"It's not about that so much as the inconvenience. And at my level now, I think it's what I should be doing. If I'm training with the first team and rolling up in a car, the other players start looking at me as someone to aim for. And… I don't like falling behind. Not even in something like this."
Dad started turning it over. A long silence stretched out.
That was a good sign. It meant he was more or less buying the explanation.
"Still, a car's going to be difficult."
Wait. Am I screwed?
"Ah…"
"I'm not saying we won't buy you one. First you need a license to drive. In Korea you can get one pretty fast, but here it takes two or three months."
Right. The license problem…
"But the license isn't even the real issue. You're not old enough yet. You'll probably only be able to get one in about half a year."
Oh, you idiot… How did I forget that?
There was a reason players usually started driving from the U20 level — that was when they were actually old enough. I had skipped grades, so I hadn't hit the legal age yet.
"If you're that serious about focusing on football, what about getting an A1 license instead?"
"An A1 license?"
A1… that's a motorcycle license, right? He's offering that?
"Honey, isn't that a motorcycle license? Doesn't that seem dangerous?"
Mom reacted instantly.
"Motorcycles aren't that dangerous. You go when you go and stop when you stop. And it's not like he'd be riding long distances — just around Torino, or at farthest the next town over in Orbassano…"
"That's true, but…"
"Getting an A1 takes as little as two weeks, a month at most. Until then we'll buy a used scooter he can ride without a full license, and once he has the A1 we'll switch him to a proper bike that matches it. In half a year or a year, when you get your car license, we'll buy you a car then. Nothing expensive — a decent used one is fine. For now, let's be satisfied starting with a scooter. Understood?"
I nodded.
Done. Scooter and motorcycle can be whatever — when the car comes, I'm getting a good one.