Chapter 10
Chapter 10
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 10
Chapter Title: Park Chan-hyuk Heads to Berlin
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Park Chan-hyuk heads to Berlin.
Thomas Tuchel had left Stuttgart.
He'd told me to wait patiently, saying they'd bring me on board in Augsburg.
"Ohhh. Tu-men...!"
I quietly praised Thomas Tuchel under my breath. He'd found me a job after my study abroad program ended.
We'd fought like cats and dogs over the past year, but when Tuchel actually submitted his resignation and prepared to leave, Stuttgart fought tooth and nail to keep him.
The fact that they held onto him after all that bickering showed that, personality aside, his abilities were recognized. And rightly so—if he could win the league title with the first team after all the young talents from Magath Kindergarten got poached, that proved his skill.
Anyway, with Thomas Tuchel gone.
The club's situation deteriorated more with each passing day.
The manager and key players, who were the core of the team, started leaving due to financial issues.
First, Felix Magath, the first-team manager who'd taken over from the Magath Kindergarten era, headed to Bayern Munich. Kevin Kuranyi went to Schalke 04, and Aleksandr Hleb to Arsenal.
'Magath is a legend. Stuttgart and Bayern Munich are even derby rivals...'
Well, not quite on the level of Real Madrid and Barcelona. Player transfers between the two clubs happened frequently anyway.
Mostly, though, it was Stuttgart losing players to Bayern Munich.
In the blink of an eye, the Stuttgart squad fell apart.
[Bayern Munich, the main culprit behind the Bundesliga's declining competitiveness...]
[With competition gone, only capital remains.]
The local Stuttgart press predictably unleashed criticism on Bayern Munich.
[First players and coaches, now even the manager?]
Eh, it was everyday stuff in the Bundesliga. Whenever a team's ace showed signs of unhappiness, nine times out of ten, Bayern Munich was the culprit. This time it was a manager instead of a player.
[Stuttgart appoints Matthias Sammer as manager.]
Even with key players leaving, it didn't feel like Stuttgart was heading for relegation.
Their bench and youth teams were still packed with top-class talent.
Among them, the two I was most interested in were...
'Mario Gomez and Sami Khedira.'
For the record, I never got close to them. I tried approaching to build rapport, but they put up walls.
'Well, makes sense when you're competing for starting spots.'
They were too busy protecting their own turf to hang out with some Asian guy from the East.
'Tough bastards.'
There's always a reason top-class players reach that level.
Still, I did get a bit closer to Sami Khedira.
We were born the same year, '87. We even played together on the U19 team. And Sami Khedira was one of Thomas Tuchel's prized pupils. The other one? Me, of course. I put in some work to make that happen.
Anyway, Khedira wasn't much of a talker, so it took a while to warm up, but we showed fantastic chemistry in U19 matches.
Playing with Sami Khedira felt incredibly solid. He might not have been the most technically refined, but he ran his ass off every game. The kind of player managers love.
Word on the street was that when Sami Khedira got called up to the first team mid-season, Thomas Tuchel chewed out the board...
'No way that's true, even if he's passionate.'
I hoped it was just a rumor.
Either way, the person I really bonded with in Stuttgart was Philipp Lahm.
I'd love to bring him on board someday as manager, leveraging our friendship, but that's probably impossible.
By then, he'd be an irreplaceable star at Bayern Munich.
'What? His stats shot up that fast in such a short time?'
I clicked my tongue inwardly looking at Philipp Lahm's stats.
As a fellow footballer, it was demoralizing how quickly his abilities had improved.
'Is this why I became a footballer...?'
Before long, my final day in Stuttgart arrived.
Today, I was leaving the Stuttgart I'd grown attached to over the past year.
But I didn't feel lonely or melancholic.
"Thanks, everyone, for coming out to see me off."
"You told us to, you punk."
All the friends I'd made during my time in Stuttgart had shown up to say goodbye.
"Adios."
"Chan-hyuk, that's Spanish."
"I know, dumbass. Anyway, do well without your big bro here."
"I'm three years older than you, you little shit."
And just like that, I parted ways with Stuttgart—maybe my home team.
***
With my study abroad stint in Stuttgart over, I headed to Berlin to be with family. My parents welcomed their unemployed son back just like always.
"You worked hard."
When Dad patted my back saying as much, tears welled up unbidden.
We caught up on everything that had happened.
"Chan-hyuk, what do you think?"
"About what?"
Mom wanted to open a Korean restaurant nearby, but my sister had talked her out of it.
'We almost got branded with the worst Korean food rep.'
I'd have to praise her behind Mom and Dad's backs later.
Dad was learning German and picking up a trade skill.
He'd earned a rest after all his hard work.
"You work when you're young. I ain't old yet, Dad."
He said sitting idle made him antsy.
Guess work had become second nature.
My sister was still going to school and continuing her investments.
While I waited at home for Thomas Tuchel's call.
News trickled in bit by bit.
None of the players in the overseas study program had received contract offers.
With no results, the association seemed seriously debating whether to continue the project.
I wasn't worried, though.
The program that produced Son Heung-min wouldn't fold that easily.
'No way... I didn't do much in Korea, so what could go wrong?'
***
A month after returning home.
- Sorry about this.
An apology message came from Thomas Tuchel.
After talking it over with Tuchel.
He'd tried to bring me on as a youth coach in Augsburg, where he'd become head of youth development.
But the Augsburg board blocked the hire.
'Did he fight the board over me for nothing?'
Eh, I got where the Augsburg board was coming from.
The positions were already filled by insiders. Tough spot for an outsider like me to squeeze in.
"Even Tuchel's connections couldn't land me a gig, so time to find work myself."
After plenty of rest at home, I started prepping for my B-license. Needed 40 hours of field experience to even qualify.
Unfortunately, there was no room for Asians in German football.
The vibe was, "What does some guy from a football backwater know about teaching?"
To put it in Korean terms: Imagine your kid wants to learn soccer, goes to the local club, and finds out a guy from China or Southeast Asia is coaching. Would you trust them with your child?
That's my situation in Germany.
Even after our strong showing in the 2002 Korea-Japan World Cup improved things a bit.
In European eyes, Korea was still a football backwater.
"Oh, it's great that this club teaches Asian soccer."
The more refined parents would phrase it politely.
The cruder, less educated ones just came out and said, "I'm not leaving my kid with that yellow bastard."
'Doesn't he realize he's the real problem for his son?'
With rumors of racist parents, good luck with a normal school life.
The kid's friends would all be little neo-Nazis.
What can you do? You reap what you sow.
Seeing the kid squinting his eyes like his dad, that little punk looked yellow as hell too.
"Kid, you'll live a fine life just like your father."
That day, after sincerely praying for the child like that, I got fired from youth coaching.
His parents went ballistic hearing it.
Honestly, I don't get why that was a problem.
'What? Does he know his own life's a dumpster fire?'
Even after applying everywhere, few clubs wanted an Asian coach.
'This is why national prestige matters. If Korea had a bright future ahead, at least I wouldn't hear "fucking yellow" every day. Miss 'em today: BDS, Bang Jun-ho, Son Heung-min. Let's go.'
In just a month, I got booted from three soccer clubs near Berlin.
And a year passed from then.
'It's all the fault of those xenophobic Germans...!'
Just as I was turning pitch-black from endless unemployment.
"My Germany needs a revolution!"
"Oppa, cut the crap. Mom says eat."
"...Okay."
A team that had dropped to the fourth tier, NOFV-Oberliga Nord, after chronic financial woes found me.
"Sir, we come bearing good news."
"I'm not playing games."
They looked a bit cultish.