When Ji Dong-won Explodes
The second half of Southampton FC versus Sunderland.
The atmosphere favored Southampton.
The score stood at 2–0.
In that setting, a one-on-one developed between Jung Hyuk and Jack Colback. The crowd erupted as Hyuk drove forward with the ball, and Colback charged straight at him.
Hyuk feinted as if he meant to break past—then struck the ball with brutal force.
The problem was where it went. The ball smashed square into Jack Colback's face.
At once, St. Mary's Stadium began to stir.
"Whoa! That looked like it hit him hard. Is he okay?"
"I think he's out cold."
"He's not getting up!"
The ball Hyuk had driven had struck Colback clean in the face. Colback collapsed unconscious onto the grass and was carried from the pitch on a stretcher by the medical staff.
Watching him go, Hyuk clicked his tongue.
Hit him harder than I expected.
Driving the ball hard enough to catch someone in the face had been an idea that formed the instant he saw the venom in Colback's eyes. It had simply landed more perfectly than Hyuk intended.
That's going to hurt.
He watched Colback being carried off with a bitter expression. Whatever the reason, injuring an opponent never sat well with him. But that was as far as the feeling went.
Focus.
Hyuk locked back onto the match at once. Jack Colback no longer existed in his head.
The player who came on in Colback's place was Sunderland fullback David Vaughan. Stepping in for his unconscious teammate, Vaughan fixed Hyuk with a burning glare.
I'll stop you myself.
Vaughan burned with the will to shut Hyuk down by any means necessary.
That, however, was only Vaughan's wish.
Once play resumed, Vaughan was taken apart. He failed to stop a single dribble; Hyuk carved through him again and again. Within five minutes of Colback's exit, Sunderland conceded another goal—Adam Lallana finishing off Hyuk's assist.
Smooth.
Hyuk smiled. The match was flowing his way, and the attacking returns were stacking up nicely. Keep stripping Vaughan in front of him, keep adding goals and assists, and the special reward conditions would clear as well.
Then an unexpected variable appeared.
Hyuk's mouth slowly fell open.
"…What is that guy doing?"
Sunderland's Ji Dong-won had gone completely berserk.
Ji Dong-won.
A South Korean forward, he often played as a striker, yet calling him a pure striker never quite fit. He could fill striker, shadow striker, winger, attacking midfielder—any of them—and he himself preferred the attacking midfielder or shadow striker roles over a pure number nine.
His style matched that preference. Ji Dong-won was not a high-volume scorer. Even as an attacker, he excelled at creating chances for teammates, and assists came more often than goals. Solid passing, solid physique, sharp football intelligence—Sunderland's awkwardly versatile forward.
And every so often—very rarely—Ji Dong-won produced a performance that looked unhinged. On those days, he stunned football fans around the world.
Today, against Southampton, that version of him had decided to show up.
Coming on as a right winger in place of Emanuele Giaccherini, Ji Dong-won tore around the pitch from the moment he entered. Hunting for openings, he took a ball from Gardner and shot at once.
Bang!
A first-time strike after a slight push of the ball. With that powerful ankle of his, the shot carried real venom. Even from distance it rocketed into Southampton's net.
Swish—
The atmosphere at St. Mary's, Southampton's home ground, went cold. With the match seemingly sewn up for the hosts, the goal had come out of nowhere—and for Sunderland it was priceless, cutting the score to 3–1.
Hyuk's expression hardened.
Don't tell me today is one of those days for him.
He knew Ji Dong-won could produce these flashes. He simply hoped today would not be one of them.
His hope went unanswered. Ji Dong-won's surge continued after the goal.
It began with a misplaced pass from Southampton midfielder Victor Wanyama. Stéphane Sessègnon cut it out and fed Ji Dong-won nearby. Ji took the ball—a slightly heavy touch—then immediately swung his leg through it, a shot born of the confidence two goals can give a man.
The problem was how cleanly he struck it with the laces.
Bang!
Southampton keeper Boruc threw himself at it, but the shot arrowing into the far top corner was too sharp.
Swish!
"Wooooooo!"
Ji Dong-won roared. Sunderland's momentum boiled over.
Watching the goal, Hyuk let out a hollow laugh.
"Of all days for Ji hyung to catch fire."
In a blink the score was 3–2. Still a one-goal lead, but nothing to take lightly. Football lived on momentum, and Sunderland's was climbing fast—especially with Ji Dong-won looking like he could punch a hole in the sky.
Even so, Hyuk's face stayed bright. The thought of losing never crossed his mind.
"This is fun."
He knew exactly how to manage a match when the tide turned against you—how to smother the other side's surge. And Mauricio Pochettino, Southampton's manager, knew those methods too. Hyuk was certain of it. Pochettino would make a change, and quickly—one that would tilt the board back their way.
When the score swung from 3–0 to 3–2 and the momentum shifted toward Sunderland, Mauricio Pochettino's face did not change. He watched the pitch with that familiar cool expression. Inside, though, his mind was racing, hunting for a way to break the atmosphere.
Wanyama's misplaced passes are piling up. Physical and mental fatigue, no question. We need someone who can feed stable balls through midfield—and someone who can stamp out their surge.
In the end, after weighing it, he chose a substitution and a change of roles. He called Victor Wanyama off and sent Oh Jung-hoon on. Then he dropped Jung Hyuk into the defensive midfield slot Wanyama had occupied.
Hyuk isn't a great tackler, but he defends like a veteran—intelligent, positionally sharp. His vision is wide and he almost never misplaces a pass. He'll steady the midfield. I'm sure of it.
The tactics shifted with him. Where the earlier shape had been a 4-2-3-1 built to load the midfield and attack down the flanks, they now thinned the midfield to four and added a second striker—a 4-2-2-2. The two men tasked with leading the line were Lambert and Oh Jung-hoon, a choice meant to pile heavier pressure on a Sunderland defense already starting to tire.
Pochettino's gaze moved from Hyuk to Jung-hoon.
Oh Jung-hoon… I genuinely can't predict what he'll show me.
In every fitness test at Southampton, Jung-hoon ranked at the very top—monstrous physique paired with athletic ability that did not match his size, and high football intelligence on top of it. In training matches, Southampton's defenders routinely struggled to contain him.
But training and match day, in Pochettino's view, were entirely different worlds. Excellence on the training ground guaranteed nothing under the lights. To perform in a real match, you needed a heart that could carry the weight of a full stadium.
And right now, Mauricio Pochettino meant to test Oh Jung-hoon's heart.
Oh Jung-hoon. Show me how big your vessel really is.
At the same moment, watching Jung-hoon come on, Hyuk's mouth curved into a smile.
I knew Pochettino would do exactly this.
It matched his prediction. The way to pin down a Sunderland side riding a full head of steam was this: stabilize the midfield, and throw on a striker who could smash their defense and score at any moment.
With everything falling into place the way he wanted, Hyuk smiled brightly and began to move from the defensive midfield position.
"All right. Time to start again."
The substitutions finished and play resumed. Southampton began working the new shape, while a surging Sunderland tried to build everything through a red-hot Ji Dong-won. The ball found him again, and Southampton's players—having already conceded two to him—closed in at once.
"Don't let Ji shoot!"
"Give him no space!"
And Southampton had one player specifically tasked with shutting him down.
Looking sharp today, aren't you.
That player was Jung Hyuk. Shifted to defensive midfield, he stepped into Ji Dong-won's path.
Riding the high of two goals, Ji tried to beat him with confident footwork. That choice was a mistake.
Whoosh! Thud!
Ji planted a false step and tried to burst right. Hyuk's foot was already there—a tackle timed on the read of the move, stripping the ball clean from under Ji's feet.
"Damn—!"
Ji spun after it in a panic, but the ball was already rolling toward Southampton's left back, Luke Shaw.
Thud!
Shaw one-touched it forward—a pass aimed at Hyuk, who had started running the instant he won the ball. Hyuk took it at full speed. The transition from defense to attack was blistering.
He kept running. He had been moved to defensive midfield, but this was a counter, and Pochettino's instructions allowed him to join the attack freely in situations like this. Even without the order, Hyuk would have gone. Blindly following a manager's commands was not his style. He trusted his own experience and judgment more.
With Sunderland fullback Ondřej Celůstka in front of him, Hyuk suddenly killed his speed and cut. Celůstka, trying to match the change, lost his balance—an inevitable collapse of his center of gravity. Hyuk had options: a right-footed shooting angle had opened, or he could find a teammate arriving on the far side.
The choice came fast. The distance to goal was a touch long, so he took the higher-percentage route.
Bang—
Hyuk looked at the player who had been charging from the start, then whipped a curling ball into the path of the man who had just exploded into the penalty box at tremendous speed.
Jung-hoon. This one's yours.
Oh Jung-hoon now stood 194 cm—another centimeter taller—and steady bulk work had pushed his weight close to 90 kg. Physical duels against ordinary players were no contest, and his athletic tools matched the frame: jump, speed, reaction time, all of them excellent.
That Oh Jung-hoon launched himself at the ball.
Thud! Whoosh—
John O'Shea scrambled after him and leapt, but Jung-hoon met the ball a full head higher and hammered it down with his forehead.
Thump!
A header struck with real power. Goalkeeper Westwood threw himself at it, but the ball was already past his reaction and into the net.
Swish!
Oh Jung-hoon's Premier League debut goal.
And then Jung-hoon began to behave strangely.
"YAAAAAH! This is Oh Jung-hoon! I've finally arrived in the Premier League! I'm here to take the Premier League over!"
Hyuk exhaled a long sigh.
How hard is he going to cringe under the covers later for that?
After Jung-hoon's goal, Sunderland's soaring momentum collapsed just as fast. Southampton piled into the deflated visitors with ruthless pressure. It was still no easy match. Sunderland answered with rough fouls, and one Southampton player went down injured. Hyuk himself took heavy treatment; Sunderland showed no fear of yellow cards and kept chopping him down.
Even so, Hyuk eventually added another goal off his own individual quality and finished Sunderland completely.
Beeeeeep!
The long, bruising match was over.
"Hah. Hardest game I've had in a while."
Hyuk stuck out his tongue. The constant fouling left his whole body throbbing; he wanted nothing more than to drop to the ground and rest.
And the Card of Dream paid him for that hard-fought match—a very sweet reward.
You have thoroughly crushed Sunderland.
A card has been issued as a reward.
He had obtained a Card—the kind that could yield points or a trait. And the rewards did not end there. New messages rose before his eyes.