Ten Men at Anfield

The atmosphere at Anfield was white-hot.

It was Liverpool's home fixture, and the sheer volume of the home crowd's roar and the heat of their passion were staggering. Having just scored the second goal to make it 2–1, Daniel Sturridge celebrated with raw intensity right in front of the fans, whipping the stadium into an even greater frenzy.

That was when Mauricio Pochettino called for Jung Hyuk.

"Jung Hyuk."

"Yes, Coach."

"Our tactics are getting cut off before they can even take shape. You know we can't keep going like this, right?"

"Yes."

Jung Hyuk nodded. Southampton's performance right now was not good. More precisely, they were failing to answer Liverpool's tactics and the individual quality of their players. Having lived through countless matches, Jung Hyuk already knew what that meant. In a situation like this, the odds of defeat were high. If they did not change course quickly, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠they could concede even more.

And of course, Pochettino was thinking the same thing.

"I was wrong. I thought Victor Wanyama and Schneiderlin would hold up under Liverpool's press, but they're struggling more than I expected."

"……"

"So I want you to take over Schneiderlin's role."

"……!"

Jung Hyuk looked at Pochettino's face. That meant Schneiderlin was coming off for someone else. It was a move that could cause problems. Barely twenty minutes of the first half had passed. A starter pulled that early was bound to resent the manager—and Schneiderlin would be no exception. Pochettino knew that, and he was still prepared to force the change for the sake of the win.

Seeing the startled look on Jung Hyuk's face, Pochettino offered a bitter smile.

"I'll handle whatever grievance Schneiderlin has. You just focus on the new role."

"……Understood."

After that, Southampton did exactly as Pochettino said and replaced Schneiderlin with Pablo Osvaldo. Schneiderlin wore a look of pure dissatisfaction, but he eventually bowed his head and walked to the bench. Pochettino, his expression dark, patted Schneiderlin on the shoulder in consolation.

His thinking was this: throw the combative striker Pablo Osvaldo into the attack to reinforce Oh Jung-hoon, who had been fighting alone up front, and drop Jung Hyuk into a defensive midfield role to take charge of the team's orchestration. If it worked, Pochettino believed, they could swing the momentum.

But here, Pochettino made a mistake. A fatal misjudgment.

The impact of the recently signed Pablo Osvaldo was far worse than the manager had imagined. Far from adding weight to Southampton's attack, Osvaldo caused a problem within five minutes of coming on.

Before the regression, Jung Hyuk had been a multi-position player. Right fullback, central midfielder, defensive midfielder, winger, striker—he could fill any of them. Of those, the position where he felt most at home, the one where he could show his best football, was central midfield.

Defensive midfield, by contrast, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was not a comfortable role for him. He could play it, but he did not love it. And at Southampton, the defensive midfielder's job was even less comfortable. In Pochettino's system, the holding midfielder had to do an enormous amount of work—effectively covering the duties of a central midfielder as well. Stay deep and support the back line in the ordinary run of play; when the team attacked, surge forward, orchestrate, and become the heart of the offense. That was the demanding role Jung Hyuk had just been handed.

He had, of course, recently performed the defensive midfield role with real excellence—intelligent defending built on years of experience, and in attack, high-accuracy passing and individual skill that tormented opponents. The problem was that the opponent was Liverpool. Liverpool was stronger than the sides he had faced lately, packed with players of outstanding individual quality, which made the job that much harder.

Even so, Jung Hyuk had nodded calmly at Pochettino's request. The role was not comfortable—but it was not beyond him either. At the very least, he was confident he could do it better than anyone else on the pitch.

His expression, however, was still dark for a different reason.

Osvaldo coming on at this timing?

Pablo Osvaldo. A new signing who had joined Southampton in August 2013, playing as a striker. His physique was not particularly imposing, but he had excellent positioning, solid technique, and a good finishing instinct—especially strong in the air. He also had one major flaw.

That guy's famous for having a terrible head…

A problem child who picked fights with opponents constantly and had even assaulted his own teammates. That was Pablo Osvaldo. In a few years, he would assault teammate José Fonte and be driven out of Southampton. Knowing that, Jung Hyuk watched him with uneasy eyes.

Please just let this pass without incident.

But the thing he had hoped would not happen, happened—less than five minutes after Osvaldo entered the game.

The referee's whistle cut through the air. Jung Hyuk had threaded a long ball into Osvaldo, who tried to drive through, and Liverpool defender Daniel Agger committed a foul—a hard shove from behind. Osvaldo went sprawling. The referee pulled out a yellow card.

Up to that point, it was a situation Southampton could smile about. A defender on a card tends to play more cautiously, and a striker can attack with more confidence. Then the problem started. Osvaldo got up and charged straight at Daniel Agger.

"What the hell?"

"What's he doing? Stop him!"

Startled Southampton players sprinted to restrain him, but they were already too late. Face twisted with rage, Osvaldo shoved Agger hard in the chest.

"You dare pull that dirty crap!"

"Ugh!"

Daniel Agger was a veteran. The moment Osvaldo pushed him, he went completely limp and toppled theatrically backward. Liverpool players swarmed in with furious protests. Southampton players scrambled to drag Osvaldo away. But the damage was done.

The referee walked up to Osvaldo and drew his hand from his pocket. In it was a red card.

"No!"

"Come on, ref, that's not right! Agger shoved him first! Osvaldo should only get a yellow!"

"Ref, please—just this once!"

"A sending-off is way too harsh for a warning! Please reconsider!"

Southampton players pleaded for clemency with panic written across their faces. There was no reversal. And the man who had caused it all, Osvaldo, stomped off the pitch seething. There was not a trace of apology for his teammates on his face—only resentment toward Daniel Agger and the referee's decision.

He really does live up to the nickname—Italy's problem child.

Jung Hyuk's eyes went cold. The situation was bad. No—it was catastrophic. Even for someone with as much experience as Jung Hyuk, the world went white for a moment.

Damn it. Of all timings…

He turned to look at Pochettino. The manager's face was set in stone as he spoke with his coaches. Instructions came quickly. Suddenly forced to play with ten men, with only Oh Jung-hoon left as a striker, Pochettino ordered them to play even more aggressively. It was the order of a man who absolutely refused to lose this match.

And Jung Hyuk felt the same way.

Fine. Let's do this.

He looked across at the Liverpool players. They had already been dominating on pure quality. Now, with a numerical advantage on top of that, their faces carried the absolute confidence of a side that would not be beaten. Seeing those expressions only stoked Jung Hyuk's already fierce competitive fire higher.

Liverpool's attack was ferocious. They hammered the outnumbered Southampton side without mercy. Southampton could do little more than scramble to hold them off—barely keeping the waves of red at bay. Short on numbers, they had no choice but to sit deep and look for counters, and Liverpool simply penned them in and punished them. The one-way traffic continued right up to the dying moments of the first half.

A heavy crack of boot on ball. Steven Gerrard's leg drove through it—a shot born of patient circulation and the space it created. The ball left his instep cleanly and flew at knee height, a rocket that was at the goal in the blink of an eye. Southampton players were already drawing breath for a groan of despair when Artur Boruc produced a super save. With astonishing reaction speed he flung himself across and punched the ball clear.

Chaos erupted at once. Players from both sides lunged for the loose ball. Closest of all, Daniel Sturridge got a shot away. In that instant every player on the pitch believed it was going in. The crowd surged to its feet, ready to roar for Liverpool. But Sturridge's shot never became a goal—because the moment he struck it, Jung Hyuk had thrown his body across the line of the goal. The ball smashed into his back and ricocheted away.

Both teams scrambled again for the ball hanging in the air. It was Oh Jung-hoon who won it with his head, thrashing it as far as he could. The ball sailed out of the penalty area—only for Liverpool midfielder Lucas Leiva to claim it. Even under that pressure, his first touch was soft and secure. He laid it off to the most reliable teammate he had.

Gerrard!

Steven Gerrard planted his left foot hard into the turf, shaping for a first-time shot on Lucas's pass. There was no one near him. His eyes sharpened. Among every footballer on the planet, he was one of the finest long-range shooters alive. An unmarked chance like this was the best possible ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠situation for him to score.

And now the rolling ball met his instep cleanly.

A thunderous report as the ball rocketed away, skimming low toward the far corner. It was an unstoppable shot. Southampton goalkeeper Artur Boruc could not even react. He simply stared blankly into the goal.

Then another massive sound exploded. The ball had struck the woodwork. Steven Gerrard clutched his own head.

"Damn it!"

It had been struck perfectly. He had never doubted it would go in. And it had hit the post. Hideously unlucky. For Southampton, it was a gift—a near-certain goal averted by pure fortune. But there was no room to relax. The ball had rebounded back into the penalty area.

Jung Hyuk claimed it. He had never lost concentration, tracking every movement of the ball, and that was how he got there first. With the sole of his foot he killed it dead—and Liverpool ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠players swarmed him.

He did not clear it.

If I just boot it clear, Liverpool will only come right back at us.

There was still a little stoppage time left. Giving the ball back to Liverpool was dangerous. So Jung Hyuk's first priority was to escape the press. It was not easy. He was inside Southampton's own penalty area, with almost no space to work in, and a crowd of Liverpool shirts ringing him. Lose the ball here and it was an instant goal. Any player in that position would feel the pressure crushing the air from their lungs. Jung Hyuk stayed calm. With a composed face he watched the oncoming runners.

Daniel Sturridge lunged in. Jung Hyuk sold a body feint to the right, then stepped left, sliding past him. Jordan Henderson came next. Jung Hyuk dragged the ball back with the sole of his left foot, then shoved it right and drove forward—a drag-back Henderson never saw coming. That single move carried him out of the box.

The pressure did not end. Liverpool players threw everything into cutting him off, desperate not to concede a counter. Jung Hyuk used a teammate. He slipped the ball to Oh Jung-hoon, who was matching his pace nearby; Oh Jung-hoon one-touched it straight back. That short combination took him past Steven Gerrard. Three men beaten, and Liverpool's press finally loosened a fraction.

And now Jung Hyuk began to accelerate. With a speed rating of 94, he tore up the pitch. One last counter before the half was over—that was the plan.

Then a translucent message appeared before his eyes.

Jung Hyuk's face twisted. On any ordinary day he would have welcomed the messages with open arms. Not now.

Focus!

This was a moment that demanded total concentration on his own movement and a razor-sharp read of the opposition. The translucent messages were nothing but visual noise.

And they were not finished. More messages stacked one after another.