The Korean Duo Humiliates Chelsea

The moment Southampton's first goal went in, a roar erupted from the crowd inside St. Mary's Stadium.

Waaaaaah!

And Jose Mourinho—the man who had provoked Southampton before kickoff—stood with his expression frozen solid. The confident swagger was gone. He was clearly fighting to keep his emotions in check. Worse, he kept pacing with his hands buried in his pockets, a telltale sign that his nerves were fraying.

At the same time, Korean soccer fans watching on television burst into delighted laughter.

The fact that Oh Jung-hoon had blown past Chelsea legend John Terry, and that they had answered Jose Mourinho's pre-match provocation with a goal, filled Korean soccer fans with pure, cathartic joy. It felt like every clogged-up frustration had been blasted clean open.

Of course, the Chelsea side under Jose Mourinho remained a powerhouse. Even after conceding, they refused to shrink and simply continued playing their game. Southampton's back line—especially the fullbacks—struggled to contain Chelsea's wingers. Exactly as Jung Hyuk had predicted, Chelsea kept rotating Schürrle, Hazard, and Mata, making life miserable for the fullbacks.

Whenever Eden Hazard got on the ball, even two Southampton players couldn't properly stop him. His dribbling was simply too elite; unless you fouled him, the ball stayed glued to his feet.

So now Jung Hyuk dropped deep to help Southampton fullback Luke Shaw shut Hazard down.

"Shaw! Don't let him cut inside!"

Jung Hyuk shouted the instruction and stepped straight into Hazard's path. Tension tightened across his face. Before the match he had checked Eden Hazard's attributes:

Monster-level numbers. Stats that high at only twenty-two years old were almost unbelievable. His dribbling, technique, and agility in particular were on a plane that chewed up most players for breakfast.

Last season, after joining Chelsea, Hazard had delivered thirteen goals and twenty assists in his debut campaign—production that matched the raw talent and cemented him as a core attacking piece. This 2013/14 season he was already the outright ace of a world-class club, driving Chelsea's entire attack.

A twenty-two-year-old who had claimed the ace role at ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Chelsea FC, one of the planet's elite sides. Jung Hyuk was standing in front of that monster right now—and he had to stop him somehow. He was stationed just in front of the defensive line. If Hazard beat him here, the ball could be in the net in a heartbeat.

At the very least, I cannot let him through.

Cold sweat beaded on Jung Hyuk's forehead. He dropped his stance low, backpedaling carefully while tracking every twitch of Eden Hazard's body. Tap. Touch. Whoosh! True to his reputation as one of the Premier League's finest dribblers, Hazard kept throwing upper-body feints and sudden direction changes that made Jung Hyuk's eyes swim. The dribbling was flashy yet rock-solid because Hazard's center of gravity sat so low. On top of that, his agility was monstrously quick—he could explode in any direction at any second.

Which way?

And Hazard was two-footed. Jung Hyuk had analyzed the Belgian's movement endlessly, yet there was no guaranteed way to stop him. The only answer was total concentration. One moment of lapsed focus and he would be gone.

Then it came. Whoosh— Hazard dropped his center, then used his trademark short, rapid touches to try to slice past Jung Hyuk. A body feint pretending to go left, then a cut right—simple on paper. But the speed that linked the feint to the actual burst made it murderously hard to track.

"Hup!"

Fully locked in, Jung Hyuk jammed his shoulder in and disrupted the run. Thud— Hazard kept driving, and for a split second Jung Hyuk nearly got beaten. Thankfully Luke Shaw, already positioned to help, arrived in time and together they snuffed the threat.

Whoosh!

Hazard spun and laid the ball off to a teammate. He had abandoned the dribble—but there was no time to relax. Chelsea's next wave was already coming.

Thump— The player who received Hazard's pass was Juan Mata. He took it cleanly and immediately slipped a forward ball. With his elite vision and passing sense, the delivery knifed razor-sharp between Southampton's defenders. Chasing it was Chelsea striker Fernando Torres.

A striker's job is to score. In a one-on-one with the keeper, he is expected to finish. And right now Chelsea's Fernando Torres had been gifted a perfect one-on-one.

He collected Mata's through ball inside Southampton's penalty area and smashed it with the inside of his foot, aiming for the far corner.

But—

"Hah!"

Absurdly, Torres had struck it far too hard. An unbelievable mistake, yet it happened. Boom! The ball left his foot with a violent crack and sailed clean over the bar—what fans call an atmospheric re-entry shot.

Torres clutched his face in pure shock at his own play. At the same time—

"Aaaaargh! Torres! How do you miss that?! Are you out of your mind?!"

Jose Mourinho could no longer contain himself and exploded.

After Torres's ridiculous miss, Chelsea began to wobble. The hangover from blowing a gilt-edged chance started eating at the players. And Jung Hyuk pounced on the shaken side, driving Southampton forward with ruthless intensity.

"Faster! Keep circulating the ball!"

At Jung Hyuk's shout the Southampton players, who had slowed a fraction, snapped back to life. They woke up and began moving the ball with purpose again, advancing as a unit.

Jung Hyuk struck a measured pass. Thump— The recipient was Oh Jung-hoon, stationed up top. With his back to John Terry, Oh Jung-hoon held his ground in the physical duel and protected the ball. Thud! Terry charged in hard and rough, but Oh Jung-hoon dropped his center, mixed body feints with close control, and weathered the pressure.

The Oh Jung-hoon who had looked endlessly fragile in earlier one-on-ones against Terry was gone. The special one-on-one sessions he had done with Jung Hyuk specifically to prepare for this matchup were paying off.

With Oh Jung-hoon holding the line up front, the players around him suddenly had space to breathe. Jung Hyuk was no exception. Tap-tap! He darted into Oh Jung-hoon's orbit, took the lay-off, and immediately switched play toward a teammate bursting down the opposite flank. Thump! It was a lofted ball—difficult to execute at high tempo—but for Jung Hyuk it was just another of the countless passes he had hit a thousand times.

The player who received it was Southampton winger Gastón Ramírez, finally getting a real chance. Ramírez was a player whose flexible dribbling rested on excellent fundamentals. Touch— He took it cleanly and glided into Chelsea's flank with that signature silky movement. After driving deep down the side, he slipped the ball to Jung Hyuk, who had already ghosted into position nearby.

Touch— Jung Hyuk did not kill the rolling ball. Inside Chelsea's box he struck it first-time—a delicate, clipped one-touch pass.

And Oh Jung-hoon hammered it home with his head.

Boom!

A perfect header that turned Cech into a scarecrow. After scoring, Oh Jung-hoon launched into the Hulk celebration he had been pushing hard lately. Fortunately (or unfortunately), there was no shirt removal. Pochettino and Jung Hyuk's constant lectures that shirtless celebrations were absolutely forbidden had stuck.

"Hahahaha! The Korean Hulk has come to smash Chelsea!"

Having already conceded twice in the first half, Chelsea needed a complete reset when the second half began. Jose Mourinho threw on an extra attacker and switched to a more aggressive setup, determined to break Southampton's goal. Instead they simply handed Jung Hyuk-led Southampton another counter-attacking goal. The scorer was Jung Hyuk himself, who had already been in sparkling form with an assist earlier.

With John Terry in front of him, Jung Hyuk combined with Oh Jung-hoon in a quick one-two to escape the pressure, then finished cleanly with his left foot.

After that, Chelsea completely ran out of gas. They looked lifeless for the rest of the second half, failed to score, and handed Southampton the win.

For Southampton fans and Korean soccer fans alike, the result was pure, refreshing joy that brought smiles unbidden. For the Korean fans especially, something even more satisfying arrived after the final whistle—Jose Mourinho's post-match interview.

Mourinho finished the interview by elevating only Jung Hyuk while salvaging his own pride—exactly the kind of high-handed move expected from a manager with that much ego. Southampton fans who saw it merely snorted.

"Mourinho is such a joke of a manager! Just admit you lost—why come out looking so pathetic?"

"Man, his pride is ridiculously huge!"

"Hahahaha! No matter how much Mourinho talks, next time Jung Hyuk and Oh Jung-hoon will smash Chelsea all over again!"

Just like the fans' reactions, the atmosphere inside the Southampton squad after the 3-0 win was the best it had been all season. The players radiated the same early-season confidence that they could beat anyone.

Perhaps that momentum carried them. In the next fixture against West Bromwich Albion, even with several starters missing, Southampton still ground out a 2-1 victory and kept the good vibes rolling.

And after the West Brom match, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Jung Hyuk looked happier than usual. He had every reason to. A long-awaited, extremely welcome set of messages had appeared before his eyes—notifications that his attributes had risen, one after another.

On top of that, a message he had never seen since the regression appeared.

He was now 183 cm. That extra centimeter would give him a clear edge in future aerial duels. Jung Hyuk was genuinely delighted. Watching him celebrate, the fans also broke into bright smiles and thunderous applause.

Yet in the middle of this excellent atmosphere, news arrived that Southampton fans could not smile about—while for Korean fans it was the exact news they had been waiting for, the kind that brought automatic grins.

January 15, 2014.

At only seventeen years old internationally, Jung Hyuk and Oh Jung-hoon became members of the South Korean national team.