Welcome to Real Madrid—First Time?
With the referee's whistle, the Champions League final came to an end, and players from both teams collapsed onto the pitch.
A match where they'd poured out everything they had.
The crowd applauded the exhausted players who'd given it their all until the very last moment.
The award ceremony provided the perfect finishing touch to a game for the history books.
The moment the UEFA president tried to hand the Big Ear to Sergio Pepe...
Jesus dashed in and snatched it.
A battle of wills erupted between Sergio Pepe and Jesus over who would lift the Big Ear.
Sergio Pepe stared at Jesus in disbelief, refusing to let go of his side of the trophy.
"Puta Madre, what the hell are you doing?"
"This is mine. My share is overwhelming."
The endless standoff ended with them deciding to flip a coin for it.
The moment Sergio Pepe let go to toss the coin...
Jesus swiftly snatched the Big Ear.
"...What the fuck?"
Sergio Pepe gawked at Jesus, looking like a total idiot after the lightning-fast snatch.
"This trophy's mine. I can do whatever I want with it."
The fired-up Sergio Pepe lunged at Jesus, and a scuffle broke out. Real Madrid players watching just shook their heads.
"You idiots, just lift it together!"
But real men don't compromise.
In the end, they left it to the coin toss—and fate sided with Jesus.
"Vamos!!"
Sergio Pepe, robbed of his glorious moment lifting the Champions League trophy, muttered curses under his breath.
"Hosita Puta Madre."
After all the drama, the sight of an Easterner performing the first Champions League winners' ceremony ever had Korean hearts pounding.
Real Madrid lifted the Champions League's Big Ear, achieving the Treble they'd dreamed of.
While Real Madrid lifted the trophy in Istanbul...
A small riot broke out at Madrid's Cibeles Square.
"Reyes de Europa! Hala Madrid!"
Ecstatic Madridistas flooded Cibeles Square to celebrate the Treble.
They tried to chair-lift anyone who looked Eastern.
"No Korean, I'm Chinese!"
A Chinese guy got nabbed.
"No Korean, I'm Japanese!"
A Japanese guy too.
"No South Korean, I'm North Korean!"
Even a South Korean pretending to have a fear of heights to fake being North Korean got lifted.
"Madrid Madrid Hala Madrid!"
Even after the victory parade with players and staff back in Madrid, and the Treble celebration at Santiago Bernabeu, they kept the party going at Cibeles for a full week.
"Jesus is a god, Real Madrid invincible! Hala Madrid!!"
These past few days had been a whirlwind. Events, parties, commemorations—what was with all these damn things?
Even as I got dragged around everywhere, the Madridistas' passion didn't cool.
Romance packs a punch, alright. Forcing it into them during the Champions League final had a bigger ripple effect than I'd thought.
They were still gathering at Cibeles Square. Fewer than on victory day or parade day, sure.
But still enough locals to ignore—singing Madrid anthems and celebrating the Treble among themselves.
Yohan spotted his dad lounging in the living room on his smartphone and waddled over, puffing out his belly proudly.
"Dada! Dada! Yohan's getting a sibling!!"
I was about to respond, but mischief struck. I ignored him on purpose and kept scrolling.
Huh? What's this.
A portal headline caught my eye.
While Real Madrid won the Champions League for the Treble, Korea's U-20 team at the World Cup lost in the quarters to Brazil.
I nodded at the article. Korea weak against South Americans with their skill and speed.
An old complaint, so the fix came naturally: Weak dribbling? Train 'em.
Get beat bad enough, and people grow. Nietzsche said it—that which doesn't kill you makes you stronger, right?
Great men in biographies are different. He probably knew people don't die easy.
Would be nice if more Korean players came to La Liga. More matchups, more beatings. Per Nietzsche, as long as it doesn't kill ya, skills rise steady.
"DAAAAAAD—! Yohan said sibling's coming!!!"
Ignored again while scrolling, Yohan exploded, pouting his lips.
Pouty, but hadn't run to Mom yet—chance still open.
"Whoa, Yohan becoming a big bro?"
FYI, the twins are both girls, per the checkup.
"Yeah! Yohan big bro now! Yohan teach soccer too!"
With Dad responding, Yohan lit up, chattering away with his little mouth.
"Big bro already? Our Yohan's amazing!"
Under Dad's baby talk barrage, Yohan grinned bashfully.
"Yohan amaaaazing~"
Unable to hide his embarrassment, Yohan ran off to play with Partasu and the Big Ear. I nodded quietly.
Guy gets embarrassed easy.
My son, so everything he does is cute?
Real Madrid finally convinced Jesus to return the Big Ear.
"At least we got it back..."
What soccer player claims majority stake and takes the Big Ear home?
The staffer who'd talked him down looked drained.
"Whew... toughest negotiation ever."
Real Madrid displayed the oddly shiny Big Ear at Santiago Bernabeu and dove into the busy summer transfer window.
First, they held onto retiring Iker Bravo with a one-year extension.
Jesus, despite Bravo's reluctance, asked if he wouldn't consider playing coach at Colchester United—now promoted to the Championship, second tier—next year, and got his ass kicked.
"Puta Madre! Get lost, I'm retiring for real next year!"
After Iker Bravo's renewal, several players left for various reasons—playing time, skill gaps, money—and new faces joined Real Madrid.
One young prospect from Rosario, Argentina—Lionel Messi's hometown—arrived tense at Valdebebas training ground.
19-year-old Leo Lopez: His dad, a Messi fan, named him after the hero.
Born on the glorious day Messi won the Qatar World Cup, it felt like God's blessing—like a call to play soccer like Messi. So, "Leo," Messi's nickname.
Leo Lopez wouldn't match the name's legend, but his talent earned him a Real Madrid spot.
The boy scanned his surroundings nervously. The world's top stars standing tall made his body tremble.
Thud. Thud.
An Easterner walked in among them. The man with bored, jaded eyes sauntered to his seat.
The star among stars, Lionel Messi's successor, soccer's god—Jesus, captain of the Kimchi Pirates, welcomed the newbie.
"Welcome to Real Madrid—first time?"
Chin raised in a condescending smirk, Jesus—vice-captain he'd strong-armed this season—was giving it his all in the role.