Who Got Caught? -2
After Jesus' opening goal exploded from the tip of his boot at Real Madrid, the match started flowing a bit one-sidedly.
As Jesus joined the midfield battle, snatching a pass from a Girona player and charging toward the penalty area...
"Damn it! Someone block that fucking bastard, you sons of bitches!!"
The Girona goalkeeper screamed almost hysterically, berating his defenders.
At the keeper's words, Emmanuel Bernard tried to block Jesus' path.
'Putain!'
Jesus simply faked him out with an upper-body feint, lightly brushing past Emmanuel Bernard.
Emmanuel Bernard, hit by the Jesus Anesthetic Shot and collapsing to the ground, stared blankly at Jesus unleashing his shot.
Having broken through successfully, as soon as the shooting angle opened up, Jesus blasted the ball more for power than precision—hit it and watch it fly.
"Hup—!"
Thwack—!
The ball rocketed in, sacrificing accuracy but still evading the keeper's hands and nestling into the upper corner of the goalpost.
Girona's momentum cooled like they'd been doused with ice water.
"Hosita! Puta!"
Behind the goalkeeper kicking the ball out of the net in frustration, Emmanuel Bernard's eyes caught Jesus sprinting to the corner flag and headbutting it in celebration.
'Putain! Oh. Insulting my idol, Zinedine Zidane!'
He instinctively realized Jesus' celebration was a taunt aimed at him.
Having taunted Emmanuel Bernard with the flag headbutt, Jesus...
"Puta! Madre! Hey, you crazy bastard! You're bleeding from your head!"
Injured, he had to step off the touchline for treatment.
Seeing that, Emmanuel Bernard was thrown into confusion.
'...He just headbutted it out of excitement...?'
Having lost the battle with the flag and picked up a minor injury, I got treated off the touchline and waited for the ref's signal to return.
Soon enough, the head ref signaled me back in, and I stepped onto the green pitch.
Back on the ground, I touched the bandage tied around my head to stop the bleeding and vowed revenge.
For this injury's grudge and humiliation.
I slowly moved my body, adapting to the changed stadium atmosphere while I'd been off for treatment.
As in all sports, no game ignores numerical superiority.
So with me out, Real Madrid down to 10 men had gradually ceded momentum to Girona, their line dropping back under Girona's onslaught.
"Hey! I'm back—push up the line now!"
As soon as I re-entered, I demanded Real Madrid raise the line, and they slowly advanced without breaking defensive balance, seizing the momentum.
Before long...
Real Madrid's defensive line had crept up near the halfway line, trapping Girona in their own half as they fended off attacks.
"Jesus! Take it!"
Luis Garcia passed to Luka Savic, whose pass landed perfectly at my feet.
I received it with a small gasp of admiration.
Damn, Luka's passes are getting better and better? I smiled contentedly at Luka Savic showing pass skills even sharper than in my past life.
"He can't make the World Cup anyway."
Teammates growing is great. Except the ones heading to the World Cup.
Anyway, I took Luka Savic's ball and approached Emmanuel Bernard, the French-born player who's always performed well in World Cups.
"Thy sin is that thy nationality is French!"
At the sudden archaic shout, Emmanuel Bernard flinched in confusion.
"What the hell? I don't speak Korean!"
"Galhak! How hast thou not learned Korean! Thou hast just insulted Korea!"
This time in Spanish, and Emmanuel Bernard's face twisted weirdly at my words.
"What? When did I ever insult Ko—"
The moment he grimaced and opened his mouth...
His focus slipped, legs spreading. I nut-megged through and broke past; he grabbed my uniform. I shook him off with all my strength.
"Persecution Punch!!!!"
Once more, I shot between the keeper's legs, shaking the net.
"Puta! Madre!"
The Girona keeper, conceding three in the first half, pounded the ground in shame.
I grinned ear-to-ear, dashed to the corner flag, and this time carefully attempted the headbutt.
"Zinedine Zidane!"
Match end.
Real Madrid 7 : 0 Girona.
Match end.
Real Madrid 5 : 0 Almeria.
At that moment, an anonymous La Liga ref who saw Jesus' smile in an online article hurled the book in his hand across the room.
Unable to contain his rage for a split second, the ref sighed, picked up the distant book, and opened it again.
The title read: Essential Reading for La Liga Referees.
He flipped back to where he'd left off and read slowly.
If something weird happens on the pitch, nine times out of ten it's Jesus' fault—blow the whistle and card him first. If he protests innocence, reverse the call as it was wrong. If he quietly takes the card, it was right, so uphold it.
+ Don't know which Puta Madre got caught by Jesus, but us La Liga refs will find him and punish him.
+ Found that Puta Madre. Today we delivered justice.
+ Currently under revision. Analyzing Jesus' acting.
+ We'll find the truth. Like always.
The man sighed deeply, closed the book, and entered the group chat to post.