Chapter 5
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Silver Dragon
Chapter: 5
Chapter Title: Plague Farm
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Jesus Joo Officially Joins La Liga's Barcelona CF... 1-Year, 6-Month Contract
South Korea national team striker Jesus Joo, who made his name with a hat-trick against Brazil, has transferred to Spanish powerhouse Barcelona CF.
Barcelona announced on the 26th (KST) via their official channels, "We have signed Jesus Joo on a free transfer."
The contract is for 1 year and 6 months, with a buyout clause of 31 million euros—approximately 44 billion won.
In addition to Barcelona, Newcastle and Real Madrid were also in the running, but Joo ultimately chose Barcelona.
According to Barcelona CF board members,
"We have been watching player Jesus Joo for a long time and believe he has the quality to play for Barcelona, so we brought him in," they added.
Whoa, a Korean player signing a pro contract with Barcelona?
Didn't the old Barcelona trio never even get pro contracts?
Oh yeah.
I wonder if he'll even get playing time. Don't they have famous strikers?
They're injured right now. Even backups are out, and their prized La Masia is totally wiped out—no promising strikers. Plus, no money, so they can't sign any. If he does well, he might get steady chances.
How did our Barcelona end up like this...
Yeah, that's the president your Spanish fans voted for. Grit your teeth and bear it^^
Fuck, how long ago did we sell Messi because we're broke? Bankruptcy this, financial crisis that...
LOL, Messi from what era? Grandpa, give me some pocket money.
$*@#*!(
Ooh, Grandpa's still spry.
Seems like there's a lot of talk in Spain about my signing.
But did they really have to specify "Asian" up front?
It's kind of ridiculous when you think about it.
These guys who can't even score as many goals as me have a lot to say.
What era is this "Barça,"
what era is this "tiki-taka,"
what era is this "Spain"?
They fumble around the entrance after all the foreplay but can't find the hole. And these are the ones talking smack.
Such thoughts suddenly brought to mind the phrase "spitting in your own face."
"...Fuck, that's not something a Korean should say."
Passes don't connect, defense is nonexistent, and offense falls apart without me.
How the hell did I drag this team to the round of 16?
Doesn't that make me the GOAT for getting this squad there?
To be honest, I think I've surpassed both Ronaldo and Messi.
Wait, correction. It's not that I have better soccer sense or passing than Messi or anything.
I just said I'm the GOAT because even Messi probably couldn't have made the round of 16 on the South Korea national team.
"Ronaldo's a chump."
He's just a goal-scorer, and if he can't outscore me,
then I've won.
End of story.
Anyway, that's not the point right now.
I was planning for the future.
What should I say after the transfer?
My heart told me to go there? Nah, too weak.
Barcelona's a big club, right?
That doesn't feel right either.
I needed something fresh, a line that would drive a spike into Barcelona fans' hearts.
Wearing an awkward smile,
I posed for photos with the club president, Laporta—a guy with a weird name—
holding up a jersey with my name and number on it.
Every time I see this bastard Laporta, it reminds me of my second round, where I groveled like a dog, got injured, and was discarded.
The racist remarks from Barcelona fans back then still stick with me.
[Get out of our country! Eastern monkey! Go suck on your monkey mom's tits some more!]
How dare they touch my precious family.
Unforgivable!
This justifies flipping Barcelona the bird.
With that self-justification, I signed the contract.
I changed into the Barcelona kit for the press conference that followed soon after.
Time passed, and it was 5 PM.
I moved to the venue, took my seat at the press conference, and a sleek Latin reporter asked a question.
"I understand Real Madrid also made an offer besides Barcelona. Is there a special reason you chose Barcelona?"
Slipping in "Real Madrid" like that.
Impressive. Real classy.
I responded to the female reporter's question in fluent Catalan.
"My heart told me to go to Barcelona."
"Oh, your Catalan is fluent."
"Yes. I worked hard to learn it."
The reporters seemed impressed by my fluent Catalan, their faces lighting up.
"Do you know your strengths and weaknesses?"
"My strength is scoring goals, and I don't really know any weaknesses."
"Do you have a role model?"
"My role model is always myself. I'm not the type to learn by watching others."
After that, we went through a bunch of trivial press conference questions.
I got into the car driven by Hyung Doo-sik
and returned to the accommodation Barcelona provided.
Since I'm only staying for about a year anyway,
I didn't buy a house.
Just renting something decent is fine.
Around that time,
Korean fans watching the signing ceremony video on Barcelona CF's official account were buzzing with excitement.
"This winter transfer window, we will pay Jesus Joo's buyout and bring him here."
Insane! Crazy!
If Real's president is paying attention, he must be a real prospect.
Real's president is a businessman; probably just chasing Korean hype coins.
If he's chasing hype, it'd be Japan or China, not Korea!
And he's the guy who said his heart led him to Barcelona. No way he's chasing Korean coins.
Maybe sign him and bench him in the reserves?
For real, that seems more likely than the hype coin thing.
But if he goes, it's Figo all over again?
Yeah, Figo with the pig head. Maybe the sow head flies off this time? LOL
"We haven't given up on Jesus Joo yet."
Showing off that oil money!
Becoming a Newcastle legend like Agüero wouldn't be bad.
Yeah, building the club into a powerhouse? That's the vibe.
Ooh, Lord Jesus's St. James' Park.
Boring AF.
"We are interested in the rising Jesus Joo."
Stay at Barça over going to Tottenham.
For real. Big Six days are gone; they're mid-table now.
Go to Newcastle over Tottenham.
Agreed;; Tottenham's a no.
Hyung Doo-sik returned home after meeting Real Madrid's president Nuñez, wiping sweat from his forehead.
"Phew. Just like you said, I had some prior talks with Real's president. He loved what you told him and was cackling about it."
"He would. His hobby is hijacking players Barcelona wants.
His favorite player at Real Madrid is probably Figo, who stabbed Barça in the back and joined Real."
Hyung Doo-sik shook his head at my nonchalant words, looking puzzled.
"Sigh. I don't get it. You used to cheer for Barcelona with me as a kid. Why do you hate them so much now?"
I had nothing to say to that.
Possessed by the game? Or regressed with the game system?
Anyway, I went back to before my first national team call-up with the game system.
I prevented the career-ending injury from that bastard Martínez's studs-up tackle in the Brazil match.
I graduated high school and went pro overseas right away.
Time passed, and when Barcelona's starting striker got injured and left,
I finally joined the Barcelona I'd dreamed of as a kid watching TV, thinking I'd play there someday.
Everything was great up to that point.
The food was delicious, and my performance improved.
Then it happened. I got injured.
The team doctor said not to push it, but at the manager's plea that the team was in a tough spot, I took painkillers and played.
Ignoring the team doctor's advice and playing on painkillers made my injury worse.
By the time I recovered and returned, my form had noticeably dropped.
The fans, looking for a scapegoat after failing to reach the Champions League round of 16, targeted me—the only Asian.
As I struggled with the racist abuse and hatred from fans,
the club pointed fingers at me as the scapegoat too, shoving me into hell.
He was negligent in training and caused conflicts with teammates.
They say time heals wounds,
but strangely, those memories from back then feel as vivid as yesterday—no,
actually, they've faded now,
but I dragged them out from the depths to justify myself.
'It wasn't nothing; it all really happened.'
That's right!
I'll avenge my grudge from 200 years ago!
Barcelona!
It's all karma!
Ahead of the final preseason match, at Barcelona's first-team training ground, Camp Tito Vilanova,
I officially greeted the Barcelona players.
"Call me Jesus casually."
"Sí."
And third captain Luis García helped me settle in.
'Always a plague farm.'
Any club, when you first transfer in,
the captain helps you adjust.
If the captain's absent or has a reason, the vice-captain steps in.
But at Barcelona right now, despite no special reasons from the captain or vice,
for an Asian transfer, the third captain was helping.
The current captain (white) and vice-captain (black)
are both racists.
Later, when that fact hit the media,
people started mocking Barcelona's La Masia as a plague farm,
and only then did the board try to do damage control.
Speaking of which, Luis García.
This guy's got a really good vibe.
"Jesus, if you have any questions about club life, ask me."
"Sí."
Amazed at Barcelona's rootlessness for not appointing this golden-character third captain—who's from La Masia—as captain just because he's not "pure,"
as we chatted,
thwack—
a ball flew toward me.
"Hey, Corona! Kick the ball over!"
The vice-captain's words made the third captain's face—who was talking to me—stiffen.
Sigh. A vice-captain like that.
Typical of a club that's lost its roots.