An Unusual Rookie (3)
Once the league’s so-called vacation wrapped up, I rode to the clubhouse in Senior Yong-ho’s car, same as always.
Even after we’d gotten closer, catching a ride with a senior still wasn’t exactly the most comfortable thing in the world. Still, it beat the club shuttle, and it helped team chemistry, so I took the free lift without complaining.
I hopped out at the clubhouse, changed into training gear, and headed for the practice pitch—only to spot a couple of familiar faces already out there.
“Yeon-woo hyung? You’re out early. Training doesn’t start for a bit. Shaperi hyung’s here too—hola.”
“Hola, amigo. Long time. Your Spanish pronunciation’s gotten a lot better lately…”
“Yeah, Baek Yi-an’s Spanish really is something else these days. Vacation treat you well? While you were gone the rest of us seniors hauled ass all the way to Pohang and ran like dogs.”
“Come on, hyung, don’t be like that. It’s not like I took a ban just to skip running.”
“Not like that, my ass. You know how hard I freaked out watching that color-blind interview of yours? You almost got two matches!”
Yeon-woo hyung scowled for a second, but it was more light grumbling than real anger. He clapped my shoulder twice and changed the subject.
“Anyway, you come in with Yong-ho hyung’s car again today?”
“Yeah. His apartment’s near our school, so he said he’d pick me up on the way in. Gang-rok, Gyeong-rok and I rode with him. Seung-hwan usually does too, but he said he had somewhere to be and would be a little late, so he came separately.”
“Whoa, you actually ride in Senior Yong-ho’s car? I couldn’t even imagine that.”
Yeon-woo hyung shuddered at whatever mental image he’d just conjured, then asked carefully,
“Hey, Yi-an. Real talk—after his comeback match Senior Yong-ho completely changed, right? Especially how nice he is to you. How’d you pull that off? You got dirt on him or something?”
“What? Dirt? How would I even get something like that?”
What kind of nonsense was he spouting?
Honestly, I had no idea why Senior Yong-ho’s personality had mellowed out either. But one thing I was sure of: I hadn’t pulled any tricks to rewrite his character. I’d completely forgotten the guy even existed until Sang-yong hyung told me about his comeback match.
“You’re seriously saying no? Doesn’t feel like no. The way both Kang Sang-yong and Senior Yong-ho flipped overnight… something’s going on.”
“Dirt? Ah! I know this one. You got a sex tape on him, Yi-an? Careful—mess that up and you’ll end up like Benzema.”
“What the fuck. Why would I have a tape like that? I said I don’t.”
Listening to Shaperi and Yeon-woo hyung was making my head spin. Was this what people meant by losing your mind?
If I let them keep going, their wild imaginations were going to brand me a total psycho, so I shut it down fast.
“It’s really not that. He just saw me working hard and liked what he saw, I guess.”
“Ha. That so? Maybe people mellow out when retirement’s around the corner. Fine—then I just have to play well so I don’t catch any flak either.”
Yeon-woo hyung shook his head, stood, nudged the ball that had been trapped between his feet, and immediately struck a shot.
Thwack!
A clean, no-spin rocket. We were near the center circle, so the distance to goal was no joke, but Yeon-woo hyung’s ankle power was ridiculous—the ball screamed toward the net.
Clang!
“Argh! How does that hit the crossbar?”
“Yeon-woo, finishing problem… I think we lost to Pohang because of you… this is fatos.”
“What are you talking about? Hang on. I’ll grab the ball and bury a no-spin top-corner for you.”
Unfortunately the height was just a touch high; the ball caromed off the bar and spun away. Stubborn pride kicking in, Yeon-woo hyung started after it to prove himself to Shaperi—when the rebound rolled right onto someone else’s foot.
“Hmm… Senior Yeon-woo? Power was good, but the dip on the ball was a little disappointing. Accuracy feels a bit off… I’m going to have to fail you.”
“What? That’s Yoon Seung-hwan, right? Yi-an, did that bastard just fail me?”
“I… think so?”
Seung-hwan tapped the ball up, caught it, and strolled over. From a distance I hadn’t noticed, but up close something weird was stuck to his forehead.
“Yeon-woo hyung, is that a patch on Seung-hwan’s head?”
“Patch? Oh! Yeah, that’s the Player of the Month patch. But why the hell is that lunatic wearing the thing they give you for the jersey on his forehead?”
What was going on? Had the Pohang loss actually broken his brain?
Whether he knew what I was thinking or not, Seung-hwan approached with the pompous expression of a judge, gave a light bow, and stuck out his hand toward me.
“Ah! Who do we have here? Isn’t this Baek Yi-an, winner of Young Player of the Month? Meanwhile I simply claimed Player of the Month itself. Ahaha. Don’t be too disappointed, though. Even when your passes were absolute garbage I somehow stuck them in the net so you could still scrape a Young Player award. Keep working hard. Once I transfer overseas you might even have a shot at Player of the Month yourself. Ahaha!”
Is this guy actually insane?
“Well then, I’ll be heading off first. Train hard! Ha… at this rate am I going to be the first Korean to join Real Madrid? ¡Vamos!”
He just walked up, spouted that garbage, and left. The worst part was how completely unbothered he looked doing it.
What the hell? Did something actually snap in his head?
I was still staring at Seung-hwan’s receding back when my phone buzzed.
I’d left him alone because he was playing well lately, but clearly it was time to reassert some hierarchy.
Reining in Yoon Seung-hwan after his Player of the Month high was actually simple.
Just stop feeding him from behind so he can focus only on scoring.
As the soda-and-vicarious-satisfaction protagonist of the original novel, Seung-hwan had the talent of a complete striker without question. That didn’t mean he could do everything alone. A striker’s position lives and dies by the players supporting him from deep, and Manager Sun Ki-baek’s system was tailor-made for Seung-hwan to go completely silent if the service dried up.
That crazy author told me to somehow beat striker Yoon Seung-hwan, right? Sure, my real goals are the Ballon d’Or and a World Cup, so Player of the Month doesn’t even register… but I can’t just let him walk around like that.
This was a good chance to show him how hard the game gets without me. Not that I planned to tank the match on purpose. I just meant I’d use the other players instead of him.
Shaperi had already scored against Pohang, and Yeon-woo hyung—true to Jeonbuk’s winger factory reputation—was one of the best in the K League. Even without those two, we had plenty of options.
“Ugh, it’s properly summer now. Hey, Han Gyeong-rok, stop chugging my water. I haven’t even finished it yet.”
“I barely had any. Can’t a hyung even share with his little brother?”
“You only call me hyung when it’s convenient? Ugh, Chun-jae hyung, look at the little brother I’m stuck with. This is how I’ve lived since we were kids.”
“Why are you two fighting over water? More importantly, Yi-an, isn’t it hot standing there? At least rest in the shade. You’ll burn to a crisp in this sun.”
“I’m fine, I put on sunscreen. By the way, Chun-jae hyung, you’re training extra hard today.”
Chun-jae hyung thought for a second, sat down, and scratched his head.
“I thought I was doing the usual. That obvious? It’s because my future in-laws are coming to the Incheon away match. If I put in a good shift there, maybe they’ll look kindly on me when I go ask for their daughter’s hand.”
“So the family of your future wife is coming to watch?”
“Yeah. My girlfriend works in Jeonbuk but her family home’s in Incheon. Anyway, Yi-an, got any tips on escaping pressure? I’ve been practicing but nothing’s sticking and I’m worried.”
His eyes had a different fire than usual—clearly the Incheon match, with the girlfriend’s family in the stands, meant a lot. He was probably terrified that a bad game would kill the marriage proposal.
From my perspective it was hard to understand.
Chun-jae hyung and his future wife look ridiculously happy together. Her family even sends him gifts all the time.
As far as I remembered, Chun-jae hyung married his high-school sweetheart right after this season ended—pushed hard by her side of the family, no less. That was how I got to witness the rare Korean spectacle of a guy marrying in his very early twenties. Knowing the future where he married just fine made it tough to fully grasp his stress.
If I had to name something to worry about… maybe the pressure of covering for Andrés after the injury?
If he partnered with me as a box-to-box midfielder he wouldn’t need to obsess over beating the press. But stuck in a different role, one big mistake and he’d be toast—that was probably eating at him.
Hmm. Since things turned out this way, funneling the ball to Chun-jae hyung doesn’t sound half bad.
I’d been debating who to use to humble Seung-hwan, and giving Chun-jae hyung the spotlight felt like a solid choice.
He’s not a pure dribbler, but if he times his runs well he can create gaps. And his shooting’s actually pretty clean.
That settled the big picture for the Incheon match. All that remained was preparing for what came after the final whistle.
“But Chun-jae hyung, isn’t what you should really be worried about what happens after the game?”
“Huh? After the game? What do you mean?”
“Think about it. Playing well is great, but wouldn’t it be even cooler if after we beat Incheon you looked into the camera during the MOM interview and said ‘I love you’ to your future wife? Right, guys?”
“Facts. If I were Chun-jae hyung’s girlfriend I’d pass out from happiness for real.”
“Just pass out? She’d hyperventilate and collapse crying.”
“R-really? Then should I start prepping the interview now? It’s been ages since I got MOM… just thinking about it makes me nervous…”
I snorted at his reaction, walked over, and clapped his shoulder a couple of times.
“Come on, hyung. What are you worried about? I came over to give you the tips, didn’t I?”
“You, Yi-an? Not sure I trust that…”
“Hey, the color-blind and Junsan stuff was just a joke, okay? Listen first. The most important thing in an interview is not getting tense. Answer every question fast and clean, and even if it’s not true, say it with absolute confidence. Gang-rok, Gyeong-rok—throw me one tough question each. Pretend it’s a real interview.”
The twins exchanged a look, nodded, and fired.
“Anything goes? Okay then—Mr. Baek Yi-an, why did you kiss a dog?”
“A dog? You mean a puppy? My ideal type is a cocker spaniel. When I pet it, it licked me back.”
“Hyung, this guy’s crazier than he looks. Next—Mr. Baek Yi-an, every night near Honam First Gate Park people hear a woman crying. Was there domestic violence?”
“Violence… well, there are plenty of reasons I deserve to get hit. But if my girlfriend enjoyed it, is that really a problem?”
“These bastards are actually insane, aren’t they?”
Chun-jae hyung watched our full-effort interview practice with an expression of pure disbelief. Still, seeing the tension drain from his face, I figured the whole stunt hadn’t been completely pointless.