How Underdogs Win
As a footballer you end up talking to a lot of managers over the years.
One conversation, though faint, had left an especially sharp impression.
“Yun-ho? Aren’t you curious how I managed to beat Juventus?”
“This old man is about to retire and he’s already losing it. He said he’d buy me dinner as a send-off from Italy and I actually looked forward to it—turns out he just wanted to teabag me?”
“Come now. Nothing of the sort. I simply wanted to offer a little advice. In more than five years at Fiorentina in Serie A I’ve never seen a player as gifted as you. Think of it as a word of encouragement for the Premier League—don’t take it the wrong way.”
“Fine, let’s hear it. What advice? That EPL is physical so I should be careful?”
“Careful? The ones who need to be careful are the teams that have to face Newcastle. What I want to tell you is how a weak side beats a strong one.”
How a weak side takes points off a powerhouse.
Honestly, isn’t the method ridiculously simple? Just play well. That’s it.
At the time I wondered if he’d really come all the way from Florence to Milan just to say something that obvious.
What came out of the old man’s mouth, however, was nothing like what I’d imagined.
“What do you think is the way a weak team beats a strong one?”
“Uh… park the double-decker bus and then long-ball counter, one-click football?”
“Wrong, my boy. There’s only one way. You bring a system they’ve never seen before.”
“A new system? Sure, if you show up looking nothing like the footage they’ve analyzed, your chances go up. But isn’t that just common sense?”
“Exactly. Common sense. But to run that plan properly you need one prerequisite: you have to seize the early momentum.”
A look the opponent never expected—say, an unusual pressing structure or a newly added detail of tactics—will rattle even a powerhouse.
They may not have been complacent, but when something completely off-script suddenly appears they still flounder in the opening minutes. Strike then, open a lead early, and lock the door. That is how a weak side takes points from a giant and stays safely in the league.
Incheon were doing exactly that.
A side that normally built through the middle was, against expectation, barely using their mediocentro and instead launching long-kick build-up, trying to exploit Jeonbuk’s high full-backs with their wingers.
They even produced a few genuinely dangerous moments.
I simply didn’t care that Incheon had taken the early initiative. Because they still hadn’t put the ball in our net.
Trying to attack is fine. But if you can’t finish, what does it matter?
Other people might watch the performance and say the process was good, that they showed something new, and feel satisfied.
I thought those opinions were completely wrong.
What the hell does process matter in football?
Sure, from a fan’s point of view you might moan that Mourinho-style bus-parking is filthy boring, the way United fans once did.
But when you look back, all that remains are trophies and league position.
“When you get to England you’ll meet sides that bring even more twisted tactics than anything in Serie A. Remember just one thing: losing the early momentum doesn’t matter at all. What matters is not conceding and stubbornly shutting the door. Keep them out long enough and the players themselves start doubting the new roles and system because they lack tactical familiarity.”
“And if we score then and reverse the scoreline, they completely collapse?”
“You understand perfectly. Remember my words. With your ability you can stop whatever they throw at you, but one day when your body fades and you have to rely more on the chess match than pure athleticism, this advice will help.”
Perhaps because of that mindset, as far as I was concerned Incheon’s strategy today was a clear failure.
And the proper response to a half-baked failure was to punish them with a thrashing.
“Sang-yong, my ball! Keep an eye on the ones trying to get in behind!”
“Got it! Two of them are charging right now—watch it!”
“Don’t worry about me! I’m fine!”
Another ball arcing toward the space behind. It wasn’t lofted high enough for an aerial duel.
Too low to challenge while running, yet too high to take cleanly on the chest.
They probably knew that against my ridiculous 191 cm frame they had zero chance of winning a proper aerial contest, so they were aiming for something else.
Incheon’s plan was to force me into a screen, then swarm me with numbers and steal the ball.
Yeah, this gets awkward. If I set a proper screen I’m just doing exactly what they want. So how about this instead?
Thud!
“Ghk!”
I used the Incheon player who had sprinted all the way onto my back as a reclining chair and slowly shifted my weight backward, driving him away.
Lee Dong-jun tried to hold his ground, but the sheer difference in frame pushed him farther and farther until a pocket of space opened. The low ball bounced once off the turf and struck my body.
Moon Ye-jun and Lee Dong-jun both lunged in at once. I absorbed their physical challenge just enough, already preparing the turn.
“Dong-jun! Block the back! Stretch and clear it if you have to!”
“If I stretch it’s their throw-in! Why the hell won’t this guy move?!”
Tap!
I cushioned the ball lightly, spun, slipped just outside the two-man press, rolled it from right foot to left, and exploded forward.
La Croqueta—the so-called phantom dribble—executed in that tight space by a defensive midfielder. Incheon’s players never saw it coming and simply lost me.
“Baek Yi-an! Right in front of you!”
“Han Gang-rok, you coming or what? Take this!”
Tap!
I rolled the ball into space. Han Gang-rok collected it and surged straight up the pitch.
A winger and two midfielders, numerical superiority and all, had gotten themselves tangled in our half. Naturally that left holes in Incheon’s midfield.
With their press suddenly understaffed, the player who could hurt them most was none other than Chun-jae hyung.
“Chun-jae hyung!”
“Yeah, give it now! Play and go—if the angle opens I’ll feed it straight away.”
Chun-jae hyung, already darting and weaving around the half-space, saw his angle and immediately cut inside.
“Chun-jae hyung! Send it this way!”
“Seung-hwan! A little wider!”
“Got it! Now, hyung!”
Boom!
The ball rocketed into the gap created by Yoon Seung-hwan’s movement.
It was a long pass; the defence could have cut it out if they had reacted, but Incheon’s back line was entirely fixated on Yoon Seung-hwan and his absurd scoring run. The clustered bodies completely blocked their keeper’s view.
“Ah!”
By the time he dived it was already too late. The outcome was decided.
Swish!
Olé~ Olé~ Olé~ Olé~
Olé~ Olé~ Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey!
Jeonbuk’s goal. Chun-jae hyung went wild with joy for a second, then immediately collected himself and launched into a full celebration aimed at the W seats where his girlfriend and future mother-in-law were sitting.
“What the hell? Now you’re just using me as a defender magnet? Is that it? PUTA! Why do you keep doing this to me?!”
After already being reduced to a trajectory-altering object, Yoon Seung-hwan had now become the boy who simply dragged half the defence around with him. He could only spit curses through watery eyes.
“And that lunatic is still dropping Spanish in a situation like this.”
There was no helping a complete madman. Where on earth had he picked up that kind of vocabulary? Still, after being used this thoroughly, he ought to have learned something by now.
Whatever. He’ll figure it out on his own.
For a moment I almost felt soft-hearted enough to start feeding him the ball again. But since things had already gone this far, I decided to keep the discipline strict.
Time for me to go do my own job.
“Great work, Yi-an!”
“Yi-an! Tell the front office to give you a permanent contract right now! Don’t go anywhere else—become a Jeonbuk legend!”
“Olé! Olé! Olé! Olé!”
As I walked toward the supporters, their chants mixed with voices calling my name.
I waved and gave them the usual fan service while my eyes scanned the stands for A-yoon.
“Yi-an! Over here!”
“Ah. There you are.”
Near the corner flag I spotted A-yoon waving a green muffler for all she was worth.
Even through the dense crowd her face stood out; the corner of my mouth lifted of its own accord and my feet carried me toward her.
I couldn’t speak to her, so I simply formed a heart with both hands. The moment I did, A-yoon and every Jeonbuk supporter who’d seen the gesture completely lost their minds.