The Hero of the Derby
The roar of the crowd exploded through the stadium. “Tomás! Tomás! Tomás!”
The Espanyol fans answered Raúl de Tomás’s dramatic comeback goal with a thunderous ovation. Every corner of the ground echoed with his name. Tomás turned toward the stands, arms spread wide, drinking in the adulation.
Ha Sunmoon, who had sprinted down the line to deliver the pinpoint cross that set up the winner, had ended up running all the way past the touchline. He too was bathed in the fans’ cheers. The sound washed over his skin like a physical force.
Yes! It worked! Just focus on the ball and it works!
All match long, Sunmoon had followed Clive Harrison’s instructions to the letter. He had played with grit and courage, never once complaining. Even after that ridiculous tackle at the end, he had stayed locked onto the ball and helped turn the game around. The rush of it made his blood boil with pure joy.
You did really well, Sunmoon. I can’t call you a kid anymore.
When he looked up, Clive was standing there. The old coach was staring at him with more pride than Sunmoon had ever seen. Truthfully, the opponent’s tackle had been reckless; even if Sunmoon had gone down, it would have been understandable. But he had powered through it and delivered a perfect cross. It was exactly the kind of tough, masculine football Clive had always wanted from him.
Wait… Sunmoon, is your leg okay?
Clive’s expression suddenly turned grave as he noticed Sunmoon’s leg.
“My leg?”
Sunmoon glanced down. Below his calf, clear stud marks were visible, and a spreading patch of red was soaking through his sock.
“Huh?”
Damn it! You might not feel it right now because of the adrenaline, but this doesn’t look good.
“What should I do?” Sunmoon asked.
Walk around a bit. If it feels okay, try jogging. But if you feel sharp pain while walking or running, signal the bench immediately for a substitution.
“Ah… the atmosphere is so good right now…”
Leaving the roar of the crowd behind, Sunmoon began testing his body.
Atmosphere or not, an injury is an injury. You have to come off.
“I thought English football didn’t care about things like injuries?”
This is different. Leg injuries are no joke. Your career isn’t going to last just a day or two. And this match isn’t some do-or-die game for the team.
“They said if we lose today we might not get promoted?”
Then just move to another club.
“Ow…”
While checking his movement, Sunmoon felt a stab of pain in his right leg where the tackle had landed.
Does it hurt?
Sunmoon nodded.
Sigh… then there’s no choice. Signal for the substitution. Lie down on the pitch.
Sunmoon was still inside Barcelona’s half, but he sat down right where he was. Just as he was about to signal the bench, Barcelona’s right-back Roberto approached him.
“Hey! What the hell are you doing?”
Roberto was furious after his mistake had led directly to the winning goal.
“Aren’t you getting up? Get back to your own half!”
Oooooooooh—
The moment Roberto angrily closed in on Sunmoon, the crowd erupted in boos.
Peeeeeeeeeeep!
Referee Lahoz came sprinting over.
“What do you two think you’re doing?”
“This guy’s faking an injury!”
“Roberto! Shut your mouth and get back to your position.”
“But… ugh…”
Though clearly unhappy, Roberto retreated.
“Right. Get up. You just scored the winner. No time-wasting.”
“I’m not time-wasting. I was about to signal the bench for a substitution.”
“A substitution? That’s still delaying the game. Get up now. Or walk off the pitch yourself.”
“I’m not pretending to be hurt…”
Pressed by Lahoz, Sunmoon stood up and showed the referee the injured area.
“Ah… I see.”
Lahoz’s eyebrows twitched.
“When I got tackled earlier, the studs caught me from behind and it really hurts. Right after the cross I felt okay, so I was heading back onto the pitch, but the pain got much worse while I was walking, so I sat down to request a substitution.”
Lahoz could see the white sock steadily turning red with blood.
Hmm… He’s not even asking for Roberto to be sent off. Is it because he’s young and doesn’t know how to protest properly?
Lahoz, who had heard countless protests in his career and had handed out yellow cards like candy in response, found Sunmoon’s calm, minimal request strangely refreshing.
“I’ve confirmed your condition isn’t good. Sit back down.”
Good, good. At least he’s someone you can actually talk to.
“Yes, sir.”
Sunmoon sat down again. The moment he did, a collective sigh rose from the Barcelona away fans.
Peeep!
Lahoz first signaled for the Espanyol bench to send on the medical staff to protect the player, then indicated a substitution. Espanyol immediately prepared to bring on Pedroza, and the medical team came running toward Sunmoon.
“Hmm… That’s a nasty bruise. If it had gone any deeper it could have been a serious injury.”
“Is it bad?”
“It’s not the kind of long-term damage that ends careers, so it’s not the worst case. Still, the pain must be pretty bad. We’ll do emergency treatment here and finish the rest inside the locker room. Can you walk?”
“Yes. It hurts with every step, but I can walk.”
“That’s the silver lining, at least.”
The medical team helped Sunmoon to his feet.
“And that mark… will require further action,” Lahoz said, examining the leg.
The stud marks were clearly visible. Having seen them with his own eyes, some form of punishment was necessary. Lahoz walked straight over to Roberto and showed him a yellow card.
What? Just a yellow? A challenge like that from behind should be a straight red. Typical…
The moment Clive was about to swear, the entire Barcelona team swarmed the referee.
“No way!”
“The goal already went in!”
“You already gave him a yellow earlier, giving another one is—”
Huh? What’s this? He’s pulling out another card? Did the guy have a second one?
Lahoz put the yellow card away and immediately produced a red card.
Waaaaaaaaaaaaah!
With less than ten minutes left until the final whistle, Barcelona were now down to ten men.
— What a beautiful goal from Tomás! Even with added time, only about ten minutes remain! Espanyol has driven a dagger into the heart of their regional derby rivals, Barcelona!
The La Liga commentator sounded genuinely astonished by Espanyol’s performance.
Right before the goal, Barcelona’s players had been protesting furiously at Lahoz. The referee had put the whistle to his mouth after seeing Roberto’s tackle, then lowered it again. Barcelona were furious that he had gone through the motion of blowing the whistle but never actually did.
When emotions run high, reason tends to disappear. It was a misguided protest, but with the game slipping away, the Barcelona players had lost their composure.
Since the whistle had never sounded, they should have kept playing. But a momentary lapse in judgment caused them to stop, and they completely lost track of Tomás. The subsequent over-the-top protest was something Lahoz could not tolerate.
Both Roberto and Piqué, who had been complaining, received yellow cards in an instant.
— Ah! Barcelona are in a bad spot, and now two more yellow cards! Both went to defenders, which is especially painful.
This scene had happened while Tomás and Sunmoon were celebrating, so neither Clive nor Sunmoon had seen it.
— The Espanyol players who were celebrating are slowly returning to their own half! Wait, Sunmoon is suddenly sitting down. Roberto looks furious, claiming it’s time-wasting.
The broadcast showed a close-up of Sunmoon’s leg.
— Oh! Sunmoon’s calf doesn’t look good at all. There’s definitely an injury. Let’s take another look at the moment he was tackled.
— Ah… that’s a studs-up challenge. You could easily argue it was intentional. A straight red wouldn’t have been surprising. But since the referee allowed play to continue, it’s unclear how this will be handled.
Even the commentator couldn’t predict what would happen next. Instead of issuing a direct red, Lahoz had given another yellow and then sent Roberto off with a red card.
— Ah! Another yellow card! Roberto receives a red and is sent off! Barcelona must now score with ten men if they want to take even a single point against Espanyol!
Roberto clutched his hair in despair as he headed down the tunnel.
Time continued to tick away. Soon, only four minutes of added time remained.
— Even with Sunmoon’s injury, most of the game continued without long stoppages, which is why only four minutes have been added.
“Are you okay?”
Are you okay?
“Mmm… it’s still throbbing.”
Hssssss—
Sunmoon was receiving treatment in the locker room. His eyes, however, were glued to the monitor showing the match. Barcelona were now down to ten men. After playing so well all game, the thought of losing to Barcelona was unbearable.
The medical staff noticed he wasn’t really answering and couldn’t take his eyes off the game, but they understood. After all, he had been the best player on the pitch today.
Hssssssss—
Peeep! Peeep! Peeeeeeeeeep!
— Espanyol! At home! They’ve beaten Barcelona! This gives Real Madrid a chance to catch up in the standings!
When the final whistle blew, Sunmoon let out a long sigh of relief.
“Sunmoon?”
“Ah, yes. Sorry.”
“It’s fine, it’s fine. We’ve finished the basic treatment, so you should be able to walk. But… let’s go to the hospital afterward and get that leg scanned. Just to be safe.”
“Ah… yes, I understand.”
“Good. Now, you should head out.”
“Out?”
Sunmoon looked at the medical staff with a blank, confused expression, not understanding why he needed to go out. The staff member quietly pointed at the screen.
On the broadcast, it clearly said that today’s MVP was Ha Sunmoon.
“You have to go out for the interview. You’re the hero of the match, after all.”