Birth of a New Vomit
Birth of a New Vomit
Click.
The world stopped.
The fishy smell of the grass, the ear-splitting jeers of the Roma away fans—everything vanished as if in a vacuum.
Only the sound of my ragged breathing hummed in my ears.
Now, let's think about the situation in front of me.
Defender Ortega has already shifted his center of gravity slightly to the left.
If I knock it to the right here, he's just a scarecrow.
The problem is the goalkeeper, Patricio.
He's slightly angled his body to erase my shooting trajectory in advance.
If I aim for the corner like I usually do, it's 100% getting caught.
Option 1: The textbook far post corner. Success rate is low, and if he catches it, it's a counterattack. Pass.
Option 2: Chip shot. Against a 190cm goalkeeper? That's suicide. Pass.
Option 3: Through the legs (nutmeg).
The highest probability is definitely Option 3.
Patricio's legs are slightly apart right now.
If I calculate the time it takes for the ball to leave my foot and pass through that gap, versus that guy's reaction speed...
There was a variable.
The grass is too wet.
If my plant foot slips even a little, the shooting point changes.
My head hurts.
Stretching 0.1 seconds into infinity, I stared intently at the goal and thought.
Wait, but is this right?
I don't know.
The longer I thought, the thinner my conviction became.
What if my ankle twists at the moment of the shot because the grass is wet?
No, is the far post better after all?
In the momentary pause, I kept thinking.
No matter how much I thought, the best decision wouldn't come.
Time is flowing.
At this point, there's definitely going to be a backlash...
In the end, I hurriedly chose Option 3 and was sucked back into reality.
"Click."
The stopped time poured back in.
But the calculation was wrong.
Amidst a slight dizziness, my unprepared toe struck the ball.
The trajectory I had drawn in my head was nowhere to be found.
My legs, pickled in too many thoughts, swung at a clumsy angle, and the ball reflected it honestly.
Thwack.
Instead of a crisp popping sound, a dull thud like kicking a wet cardboard box.
The ball, which should have been placed on my instep, just caught the tip of my toe.
'Ah, fuck. I'm screwed.'
It was a perfect mis-hit.
However.
Tap.
The clumsily hit ball rolled in a completely different direction than the trajectory I had imagined.
Patricio, who had already leaned his body to the right anticipating a far-post shot, froze in mid-air.
It was a perfect wrong-footing.
Patricio flailed his hands in the air in panic, but his balance was already gone.
The deformed shot barely grazed the fingertips of the foolishly fallen Patricio and crawled into the goal.
It was a goal.
A moment of silence.
"Waaaaah!!"
"Kim! Kim! Kim! Kim! Kim!"
And then, the cheers of the Villarreal away fans erupted belatedly.
...This actually went in?
I spread my arms and looked at the stands.
Actually, I didn't have the energy to respond to the cheers.
The backlash of the ability came rushing in late.
My stomach churned and my temples throbbed.
I tried hard to lift my chin and maintain an indifferent expression.
What the hell was that Han-su goal? (GIF)
Look at him stealing the tempo by pretending to slip on his plant foot lol
ㄴ Where did all the haters go? He actually buried this in an away game at Roma, damn.
ㄴ Honestly, I see 50% luck. But luck is a skill too lol
ㄴ Look at Ilmaz's expression lol. He's like 'This actually went in?'
ㄴ For real, Ilmaz is grinning because he got an assist.
ㄴ Han-su special) Usually stats-pads, but occasionally scores goals like this to get people's hopes up.
ㄴ Upvote if you hope the Keichi-worshipping Japan-boos all died today lololol
ㄴ Look at these guys changing their tune after trashing him just a few minutes ago lol
Wait, fuck lol. Look at the shot trajectory.
Can't you see him tapping it right at the timing of his plant foot slipping?
Patricio probably never saw an off-beat shot like this in his life, his brain must have frozen lololol
Anyone calling this luck after seeing this, just stop watching football.
ㄴ No, fuck lol. Even the haters have to admit this. Where else is there a 21-year-old who shoots with that kind of guts in a Roma away game?
ㄴ Honestly, isn't it obvious he slipped? Deifying him for a lucky goal is insane.
ㄴ Yeah, if you score, that's it~ Haters cut!
ㄴ Wow, look at Ilmaz's heartwarming expression. Seems happy he got an assist credited.
Roma was smart.
It seems one accident was enough of a lesson for them.
"Hey! Stick to him!"
Roma's center-back Ortega no longer gave me any space.
He rammed into me before the ball even arrived, and his hand pulling at my jersey was blatant.
Suffocating pressure.
The flow of the attack was blocked.
'Fuck, let me breathe.'
Every time Ilmaz caught the ball in midfield and looked up, two or three layers of red walls were erected in front of me.
If I tore to the left, a defender stuck to me, and if I cut to the right, the wing-back came down.
The clock on the scoreboard flowed indifferently.
Even if I wanted to use 'Click', the situation didn't arise.
Even if I drew up a blueprint in the stopped world, there wasn't even space for me in reality to extend my foot.
The game entered a lull.
Our team's full-backs looked at me, isolated, and passed the ball around with troubled expressions.
Roma wasn't impatient, and our team couldn't find a way out.
Ilmaz eventually chose a back-pass.
That was when it happened.
Thump-!
The ball cleared by our full-back headed toward Ilmaz near the half-line.
The 0.5-second moment I made eye contact with him.
I instinctively threw my body explosively toward the space behind Ortega, that narrow half-space.
At the same time, Ilmaz poked the ball through non-stop.
Ortega reached out his hand as if to snatch the back of my jersey.
At the same time, the ball left Ilmaz's toe, cleared the defensive line, and was sucked in front of my feet.
Now is the time.
"Click."
I muttered reflexively.
The world froze again.
This time, I didn't calculate.
The friction of the grass, the goalkeeper's movement, the quality of the ball...
The longer I think, the worse the backlash gets, and my head just hurts.
Just the gap between Ortega's stopped legs, and the narrow gap at the near post that goalkeeper Patricio hadn't yet closed.
I looked only at that one path and threw my body.
I carefully scanned the stopped world.
Ortega was already frozen with a panicked expression, having lost me, and goalkeeper Patricio was slightly twisting his body, conscious of the near post.
There was only one path.
Between Ortega's legs, and the bottom left of the goal that Patricio hadn't yet closed.
'Let's just kick it. Trusting my instincts.'
I stood in front of the stopped ball and took the most perfect plant foot position.
I held my breath and focused all my nerves on my instep bone.
And once again, I parted my lips.
"Click."
Time started flowing again just before the ball touched my instep.
Thwack-!
It was a sound of impact on a different level from before.
The ball, placed exactly on my instep bone, skimmed low along the ground.
Ortega tried to stretch his leg, but the ball had already passed between his crotch.
Patricio couldn't even react.
He just turned his head and stared blankly at the white trajectory passing by his side.
Swish-!
The net shook as if it would tear.
Multi-goal.
The shouts of the Roma away fans receded like an ebb tide.
'Wow, I'm actually going to die.'
It felt like fireworks were going off in my head.
Originally, I was going to do a cool knee slide or something.
But my legs gave out.
In the end, I grabbed the corner flag and collapsed onto the ground.
"...Ugh."
Nausea rose up.
I gasped for air with my nose buried in the grass.
My image was being broadcast on the scoreboard in a big way.
The Roma fans seemed even more pissed off at that unintended celebration and raised their middle fingers, but I didn't care.
Once the first half is over, I have to go to the bathroom first.
Title: Villarreal victory train departinggggggg (GIF)
Did you see the trajectory of the second goal just now?
It went through Ortega's legs, and Patricio got wrong-footed and turned into a mannequin lol
Isn't Han-su just acting like he's chicken-hearted all this time?
ㄴ Look at Ilmaz's mouth stretching wide lol. He got two free assists and is worshipping Han-su lol
ㄴ Seriously, the Roma defense's dazed expressions are the kill point lol
ㄴ I'm getting filled with national pride... Kya lololol
Today's 'New-gen Guto' birth lol.gif
Look at him scoring a goal, burying his head in the grass, and dry heaving lololol
Isn't this a total shout-out to 'The One'?
Han-su, this guy, scoring a multi-goal in a Roma away game and vomiting,
"I am now in that rank too," he's declaring lol
ㄴ Daring to touch 'The One' with 8 Ballons d'Or lol. But seeing him score, he really is slightly possessed.
ㄴ Guto celebration lololol. Is he a madman, seriously.
ㄴ He usually stats-pads, but look at him suddenly possessed by Guto and destroying Roma lol
ㄴ Hmm. But 'The One' against Roma....
ㄴ Guto battle decision win, damn.
As soon as the first-half whistle blew, I ran to the tunnel.
I needed a clean toilet.
"Kim! Wait, Kim!"
Manager Marcelino, who was waiting at the tunnel entrance, blocked me.
His face was flushed red with excitement.
"That second goal just now! You deliberately paused half a beat when Ortega stuck to you, right? Did you calculate the near post being open in advance? This is really at the level where I need to redraw the tactics board...."
The manager grabbed my shoulder and started to hold forth passionately.
But what I heard in my ears wasn't his tactical lecture.
"Kim? Are you listening to me? In the second half, Richi will press more. If you drift a bit more to the flank then, Ilmaz will...."
The manager's lips moved busily.
I couldn't hear a single thing he was saying.
I roughly pushed his shoulder and sprinted toward the bathroom.
The manager's moved voice came from behind.
"Yes! That's it! That's the spirit! As expected of the youth player I chose. His competitive spirit is extraordinary."