Rematch
Rematch
La Cerámica.
Villarreal's home stadium was filled with a sea of yellow.
The 2-2 draw in the first leg away at Roma had given Villarreal the upper hand, but the pressure that came back with it was brutal.
For the past week, the Italian and Spanish media had been plastered with only two names.
Stefano Ricci and Kim Han-su.
Italy's largest sports newspaper, <Rosa Sport>, spat venom at Ricci.
The headline, 'The master of the Colosseum has handed the keys over to a stroller from the East,' was enough to tear Ricci's pride to shreds.
Ricci had been substituted out without recording a single shot on target throughout the last match, and that humiliation led to fierce criticism from Roma fans.
On the other hand, the local Spanish media was hell-bent on analyzing Kim Han-su's 'invisible influence'.
It wasn't just about the goals; special feature articles poured out about how his movements, which didn't show up in the data, neutralized Roma's solid defensive line.
Thanks to this, the second leg was elevated beyond a simple ticket to the Europa League quarterfinals; it had become a 'battle of pride' between two prospects aiming for the next peak of European football.
And perhaps because he was a bit triggered, Stefano Ricci threw out a provocative comment to the press.
"His football is nothing more than a lucky fluke. Tonight will be a festival for Roma."
Hmm....
I frowned while reading the community forum.
Reason why God is fair today....jpg
(Image: Comparison of Stefano Ricci taking a photoshoot vs. Kim Han-su)
The reason why it's a f*cking fact that God is truly fair.
That bastard Ricci can't play football, but his face is like a Renaissance sculpture.
Our Han-su, let's work harder at football ㅠㅠ
ㄴWhy do you look so pathetic next to Ricci lol
ㄴRicci is an Italian prince and Han-su is just Villarreal's number 9...
ㄴHan-su, don't listen to women. You are perfect as you are. Don't conform yourself to the appearance society demands.
ㄴYou're the worst bastard lol
ㄴFact) Still, Han-su's girlfriend is f*cking pretty
Honestly, do I lose out?
I'm on the handsome side, you know.
Anyway.
Today is a very important match.
The air in the locker room was cold and heavy.
The players' tense energy flowed through the air.
While listening to the manager's tactical explanation, I started to review my strategy in my head.
Today's strategy is simple.
Don't stop everything at once.
A few seconds. Just squeeze into that fleeting gap between frames.
Football that reduces brain overload while completely destroying the opponent's reaction speed.
It was the only survival method my body could handle.
I stepped into the tunnel.
I saw the profile of Stefano Ricci standing in the line next to me.
He glanced at me, then immediately turned his head and ran his hand through his hair.
I warmed up and stepped onto the pitch.
The sea of yellow filling La Cerámica rippled.
The roar of the crowd began to pierce my eardrums.
I rolled my tongue inside my mouth.
Don't use it for long.
Very briefly, and sharply.
Click. The loading is finished.
Now it's time to silence the prince of Rome.
I thought, but it wasn't easy.
Roma had made up their mind to sit back.
An extreme central-density tactic based on a 3-5-2 formation.
Paredes and Cristante, the core of the midfield, dropped down right in front of the defensive line and erased all space.
Our team's wingbacks opened up the flanks and sent in crosses, but in the center, Roma's three center-backs had already set up a wall.
Aerial duels against Mancini, Ndicka, and Ortega were meaningless.
Passing the ball to the sides was, in the end, just playing into Roma's hands.
20 minutes into the first half. I was isolated at the very front without recording a single touch.
It was in contrast to Stefano Ricci, who dropped into the midfield and freely distributed the ball to orchestrate the game.
I eventually dropped down near the half-line.
Rather than starving to death inside the box, it was better to carry the ball myself.
Near the center circle, Yilmaz was struggling to find a way forward while holding the ball.
I dug into the pocket space, the narrow gap between the opponent's midfield and defensive lines.
Is Roma's ten-back for real? lol They parked two buses
Wait, do they not want to go to the Europa quarterfinals? These Roma guys have no intention of attacking at all?
ㄴThought Han-su was a ghost the whole first half lol 0 touches, is that for real?
ㄴThe ball doesn't go to him because he's stuck inside the box
ㄴRicci is crushing it in both looks and skill today lol You can see Han-su's expression rotting in real-time
ㄴOh, Han-su just dropped down. Now the ball will move a bit
Yilmaz's pass touched my instep.
I felt heavy pressure from behind.
It was Stefano Ricci.
He hadn't bothered to stay up front and had dropped down to mark me personally.
I lowered my center of gravity while dragging the ball with the sole of my foot.
"Click."
Don't press it for long.
I just need to check the trajectory of Ricci's extending foot.
I stopped the gears of the world, very briefly.
I caught Ricci's center of gravity shifting to the left.
"Click."
I dragged the ball and turned my body to the right.
Ricci's long leg sliced through the air.
The moment he lost his balance and stumbled, I had already lifted my head and spotted our team's winger, Alvaro Lozano, sprinting down the left flank.
"Click."
I watched the moment the opponent midfielder's toe tried to block my pass trajectory again.
It was a very minute misalignment of timing.
"Click."
I took advantage of that gap and pushed the ball through.
It had been less than a second since I turned with Ricci's defense at my back.
The ball cut diagonally across Roma's defensive line and was delivered accurately to Lozano's toe.
I immediately started sprinting at full speed.
While the defense was drawn to Lozano, I found the optimal path to enter the box again.
"Lozano!"
Lozano dribbled past one defender and entered the box.
As I dragged two defenders and rushed toward the front of the goal, a perfect shooting angle opened up for Lozano.
He didn't hesitate and swung his left foot.
Clang~
The metallic sound of the ball hitting the top of the goalpost echoed through the stadium.
Lozano grabbed his head and sat down on the ground.
Roma's goalkeeper, Patricio, let out a sigh of relief and hugged the ball.
I gasped for air roughly.
A repetition of very short silences.
The process was good, but the result was disappointing.
The clock on the scoreboard was passing 35 minutes into the first half.
Although a goal wasn't scored, the flow of the match had completely changed.
I walked slowly back to the half-line.
Lozano raised his hand as if to apologize, but I nodded lightly.
It's okay.
The path is already open.
Minute cracks had begun to form in Roma's solid fortress.
I parted my lips again, aiming for the timing of the next 'Click'.
Lozano, you f*cker!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Wait, you can't score that? Han-su tore everything apart from the center circle and set the table for you?
ㄴWhat was that movement from Han-su just now? Thought he teleported when he turned with Ricci on his back ㄷㄷ
ㄴRicci's air-swing just now needs to be immortalized as a gif lol
ㄴWhat does that bastard Lozano have on his instep? Thought the goalpost was going to break.
ㄴHey, but did you see Han-su run to the box right after passing? His decision speed is insane.
ㄴDoes being handsome mean everything? Han-su is better at football.
With not much time left before the end of the first half, another opportunity came.
Yilmaz, who had stolen the ball in the midfield, sent the ball to me without delay.
Roma's defenders were clearly flustered by my 'bizarre' sense of rhythm.
I caught the ball in front of the box. Defender Mancini pressed me roughly.
I pretended to dribble to the left and stopped.
I dragged the ball to the right again.
Mancini's center of gravity completely collapsed. Space opened up.
The moment a shooting angle appeared, Cristante, who was rushing in from the side, launched a deep sliding tackle toward my ankle.
"Ugh!"
The tackle, which didn't touch the ball, kicked my ankle directly.
Before a scream could even burst out, my body floated into the air and rolled roughly onto the grass.
Pain that felt like being scraped on asphalt traveled up my shin. I rolled on the ground, clutching my ankle.
"Boooooooooooooo!"
Along with boos, Yilmaz's roar echoed through Villarreal's stadium.
"You f*cking bastard! I'll kill you!"
Yilmaz's roar echoed through the stadium.
Before even checking my condition, he shoved Cristante's chest roughly.
In an instant, players from both teams swarmed in, and it became chaos.
Stefano Ricci approached to try and stop Yilmaz, but Yilmaz, having lost his cool, even shook off Ricci's arm and spewed out threatening words.
The referee ran over, blew the whistle, and tried to settle the situation.
I barely managed to come to my senses and lifted my head.
Fortunately, it didn't seem like the bone was broken, but my ankle was burning.
While the team doctor ran over to check my condition, the replay scene played repeatedly on the stadium scoreboard.
The manipulations of that short moment that made a fool of Mancini and induced Cristante's murderous tackle.
The referee took a card out of his pocket. It was yellow.
Fierce boos poured down from the stands. It was anger that it wasn't a red card.
I took Yilmaz's hand and pulled myself up.
Every time I put weight on my ankle, a stinging pain shot up, but my mind actually became clearer.
The position is right in front of the box. The distance to the goal is about 22 meters.
It was a perfect free-kick chance for a direct shot.
Yilmaz received the ball from the referee.
And carefully placed the ball on the grass.
Roma's defenders busily started setting up a wall.
Goalkeeper Patricio was adjusting the defensive position with a nervous expression, scanning every corner of the goal.
A war of nerves broke out in front of the goal.
Pushing and pulling each other, grabbing.
Especially for me, 3 defenders were attached, surrounding me in layers of walls.
'It's no use doing that.'
I took a deep breath and parted my lips.
Click.
This time, I intend to push myself by using it for a bit longer.
Yilmaz's ball trajectory, aimed at me, sliced through the air.
Silence descended upon the stadium.
In the time of silence where only the ball, me, and the goal remained, I finished preparing to run.