Taking Responsibility (2)
It's always hard to take responsibility for the words I spit out. But the moment I do, isn't that when things start to look cool? Isn't that when I can grow to the next level? Yeah. If that's the case, then I was ready to grow even further.
I had blurted those words without thinking, and now I was running around like a dog to take responsibility and prove them. Each of these motivations made me feel truly alive. It was the kind of situation that should have felt the most burdensome, yet all the stray thoughts vanished. Only a faint tension remained, leaving my body lighter than ever. My vision sharpened.
I looked at the opponent in the number four jersey—the defender hailed as the world's top prospect. I had no intention of calling his name. If I said the name of the guy I needed to beat right now, I'd only get attached. Just like with Ebrima Tunkara. I'd already grown fond of that guy.
“John!”
“Yeah!”
I ran with my hand raised. John delivered a lob pass. The instant it bounced off the ground, my foot met it perfectly. A flawless one-touch trap. One of their midfielders dropped back to press me. I passed to John and kept running. We broke into the final third with a crisp two-on-one. To keep the tempo high, the moment I received the ball I nudged it forward and sprinted again.
As expected, number four blocked me. With those signature quick steps, he cut off my blind angle. Blind angle? In soccer, not boxing? There was only one reason. He was cutting off my retreat ahead of time. In exchange, the front lay wide open. And I wasn't slow by any means.
Whoosh—!!
I dashed in a straight line. And the opposing number four—
Whoosh—!!
Once again he blocked my path with unbelievable speed. He would simply sweep the ball and launch it long. This pass too was a clean one that shattered our team's line. Of course, our midfielders had to sprint like mad to recover it.
He's not the world's top prospect for nothing.
He frequently trained with the first team, and now I understood why. He'd probably earn a call-up after this match. He reminded me of Real Madrid's center back, Militao. If this guy reached the first team, Real Madrid would only grow stronger.
Well, his nickname is La Fabrica's Militao, after all.
The second Militao. That's what they called him. What about me? Aside from Short-term Flop, I had no “second coming of someone” title yet. Ah, I should make one today. Preferably a world-class name.
“Lee, he’s not all that, huh? You’ve already been stopped twice?”
Here we go again.
“Hey, you know what?”
“What?”
“I’m having dinner with Sofia today.”
“...I’m dying to know why you felt the need to say that. Have you completely given up on recording any attacking stats today?”
“Can you actually stop me?”
“You’ve already been blocked twice.”
I’d blurted it out again.
“That was just me playing around. From now on, I’m getting serious.”
...No one else heard that, right? If they had, it would’ve been pretty embarrassing. Look, even the ugly guy in front of me is chuckling and sneering.
But all I had to do was prove it. I dropped my line a little.
“John! Push up!”
A natural switch with John. I wasn’t a pure goal poacher; I could handle any style. To survive at this level, I had to be able to do everything. Now playing as an attacking midfielder, I looked at John. The perfect moment for a lob pass.
Whirr—!!
The opposing midfielder, sensing it, charged at me. I smiled. This was part of the plan too. I twisted my body as if to strike the ball, then slowly drifted toward the flank while waiting for their fullback to step up.
When the fullback came to close me down, I slipped past him with a two-on-one involving Daniel. I feinted with my shoulder as if cutting right. The moment the defender’s weight shifted—
Whoosh—!!
I exploded in the opposite direction. It was the perfect angle for an inside curl, but of course number four wasn’t about to allow it. Even if I tried to pass to John, their remaining fullback was marking him tightly.
I recalled the individual move I’d drilled all week in training. The instant number four lunged for the gap—
Thud—!!
I rolled the ball with the sole of my foot. A simple ball roll caught him on the wrong foot.
But—
Whirr—!!
He stretched his trailing leg to block my shooting angle. He’d dropped his knee as low as possible, so I couldn’t thread it through his legs either. I used a slightly modified scoop turn—pushing the ball with my sole before dragging it back, moving in a V-shape to break free.
“Ack—!”
The guy lost his balance with a groan. It had taken some time… but I could just shoot now.
Tap—!!
The opposing goalkeeper had rushed out recklessly. My ball rolled weakly between his legs and nestled into the dead center of the net.
Thump—!
The roar erupted a beat late. It was a home game, so the Pericos dominated the stands. The trip from Madrid took about an hour and a half by plane, and almost no one would fly just to watch youth players.
Lee!! Lee!! Lee!!
I had earned the nickname Little Prince.
I raised my fist toward the crowd and extended three fingers, then folded one. Two more goals remained for a hat-trick.
Today… I didn’t look toward where Sofia or Hayun sat. I looked at my parents instead. I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d seen them smile so brightly. This felt incredibly good.
“Sofia, isn’t that the guy? The one who DMs you every single day.”
“Yeah.”
“Why aren’t you meeting him?”
Sofia thought for a moment before answering her friends.
“He’s ugly.”
“I thought you only cared about soccer ability?”
“No matter how much I love soccer, I don’t only look at that.”
“Still, that number four is the world’s top prospect. If he gets called up to Real Madrid’s first team, he could play in the Champions League at his age. You could be the girlfriend of a Champions League player.”
“He’s ugly.”
“He looks like he plays soccer way better than that little kid you like.”
Her friends glanced at Suhyuk as they spoke. His goal had been flashy, but it didn’t seem like he was better than number four.
“Don’t underestimate Lee. Lee makes soccer fun.”
And he was a charming guy. Even though he was younger, he never let himself be led, nor did he try to lead. He didn’t seem particularly interested in her, either. The more she thought about it, the more she felt drawn to him. She planned to seduce him somehow over dinner tonight.
“He’s just too cute. And good at soccer, too.”
Beside Sofia, Kim Hayun sat quietly nodding.
He is cute. And good at soccer.
Hearing Sofia’s conversation made her uneasy. She had assumed the influencer was just trying to latch onto a promising talent to boost her follower count, but Sofia seemed genuinely interested in Suhyuk. That only made her more nervous.
She’s having dinner with Suhyuk today? …Where are they eating? Would it be weird if I sat at the next table with the others?
Kim Hayun chewed her nails, lost in thought.
Surely Suhyuk won’t walk Sofia home afterward… Right? No way.
The first half ended after a prolonged midfield battle.
“Lee.”
“Yes, Coach.”
Three duels against number four. I’d been stopped twice. Honestly, the guy was good even by my standards. I thought I might get scolded for it, but—
“How’s your stamina? You dropped deep and played as a playmaker quite aggressively.”
“I’m fine.”
“Lee, you never follow my tactics.”
What?
“You always show far more than I expected. You even handle things I never specifically asked for.”
“…Thank you.”
“Lee.”
“Yes.”
“It looked like you were having a subtle psychological war with their center back.”
“I was.”
I answered honestly. It felt like we had made a bet that wasn’t really a bet. A few light words had turned into a battle of pride.
“Soccer is a team game. Eleven against eleven.”
Ah. Everyone was running with the shared goal of winning, yet I was the only one burning to beat their defender. So that’s what he wanted to scold me for.
“The striker is the face of the team. If our striker has been insulted, we can’t just let it end like this, can we?”
…Huh?
“That’s right!”
The entire team shouted as one.
“Our youngest got insulted?”
“How dare he?”
“Whether you know it or not, you’re way better than that guy.”
“Ah, sorry. We got breached and conceded, so our maknae had to suffer that insult.”
“What? Our maknae had his human rights violated, got harassed, infringed upon, and toyed with?”
…It wasn’t quite that bad.
“Gentlemen!”
“Yes!”
“Let’s bury him.”
“…Yes?”
“Yes, understood!!”
Everyone except me nodded in agreement. The opposing number four, who had only tried to tease me, had become the target of all eleven of us.
Oh man… now I feel bad.