The Reason for Playing Soccer (2)
At an international school in Barcelona, Spain, I had become a superstar. Most of the kids here were FC Barcelona fans, but before that, they were true lovers of soccer. Even if they treated me like a rival—or worse, a loser—just because I played for Espanyol, the fact that I was a youth player in La Liga, one of Europe's top five leagues, remained unchanged. To them, I was the next superstar, a hero, a celebrity, an idol, an influencer.
"Up close, he's actually pretty cute, isn't he?" One Spanish girl said. The others nodded along like they completely agreed. It was true. Over the past few years of nothing but training, I'd shed my baby fat and put on some real muscle.
...Is this my moment? I stood there quietly listening, seriously debating whether I should confess right then and there. But the thought didn't last long. I'd already cried over hasty decisions like this more times than I could count. For now, I'd just enjoy the popularity.
I used to get so nervous I couldn't even look at the stands, yet here were all these beautiful girls—actual women—watching me every single day. It made me want to play well. No, it felt like I had to play well. I spent the entire day smiling. The kids' attention felt amazing.
A few true soccer lovers would occasionally come up and tease me by calling me "Espanyol's Short-term Flop, Lee!" which killed my mood a couple of times... but still. When girls were talking to me, how could I not smile?
"Lee! But seriously... this is just too much." My new friend from the seat next to mine spoke up. He was such a hardcore Espanyol fan that he wore their uniform to school. From what I'd heard, three generations of his family were Espanyol supporters.
"Too much? What do you mean?" I asked in my fairly fluent Spanish.
"Why do you look so happy?" Huh?
"I'm asking why you're so happy. Have you already forgotten how much Espanyol fans love you? Just look at yesterday's match. You missed two easy chances and got subbed off!"
....
"After the game, you ran through the streets by yourself, right?" He was exactly right. If I didn't succeed in soccer, my family could go under. To shake off the pressure, I'd just run and train alone like a madman. Even then, I couldn't show my real ability during actual matches.
"The same citizens who booed you ended up throwing apples as an apology. There are still people who believe in you." That was true too. It was why I couldn't bring myself to hate the fans who jeered at me. The street vendors from last night who threw me an extra apple and told me to keep my head up still lingered in my mind.
"Then you need to work even harder! Train like hell and get called up to the first team! Or at least the second team! Actually, forget that. You at least have to score against Barca!" He was practically yelling at me. The real message was clear: stop grinning like an idiot and focus on soccer.
...Fuck, it's not like I want to play like shit. The moment that thought crossed my mind, another one followed right behind it. I want to play well too. I want to be loved too.
Soccer was something I'd started because I wanted to be loved. The person who felt the most frustrated right now was me.
That was when someone approached. She looked far more mature than the other kids our age. Big eyes, a straight nose, a small face. Pale skin that seemed far from typical Spanish complexion.
"You're Suhyuk, right? The Korean name." A familiar language reached my ears. It was one I hadn't heard from someone my own age in years, except for my family and my agent. A ridiculously pretty girl was standing there. She was Korean.
"..."
"Hi! You're cute." Cute? Was that a confession? No, the guy is supposed to confess first. The moment I opened my mouth to ask her out—
"You're playing against Barca next week, right? I'm coming to watch. I'm an Espanyol fan too."
"...Really?"
"Yeah!" Winning the match and then confessing seemed like it would paint a beautiful picture. I gathered my courage and asked for her name.
"My Korean name is Kim Hayun! In Spain, they call me Chloe."
"...Chloe." It was a pretty name.
"Hey, Lee! Are you even listening to me? Are you listening? You're supposed to become Espanyol's hero! That's why you don't have time to be smiling like that! Train harder!"
Yeah, yeah, I get it, so just shut up already. I'm talking to my future girlfriend here. I stared at Carlos, the hardcore Espanyol fan from the seat next to mine, with an annoyed expression before opening my mouth. Kim Hayun was right there beside us, and the Spanish girls were watching me too. In that moment, I blurted out something without thinking.
"Hey, Carlos."
"Yeah?"
"The reason I've been messing up lately is because of an injury. My ankle kept hurting."
"...Is that so? You were running pretty well yesterday, though."
"It got better just recently. Next week... I'll be able to play in full condition. I'll be in the starting lineup."
"...Wait, the staff put you in the match even though you were injured?" If I was going to lie, I had to keep feeding the fire.
"I hid the injury. I really wanted to play."
He looked stunned. You wanted to play that badly? You love our Espanyol that much?!
"..."
"Anyway, it's all better now. During next week's match against Barca, I'll definitely get a hat-trick. No question."
"...For real? You're really back to full condition?"
I nodded with what I believed was my most world-class, solemn expression. The other kids at school and Kim Hayun looked surprised for a moment before patting my shoulder with expectant faces.
"For real? Then I'll definitely come watch next week! Suhyuk, fighting!"
She said Suhyuk, fighting... while patting my shoulder! The corners of my mouth shot up to my ears.
That night, before going to bed, I kicked my blanket like crazy.
Ah, fuck. I'm not even in the starting lineup next week.
I'd already bragged about starting. I was only sixteen, still growing, and my voice hadn't even fully deepened yet. But in front of a girl, I'd puffed up without realizing it.
Ah, what do I do now?
I had to fix this. I had to. I needed to start and score a hat-trick no matter what. Why? Because Kim Hayun was coming. And because a whole crowd of Spanish beauties were coming to watch me.
The problem is that my name isn't even on the starting lineup, fuck...
Her profile picture was seriously pretty. I realized it all over again. Pretty girls were more important than pressure. Yeah. A man has to keep his word. That's what makes him a man. Winning the woman you want is basic male etiquette. Today, I was going to tear this training ground apart.
At the Espanyol training ground, Ben, the manager of RCD Espanyol's U-18 team, stared intently at the boy from the East—me. He had built quite a long career as a youth coach.
"Ivan."
"Yes, Coach."
He called over assistant coach Ivan.
"Lee's eyes look different today."
"...They really do."
Even though I was struggling, both of them still believed in my talent.
"Maybe he found some motivation?"
"Motivation?"
"Remember when we first saw Lee? There was that explosive quality, right?" The way I'd appeared like a comet on the field, using my unique speed, shooting power, and balance to strip away opposing defenders. They still couldn't forget it.
"At some point, it felt like he'd lost that drive. Once the motivation disappeared, reality set in."
Young players who go abroad to study soccer are essentially gambling. If it works out, they become superstars. If not, they fade into obscurity and return home. They lose money, lose their dreams, fail to readjust, and slowly fall apart.
"You know better than anyone that once reality hits, it's hard to focus on the game."
"I know better than anyone. I've been through it myself."
"Maybe he met a girl he likes at the international school?"
Coach Ben let out a small laugh at that.
"It'd be a different kind of motivation. No way. How old is he? Getting motivated by one girl?"
"Lee is very young. And women can be incredibly powerful motivation."
"...Still, that kind of motivation doesn't usually last long. I doubt we can expect an explosive recovery just from that."
...Yeah, that was true. But then—
"Huh?"
Today's me was different from usual. Coach Ben blinked.