Proof (2)

Hugo Romero's words kept echoing in my head.

—Even if your chemistry with John is ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠completely off, I believe Lee will handle it with his own talent and skill.

John's face twisted into a scowl. He was the one who'd wasted an entire year blowing bubbles while John had quietly done his job for the same amount of time.

'Of course he should believe in me! That son of a bitch…!'

He made up his mind right then. No matter what, he had to prove he was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠better than Suhyuk.

I thought back to why I'd started playing soccer in the first place. It was because I wanted attention. Back then, I didn't have a single friend. I'd luckily discovered a talent for soccer and wanted to be the best at it. I'd learned that if you were good at soccer, friends would come naturally.

Looking back now… it seems like I wasn't enjoying soccer itself. I was enjoying the attention.

And that hasn't changed even now. Soccer isn't all that fun for me. It's just the only way a nobody like me can be loved and praised. These days, I'm also playing for my family, who gave up their dreams because of me….

'I have to prove myself.'

Most of the team didn't trust me. Only the captain, Hugo Romero, believed in me. Look at them right now—our players who didn't trust me enough and insisted on joining this extra training. If I couldn't prove myself here, even if I got lucky and started in the derby, I wouldn't get any real chances.

Would my teammates who hated me willingly pass me the ball? They'd probably do what Hugo Romero used to—ignore me completely and try to finish it themselves.

'So what the hell should I do in this training?'

Just playing well? That might rebuild some trust with the team. But….

"Lee, don't drag me down."

I could never get along with that rude bastard John if he kept talking like that. We were eventually going to have to play as a two-striker system. If our relationship stayed this bad, it would all be pointless. If that guy refused to pass, I wouldn't be able to score.

'Playing well is one thing, but in this training, I need to get close to John.'

I thought about why that bastard hated me. Was it because I was good? Or because the coaches were pushing me? Well… probably both. Even I could admit I'd been given more opportunities than I deserved.

Hmm. How do you get close to John?

I recalled my memories from Korea. No matter how good you were at soccer, it didn't mean you could befriend the school bullies. Back then, I'd played "entertainment soccer" to get on their good side.

Aha. I'd figured it out.

Time to go back to those days. Let's enjoy some good old entertainment soccer with John.

Do you know about the stuffed genius? That was me. The genius who lobbed perfect balls to the bullies playing striker. Wings, sprout once more. Let's fly one last time.

Yeah. Let's do this.

The four defenders who'd joined the extra training took their positions. Two more midfielders lined up. Hugo, John, Daniel, and me. The four of us formed the front line.

We were training the coordinated tactical plays we'd practiced before. If Daniel or Hugo Romero passed me the ball, I had to link up with John to break through the two opposing midfielders and four defenders. Two strikers breaking past six opponents from the front line.

"Let's go!"

Daniel kicked the ball. His crosses were always perfect. The moment I received it, I passed it to John.

Normally, he should have cut to the side, drawn in the opposing midfielder, and passed it back to me. But….

'Knew it. You fucking bastard, John.'

John started dribbling forward alone. He wasn't particularly skilled at dribbling, so he lost the ball immediately. I charged at the opposing midfielder right away.

In this situation, the opponent would either dribble or pass. There was only one place to pass it—

Whoosh—!!

I predicted the path and moved early. I stole the ball again and sprinted forward. John raised his hand, then lowered it again. He'd probably thought I'd dribble like he did.

Yeah, fuck. How were we supposed to play as a strike duo with zero trust between ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠us?

Hey, John. Watch this. This is what a pro nerd's assist looks like.

Whoosh—!!

I dragged the ball as long as possible against the pressing midfielder. The moment all the opposing players focused on me—

Tap—!!

I chipped the ball lightly with my toes. The ball floated up like a chip shot, then dropped in a bizarre arc.

Thud—!!

It landed perfectly on the top of John's foot.

"…!!"

John looked startled, as if he hadn't expected the ball to come to him. Then he kicked it. The ball flew in a decent trajectory and rattled the back of the net.

And so, the training continued for about two hours. The players skipped dinner to participate. Even the ones who'd only been watching at first got interested and rotated in, helping with me and John's training.

There was only one reason. It was fun.

It must've been entertaining to watch. Plus, as our coordination improved over time, they probably felt the urge to try stealing the ball themselves.

"I kinda wanna try stealing it now."

"He's improved a lot."

"Was Lee always this good?"

These were the same guys who'd looked down on me. They'd believed I couldn't execute proper tactics. Given what I'd shown them so far, I couldn't blame them.

But today's me was different. Even I could see that.

For the first thirty minutes of extra training, the same pattern repeated. John got greedy, lost the ball, and I'd run like a dog to win it back. Then I'd run like a dog again to break the line and deliver a perfect cross to John. And John would finish it.

I thought my passing was shit. Or at least, I used to.

"His passing is this good?"

"That's midfield-level passing right there."

I was just as surprised. I knew my passing wasn't bad, but I hadn't realized it was this good. I'd always been crushed by pressure and never shown my true performance.

Aha. This was what I was really like. I used to be a guy who was good at everything.

I smiled brightly.

"Alright, one last round before we go!"

"Losers buy drinks!"

"…You guys are ten people. That's kinda unfair for a bet."

"If you're scared, just say so."

That made Hugo Romero snap.

"Fine, fuck it! Dinner's on the line!"

And ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠so came the final drill. This time, all the players charged in. Five defenders, five midfielders. Ten players against just four of us.

From my position of playing entertainment soccer for John, this was extremely inconvenient.

"Hey, Lee."

At that moment, the bully John spoke to me.

I felt genuinely moved for the first time in a while. Maybe because I'd completely fallen into the delusion I'd created?

'…He called me Lee. Sir John did.'

John stared at me.

"…This time, I'll pass to you. Let's break through those ten together. The two of us."

…Whoa.

He said he'd pass. He said "the two of us."

When John saw me smiling ear to ear, he let out a small chuckle and ruffled my hair.

"Cute little bastard."

I couldn't help but freeze up.

'…We're both guys, man.'

No matter how much of a bully John was, there were lines that shouldn't be crossed.

'As expected, Lee has changed.'

He was finally using his brilliant talent properly. At this rate, there was nothing to worry about. As long as Suhyuk didn't get nervous, he would be the brightest star in the Barcelona Derby.

Ben was convinced of it.

'…Going all out for the last one, huh.'

Ten players against just four. Even for Lee, this seemed impossible.

No matter how good Suhyuk was, no matter how well he synced with John, he wouldn't be able to pull it off. After all, Daniel and John were basically just there to deliver the ball. It had become a situation where the two of them had to break through ten players.

'If Lee actually succeeds here… the other guys' reactions will be pretty entertaining.'

The ten players gritting their teeth to stop Suhyuk and John. He was curious how their expressions would change, and how they'd treat Suhyuk from now on.

'Of course, the probability of Lee breaking through them is close to zero.'

That was when it happened.

Peeep—!!

One of the players blew the whistle. Hugo Romero sent a pass to Suhyuk. Three opponents immediately swarmed him.

The tactic where nearby players instantly rushed in to regain possession—Gegenpressing. The ten opponents had adopted that exact tactic.

Three players formed a circle to press him. How could you possibly pass in that situation? John tried to create space by running, but another opponent immediately stuck to him and marked him tightly.

Then, Suhyuk's eyes changed.

Whoosh—!!

His body and the ball flew together.

"What the hell!!"

Ben couldn't help but shout. That's how brilliant Suhyuk looked.

And Ben's shock quickly spread to all the players.

'Is this even possible?'