"I'm home..."
"Oh, you're back? Why do you sound like you just Drop dead?"
"Why do you think? I'm coming back from training Dad."
"...You must have had a tough day? Do you want to shower first and then eat, or eat first and then shower?"
"I'll shower first."
Trudge trudge.
After returning home and greeting Dad,
My body felt like it wasn't even mine as I sluggishly set down my bag and grabbed a change of clothes before heading to the bathroom.
Shaaaaa-
"Phuuu..."
As the hot water washed over my whole body, goosebumps rose on their own. Exhausted yet refreshing—it was a strange feeling that was hard to put into words.
It had been a really long time since I'd felt this way.
Not bad.
Even though my situation was bad.
"Ughhhh..."
I finished washing in three minutes, then stood there blankly under the water for another ten minutes.
When I dried off and left the bathroom, the smell of food gently wafted into my nose.
"Let's eat."
"Okay."
I casually draped a towel around my neck and sat down at the table.
Let's see.
Today's menu was braised short ribs and risotto with shrimp.
I wondered what kind of combination this was, but...
"Is it edible?"
"It's delicious."
It was delicious.
After all, it was a combination of meat and rice, so it would be hard for it to taste bad.
Though my dad's hands possessed the mystical power to sometimes ruin even combinations that couldn't possibly fail.
But today, it really was edible.
Maybe everything tastes good when you're hungry.
"Eat a lot. You need to put on some weight."
"Okay."
"Eat some Vegetable too."
"I just had some."
He was telling me to eat more when I was already eating plenty.
Well, I wanted to put on weight too.
I was already on the thin side, and after coming to Italy, I'd lost even more weight.
I was the type who couldn't eat well when stressed.
Ah, to be precise, my weight had actually increased.
But that was because I'd grown taller.
Looking at myself now, I seemed thinner than I was three years ago.
When I had my physical exam not long ago, I think I was 176cm and 63kg.
Even if I wasn't the type who played using physicality, my current weight was basically at rock bottom.
If I lost any more, I'd probably end up flying around like a sheet of paper.
I couldn't let Ji-woo see something that ridiculous, so I'd have to start eating more from now on.
"Ji-an."
While I was focused on eating, Dad asked.
"Did you have some special hard training today?"
"No. I just trained like usual."
"Really? But you look really worn out. And you're eating so well too."
"..."
At Dad's question, I slightly raised my head but then buried my face back in my plate.
The way he asked so carefully, I could sense something like expectation in his tone, and it made me uncomfortable inside—but I didn't stop eating.
Dad was okay.
Because I knew he was just bad at hiding his emotions, not trying to pressure me.
"I worked hard."
"...Really?"
"Yes."
"Good job. But don't work too hard. You know not getting hurt comes first, right?"
"I know."
"Good. Eat some Vegetable too."
"I told you I just had some."
Geez.
With those words, Dad and I focused on cleaning our plates.
ㆍㆍㆍ
"Alright, this side wears vests. I'll give you five minutes, so have a tactical meeting led by your captain."
"Yes!"
Following yesterday, today I was also sweating at the training ground.
The boring fundamentals training.
But there was no physical training today.
That was because Thursday was the day we did drills instead of physical training.
"Talk to each other a lot, run a lot. Don't forget to maintain the triangle formation, and also..."
I put on the fluorescent vest while listening to the briefing from the guy acting as captain.
The reserve group doing drills, while the main squad had full 11-on-11 matches.
Usually two people from the reserve group got called up for those matches, but I wasn't one of them.
I'd secretly been a little hopeful, but well...
It would be shameless to expect anything after just working hard for one day.
For now, let me just focus on this rondo.
"...And, Ji-an?"
"Yeah."
"You're the Second Forward, but Coach says you can just play however you want."
"Yeah."
I nodded at the words of the captain who was younger than me.
The same role assignment as always.
Every drills, the only instruction I got was 'play however you want.'
It was probably because Coach had no particular interest or expectations for me.
On top of that, my Italian was still lacking to the point where I couldn't understand if the sentences got a bit long or difficult words were mixed in.
So it was probably him just telling me to figure it out myself because explaining in a way I'd understand was too troublesome.
Normally, this was quite comfortable and nice.
I could just play however I wanted, coasting along without standing out.
But things were different now, so I needed to be more aggressive.
As a Second Forward, a withdrawn striker, I should aim for attacking chances.
"Tweet-!"
With the whistle, the 8-on-8 game began.
Each team had seven field players, with the coaches filling in as goalkeepers.
The pitch was a quarter of the size of a regular field.
Since there were a lot of players for the size of the field, excessive physical contact was prohibited.
Which meant it was a decent environment for me to perform.
The match began with our team's kickoff.
Passes circulated quickly from the back.
Because the space was tight, defenders could close in easily, and the tempo inevitably sped up.
In other words, you had to always be thinking even when you didn't have the ball.
What play would I make when the ball came to me?
I surveyed my surroundings with quick glances, and the moment the ball circulating in the back flowed to the left, I moved in that direction and shouted.
"Hey!"
Paaang-!
I couldn't remember my teammate's name so I just called out vaguely, but thankfully a ground pass came through quickly.
In that instant, instead of looking at the ball, I quickly turned my head to survey the situation around me.
I saw a defender pressing tight onto my back.
...Okay.
The moment I finished my quick calculations, the ball touched my right foot.
Paaang-
Tap-tap-!
I controlled the ball to the right with the outside of my foot, then quickly turned.
With just this one turning motion, I'd created at least three steps of distance from the defender who had been right on me.
This was possible because I'd shifted my center of gravity to the left just before receiving the ball.
That itself was a body feint, and at the same time, it served as a launching motion to burst out quickly to the right.
Tap-tap-tap-!
I dribbled along the right half space and drove forward.
Even though I'd pulled a defender out of position and shaken him off with a good turn,
The space was still tight, so defenders quickly blocked my path.
They closed in from almost every direction,
But as I mentioned earlier,
Because I was constantly thinking ahead about my next play, I was able to make a quick decision before the defenders completely surrounded me.
Paaang-!
I connected a pass forward.
There, our team's Center Forward had positioned himself with his back to the defender.
Shaaaaa-
As my pass headed forward, the defenders who had been rushing at me turned their heads.
Obviously, the ball draws attention.
Especially when the ball is moving.
Defenders' eyes instinctively follow the ball.
And that split second when the defenders' eyes are fixed on the ball becomes the moment when an attacker can become invisible.
Simply put, they get so focused on the ball that they lose track of the players.
Tap-tap-tap-!
As if stepping on shadows, I ran past behind the defenders' backs.
And then,
Tok-!
The moment the forward who had received my pass slid a short through pass.
Tap-tap-!
I burst out from behind the last defender.
A penetrating run exploiting the blind spot of their vision.
Maybe this was why they called the withdrawn striker a Shadow Striker.
Thwaaaang-!
Swoooosh-
Thwack-!
I finished with a right-footed shot targeting the far post.
Since the coaches intentionally didn't make aggressive dives, I easily claimed a goal.
"Phew."
I clenched my fist lightly, then headed back to the halfway line.
Honestly, I wanted to jump up and down, but I didn't show it.
Because this was a goal anyone could have scored.
Meaning it wasn't a goal I scored by doing anything special.
There was nothing more embarrassing than making a big deal over celebrating a trivial goal.
Also, lots of goals were typically scored in mini games.
So it was too early to be happy over just one goal.
Let me score more.
Still, that goal I just scored gave me confidence.
Of course, not the kind of confidence like 'maybe I really am a soccer genius.'
What I meant was that I confirmed once again that when a person is desperate, they can perform beyond their abilities.
When I was at my previous team, I couldn't even make plays this easy.
Actually, it had been similar since coming to this team too.
Probably because I'd been complacent, not desperate.
But now, it was a situation where I had to succeed—just like when I was in Korea.
"Left side!"
"Behind you, watch out!"
Come to think of it, it did feel a bit strange.
Back then and now, the situation was essentially the same, yet my feelings were different.
Back then, every single day felt like my nerves were being ground down...
But now, I only thought about how I had to make it happen.
Well, I suppose.
What could be worse than being utterly humiliated in front of a friend?
*
The mini game was divided into four quarters instead of two halves.
Ten minutes per quarter.
When a quarter ended, we'd take a short break, sometimes swap players, sometimes mix up the teams.
It was at the end of the second quarter.
"Ji-an."
"Yes?"
"Want to take off the vest?"
"Oh, okay."
The coach told me to take off my vest.
It seemed like he was sending me to the other team.
I thought this might be a pretty positive sign.
I scored one goal in the first quarter and another in the second.
Two goals in twenty minutes.
Thanks to those two goals, our team was ahead 6-4, and anyone could see our team's performance was better.
In this situation, sending me to the other side?
Mixing up teams was obviously to balance things out.
So sending me to the losing team—wasn't that because he thought our team was winning because of me... or was that getting ahead of myself?
Anyway.
While running my own hopeful scenarios and taking off my vest to head to the other side,
"No, no. Ji-an. Come over here."
"...Yes?"
The coach waved me over with his hand.
Meaning I should come off the field entirely.
Uh... this wasn't something I expected.
He wasn't sending me to the other team, but taking me out completely?
What did this mean?
Did I maybe try too hard?
Thinking I needed to show myself, I'd done a lot of individual play.
There were also a few times I took shots in uncertain situations.
Did he judge that I was ruining the team chemistry?
All sorts of thoughts ran through my mind as I was leaving the field.
"Ji-an. Try going over there."
"...Yes?"
The coach pointed to the next training field and spoke.
"...Over there?"
"Yeah."
The next field the coach had pointed to.
That was where the main squad members were having their practice match.