"Comunicate a lot, and don't forget to check your positions when pressing forward."
"Okay, okay."
"Alright, when I say Forza, you say Viola. Forza-!"
"Viola-!!!"
With a thunderous cheer, the kids who had been huddled together with their arms around each other's shoulders scattered to their positions.
"Hoo-"
I too walked toward my position.
Just like always.
The sun of Florence was hot, and the grass was lush green.
And I was standing right in the middle of it.
"Tweeet-!"
As the whistle rang out, purple uniforms and sky-blue uniforms began to intermingle.
The grass field that had been purely green just moments ago had now become a bloody battlefield.
Amidst that chaos, I too began to move busily.
This was a battlefield where you died if you stood still.
"Get back!"
"Take it slow, take it slow!"
The match against SSC Napoli had begun.
Today, I started as the team's Second Forward. In our 4-2-3-1 formation, I was in the 3—specifically, the position right in the center.
I say Second Forward, but today I was instructed to move organically without being bound to any single position.
Sometimes like a Mezzala.
Sometimes like a Regista.
Sometimes like a Second Forward.
I was supposed to drift to the sides, attempt creative passes, and keep looking for scoring opportunities.
In short, I had a lot to do.
I found myself gaining a new respect for Gino.
All this time, I had only received comfortable instructions like "just do your thing."
But Gino must have always played while being assigned roles like this. I couldn't help but respect him all over again.
Anyway, I was also told that while I had to perform all those roles today, I could make my own decisions freely.
So it wouldn't be that difficult...
The problem was the opponent.
I understood my role just fine—the issue was that the opponent was Napoli.
Could I really play my game freely against such a strong team?
"Drop back! Don't push up!"
"Behind you! Hurry!"
Early in the match.
The opponents started pressing forward from the very beginning.
They raised their defensive line quite high while simultaneously applying pressure up front.
How should I put it.
I could feel their intent to break our spirits early. Hostility-filled pressure that you could never feel in training came crashing from all directions.
It was an atmosphere incomparable to the last match when I came in after the game had already tilted.
However, precisely because of that, I felt myself focusing intensely.
Ji-woo came to watch today's match too.
She must be somewhere in the stands.
We had exchanged messages before the game.
That could have made my mind wander, but with the opponents pressing this hard, I had no leisure to be distracted.
Right now, I was focused solely on this battle.
"Over here!"
"Go! Go!"
Our team was circulating the ball in the back.
Since the opponents were pressing hard from the front, things looked a bit precarious.
Their pressure was so fierce that we seemed unable to even attempt build-up play through passing—we looked desperate just to keep possession.
I heard that not many teams had withstood that press.
If that situation dragged on, a long ball would inevitably come.
More precisely, it wouldn't be a long pass—it would be just hoofing it away.
I wasn't particularly tall, and neither was Enzo Baretti, today's Center Forward.
We were losing out in aerial dominance.
Tatatat-!
So I dropped back.
I had been instructed to actively drop down to support when the build-up from the back was disrupted.
Now was that time.
I moved down along the right Half Space while reading the opponent's pressing range and rhythm.
At first glance, their press looked pretty much perfect, but if you looked closely, there were gaps.
I couldn't be fooled by their intensity. Napoli's press clearly wasn't moving as one unit, and I positioned myself in the space behind the one guy who was out of sync with the rhythm.
"Hey-!"
When I called out, I saw our defenders exchange glances with each other.
Training was for moments like this.
After a brief moment of eye contact, the defenders began executing the passing sequence they had practiced.
Paang-
Paang-!
A pass that narrowly evaded the pressure came to me.
The guy who should have been covering this spot had pressed up too deep on his own, so I was standing alone in the open space.
Thanks to that, I received the pass with ease.
And then,
Tatatat-!
I immediately turned and drove the ball toward the front.
I had learned that quick attacking transitions were the deadliest thing against teams that press high.
There was no reason to hold the ball in our half. I sprinted along the right Half Space while scanning left and right.
Bwooong-!
I sent it long to the left.
The opponent's lines were tight. But because of that, they were leaving quite a lot of space on the flanks.
Since I had already recognized this, I was able to make the quick decision easily.
Honestly, the scary-looking defender charging straight at me was a bit frightening too.
Paang-!
I confirmed my pass connected accurately and ran toward the front.
I watched my teammate Bruno's movement as he received the ball, while also reading the opposing defense's reaction.
Bruno, who had received the ball in wide open space, dribbled close to the box, then made a move as if to take on the opposing Fullback one-on-one.
The moment I confirmed that intention,
Tatatat-!
I suddenly accelerated and sprinted into the box. I was thinking of cutting inside from the left side of the box.
Bruno, the Left Wing, was right-footed.
So in situations like this, he usually liked to cut inside toward the center and shoot.
My movement was to help with that.
I needed to drag one defender deep inside the box to open up a better shooting angle for him.
Bruno, who had been sizing up the angle while standing off against the defender, seemed to read my movement.
Tatat-!
He cut inside, creating a crossing movement with me.
And then,
Bwooong-!
He shot immediately.
It was a curling shot aimed at the Far Post, but...
Shwoooosh-
"Ah!"
The shot didn't curl enough and missed wide of the goal.
It was an attack with a good process but a disappointing result.
"Sorry, sorry."
Bruno, who had taken the shot, raised his hand to apologize to his teammates.
"Good!"
To me, he gave a thumbs up.
I responded in kind, then ran back toward our half.
At the same time, our midfielders' shouts reached my ears.
"Get back! Get in position!"
"Form up! Let's defend!"
As I ran toward my defensive position, a thought suddenly occurred to me.
Just because the opponent was Napoli... I didn't need to be that scared.
I felt like if I just stayed focused, I could at least do my part.
It was because of that play just now.
I just needed to do what I had trained for.
"Keep the spacing, spacing!"
I began to immerse myself even deeper into the match.
*
"We need to go faster! Faster!"
"Pay more attention to your calls!"
"Play with confidence! With confidence!"
When I came to my senses, time had already passed the 30-minute mark of the first half.
Already? Time had flown by so fast that I couldn't help but think that. It was probably because the tension hadn't let up for a single moment.
"Hoo-"
Napoli was definitely a strong opponent.
Early in the match, I had thought we might win easily at this rate, but five minutes later I realized that had been arrogant.
Perhaps sensing they had given up the first shot too easily, the opponents began to show more focus.
An even more intense press bore down on us.
We couldn't respond properly and got pinned back, and a few mistakes during our build-up from the back exposed us to danger.
Honestly, I was a bit confused.
It wasn't because I couldn't play my game.
It's a bit awkward to evaluate myself, but anyway, I was continuing the match without making any mistakes.
What confused me was our teammates.
How should I put it.
A sense of disconnect?
I'm not sure if that's the right word for this, but anyway, I felt something like that.
Watching our teammates struggle against the opponent's press, make mistakes, and fail to play their game.
The teammates I knew were good at soccer.
Much better than me.
I had been wandering in the reserve group until not long ago. I might be lucky enough to share the same field with them now, but until recently, these kids were on a level way beyond my reach.
And yet those kids were struggling.
While I was thinking that this was manageable.
That confused me a bit.
Had I gotten too absorbed in acting like a genius?
"Pass it forward!"
"Push the line up!"
In any case.
This wasn't the time to be lost in random thoughts.
I saw our defender intercept the opponent's pass. At the same time, I dropped back, and as if it were natural now, the pass came to me.
Instead of receiving the ball and turning,
Paang-
Paang-!
I played a one-two pass, shook off one defender, and started advancing.
I kept driving the ball forward while scanning ahead, but the teammates I needed to see weren't visible.
Everyone was reacting late, and their runs were delayed.
I considered pausing for a beat, waiting for my teammates to get into position...
But a sudden surge of inexplicable confidence hit me, and I kept dribbling without stopping.
For some reason, I felt like I could see this through to the end.
I must have finally lost my mind.
Tatatat-!
I sprinted straight along the right Half Space.
At the same time, I scanned the front, looking for vulnerabilities.
Maybe because I had been playing with a pass-first approach until now, the defenders were spread wide.
I thought I should drive straight through the middle.
I already had momentum.
Rather than trying fancy tricks, I figured it would be better to use this speed and go for a quick finish.
An opposing midfielder stepped in to block my path. But to me, already at full speed, he was no different from a training cone.
Tatatat-!
I shifted direction slightly and breezed past him.
Then I pushed the ball straight ahead again, closing the distance to the box.
Now the defenders were finally converging on me.
With a desperate feeling that I had to get through before that door closed, I pushed on.
Could I make it through?
Tatatat-!
I learned once again that nothing was impossible when you were desperate enough.
I burst through the defenders and made it into the box.
The right side of the goal.
I saw the goalkeeper shifting toward the Near Post, narrowing the angle.
Seeing that movement, I exhaled deeply and charged at the ball.
And I drew my right foot back wide,
Bwooooong-!
And struck the shot.
Shwaaaaaa-
My shot skimmed low toward the Far Post. After confirming that much, the world started spinning around me.
I had put all my weight into the shot while at full speed, so my body lifted off the ground and I went tumbling across the turf.
After rolling about one or two times,
I pushed off the ground and lifted my head as I got up.
My teammates were screaming and running toward me.
The ball had gone in.