Chapter 387: No One Could Have Expected This

As I returned to the stands, the scoreboard displaying a score of 1:0 caught my eye.

It was Korea’s opening goal.

I walked forward, my eyes wide, unable to tear my gaze from the scoreboard.

“What on earth happened?”

I quickly returned to my seat to ask Roman.

“Oh, Charlie! Where have you been? Ahn Jung-hoon scored! I didn’t know we had such a player in Korea!”

Desire flickered in Roman’s eyes, fueled by his habit of collecting great players.

I couldn’t help but smile at Roman’s excitement.

“Is it entertaining? Russia might have been knocked out already, but…”

“I expected this outcome, but I didn’t think Korea would shine like this. I’m envious of Hiddink… I’ve already teamed up with Charlie, so I need to focus on getting some players for myself.”

I didn’t respond, simply smiling gently as I took my seat.

I turned to Song Chan-hyeok, who was chatting wth someone from the soccer association.

“How are you, Congressman Song?”

The discomfort he had shown earlier was gone, replaced by a beaming smile.

“Of course, I’m thrilled. I had no idea Ahn Jung-hoon was this good!”

“He was always a talented player. He just fell off a bit due to complicated contract issues.”

“Ah, I heard. Jungwoo Royals came in to resolve it, right?”

Not Jungwoo Royals, but me. Song Chan-hyeok must know better. I not, someone’s been miscommunicating.

“Isn’t this something the association should handle? They’re supposed to support players while calling them up for the national team, yet they seem indifferent to their mental health too.”

“True, but things within the association don’t always go according to plan. We have to consider our relationship with the European Football Association and FIFA, along with many other factors we’re juggling.”

“Even so, he’s a player who received death threats after scoring a golden ball in the World Cup.”

While Song Chan-hyeok listened earnestly,the expressions of the association officials around us grew increasingly bleak.

Those guys. I glanced at the officials, then continued.

“Politics aside, isn’t protecting the players a crucial role of the association? If they can’t handle such basic issues, more people will start questioning the association’s significance. Of course, Congressman, I know you’re dedicated to Korean soccer, but others…”

I intentionally trailed off, casting a sideways glance at the officials.

I couldn’t help but smirk at their passive behavior, even as I laid out the truth.

As I propped up Song Chan-hyeok while pushing the asociation officials down, he seemed to catch on to my intentions and cleared his throat.

“I get your point, Boss Kim. Let’s leave it at that, shall we? Isn’t today a historic day? Korea might just win the World Cup!”

I turned my gaze from the officials, who were eyeing each other nervously, to the field.

The Korean team had indeed scored that initial goal.

But, against the powerful Brazilian team, that single goal felt too precarious.

Brazil, capable of scoring two or more goals in just five minutes, kept Hiddink from lowering their defensive line.

They raised the line, attempting to apply pressure from midfield, but defending against Brazil’s offense was a tall order.

What was that saying? If you keep knocking, the door opens eventually. Brazil equalized with twenty minutes left in the match.

“It’s more intense than I expected. I honestly thought Korea would lose by a large margin.”

Like Roman said, no one had anticipated Korea’s victory.

No one considered that the Korean team could produce good results in the final held in Japan, away from their home turf.

To exemplify, the major gambling companies in the UK had set low odds for Korea’s victory.

1.1:12. A ridiculous payout rate where betting one million won would earn them twelve million.

That showed just how few believed in Korea’s chances.

If the majors were this skeptical, the minors would be worse. I didn’t particularly enjoy gambling, but seeing so few people pinning their hopes on Korea left me feeling oddly annoyed.

“Well, I guess no one expected this. It’s a strangely captivating match. Quite entertaining too.”

“In soccer, no one knows the outcome until the final whistle. That’s why I love soccer. There’s a thrill to it, Charlie.”

The conversation ended, fueled by Roman’s excitement, and we returned our focus to the game.

Brazil, riding the wave of momentum, scored again, making it 2:1.

But Korea didn’t give up.

With a well-timed counterattack, the Korean team managed to equalize.

Ahn Jung-hoon raced swiftly towards the center after receiving a ball from another player.

In that simple action, solely focused on the goal, a solid determination to win shone through.

The Red Devils roared their support for the players, who threw themselves into the match regardless of their well-being.

Relentless Brazilian attacks continued. The Japanese fans, who occupied most of the stands, initially cheered for Brazil.

Yet, as the game wore on, the cheers for the Korean team grew louder.

Just before the end of the second half, the support for the Korean team alongside the Red Devils surged noticeably.

Even the Japanese, who had a negative perception of Korea, wanted to cheer for the team giving it their all.

One player fell victim to a sudden tackle, his head bleeding profusely, yet he bandaged it and continued to play.

Another player collapsed on the field but struggled back to his feet, limping back into the fray.

Hiddink attempted to substitute, but the players waved him off, signaling their desire to keep playing.

Despite their struggles, Lady Luck turned her back on them, favoring Brazil instead.

Just before the match ended, Ronaldo slipped past three players and the goalkeeper with a casual touch, sending the ball slowly into the net.

As the final whistle blew, the Korean players collapsed on the ground, bursting into tears.

Not just one, but all eleven players.

Even though my emotions had dulled, I felt a sharp pang rising from deep within; others must have felt it stronger.

The Red Devils were all in tears. No, every spectator in the stadium was crying along with them.

It was a match that showcased the strength of Korean soccer, often mocked and dismissed as a peripheral sport.

While they didn’t get to lift the trophy, they emerged as winners in another way.

Support and encouragement poured in for the Korean team, who, with tear-streaked faces, began to clap.

Brazil’s players, rather than reveling in their victory, comforted the weeping Korean players.

The award ceremony concluded, leaving the stadium desolate after everyone had exited.

I stood at one end of the stadium, looking down at the darkened field, feeling deeply reflective.

“Mu-hyeok, let’s head down. It’s quite a trek to meet Ronaldo now.”

Han Gyeong-yeong lightly tapped my shoulder, seeming to sense the heavy atmosphere.

“Okay, let’s go. We need to meet him. He’s our player, after all.”

We left the Yokohama stadium together.

Outside, the Red Devils, donned in red shirts, awaited the Korean team instead of heading home.

I watched those devoted supporters before moving forward.

The dream of a midsummer night had come to an end.

We arrived at the hotel where the Brazilian team was staying.

The national team hadn’t returned yet.

While waiting for them, Han Gyeong-yeong and I chatted about soccer.

“Is there ever a time I felt prouder to be Korean? When I call myself Korean in New York, people often don’t understand.”

Han Gyeong-yeong smiled proudly. Although he identifies as an American for business, deep down, he loves Korea.

“Japanese? Chinese? Most people I meet ask me that. When I say I’m Korean, some don’t recognize it at all and sometimes confuse it with North Korea.”

I smiled back at Han Gyeong-yeong, fully understanding his feelings.

Being underestimated as an Asian can be annoying, but nothing’s more infuriating than being confused about one’s nationality.

“It can’t be helped. That’s reality.”

“Still, America is not too bad. Most people in Europe have no idea. Eventually, I would just claim to be American to avoid explaining!”

I laughed heartily at Han Gyeong-yeong’s grumbling.

“Now, there isn’t anyone in Europe who doesn’t know Korea, right? Soccer is a way of life there.”

I nodded slightly. They couldn’t possibly not know the country that had reached the World Cup finals.

This was an effect that couldn’t be bought for millions.

Just then, the door opened, and Ronaldo entered with his agent, Santana.

Han Gyeong-yeong stood up enthusiastically, greeting them in Spanish.

“Ronaldo, Santana! Congratulations on Brazil’s victory!”

The three greeted each other warmly, having met before.

Once the greetings were over, Han Gyeong-yeong introduced me.

“This is my boss, Charlie Kim, the actual owner of Leeds United. He was the one who actively recommended your signing, Ronaldo.”

Ronaldo looked at me with a curious expression.

I extended my hand to him, smiling softly.

“Nice to meet you. I’m a fan, Ronaldo.”

Ronaldo grabbed my hand firmly with his strong grip, his trademark smile flashing as he did so.

“Great to meet you too, Charlie.”

After quick introductions, we took our seats.

“Can I offer you a drink? How about some wine?”

“Yes. I can’t drink much for conditioning reasons, but I can manage a glass. I’d appreciate it if you poured me some.”

Ronaldo gladly accepted the wine I poured for him.

“Can I ask you something?”

Setting down his glass, Ronaldo asked.

His voice was laced with curiosity, and I nodded patiently.

“Ask away.”

“I heard that you commanded I must be signed, even when I was deep in rehab after a major injury. I was curious why you’d invest heavily in someone whose performance might have been uncertain at that time.”

Ronaldo had suffered his first knee injury in 1999.

After a grueling half-year rehabilitation, he returned to play only to reinjure himself again.

It was a staggering injury that made his recovery uncertain.

That injury, occurring in his prime, had been catastrophic for Ronaldo.

Media worldwide broadcasted unfiltered images of Ronaldo clutching his knee in anguish.

Sensational articles proclaimed, ‘The King of Football has come to an end.’

There were shocking images of Ronaldo post-surgery, captured by paparazzi.

With excess weight and limping, people had stopped believing in his comeback.

Just as people began to forget about him, we proposed he join Inter Milan.

It was back when Ribeiro’s recovery was still uncertain.

“I was a fan of yours, Ronaldo. I firmly believed in your dazzling comeback. Had I waited until after your recovery to pursue you, Inter Milan would have held tightly onto you.”

“…I see. Thank you.”

“As I expected, you made a splendid comeback. As soon as the World Cup kicked off and the qualifiers were over, our club was flooded with inquiries from clubs eager to sign you.”

Ronaldo nodded with a small smile, as if he was aware of this too.

If clubs were contacting our team, it was odd that Ronaldo’s agent didn’t hear anything.

“I’m happy my choice wasn’t wrong. However, if you want, I can help arrange a transfer for you.”

Our club still lacked prestige, so if Ronaldo wished, I was willing to send him elsewhere.

But he firmly shook his head.

“No, not at this time. I’ve told my agent Santana that I have no intention to transfer.”

I turned my head to Santana beside me.

His face showed disappointment. Naturally, an agent earns commission off transfer fees.

Santana awkwardly smiled and replied.

“I hope Ronaldo wishes to stay.”

Right after Santana finished speaking, Ronaldo continued.

“I don’t want to betray the person who extended a hand when I was struggling. I’ll leave after gifting this club a trophy.”

Those words surely struck a chord.

In silence, I raised my glass to Ronaldo.

Ronaldo also raised his glass. We clinked our glasses with smiles.

This time it was a wine glass, but the next would be a trophy.