"Why would you give him that shooting angle so easily? The coach specifically warned you to be careful."
"It, it happened so fast..."
"You got caught off guard because you weren't focused. Then why bother training at all?"
After Ho-young's long-range shot opened the scoring, the Grêmio players were suddenly all over the place like their feet were on fire.
Especially their captain, Alexandre Becker, who was shouting at the top of his lungs.
An American-Brazilian, fifteen years old, he played as a full-back.
"Push the line up and press! Eduardo, drop back to the second line and get the ball!"
Alexandre raised both arms over his head and flicked his wrists.
It was a signal to his teammates.
A cue to compress the pitch and deny the opponent any good attacking angles.
'Even if we give up space on the flanks, we have to shut down the shooting angles. That kid's a long-range shooter.'
Woo Ho-young.
The league had only just begun, but there was already a fair bit of scouting on him.
A player known for his explosive pace and powerful mid-range shooting.
You might think his fundamentals would be lacking, given his short football career, but it was quite the opposite.
Recently, he'd even begun dropping deep into the second line, orchestrating both defense and attack — a true all-rounder.
That was the evaluation from the coaches watching him.
Alexandre could see it for himself.
The shot he had just taken was extremely dangerous.
Still, there was no forgiving his teammates for letting Ho-young get that kind of shooting angle.
'You lose focus, and this is what happens.'
His gaze shifted upfield.
He glared at the back of Ho-young's head with eyes blazing.
'Look at him, acting all hyped up.'
Ho-young was bouncing his shoulders in a weird celebration, clearly thrilled after scoring both his debut and the league's opening goal.
It was understandable, but irritating to watch.
'No more goals. If he shoots again, we need to collapse the space immediately.'
From then on, Grêmio deployed a gritty, tight brand of football, centered around Alexandre.
They irritated São Paulo's players just enough to throw off their rhythm and stop them from playing their game.
Two, sometimes three players would instantly collapse on Ho-young or Oscar the moment they touched the ball.
It was suffocating.
Maybe boring for the spectators, but for Grêmio, it was the best possible strategy.
'If we don't play like this, we're going to get destroyed. Just like the coach said, we have to survive until the second half with minimal damage.'
If they could manage even one successful counterattack, they might salvage a draw.
That's football.
You could have 100 shots on target, dominate all game long but if you don't score, it means nothing.
Meanwhile, the other team only needs one shot to win.
That's pragmatic football.
'Alright, if we keep going like this...'
Just when a sliver of hope began to emerge, Ho-young's movement suddenly changed.
"...!"
He dropped into the second line and dispossessed Eduardo with a sudden tackle.
Then exchanged a one-two and broke through down the left flank.
"Mark him!"
A defensive midfielder, previously staying in zone, rushed to close him down.
So did Alexandre.
"Where do you think you're going!"
He rushed toward Ho-young, determined to protect the flank.
"Stay focused!"
He yelled, pressing Ho-young hard.
It quickly became a 2-on-1 physical scuffle. An ugly sight.
Pweeet!
Reckless challenges always lead to trouble.
The referee ran over and blew the whistle for a foul against Grêmio.
"You, number 4. Watch it."
"Yes, sir..."
Fortunately, it ended with a verbal warning.
'Actually, that worked out in our favor.'
If Ho-young had broken through, they might have conceded again.
Plus, the free-kick location wasn't particularly dangerous.
About 36 meters out, near the left touchline.
'There's no way he's shooting from here.'
Unless Beckham, Juninho, or Zico himself showed up, no one was scoring from that angle.
That was why Alexandre could breathe easy.
He was strong in the box anyway.
Thanks to his solid anticipation, he handled aerial balls well.
'I've got this on set-pieces.'
He took up position near the far post, tasked with marking Ho-young.
Even before the ball came in, he initiated a shoulder-to-shoulder challenge, trying to mess with his rhythm.
Positioning was everything in aerial battles.
Then—
"...?"
Alexandre's brow furrowed.
Ho-young's physical strength wasn't easy to deal with.
'He's more solid than I expected.'
Still, it felt manageable.
Until that thought instantly crumbled.
'You've got to be kidding me.'
Despite being a bit smaller, Ho-young overpowered him and took the better position.
A second later, the cross flew in.
Boom!
Oscar curled a fierce cross toward the far post.
"Damn it...!"
Even after losing position, Alexandre didn't give up.
He jumped, desperate to interfere with the header.
But Ho-young wasn't just physically strong.
"...!!"
His heading ability was clearly above average.
He met the ball perfectly, twisting his head at just the right angle.
It bounced off the ground and into the net.
"Ooooooooh!"
Second goal.
The São Paulo players burst into cheers, racing over to celebrate with Ho-young.
"This is insane!"
Alexandre, completely outplayed, couldn't help but curse.
He felt powerless.
Dribbling, physicality, heading — he had it all?
"Ughhh..."
He muttered to himself.
Life really wasn't fair.
Ho-young's second goal carried just as much weight as the first.
It was his first headed goal in Brazil.
Carlos shook his head in disbelief.
He had scouted and shaped the kid, but even he hadn't expected this kind of potential.
Goosebumps rose on his arms and wouldn't go away.
'When did his heading get this good?'
Of course, he had known that Ho-young's heading was decent from training.
That's why he'd positioned him near the goal during set pieces.
But he didn't think it would work so effectively in his debut.
'A headed goal, at his height...'
There's no rule saying short players can't score with their heads.
Romário, who claimed 1,000 goals, scored plenty despite being short.
But that was Romário, a man born with 'devilish talent.'
'Haha. Maybe this kid's got something similar.'
Carlos chuckled quietly.
'Did I just compare Romário to an Asian kid?'
He looked toward Victor in the stands.
"Looks like you'll need to prepare that reward now."
Victor smiled knowingly.
The first half ended with São Paulo FC comfortably leading 2-0.
At that moment...
While the home side's locker room was buzzing with celebration, the away side was like a funeral.
They had worked themselves to the bone preparing, even in bad weather, and now this?
Of course morale was in the dumps.
None of the Grêmio players dared say a word.
They were too busy gauging Coach Carvalho's fury.
"This is driving me mad."
Just thinking about Ho-young's incredible performance made Carvalho's blood pressure rise.
He had watched his clips, but hadn't expected him to be this good in a real U15 match.
'I didn't think he'd be this strong, or this good in the air.'
It was a disaster.
They were already struggling to contain Oscar, and now Ho-young was tearing through them too.
In youth matches, one outstanding player could decide the outcome.
Carvalho had experienced it before.
Ten years ago, facing Adriano, he had conceded six goals.
Ho-young's impact was just one step below that nightmare.
'This doesn't make sense. He's Asian.'
No Asian had ever dominated the Brazilian league like this.
'Dammit.'
He had to find a solution.
Forget drawing. They just needed to stop the bleeding.
Carvalho spoke.
"We're increasing the number of defenders and switching to man-marking."
There was no other choice.
If they kept playing zonal, the same thing would keep happening.
If they couldn't shut down space, they'd shut down the man.
"Alexandre."
"...Yes, sir?"
"You're going to mark Ho-young. Stick to him, even if it means abandoning your position. Same goes for the rest of you. Your job today is simple: prevent the ball from reaching Ho-young. Cut off every possible passing lane."
He ordered them to shadow Ho-young.
It was the best instruction he could give at this point.
Pweeet!
The second half began.
Grêmio came out with a brand-new defensive tactic.
'Ho-young. I'll chase you to the ends of the earth.'
Though completely outplayed, Alexandre held himself together as captain.
Man-marking had its weakness in space, but with more defenders, they could cover the gaps.
It was late, but at least now things might be more manageable.
But then.
"Ah..."
Just three minutes in, Alexandre sighed.
Ho-young had dropped into the second line, and Oscar even deeper.
Grêmio had changed tactics, and São Paulo had immediately countered.
"Damn it!"
And the problems didn't stop there.
Quick-footed Douglas Costa had come on as the new left striker.
Grêmio's backline fell into chaos.
São Paulo didn't waste the chance.
Oscar backed up Ho-young's playmaking, and Ho-young broke through the front.
Holes they hadn't seen earlier were now opening everywhere.
Ho-young exploited one of them with a deep run into the front line.
Alexandre scrambled to stop him, but couldn't prevent the penetration.
Rip!
Another clean breakthrough, and Ho-young scored his third goal.
"Whooo!"
As he celebrated, Alexandre's cheeks flushed red with shame.
"...What the hell is this..."
He was stunned.
And finally, he understood.
Why they couldn't stop Ho-young in the first half.
There was only one reason.
'The difference in talent.'
"Damn it. Damn it. Damn it."
He wanted to go back 80 minutes and slap his past self for underestimating the kid.
Football had never felt so hard.
For the first time in his life, he hated being on the pitch.
Meanwhile, Ho-young walked off the field with a completely different feeling.
'Was football always this easy?'
The game had felt almost effortless.
A hat-trick in his debut?
He was like a fish in water.
He had enjoyed himself and delivered.
Both teams had prepared, but only São Paulo FC showed it on the pitch.
And the victory was theirs.
A resounding 6-0 win for São Paulo FC.
And the reward came right after.
[Select the talent you wish to obtain.]
- Stylish Volley Kick (C+)
'That makes 21.'
His list of talents continued to grow.
Each one added to the fun.
Even talents that seemed useless now might be valuable later.
If upgrades and advancements existed, then surely more was in store.
The future looked even brighter.
'I'll probably get Oscar's talent soon too.'
Two more wins in the league, and he'd be able to claim Oscar's talent.
'Yes!'
The match was over, but his passion still burned bright.
What new talents would he gain? What new football would he experience?
With excitement in his heart, he walked back to the locker room alongside his teammates.
Just then.
"Hm?"
As they entered, the players looked around in confusion.
An old gentleman was standing inside.
'Looks familiar...'
Ho-young squinted.
'I think I saw him at the training ground... maybe a club official?'
Just as his curiosity peaked, the old man finally spoke.
"A 6-0 win, huh? Hahaha. Looks like I'll have to hand out a little reward to our players."
The old man smiled mischievously.
(To be continued.)