U-17 AFC, Finals.
South Korea vs Qatar.
Last ga of the AFC U-17 Tournant
Here we are. The final of sothing. Certainly not the most important or high pressure tournant, but a final nonetheless. An end of a cycle, and the beginning of a more important one. The World Cup already had our nas on it, but a trophy was still a trophy, and having gotten thus far, wouldn't it be good to see a silver and a shiny piece in hand before the real thing ca up?
The stadium wasn't as jam-packed as you'd expect from most finals. Still, there were so 20,000 seats packed and taken with loud chants, fans showing colors, and an almost religious devotion. If religion had a passion for football, that is.
They were there. Our people. The South Korean faithful.
Thousands and thousands of spectators coming from around the country, and probably around the world.
All eyes would be on the squad. The other Asian teams got so hype for sure, but South Korea, at this point in the tournant, were the favorites to take it ho. And right now, we could snatch the entire damn thing, bring ho glory and adoration and more attention from all the sport-focused press outlets out there.
Coach Ahn ki-seok paced back and forth in the locker room like a man about to beco a father. I tied the laces of my boots, tugging the thick ends tightly enough so I wouldn't be stumbling over them later in the match. I wiggled my toes experintally, feeling them stir as blood flowed, but no discomfort.
Around , teammates chatted amongst themselves. The room was abuzz, the noise coming from a combination of conversations, whispers, laughter, nervous pacing, shuffling feet, and a constant buzz coming from the TVs positioned on the locker room's walls.
A whiteboard with several diagrams, lines, crosses, arrows, and plays written in green chalk hung off the side of the room.
Key plays. Set-pieces. So team tactics. All kinds of things Coach had covered with us before the ga, so we could all go into the pitch knowing what we had to do.
One of the assistants erased so random gibberish at the bottom and wrote GO OUT THERE AND BRING HO GLORY!!!! in thick capital letters. We all stared at that little sentence for a mont, no one really saying anything. I'm sure all of us were thinking, in different ways, 'oh wow, such words of wisdom.'
The assistant coach wanted to smack himself with an invisible hand right after writing those highly motivating words.
That was how the nerves manifested, though. And trust , everyone was on the edge. Qatar wasn't exactly the most feared opponents in this tournant, and it was quite surprising that they got here and reached the finale, but you can't ignore results and performances.
And usually every final tended to be that one step everyone faltered on, so even a supposedly easy job wasn't that easy, at all. It was a title fight, so you'd have to give it your all and beyond. ssing it up here would be even more disappointing since we all know we had the tools.
And honestly, a title was a title, and when you make it this far you really wanted to hold it in your hands.
Serves as an idealization point of reference. Sothing to boast about.
Sure, this wasn't exactly a top competition, but you couldn't dismiss these trophies or their significance. It was still proof you belonged here. It was the validation everyone craved.
Besides... this would an more scouts would look at you with interested eyes. More agents. More news articles and talk show interviews, not that those would have happened even without a cup win, but still, the point stands.
Coach Ahn finally stopped his pacing and planted himself near the bench, just beneath the whiteboard. He didn't need any fancy tools, since the attention of 20-odd football players was pretty much already focused on him.
I tossed my old tape aside, grabbing another fresh roll—I was a superstitious one, had been since youth. I always liked to start the match with new tape. It's just sothing I've been doing for as far as I rember.
"Guys..."
The coach started, with all eyes on him, a sharp pause followed by him folding his arms behind his back, chest puffed up and shoulders raised, spine straight and proud like the perfect military posture you could expect from anyone who had gone through military service in their youth, which was probably the case for him.
We waited patiently. The coach let out a sharp breath.
"You all know the situation, so there's no reason to repeat it to you. This isn't the biggest stage you'll all play for, but the principle is the sa. One step at a ti. One step at a ti. These guys shouldn't be underestimated because of their form throughout the tournant or their last record in these kinds of gas. Anything could happen. Anything can go wrong. Do you understand that? Do you understand that?!"
Coach said, and was t with unanimous nods. Everyone agreed, and nobody disputed what he was saying.
"Right, you'll all head out in 15 minutes. Listen, I'll keep it short today." His lips curved into an affectionate smirk. "All I have to say, is... you've been great these past few weeks. Brilliant, actually. To be the best is one thing, but to keep it is entirely another. That's why I am confidently saying: that we'll win. That's why I have every confidence in you!"
We all started clapping and whistling, the assistant coaches giving pats on the backs, the general staff helping out, getting the equipnt.
"Can't believe we've made it this far." Jong-su muttered as he finished tying his laces. "It feels... surreal."
I stretched my legs, feeling the muscles loosen and warm up. "Getting sentintal, all of a sudden? You?" I raised an eyebrow.
Jong-su's face soured. "Shut it. I'm just saying... it's been a bit of a wild ride. Like, out of all the countries in this tournant, we're the last two standing. Crazy." He chuckled. "Would you look at that. Us."
Sung-tae, who had been sitting quietly near us, piped up. "It's because we're the best. It's that simple."
Jong-su rolled his eyes. "No shit, Sherlock." He pointed at . "These two motherfuckers right here have been carrying us. And the rest of you have been doing your parts, I guess." A broad, goofy grin spread across his lips.
Sung-tae's lips twitched, as if he wanted to say sothing, but thought better of it.
The assistant coach walked over with the captain's armband.
"Here you go, Cha." He said, handing the band. "Make sothing special happen."
As usual, the burden of being captain fell to . Not because I wanted it, but because the coach and the team seed to think that I was the best fit. That I could lead by example. That I could inspire. I never thought myself the best leader, but perhaps my maturity and athletic skill made it sowhat natural to place this kind of burden on my shoulders.
I didn't argue. I just took the band and slipped it over my bicep.
The locker room started to empty out, one by one, guys filing out through the door. Outside, it was a hubbub of activity, with staff personnel and tournant officials moving this way and that way with so hurry in their steps.
Jong-su grinned. "Well, gentlen. Let's all be going." He held out his hand.
Sung-tae lightly swatted his hand, clicking his tongue. "Ugh, don't be la."
The click-clack of cleats on concrete rang throughout the tunnel. I looked to the left, where Qatar's line-up aligned with us. I caught more than a few glances from the white jerseys of my soon-to-be rivals, all wearing expressions that ranged from determined and fiery to downright nervous.
This match was as important to us as it was to them.
So of them began whispering to each other while stealing glimpses at . I frowned.
"Don't worry, captain. They're just saying how mighty dashing you look." Jong-su supplied helpfully, patting my shoulder. "Very dapper, I imagine."
"Very reassuring." I snorted.
It didn't take long for the announcent to co, for our nas to ring out through the stadium, for the roar of expectant aficionados to turn into a wave. I prepared myself, bouncing on my feet before walking forward. The light at the end of the tunnel was glaring and bright.
It swallowed whole before my boots stepped on grass, and I heard the whole crowd erupt in cheers.
I smiled.
Everything beca a haze as we walked to the center circle for the pre-ga ritual, taking care of the national anthem and all that.
Then the coin toss happened, which we won, and I picked the side and goal to favor us in, since we would have the sun behind us. It'd likely start to fall by halfti, which ant that Qatar would have it glare right in their faces, and we'd likely not have to face it when we switched sides.
I wanted to use any advantage we could get.
We stood at the center circle, the ball right in the middle. Everyone was spread out. Sung-tae was in front of , loosening his arm and giving his last couple of warm-up bounces.
I exhaled, looking back at everyone to gauge their positions.
The ref's whistle blared to signal the match, and off the players went.
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