Monday, January 2, 2006.
It was a special New Year for the now 14-year-old Ho-young.
He had officially become a member of Real Madrid.
Starting today, Ho-young's name was registered on the list of foreign youth players in Spain, granting him eligibility to train with and participate in league matches for Real Madrid.
And today was his very first training session.
He was on his way to the training center, riding in the car with his grandfather, Kim Jae-kyum. The training center was located about 20 kilometers northeast of their home.
Kim Jae-kyum, hands on the steering wheel, pressed down on the accelerator with excitement.
"Heh heh heh. Who would've thought I'd ever be driving down this road?"
"You've never been here before?"
"It's my first time at Valdebebas. It was just completed last year, after all."
Commonly referred to as the Valdebebas Training Center.
The official name was Ciudad Real Madrid.
It was the newly completed training complex for Real Madrid, finished just last September.
Once they got onto the HM2 road, the one most frequently used by players, they began to see clusters of people standing along the roadside.
Most were holding cameras, and some were energetically waving placards.
[NO5. Z I Z O U !]
[NO9. Il Fenomeno !]
They were placards cheering for Zinedine Zidane of France and Ronaldo of Brazil.
As if it were a normal daily occurrence, the fans continued waving their signs, completely unfazed by the speeding cars whizzing past.
Although Ho-young had heard of this kind of fan culture, seeing it firsthand was still a shock.
"They really are passionate."
"Some players with good fan service will even stop their cars and sign autographs. That's why they wait here for hours without even realizing how much time has passed."
"Who usually does that?"
"Casillas is the one who stops the most. Great guy with excellent fan service."
"Iker Casillas, huh? But how do you know all this, Grandpa?"
"Because I used to be one of them too. I don't go anymore since I need to watch my joints, but my heart is still with them."
"Wow… who did you cheer for?"
"Hah, do I really need to say it?"
"...Di Stefano?"
"So you're calling your grandpa an old fossil now, huh?"
"Ha ha. Then Raul?"
"Actually, both. Heh heh."
Real Madrid had two undisputed legends.
Alfredo Di Stefano, who led Real Madrid through its golden age 40 years ago.
And Raul Gonzalez, who was leading the current generation.
Unsurprisingly, most of the fans holding placards were cheering for Raul.
[NO7. El angel del Madrid!!!]
The Angel of Madrid.
Real Madrid's captain.
Raul Gonzalez!
Just seeing his name made Ho-young's heart pound.
He couldn't even imagine what it would feel like to play alongside players like him.
Sigh... I've got to work hard.
Only then would he be able to meet them as soon as possible.
When they finally arrived at Valdebebas, Ho-young's eyes widened.
He had only seen it in pictures before, and seeing it in person was overwhelming.
Just like hardcore idol fans waiting outside dorms, fans from all over the world were gathered at the entrance since early morning.
The entrance was tightly guarded by security, and as they moved further inside under the guards' guidance, Ho-young couldn't stop letting out gasps of admiration.
This is where I'll be training from now on...
His heart refused to calm down.
The São Paulo FC's Barra Funda Training Center suddenly felt like a neighborhood gym in comparison.
And for good reason.
Valdebebas was the largest training facility in the world.
It covered a staggering 360,000 pyeong of land.
Inside, it housed a total of ten full-sized fields, each equipped with its own spectator stands.
The auxiliary facilities exceeded expectations too.
Multiple gyms, a medical center, various treatment rooms, hot springs for players, a press conference room, a private interview room—there was nothing it didn't have.
Unfortunately for Ho-young, the adult team and youth team facilities were strictly separated, meaning he would hardly ever get a chance to run into first-team players.
But that was fine.
I'll be moving up soon enough.
Screech.
Kim Jae-kyum parked in the youth team-only parking lot and walked Ho-young into the building.
"It's your first day. Do you remember what I told you?"
"Work hard?"
"No, I told you to show them what you've got. You know that saying kids use nowadays? 'Put them on a tour' or whatever."
"How do you even know that? That's a phrase only Korean kids use."
"Your grandpa's a parent-level member of the WooHooHyung fan café, you know."
That was the tier just below the admins and moderators.
In other words, he was quite active online.
"You're the kid who broke World Cup records. This is nothing. Hurry up and make it to the pros. Then bring Raul and Beckham home."
"Ha ha. Just wait a bit. I'll drill my way up like a jackhammer."
Standing in front of the youth training center, Ho-young reaffirmed his determination and stepped forward.
This was the beginning.
Real Madrid's youth team.
Commonly known as La Fabrica, the youth factory was divided into 13 levels.
Up to level 11 was considered the youth team. Level 12 and beyond were official pro teams. Upon completing the 13th level, a player would be promoted to the first team.
Ho-young was in the Juvenil C team, which was level 9, consisting mostly of boys under 16.
So, his first goal was to be promoted to level 12—the official pro team.
No one knew how long that would take.
He had a goal of reaching it by 2008, but Ho-young knew better than anyone that it wouldn't be easy.
Still...
With the talent of a football prodigy, he believed he could surpass even that.
The Juvenil 2 Training Ground, enclosed in steel fencing.
Shared by the Juvenil C (U16) and Juvenil B (U17) teams, it had two large fields and a mini-field for practice matches.
January 2nd.
This would be Ho-young's training ground starting today.
Wow, it's packed.
Perhaps because it was during the Christmas break, every single player was present for the morning training.
The Juvenil C team had 26 players, and the B team had 25, totaling 51.
Among them, the only other Asian player was a boy named Pipi from Malaysia, but even he held Spanish nationality.
In other words, the only true foreigner was...
Just me.
Not that it mattered.
If anything, it was a good thing.
It was a great opportunity to stand out even more.
Ho-young saw it in a positive light.
But the existing Juvenil players didn't view him positively.
There was clear tension.
Ho-young's title as the U17 World Cup Golden Ball winner created a psychological barrier for them.
Right then.
Beep!
Pedro, the head coach of the Juvenil B team, called the players to gather.
A briefing for the morning match followed.
For Ho-young, it was a first.
The 51 players would be split into four teams, and each team would play three 30-minute matches.
What stood out was that the coach would only assign basic positions and leave all tactics to the players.
This meant they had to quickly analyze opponents and adapt strategies on the fly.
As Pedro wrapped up the briefing, he added one more thing.
"Don't be afraid to make mistakes."
"Yes, sir~"
Since it was a regular training drill, the players didn't seem tense at all.
It wasn't a special day, so they just needed to perform like usual.
Training began shortly after.
Before the matches, basic drills were conducted, but Ho-young was pulled aside to spend time with the Juvenil C team's technical coach.
The goal was to adapt to the league through Spanish-style footwork and ball feel, and to learn a new breathing technique for more efficient dribbling.
Some players snickered at the sight.
It looked ridiculous to them that the U17 World Cup MVP was learning the basics like a beginner.
But one boy, with a distinct square jaw—Marcos Alonso Mendoza, born in 1990—reacted differently.
That can't be my hero.
He was in distress.
So much so that he couldn't focus on the training he normally loved.
That's not the Ho-young I know.
The Ho-young he saw on TV at the U17 Peru World Cup was nothing like this.
Seeing him doing basic drills on the sideline felt so far removed from that image.
Why can't he even do that properly? Don't they teach that in other countries?
For Marcos, who only knew Spanish football, it was incomprehensible.
So the disappointment hit hard.
With a pure heart, he found himself truly disillusioned.
But the technical coach working with Ho-young was incredibly serious.
A real genius. I only explained it once.
After being taught just once, Ho-young was executing ten things perfectly.
His learning speed was off the charts.
His genius is on another level.
He already knew Ho-young was talented, but not to this degree.
The coach was now eagerly anticipating the team match.
The match started at 10 a.m.
Ho-young was placed in Team 2 as an attacking midfielder.
And that was it.
The formation was the familiar 4-2-3-1 commonly used in the Juvenil system, but aside from that, the players received no further instructions.
It felt like being thrown into the deep end with no help.
Hmm.
Ho-young gathered his thoughts before the match, then clapped his hands.
And shouted.
"Come here for a second!"
The atmosphere suddenly turned cold.
But only for a moment.
The players on Team 2, after exchanging glances, burst into laughter.
It wasn't mocking.
"This guy's funny."
"Full of energy."
"Alright, I'm here. Why'd you call us?"
Ho-young glanced around and counted.
Eleven, including himself.
He asked.
"Can you guys explain how you usually run the 4-2-3-1 tactic?"
In the past three years, he had played in nearly 200 matches, big and small, and experienced countless tactical setups.
With his high football intelligence and tactical comprehension, Ho-young believed he could quickly adapt.
But not everyone saw him positively.
With eleven players, there's always one oddball.
Fran, the lone striker of Team 2, found Ho-young's enthusiasm annoying.
"Why should we tell you that? That's our Real Madrid tactic."
In other words, he didn't see Ho-young as part of the team.
As the oldest player on the squad, Fran didn't stop there.
"Just pass the ball to me. You're the attacking midfielder, right?"
Huh, look at this guy.
Ho-young felt a strange sense of déjà vu from Fran.
Oscar?
Yes.
When he first met Oscar, it was a similar situation.
Jealousy.
Guys like this exist everywhere.
So Ho-young asked.
"Then you're saying we should just play without a tactic?"
"Why not? It's just a practice match, not like anyone's evaluating us."
Fran showed zero drive.
But Ho-young burned with passion.
Whether it was training or a real match, football was still football.
He planned to give it his all.
Beep!
And the match began.
On the left field.
Team 1 vs Team 2.
It hadn't even been long since kickoff, but the game was already intense.
Both teams used a 4-2-3-1 formation, but Team 1, which had more Juvenil B players, took the initiative.
They calmly exchanged short and precise passes to build up play.
They had composure.
Like stacking bricks into a pyramid, they steadily built possession through passing.
It was the classic Juvenil style.
Team 2's central midfielders tried pressing in response, but Marcos Alonso on the left midfield for Team 1 escaped the pressure with solid ball control.
He had top-tier pressure resistance in the U17 league.
But that was only within the U17 level.
Thud!
"...!!"
It didn't work on a world-class prospect.
Ho-young.
He appeared like a flash of lightning and snatched the ball away.
Then surged toward the goal.
It all happened in a split second.
"...?"
Crash!
"That's it."
Ho-young's mid-range shot rattled the net, and cheers erupted from the stands.
It was the youth director, Michel, observing the training.
Next to him, Club President Florentino Perez clapped at a steady rhythm.
Clap. Clap. Clap.
His cheeks moved in sync with the tempo.
Watching this, Fran's face twisted in frustration.
A match he thought wasn't important had suddenly become a very important one.
But in truth, Fran wasn't even in the picture.
What was going through Perez's mind was just one thing.
What kind of tutor should I assign to make everyone say I chose perfectly...?
(To be continued.)