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└Damn!
└You're the pride of South Korea.
└So proud. Truly the best. I'm about to cry.
└If he had a bit more of a career, he'd already be recognized as the greatest Asian player of all time. His ability already is.
└In terms of short-term impact, he's surpassed Maradona. Right?
└Hmm... still, that's a bit much...
└Imagine how much better he'll get as an adult. Wouldn't he end up doing everything by himself?
└Just hope he doesn't flop like Bojan...
└Hope he grows steadily like Messi, haha.
└Nah, come on. Messi can't win aerial duels. He should grow up like Ronaldo.
└Haha, is Messi even 170 cm?
└Enough with the Messi talk. You'd think Messi scored the goals the way people keep comparing them. They're both good, so stop it with the comparisons.
└But seriously, two goals and an assist in El Clásico... This will go down as one of the best debut performances in El Clásico history. He's already broken all the youngest-ever records.
It was a debut that silenced all the haters. Truly the best El Clásico debut imaginable.
But for someone else, it was quickly turning into the worst debut imaginable.
Right after coming on, in the 75th minute, Piqué couldn't hide the look of devastation on his face.
It was shocking.
Of course, he'd known it wouldn't be easy, but when the aerial duel happened, he thought he had won.
But he had lost completely in the psychological battle.
"Damn it..."
He couldn't bring himself to face the 100,000 culés who had cheered for him when he was subbed in.
He stared briefly at the goal where the ball had just gone in, then hung his head.
Just then.
"Hey! Gerard!"
It was Puyol, the heart of Catalunya, running over breathless after seeing what had happened.
His commanding voice filled the penalty box.
"Get it together. You're a centre-back for Barça. The goalpost isn't what you need to look at. You should be facing your opponent."
Indeed, the most respected player among culés and within the squad alike.
Puyol showed the qualities of a true leader as he butted foreheads with Piqué and barked at him.
"Don't back down! It's not over yet! Believe in yourself!"
That's when the voices from the stands swelled.
Clap, clap.
Clap, clap.
"Tot~ el, camp!"
Barcelona's anthem slowly began to fill the stadium.
Tot el camp es un clam
The entire stadium was roaring.
som la gent blaugrana
We are the blue and red.
Barça, Barça, Baaarça!
With the vibrant and majestic chorus, tens of thousands of Barcelona flags fluttered in unison.
Right behind the goal, in the supporter section—
[Som un Equip!]
A massive banner reading 'We are a team' covered the stands.
Then, cheers erupted for Piqué.
"Piqué! Piqué!"
"Stand tall! A Catalan does not kneel before a Castilian!"
Yes.
Piqué was Catalan to the core.
He had grown up with the weight of culé expectations on his shoulders.
And now, he stood up once more.
3-3.
It was the 75th minute of the second half.
There was still too much time left to give up.
[We're heading into the 80th minute, and fatigue is showing on everyone's faces.]
[Several players have already run over 10 kilometers. That shows how intense this match has been. 3-3. What kind of twist of fate is this?]
Who else could put up a result like this at Camp Nou against Barcelona?
Only Real Madrid.
They were playing their best match of the season today.
[It's now impossible to say whether Barcelona will retake the lead. The flow could go either way. Everyone's fired up.]
[If Real Madrid somehow scores again, they'll draw level with Barcelona in the standings. With their thinner squad compared to Barça, that would be huge.]
[Exactly. Madrid's squad depth this season has been criticized as aging and thin. Barcelona, on the other hand, are young and deep. As the season wears on, it's Madrid who'll be at a disadvantage.]
[So, naturally, Schuster is going to want all three points.]
Sweat was pouring from Schuster's hands.
He had come aiming for a point but might walk away with all three.
'Just one more step.'
80th minute.
They had fought so hard to get here.
And it was all thanks to Ho-young.
It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say this was his doing.
In the first half, the 3-5-2 formation Ho-young had proposed.
A tactic that removed the libero and used a defensive midfielder to shield the back three.
The resulting weaknesses in build-up and attack were covered by using the veteran Zidane and the rising star Ho-young effectively.
It was a strategy that required both individual talent and strict discipline.
'A genius idea.'
If Mozart had played football, this is what it would have looked like.
That tactic had produced results against Barcelona.
Nothing could have been more tailor-made.
Then, once the wing-backs started tiring, they pulled out the kick-and-rush strategy Manchester United had used years ago.
Left was Giggs, right was Beckham, and van Nistelrooy at the center.
They had successfully recreated that at Camp Nou.
And that led to a magnificent 3-3 scoreline.
But.
'There's still one more card.'
That wasn't the end of what they had prepared.
Schuster raised his left hand and spun it counter-clockwise.
At that signal, Madrid's players took off.
A final sprint with all their remaining energy.
[Real Madrid, who had allowed Barcelona to dictate the early stages, are now applying heavy pressure, burning through their reserves of energy.]
[It's amazing to watch. While Barcelona emphasize pressing and breaking the press in midfield, Madrid is doing the same in their defensive third. On top of that, Ho-young is dropping back to the second line to help with counterattacks and midfield battles. The tactical principles are the same, but the execution is different.]
Madrid focused on cutting off Barcelona's passing lanes with strong pressing from the front.
It was a physically demanding tactic, but it could work for the remaining 10 minutes.
They subbed off van Nistelrooy and brought on Higuaín to inject fresh legs into the squad.
Barcelona, also under pressure, made their final substitution to escape the press.
[Henry goes off and Keita comes in.]
[They're aiming to revitalize the midfield and restore their tiki-taka rhythm. Looks like Barcelona is about to go all-in.]
85th minute.
The match was nearing its end, but the stadium's heat only intensified.
"Puta Madrid!"
"Let's wipe out the garbage from Madrid!"
The supporter section began chanting with increasing hostility.
But that alone couldn't shake Real Madrid.
As the supporters grew more enraged, their actions escalated, and finally, an incident occurred.
The target was Ho-young.
Thud.
"Ow, what the...?"
Something thrown from the stands hit Ho-young square on the shoulder.
'...A lighter?'
After the earlier rock-throwing incident, this lighter attack added another psychological blow.
Already shaken by the earlier event, this only made his mental state even more unstable.
He tried to act unaffected and focus on the game, but his attention kept drifting to the crowd.
Still, he had to endure.
'Five minutes left. Focus.'
Thump, thump.
He beat his chest hard, trying to hold himself together.
At that moment—
"You alright? Are you hurt?"
"Ah, Zizou. Yes, I'm okay."
Even in this chaotic match, Zidane had run all the way over to check on Ho-young.
"That's good. And you handled it well. Nothing good comes from fighting with the crowd. Remember this. The only thing that can bring joy or sorrow to the fans is the result. Stones and lighters can't change that. But we can. We're the ones who make results. If not now, then when?"
"We're the ones who make results... Understood."
"Five minutes. We can win this."
Zidane gave him a firm slap on the back and left.
Ho-young clenched his teeth again.
Five minutes of added time.
With both sides giving their all, the tempo of the match escalated.
Whenever Xavi or Iniesta touched the ball, Madrid players surrounded them with intense pressing.
Disrupting their rhythm was the only way to secure points.
"We're almost there! Push a bit more! The team that holds on now will win!"
"We can do this. Just five more minutes. It's not over. Stay focused!"
Shouts erupted from the bench, Raúl's voice leading the charge.
Zidane's voice echoed throughout Madrid's half.
Late into the second half.
This was when Barcelona became most dangerous, and not a single moment of focus could be lost.
The real danger started now.
[Barcelona pushes their possession to 74%. Xavi and Iniesta are dominating the midfield, completely controlling the attack.]
[Meanwhile, Real Madrid players are completely gassed. This is when they need to be most careful. Fatigue shakes your mentality, and when that happens, you make mistakes you wouldn't normally make. With so many players already on yellow cards, Madrid must be cautious.]
Exactly as the commentary said.
Real Madrid looked like something was about to go wrong any second.
Their defenders, already exhausted, were barely managing to contain Messi.
[91st minute. Lionel Messi attempts another run down the flank.]
[This time it's Ramos marking him. Both look completely drained, but Messi makes the first move! He taps the ball ahead and goes for a run!]
[A sudden dribble, and Messi is slicing into the box!]
A huge threat.
On the far side of the box, Iniesta was left unmarked, and in the center, Eto'o was rushing in.
Messi even had a clear angle for a shot.
In this total crisis, Ramos gritted his teeth.
'That sneaky little...'
Just before Messi could enter the box.
Crack!
"Ugh!"
Tweet—
Messi tumbled to the ground, clutching his knee in pain.
It was a reckless back tackle from Ramos.
Worse, whether intentional or not, Ramos stepped on Messi's pinky finger as he got up.
The referee rushed over and pulled out a card without hesitation.
A red.
[The referee sends him off. Ramos protests, but there's no chance the decision will be overturned.]
[It's the correct call. That was a dangerous back tackle that could have caused serious injury.]
As Ramos kept protesting, Zidane quickly ran over and escorted him off the pitch.
It was now 10 vs. 11.
The score remained 3-3.
They had avoided conceding, but at the cost of a player.
Call it sacrifice for the greater good.
[Whether Ramos made the right choice depends entirely on the result of this free kick.]
[Xavi and Messi are both lining up. It's unclear who will take it.]
[In this position, either Xavi or Messi usually go for an inside-foot curler...]
[Ah, right at that moment!]
Xavi, without a run-up, curled the ball at the top-right corner.
Even more amazing was the man who stopped it.
Casillas.
Thud!
[San Iker once again! Casillas with another world-class save!]
[Incredible. If no one scores a hat-trick, Casillas could easily be Man of the Match.]
A stunning performance.
And he wasn't done yet.
[Casillas quickly throws the ball to Diarra.]
[Diarra looks up and finds Zidane.]
[Here comes the pressure from Xavi and Iniesta!]
[Zidane shields the ball and lays it off to Ho-young!]
The keeper had done his job.
Now it was up to the players.
Ho-young received the ball and shouted at the top of his lungs.
"¡Vamos!"
His cry to charge forward pierced the air.
At the same time, a long pass flew forward.
[Higuaín receives it on his chest. He passes it to Robben on the left.]
Last chance.
Madrid's counterattack surged like a tidal wave.
Ho-young raced ahead and picked up Robben's pass.
Busquets was in front of him.
Reunited after eight months, Busquets had grown impressively.
But Ho-young had grown even more.
With just his gaze, he pressured Busquets psychologically, then began his movement with stepovers.
One, two, three.
The feints kept coming and Busquets' eyes began to dart wildly.
Then four, five, six.
Ho-young didn't stop until Busquets' legs opened wide.
Tap.
"What the...!"
The seventh was a nutmeg, not a feint.
Sliding the ball through Busquets' legs, Ho-young wound up for a shot the moment the angle opened.
Piqué lunged to block it completely.
But there was no shot.
[Ho-young abruptly pulls back the shot! A perfect shooting feint to fool Piqué!]
[He shifts to the right side!]
Ho-young calmly struck the ball with an inside-foot shot.
A low drive, aimed for a dramatic late winner.
The ball ripped through the grass and into the net moments later.
Thud!
It was the winning goal.
And the match ended there.
(To be continued.)