Chapter 16: "The Weight of Number 10"

When the new year of 2029 came around, I noticed that people started treating me differently.

"Jiwoo!"

Alicia and Marcio stopped calling me "young master" and casually used my name instead.

"Take this and share it with your teammates."

"What is it?"

"You know that big, bald guy who came around at the end of the year?"

"Guillermo?"

"Yeah, he really liked empanadas. Take these and share them during practice if you get hungry."

"Thank you."

Not only did they prepare meals for me daily, but they also made sure I had snacks whenever I needed them.

Meanwhile, Diego Rossi would constantly call or text me.

— "When are you coming to the second team already?"

He kept pestering me to hurry up and join the reserves. As if I could just decide to move up whenever I wanted.

"Hey, why don't you come to my place today? My wife's been asking to meet you."

After practice, the coach would approach me while I was packing up, trying to bring me over to his house. It wasn't easy to keep deflecting with an awkward smile every time.

It wasn't just the people I knew acting differently. One day, while wandering through the neighborhood out of boredom, even strangers started recognizing me.

"Hey, kid! Want some fruit?"

The lady at the fruit stand gave me some fruit without hesitation after recognizing me.

"Running low on fish at home?"

The guy at the seafood market also treated me warmly.

"Kids love snacks like these! Want some?"

The people in the neighborhood all acted familiar with me.

Was this because of the mini El Superclásico?

"Hey, kid!"

"I'm not just a kid! I have a proper name—it's Jiwoo Yoo!"

"Jiwoo, huh? Easy to say."

"Chiu!"

…No, seriously, I'm not a celebrity. This is getting out of hand.

---

In February, the Clausura season began, and the U-20 squad underwent restructuring.

"Whoa."

"They even renovated the locker room."

"Look! Even the numbers on the uniforms got reassigned!"

"I'm number 6!"

"I got 14!"

As a reward for winning the mini El Superclásico, the club renovated the old locker room.

"Jiwoo, what number did you get?"

Guillermo Darin asked me, holding up his number 9 jersey. I took mine off the rack.

"Number 10."

I heard the number 10 jersey hadn't had an owner for a while.

"Looks like we finally have someone worthy of number 10."

"Must've really impressed the coach."

"Honestly, Jiwoo deserves it. He was insane in the Christmas derby. No one's ever scored a hat-trick in that match before."

"Instant ace status."

While every jersey number had its significance, the number 10 carried a unique weight in soccer.

'Ace.'

It was a number worn only by players universally acknowledged by the team.

Tap.

As I stared at the jersey, the coach approached me and placed a hand on my shoulder.

"Do you like your new number?"

"Yes."

"Feel any pressure?"

"Yes, I do."

The coach looked a little disappointed.

"But I'm confident I can handle it."

At my next words, his eyes lit up.

"Confidence, huh? Number 10 is very special in Argentina. Especially at Boca Juniors, it's a number deeply etched with the legacy of the god of football—it's not given lightly."

The god of Argentine football.

'Diego Maradona.'

This number had once belonged to the star who now shined among the heavens.

Even if it was just a youth jersey, wearing number 10 in Argentina carried its own weight.

"From the start—"

At the same time, I felt proud, as if I was finally being acknowledged.

"I crossed the ocean with the determination to be the best."

I had no intention of settling for mediocrity.

The reason I traveled so far to come here was to succeed. To become a soccer player that no one could look down upon.

"You've got good eyes. With that determination, I think this number will suit you."

The coach smiled with satisfaction and walked to the center of the locker room.

"Attention!"

He gathered everyone's focus.

"I know you're excited about the locker room renovation, but don't get too comfortable! This kind of treatment can be taken away at any moment!"

The players immediately stood at attention, listening carefully.

"Starting next week, the Clausura season of the U-20 Youth League begins."

"Yes!"

"We lost the Apertura to the River Plate kids, but we must win the Clausura. Understood?"

"Yes!"

The youth league didn't have as many matches as the pro leagues.

Since the players were still growing, the schedule was designed to avoid overburdening them, with 15 matches in the Apertura and another 15 in the Clausura, making it 30 matches in total for the year.

Additionally, every August, the top teams from the Apertura and Clausura faced off in the Argentina Junior Cup to determine the best youth team in the country, adding one more game to the calendar.

"Our first match is against the Argentinos Juniors U-20 team. I'll announce the positions for the game."

The coach started listing the lineup, starting with the goalkeeper and moving through the defense.

Those in the squad smiled brightly, while those left out looked dejected.

"Jiwoo, you're playing as the right attacking midfielder."

"Yes."

My calm response made the coach smile.

"Not disappointed about not being the right-wing forward?"

"I somewhat expected it. It's common to have newcomers experience various positions first."

Position changes were routine in youth teams.

They let players explore where they excelled before focusing on their best role.

"…You sure you're not living a second life?"

The coach made a strange comment.

"If I were, I would've bought a lottery ticket by now."

I replied lightly.

"Ah, fair enough."

Why did he accept that so easily?

---

February 8th.

Boca Juniors U-20 vs. Argentinos Juniors U-20.

"Guillermo, is the crowd always this big?"

Because of my performance in the mini El Superclásico, more spectators showed up than expected.

"It's usually about half this size. These must be fans who came after watching the Christmas derby."

Hearing that even club officials were in attendance made the players eager to prove themselves.

"By the way, are you okay?"

"About what?"

"You're playing Mezz'ala for the first time."

Mezz'ala referred to the two attacking midfielders in a 4-3-3 formation.

"Even if it's my first time, I've watched plenty of footage."

Although it was new to me, I understood how to play the role thanks to video analysis and training with the coaching staff.

"…Footage?"

Guillermo looked uneasy.

"Don't worry. It's not much different from playing on the wing."

With that, the players moved into their positions.

The player partnering with me as the other Mezz'ala was Lautaro Orban.

"H-Hey."

A very timid personality.

Even though he had played stably in the mini El Superclásico, he hadn't particularly stood out.

"Yeah?"

"What kind of style are you planning to play? Ah! Don't get me wrong—I'm just curious… It's easier to play if I know what to expect…."

The way he hesitated and checked my reactions suggested he had his own story.

"Hmm, why not stick to what we practiced?"

"Oh…"

He seemed a bit dense at first.

"But you showed so many different patterns in practice that it's confusing. Are you going for goals like a mid-striker? Playing wide like a half-winger? Or vertically like box-to-box? Maybe defensively, like an Incontrista? Just let me know your style."

But then again, maybe he wasn't as clueless as I thought.

"Let's adapt as we go."

"…What?"

"There are too many variables in the field. Isn't it better to communicate and adjust on the fly?"

After some thought, Lautaro nodded.

"That's a reasonable suggestion."