Chapter 13: "The Unstoppable Dream: A Hat-Trick in the Making"

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Chapter 13

Quiero quemar el gallinero!

Among the cheering Boca Juniors fans, Alicia's family stared in astonishment, their mouths agape.

"Mom, is that really Yu from the house across the street?"

The first to speak was Alicia's son.

"...."

It had only been about a month since they'd last seen him, and because he was such a quiet and timid boy, they'd worried whether he'd be able to adapt to such a rough group of players.

But the boy's performance on the field was completely beyond their expectations.

Dominant.

No other word fit better.

"I heard he was good, but I didn't think it'd be this good…"

Even Alicia's husband, Yu Han-woo, who was famously proud of their son, was left speechless by the unexpectedly high-level play.

For a moment, they wondered if it was a case of mistaken identity. But the person shouting from the sidelines erased all doubt.

"That's my boy! Dad's right here!"

The most startled person in that moment, however, was River Plate's U-20 coach.

I didn't think he was someone worth keeping an eye on.

Among all the players, the smallest one—a sixteen-year-old boy—had seemed unremarkable at first. Up until the beginning of the match, he hadn't raised any alarm. But after just one play, everything had changed.

"Esteban!"

The coach issued new instructions, and River Plate began intensifying their defensive pressure.

Thud!

The focus of their aggressive tactics became Yu Ji-woo. Esteban Lucas, the left full-back, took every opportunity to provoke him, throwing sneaky elbows to his side while avoiding the referee's gaze.

As Esteban relentlessly pursued him, Ji-woo dropped deeper to receive the ball. But Esteban, refusing to give up, kept shadowing him.

Thud!

Another collision aimed at disrupting Ji-woo's balance, but he skillfully spread his legs, letting the ball slip through.

Swish.

The ball rolled smoothly through Esteban's legs.

Whoosh.

As Ji-woo tried to turn and advance, Esteban grabbed his jersey.

"Where do you think you're going?"

The jersey pull caused Ji-woo to tumble to the ground.

Tweet!

The referee blew his whistle. It was a situation worthy of a card, but none was given. Ji-woo's teammates rushed over to protest, but the referee seemed uninterested.

This is starting to get annoying.

He'd heard that South American football was rough, but this exceeded his expectations. The physicality here made Korean matches seem like child's play.

Thud!

The tackles were fiery.

"XXXX!"

And the insults were fierce.

But Ji-woo wasn't one to take it lying down.

Thwack!

"Ugh!"

When the referee wasn't looking, Ji-woo returned the favor, elbowing Esteban in the ribs.

"Want me to teach you something?"

"What?"

"In Korea, we have a saying: An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth."

"…What does that mean?"

"I'll show you now."

Ji-woo wasn't the type to let something slide. He'd always repay in kind.

---

As Ji-woo endured the intense pressure, small openings began to appear for Diego Rossi, who had struggled under tight marking earlier in the game.

"Diego!"

A pass from the center came his way. Though it carried a lot of power, Diego simply stuck his foot out.

Tap.

The ball arced through the air, creating a rainbow trajectory, and flew just over the defender marking him.

A delicate touch followed by a dazzling turn.

The crowd erupted.

"Die—go! Die—go!"

The fans of Boca Juniors had a unique way of chanting his name, a testament to how much they adored Diego Rossi.

"Damn it!"

River Plate scrambled to stop him, but Diego raised his head, scanning for passing options.

That kid is an enigma.

The perfect passing lane was clear.

Charging into that space was none other than Yu Ji-woo. Diego swung his left foot and sent the cross flying.

Thump!

It narrowly missed the head of striker Guillermo Darin.

"…The kid's relentless."

Guillermo chuckled as he watched Diego exploit him as a decoy.

Everyone thought the cross had failed.

"No! Stop him!"

Eduardo Guarín shouted as he noticed a player sprinting in from the far side.

Tap, tap, tap!

There was no catching up to Ji-woo, who charged in from the right flank with full momentum. He met the cross with a chest trap.

The trap wasn't perfect, causing the ball to veer slightly off course.

"Stop him!"

With defenders closing in, Ji-woo twisted his body mid-air.

Wham!

A bicycle kick.

The ball, struck cleanly with his right foot, flew low into the bottom-right corner.

Thud.

Even as Ji-woo crashed to the ground, his eyes stayed locked on the ball. It rocketed past the goalkeeper and nestled into the net.

Rattle.

The crowd exploded into cheers. Ji-woo's highlight-worthy goal electrified the stadium, silencing predictions that had given River Plate a 76% chance of victory.

---

[Boca Juniors U-20 < 2 – 0 > River Plate U-20]

As the second half began, River Plate, desperate to close the gap, pushed their lines forward aggressively.

Though they managed several shots, the posts and a stellar goalkeeper prevented any conversions.

Don't let them take another shot!

This was the emphasis during halftime from coach Rodolfo Finty.

But their defense continued to falter. Without the goalkeeper and the posts, they might've conceded ten goals already.

"Damn it! Stop letting them through! I'm losing my mind!"

By the 10th minute of the second half, Nizareno finally snapped—not at the opposition, but at his own teammates.

"What's your problem?"

"My problem? What kind of question is that? If you're going to dance around like that, you should've been a dancer, not a footballer!"

During a brief pause as the ball went out of bounds, two players began yelling at each other.

"I've broken up three attacks with tackles already. What were the center-backs doing during that time? Just waiting for the ball to come to them? Do you think the ball will magically stop itself?"

"You little—"

"You've got a nasty temper, that's for sure."

Young players often struggle to control their emotions, and this was no exception.

Guillermo Darin, standing nearby, sighed and walked over to me.

"Sorry about that. As you can see, the guy's a mess."

"I expected as much."

From the first meeting and throughout training, I'd noticed that Nizareno was a player who relied solely on his talent without much discipline.

"Are you really fifteen? You didn't lie about your age, did you?"

"I just turned sixteen recently."

"…Your physique matches, but the way you act and talk makes it seem like you're either my age or older."

While our attack worked smoothly with good communication, the defense faltered due to a lack of cohesion.

There was no player to stabilize the backline.

Though Nizareno occasionally displayed some impressive defending, his inability to lead or communicate with his teammates caused frequent missteps and conflicts.

Thud.

Eventually, in the 61st minute, we conceded a goal.

Sigh.

Rodolfo Pinti shook his head, while Nizareno clenched his fists and trembled in frustration.

[Boca Juniors 2 – 1 River Plate]

With the score now within one goal, the match's outcome became entirely unpredictable.

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As the gap narrowed to a single goal, River Plate began to move the ball rapidly, stirring up Boca Juniors' defensive zone.

Thump!

The River Plate U-20's build-up play was impressively structured.

The quality of their passing revealed the extent of their training.

I tried to shift to the center to intercept, but I stopped in my tracks.

Screech!

Sebastián threw himself forward and intercepted the pass.

That's when Sebastián and I made eye contact.

Still lying on the ground, Sebastián stretched his leg and passed the ball forward.

"Ji-woo!"

The ball came at me fast, but I stopped it deftly underfoot. Esteban Lucas immediately closed the gap, sliding in for a tackle.

But I nudged the ball from underneath, flicking it over his body.

Ooohhh!

The right flank opened up, and I surged forward.

One center-back came down to back up, and as he closed in, I feinted to the left.

Pretending to go left and cutting to the right left him off balance, and I slipped past easily.

However, there was no angle to shoot.

That left me with only one option—to make a quick decision.

Guillermo Darin was marked tightly by another center-back. I spotted an oncoming teammate in my peripheral vision.

Tap.

After a brief assessment, I sent a cutback pass.

The ball threaded through the defenders and rolled toward Diego Rossi at the edge of the penalty box.

A perfect scoring opportunity.

But then—

Diego Rossi was clipped by Eduardo Guarin's tackle from behind and fell.

Whistle!

The referee blew the whistle and pulled out a card, awarding Boca Juniors a free kick.

"Do you want to take it? If you score, it's a hat-trick for you."

It was a free kick just outside the penalty area—prime scoring territory. But Diego Rossi suddenly offered the chance to me.

"You take it."

"Really? No regrets? This would be your hat-trick."

"Yeah."

"Wait—are you giving this to me because I set you up earlier?"

"No."

"Yeah, right—it's written all over your face!"

Ignoring Diego Rossi's playful chatter, I walked to my position and glanced at the scoreboard timer.

Whistle!

At the referee's signal, Diego Rossi stepped aside, and I struck the ball with my left foot.

Thud!

I aimed for the top left corner with a light touch, but the ball grazed the jumping defender's head and was deflected.

Ahhhh!

Groans erupted from the crowd.

The ball ricocheted to the edge of the penalty area, near me.

"Esteban!"

Esteban Lucas dove forward as I readied myself for the ball descending toward me. Without letting it touch the ground, I struck a volley.

Whoosh!

The ball flew with venom, swerving like a snake, bypassing the defenders and curling into the top left corner of the net.

Clang!

It ricocheted off the post before nestling into the net.

Shock spread across the faces of the River Plate U-20 players.

Their supporters fell silent.

Boca! Boca!

The Boca Juniors chant erupted once more.

"Hey! What's that kid's name?"

"It's on the scoreboard! Jiwoo Yoo! Mister Yoo!"

"Jiwoo Yoo?! Welcome to Boca Juniors, kid!"

"A hat-trick! It's a hat-trick!"

Ji—woo!

"You've got to stay with Boca Juniors no matter what! I'll empty my savings if that's what it takes!"

The crowd seemed on the verge of storming the field.

Avalancha.

A word meaning "avalanche," the signature cheer of Boca Juniors, resonated.

Watching it all, my heart raced. My teammates swarmed me, celebrating the goal.

For the first time, it all felt real—I was playing football in Argentina, a country obsessed with the sport.

"This guy's insane!"

"Yooooooouuuu!"

Thump.

I was happy.

Thump.

Playing football no longer felt lonely.

Here, I was sure I could enjoy football more than I ever had in Korea.

"Hey! Jiwoo smiled!"

"Turns out he has emotions after all! He's not a robot!"

"I win the bet—we made Jiwoo smile before the year ended!"

"See? Smiling suits you!"

Amid their playful banter, I raised my head to look at the sky.

An unusually blue sky.

The hottest field beneath it.

Here, where everything I'd dreamed of awaited, I wanted to play football a little longer.