09. Rebuilding, From Tip to Toe (3)
Danny Scott was beyond embarrassed; he was mortified and ashamed.
He had stepped forward with spirit, but the results were far from satisfactory.
He was too embarrassed to lift his face.
He hadn't been able to show anything. Not his confident ball control, nor his passing, nothing.
When he got the ball, he lost it. His body was sluggish. It was natural. He hadn't properly conditioned his body during the off-season.
Having retired and now starting his coaching life, his mind might have relaxed somewhat.
But he hadn't expected it to be this bad.
'Have I really become a has-been?'
He couldn't even withstand physical challenges from mere 2nd team players.
How could he compete with the physique of young players around twenty years old?
Even so, it was a matter of pride.
The fact that he couldn't control the ball at all.
The fact that he couldn't pass or quickly move away before an opponent closed in.
Anyone with an eye for things would undoubtedly know how terrible he was.
―Next season, it seems there won't be a place for you on my team.
Last season.
When he couldn't quite recover after his injury, and even his substitution playing time was decreasing.
Those were the words the manager had spoken.
Hearing those words, Danny Scott was surprisingly calm.
His body was already rapidly declining from its peak, and he was the first to feel that the injury had delivered the final blow.
More than anything, he too was afraid.
'Those gazes when I played.'
The moment when the gazes that had cheered for him turned cold.
The injustice and sorrow of knowing it but being unable to overcome the situation.
And even amidst that, his family and a few fans who endlessly cheered for him. The reality of not being able to meet their expectations.
He was afraid of it all.
'It was a relief. As if I had been waiting for those words.'
When the manager delivered the terrible news that he wasn't in the plans, he had felt rather relieved.
The lingering attachment that only he himself hadn't been able to give up.
He had thought of it as someone decisively cutting that lingering attachment for him.
He calmly spoke of retirement, and the manager, out of affection from their time together, offered him a coaching position.
If his first coaching career was with a Championship team, he knew very well how much favor the manager was showing him.
He resolved and retired.
Thirty-six.
His 18-year career, which had begun with his professional debut at 18, ended like that.
'That's what I thought.'
Thump-thump.
When was it? That his heart had truly pounded at a single word.
Danny Scott turned his head.
The man with his arms crossed, just indifferently watching the field.
"Yoojin."
When he held out the business card with that name written on it.
When he, with an unreadable smile, had called him a 'player.'
Danny Scott realized that he was not yet a coach.
He realized once again that his heart, unlike his deteriorating body, was still beating as a player.
'But the world isn't always like a dream, is it?'
Honestly, he was afraid.
The fact that he would be playing for an already ruined club?
No, reasons like that didn't matter in the slightest.
'What if I don't even make it in League Two?'
A flicker of doubt that arose in his mind.
That was it.
How much would Mansfield expect?
A Championship player with Premier League experience was coming to the 4th division!
What if he couldn't meet the fans' expectations?
What if he heard things like, 'He's a has-been after all,' 'He's old,' 'Just retire again.'
What if his daughter and wife, who came to the stadium, heard the fans' criticism and ridicule?
He was afraid. So, he tried to ignore his own feelings and refused.
He constantly told himself that even his heart had retired as a player. Yes, it was brainwashing. He had confined himself with lies and barred himself with deceit.
'To think I still had some pride left, of all things.'
Even though he had made up his mind like that, a bitter smile escaped him.
To step forward saying he'd show them, just because of a single word.
But what could he do?
'He called me a player, and respected me by saying he wanted to bring me, yet I refuted his words in such a manner.'
The fact of being insulted itself was familiar.
The deteriorating body, declining skills, chilling gazes, the indifferent looks from coaches. The words and voices criticizing and cursing him didn't hurt.
However.
The very act of refuting the words of a man who acknowledged him, right to his face, was unpleasant and infuriating. So, he had stepped forward.
'But in the end, since it turned out like this, didn't I ultimately betray the person who believed in me again?'
He let out a sigh.
It was then. He saw Max, with his horn-rimmed glasses, approaching Yoojin's side.
Yoojin, who was listening to his words, raised his hand.
"Just give us 3 more minutes, please."
"Halftime is over, isn't it? The players are getting ready on the field, aren't they?"
Coach Daniel shouted annoyingly. But Yoojin calmly requested.
"3 minutes will be enough. It's a blue vs. white match, what does it matter?"
A remarkably unyielding attitude.
A face that seemed as if it wouldn't change despite any criticism or glance.
Coach Daniel made a tch sound, then nodded.
"Ah, yes, well, go ahead. It doesn't seem like an extra 3 minutes will change much."
Danny Scott didn't know the exact details of the situation, but he had a rough idea.
'It's definitely because of me that the coach is commanding. That fellow Daniel probably wants to subtly prove that he's superior to someone who holds a managerial position.'
It was truly a cunning act.
Would a coach who had watched players for several seasons be the same as one who had only seen them for 30 minutes today?
It was puzzling that Yoojin had accepted, even though he couldn't possibly be unaware of such a fact.
But when Yoojin, among the gathered players, looked only at him. Danny Scott knew.
'Just for me to play.'
An indescribable emotion welled up from deep within.
Then, Yoojin's tactical instructions were given.
There were no changes in position or formation. It would be meaningless to change them right away.
"Strikers, don't intentionally try to time your shots. The moment you feel the ball arrive, the angle opens up, and the sense of a chance reaches your toes, shoot without hesitation."
"..."
"It's okay to miss. It's no problem even if it's a skied shot. It's alright even if it doesn't go into the goal. Just don't miskick. So, shoot to your heart's content. And the central midfielder, yes, you player, don't worry about tempo or anything, just focus on cutting off the ball..."
However, as Danny Scott listened to the instructions, his complexion gradually flushed red.
'Wait, this is?'
Outwardly, there was no big change.
But.
'Aren't these the best possible corrections right now?'
He knew because he had just played the game a moment ago.
Who couldn't do what, what was lacking, who was playing in the wrong position and performing the wrong role. He felt all of it. It was a sensation only Danny Scott knew.
High football intelligence.
It was a phrase that appeared on every scouting report for Danny Scott.
Danny Scott possessed a considerable level of football intelligence, enabling him to take in the entire pitch at a glance and instantly assess and understand the situation.
It was his greatest strength.
'But I know all this because I know all these players.'
As a player, and while preparing to be a coach.
Hadn't he played with and watched these players directly? So he knew. He knew intuitively how this player would play and what tactics would be more effective.
'But how on earth does that person?'
Yoojin's tactical instructions were close to the best he himself had envisioned.
No, some elements were far superior.
Where did that come from?
A strange light appeared in Danny Scott's eyes.
'An eye that sees the whole picture!'
Goosebumps began to prickle all over his body.
He wasn't just showing one player; he was showing a picture where the entire team interlocked.
Through just a few tactical instructions.
He felt that it wasn't solely Yoojin's power.
It was the best that Maximilian, the one with the horn-rimmed glasses, had wracked his brains to come up with.
However, to convey it in an easy-to-understand, precise, and clear tone, concisely drilling it into their ears, was solely Yoojin's ability.
'This, this seems even greater than Manager Ullance, doesn't it?'
Ullance was the manager of Nottingham Forest.
Perhaps it wasn't just him who felt it; even the players who had been indifferent gradually began to focus, their eyes shining.
The players also knew. Even if they didn't understand it theoretically, they felt intuitively as players how accurate and amazing the instructions Yoojin was giving now were.
"So, let's do this. Just like this. It's brief, but it is the player who shows their best. I want to see your best performances."
A voice that was concise and firm, yet provided definite motivation.
Danny Scott nodded.
'He's a manager. This person, he's no amateur. He's the real deal.'
He saw it clearly with his 18 years of professional experience.
This man was a manager. And one with many excellent qualities.
It was then. Yoojin spoke to Danny Scott.
"Player Danny Scott will limit his activity solely to the area near the box."
"What?"
"There is no free role. Do not make judgments based on the entire game. Concentrate only on your own role. I will watch and direct the entire game. There is no commander on the field."
"What does that..."
"Only strictly limited movements are permitted. Just take on the role of distributing the ball while standing in that position."
"That's!"
"Just because you can see a bit of football, don't try to take on an presumptuous role beyond your means."
"!"
At first glance, it sounded no different from criticism.
But Yoojin's voice, as he spoke, was low and powerful, so it didn't feel like an insult. Danny Scott nodded with a bewildered face.
Yoojin looked at his wristwatch and said indifferently.
"3 minutes have passed. With these 3 minutes, you all have become the best. Do not doubt it. I guarantee it. Go and play."
"The individual instructions for Danny Scott that I mentioned weren't like that, were they?"
Max showed a dissatisfied expression.
He was particular in aspects like this. Indeed, why wouldn't he be, when the tactics he had wracked his brains to create were arbitrarily modified?
"Max. Don't forget the objective."
"What?"
"I didn't come here to win a blue vs. white match. I came to recruit Danny Scott."
"!"
"Winning or losing? It's not necessary. Whether that incompetent coach is happy because he won or not, it doesn't matter. I only need Danny Scott. I want him to fall for me."
Max's pupils wavered.
"The Danny Scott you see is a player with high football intelligence, right? That's why you had him take on the role of a commander on a monotonous field."
"You can tell at a glance he has a natural sense. If he had also been physically excellent from a young age, he would have become a fixture in the Premier League."
"His physique is inherently weak. No matter how old a player is, being pushed around like that just means a congenitally weak physique."
"That's what's unfortunate. If only that had been a bit better... Then again, if his physique had also been good, he would have played in the Premier League, not the Championship."
"So that's the problem. Danny Scott thinks too much."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Because he sees the game. Where he should penetrate, where he should pass, which path to block to stop a counter-attack, whom to mark to suffocate the opponent."
"That's football intelligence, isn't it?"
"The problem is, he's also greedy."
"Greedy...?"
"How can he endure it? When he can see it. When he can read it in his head. When it feels like he can win if he just does that. So, he tries to solve it by moving himself."
Max let out a short sigh, as if he momentarily understood what the problem was.
Among Max's tactics, the instruction that should have originally been given to Danny Scott was a free role.
Because his ability to read and penetrate the game on the field was outstanding, he was the type who couldn't properly utilize his strengths if his role was instead restricted and limited.
"The problem is that he's a veteran."
Max nodded gravely. He finally understood my instructions. A faint surprise and a slight envy were mixed in his eyes as he looked at me. And at the same time, it was a look of admiration.
"With an aging physique, trying to do all of that, he ended up being unable to do anything. Yet, to give him a role and restrict him, that brain of his is too precious. The manager here didn't offer him a coaching position for nothing. Because it's a brain that will shine as a coach."
"So you restricted his role?"
"As I said, winning the game is not my objective. It doesn't matter if we lose a mere blue vs. white match. Only whether Danny Scott fits the use I have in mind for him. That's all I'll be looking at."
"What use do you have in mind? For a smart player?"
"I will use him as a part."
"!"
"He needs to step down from being a commander who roams the entire field directing the game. He needs to discard such sentiments in the past."
Perhaps my voice had become ruthless.
Max's complexion changed subtly.
"So I killed his pride. What I need is a part that meshes and turns wherever it's placed. Just a cog in the wheel."
"..."
"That is the Danny Scott I intend to bring. Chief Coach."
Max's lips twitched as if he was about to say something, then he firmly closed them and watched the game.
Just then, the striker received a killer pass threaded through by Danny Scott and succeeded in scoring.
"Goal?"
"That was an amazing shot!"
"Wow, that went in?"
"Coach! That was a really good pass!"
The players gave a thumbs-up with bewildered faces.
Especially the striker from the blue team who scored the goal, was beaming.
He had just run, and the ball had vaguely come to his feet, and in a muddle, the ball had trickled into the goal.
However, the one who was truly bewildered.
Was Danny Scott, who had accumulated an assist with that unbelievable key pass.
"...The game, is flowing."
He looked at Yoojin's indifferent face with eyes mixed with faint surprise.