A red card.
A disciplinary measure introduced by FIFA, typically issued when a player commits a serious foul.
For example, deliberately preventing a clear goal-scoring opportunity or engaging in violent conduct would warrant one.
It's the most severe penalty a referee can issue during a match, and it doesn't just end with being sent off.
Especially in the Brazil Super Championship, a red card means a player is suspended for the next two matches.
In other words, even if São Paulo FC advanced to the quarterfinals, Oscar would be unable to play.
'Unbelievable.'
Ho-young tilted his head in disbelief.
Oscar hadn't kicked anyone. He had merely lost his balance while falling and accidentally stepped on his opponent.
And yet, a red card?
São Paulo FC's players rushed to the referee to protest, but he refused to change his decision and began writing the name on the card.
"State your name."
"I told you, it was an accident!"
"This is your final warning. Give me your name."
"Ugh...!"
Oscar, his face flushed with frustration, looked ready to explode.
Ho-young quickly intervened.
"Just go. Get off the pitch."
"Damn... Oscar dos Santos…"
Only then did Oscar mutter his name.
The referee's expression, previously twisted with displeasure, eased a little.
"Leave the field."
Fortunately, further disciplinary action was avoided.
Oscar left the pitch with a bitter scowl on his face.
Never protest a referee's decision.
It was something they had been drilled on endlessly during their discipline education.
While the captain is typically allowed to speak on behalf of the team, even that has limits. Referee decisions are final.
Coaches and managers are no exception.
It isn't unusual for a player to receive a caution or even a dismissal just for arguing.
There might be room for polite protest, but even that could result in a manager being sent off depending on the referee.
In short, it's best to avoid any complaints altogether.
That's what São Paulo FC had been taught.
But you can't truly understand the unfairness of it unless you've experienced it yourself.
"This is…"
Ho-young sighed, watching Oscar's sullen figure disappear into the tunnel.
'He must feel so wronged. I feel the same way.'
Ho-young could fully understand how Oscar felt.
Yes, Oscar had overreacted to the referee, and that was wrong.
But in truth, he had held back a lot.
He had gone through four days of special training just for this match.
Not to mention the five-hour bus ride to reach the stadium.
All for just eight minutes of playing time.
If the red card had been justified, it wouldn't have stung as much.
"Ha…"
The sheer absurdity of the situation made him chuckle bitterly.
'That gets a red card?'
Red cards aren't handed out lightly.
Even for rough tackles, referees often opt for a yellow.
But this?
'This home advantage is insane.'
The saying that "the arm bends inward" had never felt truer.
Especially in a competition like the Super Championship, which crowns the best state in the country, home advantage often ran deep.
They were just unlucky.
'Well, luck is part of the game.'
So.
'I'm going to win this.'
If luck is part of the game, then he'll counter it with pure skill.
9th minute of the first half.
Right after Oscar's sending-off, Coach Carlos urgently called over the team captain, Breno.
"Let them have possession. Focus on intercepting passes and cutting off shooting angles. Avoid unnecessary physical contact."
"Yes."
"We're switching to a connective false nine strategy. Drop Douglas back and place Ho-young in the false nine role. Got it?"
"Yes."
A necessary tactical shift.
Even if it meant reducing attacking numbers or surrendering to a half-court game, they couldn't afford to lose control of the match.
This wasn't the U13 level anymore.
This wasn't a place for learning. This was a semi-professional stage where results spoke louder than process.
Which was why, above all, victory was essential.
To win, São Paulo turned to a pragmatic style of play.
A defense-oriented system with a sliver of attacking intent through Ho-young in the false nine role.
False Nine.
Literally, a 'fake number 9.' A forward who starts up front but often drops into midfield to support build-up play.
In simpler terms, a midfielder disguised as a striker.
No one expected a youth player to perfectly master such a complex role, but this setup aimed to maintain structure in counter-attacks and midfield link-up play.
The responsibility on Ho-young was enormous.
Attack, defense, and midfield control.
Everything hinged on him.
To meet his coach's expectations, Ho-young worked tirelessly.
He supported the midfielders, dropped even deeper at times to tightly mark defenders.
He actively joined the defense, contributing to interceptions and tackles in midfield.
And he avoided unnecessary physical battles.
Everything unfolded just as the coach had instructed.
However.
'If this keeps up, we're going to lose.'
If effort alone were enough, football wouldn't be such a difficult sport.
Despite their hard work, São Paulo FC were being outplayed.
The absence of a single player was proving bigger than expected.
'And their attacking numbers are overwhelming.'
Even increasing defenders didn't help much.
The opponent simply upped their attacking numbers to compensate.
That was why Fluminense FC had opted for an ultra-offensive approach.
There were still 65 minutes left.
Smack!
Marcelo's solo run tore through São Paulo's defense.
A Marseille turn followed by a clean burst of pace opened up space on the right flank.
"Tch…"
This was not the same Marcelo they had seen in the first leg.
Clearly in top form, he was running rampant today.
And then.
Thump!
Marcelo's precise cross set up Fluminense FC's opening goal.
25th minute of the first half.
A diving header right in front of goal.
"Damn it."
Their momentum was crushed.
The cheers and jeers from the home crowd only drove São Paulo FC further into a corner.
'Their play is way too aggressive. Even when we pass the ball around, their pressing is relentless.'
Even the best defensive setup had limits.
With physical battles skewed heavily against them, São Paulo's players grew instinctively passive, afraid to engage.
More than anything, they lost their will to fight.
"Casemiro! Focus! Mark your man!"
Ho-young, now helping out deep in the third line, shouted with urgency.
But it wasn't just Casemiro.
Even Breno, the captain, looked as though his mind was elsewhere.
And then came the worst-case scenario.
Whip!
The net rippled with a piercing sound.
Marcelo's mid-range strike resulted in another goal for Fluminense FC.
"Haah…"
Just like that, the first half ended with Fluminense FC leading 2-0.
"Damn it!"
Back in the away locker room, curses rang out.
"This is ridiculous!"
Oscar, who had been fuming ever since he was sent off, exploded again.
"Those bastards!"
He was furious.
The team losing only made it worse.
But when Coach Carlos entered the locker room, Oscar immediately went quiet.
The rest of the players filed in behind him.
Their expressions were just as twisted, like crumpled paper, burning with anger.
It was clear they were all upset with the referee's decision.
Carlos was no different.
"Useless fools."
But the target of his scorn wasn't the referee.
"What the hell are you lot doing?"
Carlos's fierce eyes turned to the players.
For a moment, Ho-young felt like he'd been drafted into the army.
His shout was directed squarely at the players.
"Why are you all so intimidated?"
"Well... it's only natural to get a bit hesitant…"
Trying to speak for the team, Breno stepped up hesitantly.
Carlos immediately countered.
"I told you to avoid reckless physical contact. When did I say to play passively? Did I ever say to lose your fighting spirit?"
No one answered.
No one could.
They thought their coach would comfort them.
But instead, he was tearing into them.
"Pathetic. What, are you trying to throw the match now? You think this is the first time something like this has happened? Maybe with your former coach Giovanni, you could get away with that, but not with me."
Carlos went on a passionate rant.
"You might still be youth players, but this is a semi-pro stage. No one is going to hold your hand and guide you here. What happened to the professionalism we've been drilling into you all this time?"
"…"
Today, Carlos was more talkative than ever, and everything he said revolved around professionalism.
Ho-young understood.
Losing the will to fight over a referee's call was nothing more than childish whining.
"I think that's enough for all of you to understand."
"Yes…"
At that, Carlos calmed down slightly.
"I understand how you feel. But our fans back home, and the club, won't."
He was right on all counts.
Carlos gave one final piece of advice.
"At the very least, show them what you've prepared."
"...!"
There wasn't much encouragement in his words, but it was enough to reignite the players' spirits.
What followed was a detailed tactical briefing.
Carlos refined the strategy and redefined each player's role.
The key was "relentless patience," "stubborn counter-attacks," and "strong but clean pressing."
Five minutes later, just before leaving the locker room, Carlos called out to Ho-young.
"You did well earlier. If you hadn't stepped in, Oscar would've been banned for three or more matches, not just two."
The message was clear. Even if it's a teammate, you have to call them out when they're in the wrong.
Then, Ho-young voiced the concern that had been weighing on him.
"But the pressing isn't working properly. Everyone's scared."
"Scared, huh…"
A serious concern.
Carlos gave his answer.
"If your body reacts passively, then use your brain aggressively. That's what wisdom is. That's why I placed you as the false nine."
"...!"
"It won't be easy, but given the situation, the team's depending on you now more than ever."
Something clicked, and Ho-young's face lit up.
"Understood."
Just as he was about to head back out to the pitch with a resolute expression—
"Hey…"
It was Oscar's voice, calling to Ho-young.
Sitting in the corner, he stood up and spoke in a quiet, awkward tone.
"You didn't have to stop me earlier… You should've just let me blow up…"
A roundabout way of saying thank you.
Then he muttered as he sat back down on the bench.
Do your part for me too.
"Got it."
That answer was enough.
With that, Ho-young stepped out onto the pitch with his teammates.
And from the very start of the second half, São Paulo FC began to change.
(To be continued.)
◇◇◇
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