August 30.
Today's team training was more intense than usual.
With the season just a day away, the goal was to sharpen match fitness.
There were several new signings, so team chemistry was still lacking, but that was something time would fix.
However, since Ho-young had only recently fully joined first-team training, he felt that the atmosphere was more scattered than expected.
Unlike Castilla, which was tightly knit with Spanish players, the first team was made up of players from many different countries.
Broadly speaking, the squad was divided into three groups, Latin American, Spanish, and Dutch.
Back in Capello's days, strict discipline had prevented any internal friction. But after Schuster took over and promoted a freer style of football, small groupings had naturally formed.
That said, it was far from being factionalism.
Training generally took place in a bright, relaxed mood.
At least, that was how Ho-young felt.
"Ahhh!"
They were in the middle of a Boxes drill, where two players were trapped inside a circle trying to win the ball back. A groan came from Ho-young's group.
It was the cry of a Dutch player who had failed to win the ball for ten straight minutes and finally gave up.
He was 176 cm tall, not very tall, but solidly built.
Short blond hair, a handsome face.
And a surprisingly husky voice that did not match his appearance.
His name was Rafael van der Vaart.
The 25-year-old attacking midfielder had joined Real Madrid this summer from Hamburger SV.
In other words, he was still deep into his initiation phase, and after failing to touch the ball even once, he could not help but complain.
"It's been almost a month since I got here. How long do I have to be the first one stuck inside every time?"
"Hey, rookies do it for a month. I did too."
Cannavaro, already in his fourth year at the club, said firmly. Van der Vaart pouted.
"This is unfair."
"Typical Dutchman, always talking about equality. Why not ask to split wages evenly too?"
"Hahaha!"
Ramos's joke sent the players into laughter.
It could have been taken as an offensive joke to Dutch players, but Robben, Van Nistelrooy, and the others all laughed it off.
Van der Vaart eventually cracked a smile as well, then suddenly pointed his chin at Ho-young, who was standing quietly.
"Then by that logic, isn't Young the newest one here?"
"Hey, Raffie. Why are you dragging me into this all of a sudden?"
Ho-young, who had only recently shaken off his rookie label, knew better than anyone how exhausting it was to be the first one stuck in the box every day.
It felt like all his energy got drained.
Not wanting to go back to that, Ho-young shook his head firmly.
Roberto Carlos, standing next to him, asked,
"Woo, how long have you been in Madrid?"
"Four years now."
"Haha. See? Raffie, you're the youngest one here."
"Ugh!"
"If you can't win the ball here, you won't get any passes in a real match."
"Hahaha."
Like that, the players gradually built chemistry in a friendly atmosphere.
There had been plenty of rumors about discord and factions due to Robinho's transfer, but most of the squad respected the club's decision and did not let it affect them.
Still, there was one player who looked particularly bitter.
A solidly built man with a shaved head as his trademark.
Pepe, the Portuguese center back.
"Robinho…"
Having been especially close to Robinho, he felt deeply regretful about the situation.
That said, he had no intention of opposing the club's decision.
He had always supported Schuster, and believed that Robinho leaving was ultimately best for both the player and the club.
Still.
"I miss you, my friend."
They had spent so many nights partying together at the club. How could he forget him so easily?
Those thrilling nights together would never be erased.
Lately, there was a hollow feeling in his chest.
"Robinho…"
Perhaps because of that, a faint sense of resentment was starting to form toward Ho-young, who had indirectly caused Robinho's departure.
Just how good was that kid, really?
He knew Ho-young was talented, but he still wondered if that ability would truly work in the first division.
Could he really fill Robinho's absence?
For those reasons, Pepe felt he still needed time before fully accepting Ho-young as a teammate.
"You'd better do well. Otherwise, I'll really be angry."
He meant it.
If not, the team would surely face a major crisis.
The 2008–2009 La Liga season kicked off on the evening of Saturday, August 30.
Real Madrid's opening match was scheduled for the following day, the 31st, against Deportivo.
They were a mid-table side who had finished ninth last season, a suitable opponent for a solid opening result.
The problem was the long away trip.
The match would take place at Deportivo's home ground, Estadio Riazor, in Galicia, about six hours away from Madrid.
The players had to travel by plane.
Sunday evening, August 31.
As expected for a season opener, all 34,000 seats had been sold out weeks in advance, and the stadium was packed with fans two hours before kickoff.
Facing Real Madrid as their first opponent, Deportivo's supporters were visibly excited.
That energy carried straight into the pre-match press conference.
Schuster faced the reporters with a slightly tense expression.
This was always a heavy moment.
And as expected, most of the questions focused on Robinho.
One reporter asked,
"There has been a lot of talk about Robinho's transfer. It was reported that President Perez said he let him go because he complained too much. Is that true?"
"Is there even a need to verify that? President Perez has always been like that. I don't think I need to comment much."
"Hahaha."
"If you really want my answer, then I'll put it this way. Robinho wanted to leave for reasons unrelated to the football we want to play. Whether that was money or spotlight, that is his personal preference, and it's not my place to judge."
"Then won't Robinho's absence be a problem? Many fans are worried about the loss of explosive attacking power."
As expected, the questions kept coming.
Schuster delivered his prepared response.
"I've already addressed this several times in interviews. We already have world-class wingers who can replace Robinho. Zidane and Guti provide stability, and Robben, Saviola, and Callejón will fill the gap without issue. And we also have a young talent named Ho-young."
"Thank you for your answer."
The reporters' hands moved quickly.
Schuster's message had clearly landed.
But his true thoughts were different.
He believed Robinho's absence would inevitably be felt, and that there was no one at Real Madrid who could perfectly replace him.
Regardless of ability, no one fit the team's identity as well as Robinho did.
Even so, cutting away the painful part had been the right choice, which was why he supported the transfer.
Schuster licked his lips, and another wave of questions followed.
"Since this is the season opener, let's ask about the match. You there, with glasses."
"This is Bosque from AS. I have one question. Will La Liga's youngest debut record be broken today?"
It was a question about Ho-young's possible appearance.
Schuster answered cautiously.
"He is currently managing his condition. Even if it's not today, you will soon witness a historic moment. Please look forward to his best performance."
At the same time, in the away team locker room.
The players were easing their nerves in their own ways.
Some were showing off tricks with the ball, others were seriously discussing where to go after the match.
There were also players joking about the models they had spent the previous night with.
Amid all that.
In one corner, occupying a single locker, was someone spending time in a very different way.
Ho-young.
"Inhale, exhale."
He sat upright on a chair like a monk, eyes closed, practicing deep abdominal breathing.
It was his personal method for calming nerves.
"Whew, I'm nervous."
As always, a first experience was nerve-wracking.
Even more so because it was the first division, and La Liga, a stage countless footballers dreamed of.
There was no guarantee he would play today, but Ho-young was confident he could.
Even though his condition was not yet at its peak, he had shown good form in recent training sessions.
"I'm not afraid. I'm not afraid."
"Inhale, exhale!"
As he continued his breathing exercises, a voice interrupted.
"What's he doing? Is he a fish? Tell him to come over, the lineup's being announced."
"Haha! A fish! The boss is calling you!"
"Inhale?"
A familiar voice calling for him.
Schuster had entered the locker room, waving the lineup sheet.
Heart pounding, Ho-young rushed over and joined the group.
The laughter faded, and a serious mood settled over the room.
With everyone's eyes and ears focused, Schuster spoke.
"Casillas, Carlos, Pepe, Cannavaro, Ramos, Mahamadou, Sneijder, Zidane, Raul, Van Nistelrooy, Robben. Prepare to start."
That was the starting eleven.
Ho-young's name was not there.
He had expected it, so the disappointment was minimal.
It was rare for a manager to start a young player with no first-division experience in such an important opening match.
What mattered was what came next.
"Substitutes are Dudek, Salgado, Marcelo, Gago, Higuaín, Rafael, and Ho-young. That's all."
"Yes!"
What he had hoped for came true.
At this rate, a substitute appearance was highly likely.
"If the first half goes smoothly, there's a real chance."
Ho-young clenched his fists.
Those not selected swallowed their disappointment and looked ahead, while the chosen players began preparing in earnest.
Meanwhile, Schuster called captain Raul aside.
"The mood is a bit too relaxed. Make sure no one gets complacent. We'll start with the planned formation, but if they line up with three at the back, we'll switch to Plan B at the 30th minute. Make that clear."
"Understood."
"And unless something unexpected happens, I'll bring on the new players in the second half. You'll manage the attack until the end. Especially Ho-young. This is his first La Liga stage, so if he comes on, keep an eye on him and make sure he doesn't make mistakes."
"Will do."
After Schuster left the locker room, Raul gathered the players and began the briefing.
There were no cheesy slogans like "For the King."
They spoke only of victory.
The goal was nothing less than the title.
"¡Vamos!"
"¡Vamos!"
With shouts of encouragement, the talk ended.
The first step toward a historic third consecutive league title was about to begin.
Ho-young steeled his resolve.
(To be continued.)