The lineage of goalkeepers stretches back fifty years, beginning with Lev Ivanovich Yashin, widely regarded as the greatest goalkeeper in football history.
The man who left behind the legendary quote, "Only I can stop shots from the blind spot," was universally acknowledged as the all-time number one. His legacy was so immense that the Yashin Award, a prize dedicated exclusively to goalkeepers, was created in his honor.
After him came a succession of legendary keepers, Dino Zoff, Gordon Banks, Schmeichel, Oliver Kahn, all of them monsters in their own right, tormenting the world's greatest strikers with their terrifying abilities.
Then came the mid to late 2000s.
At that time, the standout goalkeepers representing each major league could be narrowed down to three.
Edwin van der Sar of the English Premier League.
Gianluigi Buffon of Serie A.
Iker Casillas of La Liga.
Those three were generally considered the benchmark. If Ligue 1 were added to the list, then Gregory Coupet would undoubtedly be included as well.
A Frenchman, he was the legendary goalkeeper who led Olympique Lyonnais through their golden era in Ligue 1.
Yet this season, he had left France and moved to Spain, La Liga.
Atletico Madrid.
It was a new stage for Coupet, who had taken on a fresh challenge in the latter years of his career.
And the arrival of a goalkeeper with such experience and composure seemed to finally solve Atletico Madrid's chronic defensive issues.
At least, until today's match.
"Damn it…"
The home team's locker room after the first half.
Coupet sat with his head lowered, utterly dejected after conceding a goal he should never have allowed.
A nightmare.
All the effort he had poured into reaching peak condition for this match had turned to nothing.
"Damn it, damn it, damn it."
Self-blame crept in.
If he had conceded in an unexpected way, that would be one thing, but he had spent days thoroughly preparing for Ho-young's long-range shots and deflections.
After every training session, he had watched footage of Ho-young uploaded in the tactics room, engraving every movement into his mind.
The calm finishes during penetrative runs, the half-beat faster toe kicks, spin kicks, the left-footed shots that barely lagged behind his right, the shooting angles he favored, the powerful mid-range shots.
He had prepared for all of it.
Of course, he never believed he could stop every single shot, but at the very least, he should have stopped what he had prepared for.
Yet when the match actually began, he realized that knowing was not enough.
"Ha…"
The first goal, a heavy mid-range strike.
The angle was difficult, but the power was on another level.
The moment he punched the ball away, it felt as if he were trying to stop a basketball.
"Unbelievable."
With sixteen years as a professional, he had faced countless shots.
He had broken fingers making saves, and had even felt his wrist bend backward from sheer velocity.
That shot was similar.
It was not carelessness, yet the impact strained his wrist, and not long after, he conceded again.
"Is your wrist okay?"
It was the concerned voice of head coach Javier Aguirre, who had just returned from the tactical meeting.
Coupet answered as if it were nothing.
"It just took a bit of impact. I can play another 45 minutes."
"Hm."
Aguirre's face was flushed red, clearly dissatisfied with the first-half result.
There was nothing more infuriating than losing after scoring first.
Still, Aguirre trusted Coupet.
"Alright. You know your body better than anyone. Show your fighting spirit. This is Real Madrid. The same Real Madrid you crushed more than once."
That was true.
Three years ago in the Champions League, it was Coupet who had driven Real Madrid into despair.
That memory helped him regain his confidence.
"Alright, let's see what you've got, kid."
If he could not stop Ho-young's shots, then the best option was to prevent him from shooting at all.
"I need to read the flow of the game."
If hands failed, then feet, and then the head.
"You cannot beat me in experience."
Having regained his confidence through mental control, Coupet taped his fingers.
He tightened his goalkeeper gloves and splashed water onto his palms.
It was to increase grip and improve the gloves' performance.
After completing that routine, he reinforced his winning mentality.
No more goals conceded. With that resolve, he spent the rest of halftime.
While Coupet burned with determination, the away team's locker room was also making final preparations.
"Let's keep this to just two points."
After the tactical meeting ended and Schuster left, Raul stepped into the center of the locker room and raised his voice.
"First, we played well in the first half. Everyone carried out their roles properly. It was just unfortunate that Gregory was brilliant early on."
"Yeah. That guy was completely in maniac mode. But he still got shown up by Young, didn't he? Heh."
"Pepe, you need to hold back a bit. Actions that drag the team into controversy must never happen."
"Oh, yes."
"If you learn from mistakes, that is enough."
Raul continued, not forgetting his firm advice.
"The match starts now. In the second half, we will fully execute the tactics we prepared over the last two weeks. Just run a little more for each other. That is the shortest path to victory. Madrid cannot lose to ATM. Understood?"
"Yes."
Clap clap clap.
As the speech ended, Raul immediately pulled Ho-young aside.
"Young. That was a fantastic goal."
"Thank you. But it feels like I failed to capitalize on all my chances."
"It is better not to think that way. Leave the regrets of the first half on the pitch. Instead, find what needs improvement."
Those words hit home.
Once again, Ho-young learned something today.
"I understand."
"Good. And late in the second half, I will hold the ball with my back to goal. It is your first full ninety minutes, so manage your stamina early. Today's substitutions will be used in the second line."
"I will do my best."
No more words were needed.
Raul held out his palm, and with the sound of hands slapping together, voices rang out.
"¡Vamos!"
"¡Vamos!"
Whistle.
As Atletico Madrid's rousing chants filled the stadium, the kickoff began.
[The second half has begun. Real Madrid continues without any substitutions.]
[On the other hand, Atletico Madrid has changed their shape to strengthen their attack.]
With no room left to retreat, Atletico Madrid pushed forward aggressively.
As a result, the heat in the stadium intensified even further.
The crowd erupted whenever their team had the ball, and hurled frenzied boos whenever the opposition touched it.
Either way, the noise never stopped for the full ninety minutes.
But Real Madrid did not suffer passively.
As time passed, contrary to Atletico's hopes, Real's attacking power only grew stronger.
Over the past two weeks, Atletico Madrid had not been the only ones training intensely.
Real Madrid had also dissected Atletico in detail and prepared ample countermeasures.
What mattered was the second half.
This was the decisive phase.
[Ho-young! He escapes Assuncao's pressure with a clean dribble! Heitinga steps in, but no chance!]
Tap, tap.
Whoosh.
"Ugh!"
A Marseille turn that beats you even when you know it is coming.
Drawing a perfect semicircle as if with a compass, Ho-young spun his body and left Heitinga behind.
A player who knows when to use skills sparingly is truly the most dangerous.
[Ho-young! He slips a pass through the defender's legs!]
[Raul collects it!]
Once a crack formed, Atletico Madrid's defensive line could no longer be restored.
With his superior football sense, Ho-young never missed such gaps.
Through constant off-the-ball movement, he created chances, and under the sustained threat, Coupet began to waver.
Finally, in the 74th minute of the second half, a perfect chance emerged.
A counter-attack off a counter-attack.
Forlan's mid-range shot was denied by Casillas, and the rebound fell at Zidane's feet.
The counter began there.
[Real Madrid counter! No hesitation as they move forward! Zidane sends it long!]
A counter chance for Real.
Atletico had dropped their back four in preparation, but cracks had already formed, leaving holes everywhere.
Thud.
Zidane's grounded pass sliced through the pitch.
[Raul receives with his back to goal near the halfway line!]
[It is four attackers against four defenders! Too many threats to cover. What choice will Raul make?]
"Run!"
Without a moment's delay.
His choice was a lofted through ball into the space on the left, where Ho-young waited facing the goal.
A wide-open field.
The pre-arranged play flowed smoothly, and Ho-young focused solely on the pass as he sprinted into space.
The line had already collapsed.
Atletico's back four crumbled from a single combination.
[Ho-young sprints along the left touchline! He is about to reach the ball!]
But Coupet was not about to sit back and accept it.
Reading the flow of the match, he reacted a step faster and rushed out beyond the box.
Leaving the goal empty was a risk, but from this distance, he was confident he would cut the ball out.
And then.
A fierce race for the rolling ball unfolded.
In that vast space, only two figures existed.
Ho-young and Coupet.
Charging in from opposite directions, neither slowed down, like a game of chicken.
Then.
"Urgh!"
Arriving a split second earlier, Coupet slid and stretched his leg to intercept the ball.
He tried to clear it toward the opposite half, but Ho-young's speed was faster than expected, so he settled for knocking it out over the touchline.
[Coupet arrives first by a hair's breadth! He slides to knock it out and immediately turns back toward goal! A bold and brilliant decision only a veteran could make!]
[Exactly. Real Madrid will need a nearby teammate to quickly receive the ball. It will be a throw-in for Real Madrid.]
But.
There was no need.
Ho-young instinctively grabbed the ball to take the throw-in.
In front of him, he saw Coupet's back as the goalkeeper scrambled back toward goal.
At that very moment.
"Hey!"
Whoosh!
[Ah! What is Ho-young doing?]
[A sudden move! With no teammates nearby, he lightly throws the ball forward!]
There was not a single teammate nearby, but Ho-young threw the ball anyway.
He could not afford to wait for Coupet to return to his goal.
The ball Ho-young threw landed exactly where he wanted.
That place was none other than.
Thud.
"What the hell?!"
Coupet's back.
The lightly thrown ball struck Coupet as he hurried back.
And a ball that hits a back naturally rebounds.
Bouncing back like a boomerang, it returned straight to Ho-young's feet.
"You bastard! What kind of crap is that? Ref!"
For an instant, Coupet protested in frustration, but the referee allowed play to continue.
Even if a player intentionally hits an opponent, as long as excessive force is not used, play continues.
Though dumbfounded, Coupet had no time to complain.
He hurried back into the box, shouting.
"Hey! Everyone get back into the goal!"
The defenders on the far side scrambled toward the goal, but the ball had already left Ho-young's foot.
From the left touchline toward the goal, a cross.
No, a forty-three meter shot traced a high arc toward the net.
Defenders rushing back tried to clear the aerial ball, but all failed.
The ball landed on the ground.
Thump, thump, making a soft, almost cute sound.
And after that, there was no thunderous roar of the net snapping.
The ball simply rolled on and quietly nestled into the back of the net.
Then.
"Suiii!"
A celebration more intense than ever.
Watching that, Coupet muttered quietly to himself.
"What kind of insane guy is that?"
(To be continued.)