61 — U-17 Thailand

Our last few days were uneventful. Some light training, plenty of rest, and we boarded the plane that would take us overseas. Everyone was a bundle of nerves. Each little jolt of turbulence during the flight caused everyone's faces to blanch.

Jong-su, beside me, flinched every time. I couldn't help but chuckle at the sight. "Relax. Thailand has an airport." I assured him dryly. "They're not gonna ask you to play while flying the plane. Besides, statistically speaking, it's safer than a car."

"I still don't like it..." The man growled as he forced his face straight, but then his features twitched as we passed through another bout of turbulence.

I laughed at him again. "You do know that if you want to keep playing professionally, this is just the beginning, right? Planes, buses, hotels… players are flying all the time. You get used to it—or you stop complaining and find another hobby." I told him. He would get used to it.

I focused my attention on the view of clouds and clear skies through the small window of the plane, before glancing around to look at my fellow passengers. Jong-su's face had the same color of a washed bed sheet. He wasn't the only one either. For example, Kim Jun-hwan was sitting as still and straight in his chair, looking straight ahead and trying not to focus on the fact the ground was several thousand feet below.

As for the rest, their anxiety wasn't mere fear of falling, it was also excitement at the opportunity in front of them, mixed with fear of failure. I glanced at them. Bated breaths. Wide eyes. Occasional flinches.

To them, this wasn't a simple trip; this wasn't some weekend excursion. We were going to battle on foreign soil. But as it was their first international journey, their feelings were entirely justified.

Personally, I didn't understand those feelings, or maybe I just had learned to control my emotions long ago. My own mood wasn't quite somber, but a strange sense of purpose had gripped me and I knew in my heart that I needed to give my all. Thailand. I tried to piece back any remnants I could remember of their team—not that they had ever been in contention for the world stage. It was a bit cruel to say, perhaps, but one has to remain objective.

Of course, being objective also meant that, in this reality, Thailand could've really well been the powerhouse of football that nobody knew. We watched and analyzed as many videos that we had access to. And, well, it turns out... Thailand wasn't the powerhouse that people didn't know. Still, no matter what level they stood, our preparation would be no less demanding.

As it stood, South Korea had all the right cards to take this home, granted that not being at home didn't affect our play. I sighed, seriously, if we lost here and against them, we might as well stop trying.

Not much later, the lights inside the cabin came on, the sign to fasten seatbelts blinking in front of me. The pilot announced that our flight was approaching and landing.

Fucking finally.

xXx

We landed at Bangkok's International Airport. Jong-su loosened the moment our wheels hit the runway. But while some members of the U-17 squad laughed and high-fived each other, Jong-su's legs were shaking visibly. As soon as the "fasten seatbelts off" announcement came, Jong-su was the first one to undo his seatbelt.

As soon as the plane came to a complete halt, Jong-su scrambled out of his seat and started jogging towards the exit.

"Wow, someone is in a hurry to reach his destination." I heard someone say, and the few boys standing up paused to watch the big defender storm past them, seemingly set on racing the cabin crew to the plane doors.

I grinned. "Nah, he just has to take a shit but can't trust himself to do it in an airplane toilet. Afraid we'll all drop dead to a stench so horrid God himself might personally drag him down to hell."

This was followed by snickers, the boys watching with varying shades of amusement on their faces.

Jong-su merely blushed but otherwise stood undaunted to the chuckles.

Slowly, we filed out one by one.

Now, if this were a more important tournament, we'd have been ambushed by the press and cameras at the very moment we exited the plane, or at the airport, but in the absence of such, a more subdued greeting awaited us instead.

Upon arriving in the VIP terminal and passing through immigration control, we had a few officials approach. We handed in our passports, answered a couple of questions, and we got a nice little stamp and our documents returned to us.

Outside the terminal, a bus awaited us, gleaming white and air-conditioned—thankfully, given the Bangkok heat that hit us like a wall the moment we stepped outside.

The boys piled in, some already fussing with their bags, others pressing faces against the windows to catch a glimpse of the city.

Jong-su slumped into a seat, finally letting out a long exhale. "Never thought I'd be so happy to sit in a bus." He muttered, shaking his head.

I raised an eyebrow at that, snorting. "Feeling less like an egg?"

"Feel like the whole chicken, man! No more traveling via air vehicles for me, no sir."

The driver started the engine, and the bus rolled onto the tarmac. Skyscrapers, tuk-tuks, and endless traffic flashed past the windows. Some of the younger boys were buzzing with excitement, whispering and pointing at every neon sign. They talked about their plans for Thailand: the things they were going to buy or places they'd visit. A handful had prepared a checklist of things they wanted to see, and some had made a group chat on their smartphones to take pictures together and show their friends and classmates.

Personally, it wasn't in the cards to enjoy myself. But I did promise I'd get the girls and Eun Ha souvenirs and all... though, I was wholly unsure what exactly would constitute a good gift in their case.

Oh well. I'd figure it out.

The bus eventually pulled up in front of the hotel—a tall, modern building with glass doors and a lobby lit up in gold and white. It wasn't five-star luxury, but it was clean, comfortable, and more importantly, practical. I'd heard from the staff that it was one of the regular spots used to host visiting national youth teams.

Apparently, Japan's U-18s had stayed here just last year before a regional tournament.

As we unloaded, hotel staff came out to help with the bags. The boys shuffled toward the lobby, some still restless, others too tired to care. The air-conditioning hit us like a blessing, cool and dry after the thick Bangkok heat outside.

Our coach gathered us near the reception desk. "Keys will be distributed by pairs. Curfew's at ten. No wandering off. Dinner in thirty minutes at the restaurant downstairs. Training resumes tomorrow morning, light session, don't be late." His voice was calm but sharp, the kind that didn't invite questions.

We collected our keycards, and pairs formed quickly. I ended up rooming with Jong-su—who, despite his earlier misery, now looked like he'd already forgotten his fear of flying.

He flopped onto the bed the second we stepped into the room.

"Finally, solid ground. I could kiss the floor." He said, muffled by the pillow.

"Do that and they'll kick you out of the hotel." I replied, tossing my bag onto the other bed. The room was standard. Two beds, a desk, a TV, a bathroom stocked with small soap bars and neatly folded towels.

Nothing fancy, but it would do. It wasn't like they could roll a red carpet for us; a U-17 team wasn't worth all that fanfare.

We had just enough time to freshen up before heading down for dinner. The restaurant was already buzzing when we arrived. Plates of rice, chicken curry, vegetables, and fresh fruit were laid out buffet-style. Some of the boys dove in with wide grins, piling their plates like they hadn't eaten in days. Others picked cautiously, unsure if the food would agree with them before a match.

I stuck to something simple. Grilled chicken and rice. It was fuel, nothing more.

Around me, the conversations grew louder, laughter mixing with clattering cutlery.

For a moment, it didn't feel like we were in another country at all.

It just felt like a high school trip with slightly worse cuisine. Sorry, but I got too used to South Korean food.

The novelty didn't last for long.

The boys returned to their rooms early, as did I. The match wouldn't start for another few days, but I figured that the best plan was to follow the coach's recommendations. It would take a while to get over the jetlag and match-readiness, which is why, besides the necessary practice matches that we'd inevitably take, the bulk of our training sessions was in fact physical training.

As such, for the next few days, our schedule was an easy rhythm.

Routine, the same thing day by day, only training and recuperation—a world far removed from the intensity of an actual game.

I ate breakfast, exercised, had lunch, rested. It was mind-numbing.

The time we had free was spent watching recordings of Thailand's old performances or, if nothing was available, even clips of random matches for comparison. The members studied them diligently.

In the dining hall, conversations inevitably drifted to tactics—defend in our own half or press them back? What would the Thai midfielders be like? How were they at countering attacks? Could we expect much defensive resistance from the back or would the middle of the pitch be easier to penetrate?

The questions, strategies, and theories kept coming during the day.

While the rest had their head stuck on those thoughts, I could feel time slow. I would occasionally wonder the same, sure. It would have been rude not to, in a sense. But, I felt my mind being trapped. I sighed, looking down at my phone. It had been days now, and a single text stood out on my messages, unopened.

Mia: Miss me, little bro?

Mia: Because I miss you.

I didn't know what expression to wear. Was this something you'd say to your sibling? Maybe. In that case, how would you respond? With a 'yes?' Did this warrant a smiley or not? A question? Was it a rhetorical or a serious request?

I shook my head, placing my phone down.

Not the time, Mia. Sorry. I couldn't let this ambiguousness between us affect my game, nor my career.

And, just like this, the day of the match finally came.