*** *** *** *** ***
It didn’t take long for Moo-gyeom to figure out why Lee Ha-joon was popular with the players.
As with any field in Korean athletics, football players also receive strict—or more accurately, violent—training from elementary school onward. Coaches and managers were not the only ones who wielded petty power inside their wells. In some ways, the senior-junior hierarchy was even harder to endure. If it were based on skill or experience, that would be one thing, but it was common for seniors to beat and harass juniors using age and seniority as an excuse, and countless people quit sports because they couldn’t endure it.
Moo-gyeom had been lucky enough to meet Park Jun-sung, a coach with firm values as an educator, and had started living abroad early. On top of that, factors like his skill, personality, physique, and appearance all combined, so he had not really experienced much hazing in Korea. But of course he knew exactly how harmful it could be. Though the methods and nature were different, Moo-gyeom had experienced plenty of hazing too. Greenford’s locker room, which was practically like home to him now, had not been a peaceful place either.
In that world of athletes, if there was a kind person who smiled and listened to your story, of course you would want to lean on them. Anyone would.
“Hyung—no, Coach. Could you spare me a moment?”
“Sure. Shall we go to the lounge?”
Watching a player approach Ha-joon, who was organizing notes on the bench, Moo-gyeom sucked on the straw of his water bottle. It was a scene he had occasionally seen since Ha-joon arrived, and judging from the atmosphere, several players seemed to be going to Ha-joon for advice.
Even if it was called counseling, it didn’t seem to be anything extraordinary, just sharing worries about exercise, but it was still quite remarkable. As far as Moo-gyeom knew, in the football world, it wasn’t common to ask a coach or senior for advice and have them accept it so readily.
Among men who play sports, gentle people who listen carefully to others and worry with them are rare. Even if they listen, most spout nonsense as solutions to other people’s problems, and the ones seeking advice end up leaving first.
Several European teams, including Greenford, had sports counselors or affiliated psychiatrists responsible for managing players’ mental health. But in Korea, without even going far, City Seoul was completely neglecting that area.
‘Does a physical coach have to take on that role too? It’s not like he gets paid extra.’
Even while thinking that, Moo-gyeom did not bother saying anything. There was no reason for him to go out of his way for Ha-joon’s convenience.
In any case, it had been several days since Ha-joon started coming to work as a coach. Ha-joon and Moo-gyeom were getting along distantly—without conflict, but without growing particularly close either.
“Hello, Moo-gyeom hyung.”
“Mm.”
Just as he was about to pass by Ha-joon, who was talking while surrounded by a few players, one of them made sure to greet him. Moo-gyeom, who had no particular intention of interrupting their conversation, simply accepted the greeting and tried to pass. But Ha-joon’s declaration of departure came faster.
“Then I need to stop by the office, so I’ll get going. Let’s talk again later.”
“Ah, are you busy? Yes. Go ahead, Coach.”
…No, maybe they weren’t simply keeping their distance.
Watching Ha-joon, who had been chatting in a group, suddenly say goodbye and disappear the moment Moo-gyeom appeared, Moo-gyeom tried to suppress the faint suspicion rising in him.
The sense of incongruity he had felt on the first day had continued afterward. It was hard to pinpoint exactly, but he couldn’t shake the impression that Ha-joon did not feel very comfortable around him. If asked why he thought so, it was just things like this.
| ―When Lee Ha-joon is talking with other people and Kim Moo-gyeom appears, Lee Ha-joon suddenly leaves. ―When several coaches are looking after the players at the same time, Lee Ha-joon somehow never gets assigned to Kim Moo-gyeom. ―When Lee Ha-joon alone is looking after the players, there is an indescribable subtle difference between how he treats other players and how he treats Kim Moo-gyeom. ―A situation where Kim Moo-gyeom and Lee Ha-joon are alone together never occurs. |
However, both Moo-gyeom and Ha-joon had only been coming to this team for a few days, and it was all still slight enough to be dismissed as coincidence or imagination.
In truth, from Moo-gyeom’s perspective, even if Ha-joon found him uncomfortable, it was none of his business. Wherever he went, there were always more people who felt uncomfortable around Moo-gyeom than people who felt comfortable with him, so it was nothing new.
So what do I care? Moo-gyeom grumbled inwardly to himself and ran to the middle of the training ground at the sound of the whistle announcing the end of break time. From now on, they were moving to the indoor training area to receive a newly introduced training program.
At Ha-joon’s suggestion, the City Seoul players would do Pilates twice a week. At Greenford, Pilates had already been adopted as a regular program, and depending on players’ conditions, they even learned yoga, so to Moo-gyeom it felt perfectly natural. But most of the City Seoul players seemed unfamiliar with it, gathered in the indoor training area and moving stiffly under Ha-joon’s instructions.
Moo-gyeom liked the new program. City Seoul’s basic fitness training, both in quantity and quality, differed drastically from Greenford’s, so he had already been looking for a place to do separate personal training. Even with one new program added, this place still had no aquatic training facilities, no jacuzzi, and neither the weight training equipment nor the Pilates equipment they were about to use had been upgraded. Still, it was better than not doing it at all.
The coaches were busily helping the men awkwardly floating among various machines and small props. And the person who had supposedly insisted on introducing the new program looked the busiest among them.
“Move your leg a little more to the left. Good. When you do this movement, your pelvis shouldn’t tilt.”
“Like this?”
“Good, much better.”
“Really?”
“Of course.”
Ha-joon held one player’s waist, corrected his posture, and joked with him. Since it had not been long since he ended his playing career and their ages were not that different, it made sense that the players would feel close to him even if he didn’t respond to their advice-seeking. This wasn’t limited to younger players either. Ha-joon was also polite and friendly with players older than him, giving instructions in a way that didn’t offend them.
“Hyung, your spinal scoliosis is progressing a little right now. So when you do this exercise, you need to do more on the left side. That way your balance will match.”
“Right. The hospital told me that recently. Is that why my back hurts sometimes too?”
“Probably. Look. It hurts when I press here, right? Since your balance is off, you’re using this muscle more, so it’s stiffening. If you keep running like this, it’ll burden your body.”
Moo-gyeom watched Ha-joon while doing abdominal exercises on a gym ball. He was gradually getting closer to Moo-gyeom as he guided the players one by one. One player was instructed on pelvic balance training using a TheraBand; another on abdominal exercises using a reformer.
And at last, it was finally Moo-gyeom’s turn today too. Ha-joon looked down at Moo-gyeom lying on the gym ball, then soon shifted his gaze to the notebook he was holding.
“You don’t have any major issues, but you tend to put more force into your right ankle. That’s probably because you use your right more as your plant foot. It’d be good to reduce the burden on the right while strengthening the left ankle to balance it out. That’ll improve your kicking power too. And of course, you need to strengthen your core.”
“I know.”
“Come this way. First band, then reformer. Here. Loop that around your ankle.”
The exercises Ha-joon taught were ones Moo-gyeom knew well. Following his instructions, Moo-gyeom looped the band around his ankle and performed several strengthening movements, such as walking in place, lifting his leg, and getting on the reformer to push the board with one leg. Unlike with the other players, Ha-joon smiled slightly at his familiarity.
“You already know this much without me telling you, right? For strengthening exercises, do twice as many reps on the left.”
“Yeah.”
“The lower body and upper body are connected diagonally, so when doing abdominal exercises, consciously try to tighten and lift the right side of your upper body more. Lower your tailbone a bit more.”
Ha-joon was about to pass by with a smile when Moo-gyeom called him.
“Coach.”
“Yeah?”
“Is that all? Nothing else?”
“Something else?”
Standing on the reformer, Moo-gyeom looked down at Ha-joon so intently it was almost a glare. Ha-joon simply opened his eyes roundly, looking back at Moo-gyeom with an expression that seemed to ask, ‘Why?’
“Never mind.”
When Moo-gyeom gestured dismissively, Ha-joon just smiled awkwardly once and turned away to check the next player’s condition. Watching Ha-joon guide that player, Moo-gyeom clearly realized, in that moment after several days since the new physical coach arrived, the identity of the incongruity that had been gnawing at a corner of his mind.
It wasn’t just that he found him uncomfortable. Lee Ha-joon only didn’t touch him.
When correcting posture, Ha-joon always placed his hands on the players’ bodies and touched them directly as he gave instructions. It seemed less like he did it because it was necessary and more like it was almost a habit. He was also unhesitating about palpating muscles, and nearly every time he reached out to touch the players’ bodies. He was doing it even now.
Of course, it wasn’t that he had never touched Moo-gyeom at all. But the feeling that he was consciously trying to keep contact to the absolute minimum came through clearly. Moo-gyeom could be certain that since Ha-joon arrived, he was the only player here who had not been under Ha-joon’s hands to this extent.
Unlike how he looked, he seemed to have a surprisingly petty side. Was he sulking because Moo-gyeom hadn’t remembered him when they first met?
Even so, this wasn’t right. If correction was needed, correction should be done, and if palpation was needed, palpation should be done. That was the duty of a physical coach. It was possible he hadn’t done it because he judged it unnecessary, but no matter how he thought about it, it was strange that he alone was not being touched like this. The suspicion only grew stronger that the cause was interpersonal rather than necessity.
Leave a Reply