And since the match was against the Pohang Steelers (Hong Myung-Bo's team), I just couldn't resist writing this short, feel-good piece. Recommend you read the last part of Hope's Cradle to be able to appreciate this one fully.

Saturday, August 3rd 2002
Ulsan Munsu World Cup Stadium
Pohang Steelers vs. Ulsan Hyundai Tigers

They gave me the night off because they wanted to rest me before the All-Star game. A late decision, sparked by the fact that I'd just won the 'best player' poll in the media and they wanted me to be in top form for the All-Star game, so as not to let the fans down. I could understand that, but I couldn't understand why my coach decided to rest most of our main defenders and attackers, too.

So in the end we got trundled by a team that had been scraping their way from the bottom of the table with a nightmarish scoreline: 3-0. I'll bet the bosses will be biting their nails after this. Just last week we were on top of the standings, and now we've tumbled all the way to fourth and it may get worse depending on the results of tomorrow's matches.

I sat on the bench the entire match as beside me my teammates cursed and moaned, as we saw our defenses fall apart and our attack being continuously broken by a determined Ulsan Tigers side. In the end, as the final whistle blows, they just shake their heads and mutter: Oh well, maybe next time...

One of the team officials approaches me and said, through the deafening roar of the Ulsan crowd as they welcomed their team's first decisive victory for a long, long time:

"I just got a call. Busan Icons won their game against Anyang Cheetahs, so at least we won't drop further in the standings tonight."

I nod to acknowledge him, then he goes off to tell this news to the other players.

I don't care. They can be as relieved, as miserable, or as frustrated as they would like.

Inside of me, I am beaming with pride.

Lee Chun-Soo, arising like phoenix from the ashes, not just from his injury but from his emotional turbulence, from the tearful young man I held in my arms only two weeks ago, into the triumphant figure I see on the field tonight.

He ran, he played, he passed, and ultimately, he scored.

It was like Seogwipo all over again, like the first time I set my eyes on that chubby, red-headed kid who ran like the wind and leapt with the agility of a fox from one end of the field to another.

He's back. And he's back with a vengeance.

He kept his promise. He kept his promise to me, to Chong-Gug, to himself, to everyone.

And after he scored that goal, after his teammates had hugged him and slapped his back and congratulated him, he looked up to the heavens, to the star- filled sky and I saw on the big screen how his lips muttered the words to thank God...and later, a bare whisper that perhaps only I was able to see...he said Chong-Gug's name.

Amid the screams of the supporters and the beating drums, amid the cheers and the squeals of teenage girls, he stood there with his eyes towards the sky and said Song Chong-Gug's name, perhaps hoping that it would be carried by the wind all the way to Busan, all the way to the man he loved.

At that moment I felt something deep within me stir, pride and admiration and a deep, profound love for these two young souls, upon whose shoulders I've rested all my hopes and dreams.

So now that the match is over, he's on the field congratulating his fellow players, smiling and shaking hands with his teammates and mine, and then he turns and looks at me.

I stand up from the bench and walk towards him, feeling pride swell in my chest as I open up my arms, smiling at him. As soon as he sees this he breaks into a spirited run, all the way from the middle of the field and straight into me.

He leaps into my arms, the same way he did when I arrived at his house in the middle of the rain two weeks ago, and this time there are no traces of tears, just his ringing, happy laughter. The laughter that breathes joy into me, and the feeling of his body as I hug him, the feeling of that determined little heart inside his chest, beating and thumping so strongly against my own...

I spin him around like I always do to my own children, and I savor the sound of his laughter. Oh how I wish Chong-Gug was here, to be able to see this in person, to experience this uninhibited joy.

As I set him down he is looking at me, smiling as wide as I've ever seen him smile.

"I'm so proud of you, Chun-Soo..." I say to him, stroking his bleached blonde hair. "So proud..."

"I did it for you, Captain...to keep my promise to you." he says to me whole-heartedly. "And I did it for Chong-Gug."

"I know you did," I nod. "And I have good news for you...Chong-Gug's team won."

His eyes spark brightly. "They did?"

"Yes. I got the news just now."

He glances towards the skies again, taking a deep breath. "This is the best night I've had in a long, long time..."

I laugh and scoop him back into a hug, and close my eyes as I feel his tiny arms around my neck. He reminds me so much of little Sung-Min, of my own son. His eyes, his laughter, his smile...I wonder if Sung-Min will look like him when he grows up.

"You remember what I said to you, right?" I say as I let him go.

He nods. "You said I'm not alone in this. Never, never alone..."

"Do you believe it now?"

"I always have." he looks at me straight in the eyes, then takes one of my hands in his and grips it strongly. "And I always will."

I feel joy and relief wash over me as I hear him say this. There will be other troubles, for sure, other losses to endure, other difficulties he has to overcome, but seeing him tonight...with that spirit, that courage, and that unflinching will back in his stride and looking even stronger than before...I know he can do it. I just know.

And perhaps, miles away in Busan, Chong-Gug is thinking the very same thing.

"Never stop believing, Chun-Soo..." I tell him. "Never."

~fin~