Chapter 21
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Translator: Silver Dragon
Chapter: 21
Chapter Title: Park Si-hyun Shows the Dignity of a King
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"To think that I'm leaving this club..."
As Manchester United's assistant coach, he was Steve McClaren, the man who had achieved the Treble in 1999 alongside Alex Ferguson and basked in the glory of three straight league titles.
But with the first half of the season over, he was set to take the helm at Middlesbrough.
His days here were numbered, and even the things he'd taken for granted now felt strangely fresh and bittersweet.
The red brick walls of the Carrington training ground.
The players' laughter.
And even this moment, knocking on the manager's door.
Knock knock.
"Come in."
He entered the office carrying the analysis report on the next opponent's team.
"You're here."
"Yes, sir. Here's the power analysis on Arsenal, our next opponents."
"Arsenal, eh..."
A peculiar smile crept across Ferguson's lips.
"Arsène Wenger... I wonder what that French professor is scheming this time. Should be fun."
There weren't many Premier League managers who would describe Arsène Wenger as merely "fun."
But Alex Ferguson was different.
Since taking over Manchester United in 1986, he'd conquered the Premier League seven times, and in 1999, he'd elevated the club to the pinnacle of Europe.
He was the king of the Manchester empire, the one true god of the Red Devils residing at Old Trafford.
That's when Steve noticed the screen Ferguson was watching.
"Still looking at that player?"
"Haha, the more I watch, the more intriguing he gets."
Ferguson's gaze remained fixed on the monitor.
On the screen, a young East Asian man in a red uniform toyed with the defenders before scoring.
"Even in the third division, a hat-trick on debut isn't easy. He clearly has talent. But isn't he the type you dislike, sir?"
Steve asked cautiously.
Alex Ferguson's philosophy was famous enough that every Englishman knew it.
'No player is greater than the team.'
Whether Scholes, Cantona, or even Beckham, none were exempt from this iron rule.
The moment a player thought they were bigger than the team, Ferguson would cast them out without mercy.
"True, if a player shouting 'I'm the best' even in the third division came to Manchester United... it would be interesting."
A peculiar smile played on Ferguson's lips.
"I don't think he's ready at his current level, sir. This is the Premier League. It's a whole different world from the German third division."
Alex Ferguson looked at his protégé, Steve McClaren, who was voicing his opinion right in front of him.
A comrade who'd shared in the glory, a disciple who'd inherited his football philosophy.
"You're about to become a manager, aren't you?"
"Yes, I've been appointed at Middlesbrough after the first half."
"Then I should give you one last lesson."
Ferguson swiveled his chair slightly to face Steve directly.
"As a manager, you'll evaluate countless players. Scouts' reports, agents' sweet talk, the media's praise—they'll all try to sway you. But never waver."
Ferguson pointed at the monitor.
On the screen, Park Si-hyun rattled the net with a powerful shot.
"Trust your eyes. Believe what you see. Not what others tell you, but what your own eyes witness. If you see talent, ignore its nationality or origins. See only the talent."
Ferguson paused and gazed out the window.
"Remember when we signed Eric Cantona?"
"How could I forget."
Nostalgia colored Steve's voice.
"Everyone called him a madman. A problem child in France and at Leeds. But he made us champions."
Ferguson pointed at the monitor again.
The screen was frozen on Park Si-hyun unhesitatingly smacking an opponent on the back of the head.
"He looks troublesome, no doubt. Arrogant, not much of a team player. But..."
His eyes gleamed.
"Talent doesn't lie. And polishing rough diamonds like this is our job."
Steve nodded at his mentor's words.
But doubts lingered.
Honestly, from what he'd seen, the kid wasn't that special.
Talent, sure, but comparing him to Cantona...
"So, sir, are you really planning to sign this player?"
"Who knows yet. But one thing's certain."
Ferguson stood and gripped Steve's shoulder.
His grasp carried the dignity of a king who'd dominated football for decades.
"If Park Si-hyun becomes an opponent... I'll have a tough time."
Third division round 3, home match against Fortuna Köln.
A single word echoed through the stands at Potsipalais Stadium.
"King! King! King!"
The man who'd ascended to the throne of Rot-Weiss Essen in just one game: Park Si-hyun.
Werner with a perfectly timed pass. Park Si-hyun jumps! Whoaaa, three defenders pressing at once, but he powers through them all for the goal! It's a goal!!
He seemed to rise two heads above the jumping defenders! For a moment, I confused this for a soccer match or an NBA game!
Waaaaaaaaah—!
After a listless defeat in round 2 without Park Si-hyun, Essen was dominating 2-0 just in the first half with him on the pitch.
The fans couldn't help but go wild.
And on top of that, soccer's living legend Alex Ferguson had acknowledged his talent.
Well, he hadn't explicitly praised his skill, but Essen's fans interpreted it that way.
'Park Si-hyun of Essen is the world's greatest player.'
This fanatical faith dominated Potsipalais Stadium, expressing itself in extreme ways.
The moment a Köln player laid a rough tackle on Park Si-hyun, the stands erupted.
"Boooo! Hey, you bald bastard, that's racism!"
"Check your passport, Nazi scum!"
"You wanna die?! How dare you touch the king!!!"
"That's not a foul, that's attempted murder, got it?! Don't think you'll leave Essen alive!"
"Ref! Arrest that prick! Cuff him now!"
The Köln player reeled from the barrage of insults and personal attacks.
Then, Park Si-hyun slowly raised his hand.
As if by magic, the crowd fell silent.
Like the curses and shouts had been an illusion.
"..."
Goosebumps prickled the Köln player's skin.
This wasn't a stadium.
It felt like he'd landed in the heart of a cult.
Over 3,000 fans perfectly controlled by one man's gesture.
"Our king is so good-natured! Be grateful, friend!"
"That's the true dignity of a king!"
"Yeah, everyone sins once. We sinned at first too, but the king forgave us!"
And the cult's leader approached him slowly.
"I forgive your sin."
After the match, the Köln player shared his experience in the interview.
It was a really bizarre experience. I couldn't tell if I was playing a soccer match or attending a cult worship service. And it felt like Essen's fans treat Park Si-hyun like a god.
Everything changed overnight.
Not just talk—this was really happening to me.
"Oh, how could I take money from the king?"
The cafe owner's voice brimmed with genuine reverence.
Like a devotee offering tribute to a god.
Of course, a star player shining for the team would be loved in the city.
But even after two straight hat-tricks, this felt over the top.
'Well, just roll with it.'
Unlike Korea, Europe's soccer passion was world-renowned.
They treated players differently here.
Having only played in Korea, I didn't know Europe well enough to say if this was average.
It made me think of that Mannheim player who'd racially abused me—whose name I couldn't even recall now.
'He was a great opponent.'
Thanks to him, my image shifted from cocky Asian import to warrior against racism.
Who'd believe smacking the back of his head made me the team's king?
But that was reality.
Walking out of the cafe, I saw kids playing on the street.
Spotting me, their eyes widened, and they rushed over.
"Whoa! It's Park Si-hyun! Can we get autographs?"
Boys around ten years old came running with paper and pens.
"Sure thing."
I signed naturally.
No matter how well I played or how arrogant I seemed on the pitch, I had to be friendly to fans.
That was the true dignity of a king.
Then, one kid getting his autograph asked timidly.
"The next match too... can we win?"
Suddenly, not just the kids but passersby who'd been glancing over hung on my words.
"Win?"
I met the kid's eyes straight on and grinned wide.
"Of course. There's no opponent on Earth that Park Si-hyun can't beat."
"Woooow!"
"Our king has promised victory!"
"Bow down!"
Kids and adults cheered in unison.
'...This must be average, right?'