Chapter 100
Chapter 100
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 100
Chapter Title: This is Bolton Wanderers (10)
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At the glamping site next to University Stadium in Bolton Horwich.
Even on a day with no match, quite a crowd had gathered here.
And every one of them looked delighted.
Simple reason.
Bolton, fresh off their victory against Sunderland, had followed it up with two wins and a draw in league rounds 20, 21, and 22—an astonishing unbeaten run.
“Dad! The chicken’s amazing!”
Nelson Oakley, whose family had been Wanderers supporters for generations, smiled warmly at his son’s beaming face.
In the boy’s hand was a paper bucket overflowing with seasoned chicken.
Gulp!
Oakley had already polished off one whole bird, but now he smacked his lips anyway.
“Want a bite, Dad?”
“Yeah!”
His son didn’t hesitate, grabbing a wing and offering it over.
Oakley had been hoping for a drumstick deep down, but he pushed the disappointment aside and took it between thumb and forefinger, popping it into his mouth.
Crunch!
“Mm, mm... oh man!”
The first bite drew an instant exclamation.
“This stuff is seriously good.”
Way better than that KFC just a ten-minute drive away.
“This sauce is straight-up cheating. Sweet, with just the right kick of spice without being too hot...!”
On top of that, the batter crunched like a snack chip.
“And the inside’s so juicy!”
His son, sauce smeared around his mouth without a care, tore into a drumstick and chimed in.
“Totally juicy!”
Oakley ruffled the boy’s hair lightly with his clean hand.
“Whoa, the line’s gotten that long already?”
A glance toward the food corner showed a massive queue snaking out from the chicken stand.
Just five minutes away, this glamping site had folks pitching tents and relaxing everywhere.
Oakley himself had rented a two-person tent from the on-site rental and just finished setting it up.
With his wife away visiting her parents, he wanted to make some good memories with his son.
That’s when it happened.
Whoa!
“Huh?”
Oakley had to stop in his tracks.
In one wide-open spot in the glamping area, a bunch of people had formed a circle, peering at something.
“Dad! What’s that?”
His son had spotted it too, eyes wide as saucers, pointing with a tiny finger.
“Dunno. Wanna check it out?”
“Yeah!”
It was just a few steps away, so Oakley took his son’s hand and headed straight for the crowd.
A few dozen seconds later, Oakley’s jaw dropped in shock.
His son on the right let out a big “Woooow!”
Right there in front of them, a few Bolton players were throwing a barbecue party, a massive tent pitched behind them.
* * *
Sizzle!
Pork belly sizzled deliciously on the grill.
As it cooked, the fat dripped down onto the firewood in the drum below, sending flames roaring higher.
Whoosh!
“Whoa!”
Adebayor, gloved up, paused mid-flip and let out a little gasp.
Even though he was grilling it himself, the pork looked insanely good as it charred over the logs.
“How does this pork belly grill so perfectly?”
David Dignity, standing to his right, muttered with a baffled grin.
Adebayor flashed a smile.
“Learned from the boss.”
Jeong-woo occasionally came to the glamping site to grill meat.
Adebayor always tagged along like a shadow.
Just like now, plenty of people would watch froMad Dogistance.
The good news? No one rushed up demanding autographs or photos.
Thanks to the notices posted all around the site.
[The players are just regular customers enjoying the glamping site too. Please let them rest.]
[Proper rest lets players bring their A-game and rack up those points.]
[Give the players the right to enjoy nature. They’ll repay you with points.]
Those lines subtly tugged at people’s sense of consideration.
Of course, after they finished eating and chilling a bit, the players would go over, shake hands, and pose for pics.
“Anyway, the boss is something else.”
Adebayor picked up a perfectly browned piece with the tongs and continued as he ate.
“This drum was cut by the boss himself.”
When he’d said he wanted to grill with the squad, Jeong-woo showed up with a grinder, slicing the drum barrel clean in half. Then he welded rebar legs to hold it up.
To save on rental fees.
“Check this out.”
Adebayor pointed to the evenly spaced tangerine-sized holes in the druMad Dog chuckled.
“Said air needs to flow for the fire to catch better, so he drilled ’em all with that whirring tool.”
Togah Pak, across from him, nodded like it was old news.
“He did the same in Korea. Back when he was our analyst... I saw him handle pretty much all the facility maintenance solo.”
Dignity jumped in right after.
“Oh yeah! Locker room light went out, so I grabbed a spare fluorescent and swapped it myself... but it wouldn’t light. Then boom, boss appears outta nowhere, fixes it in seconds. Turns out the ballast inside was busted.”
Dignity explained.
Jeong-woo had bought a new ballast, popped off the fixture cover, and swapped the one in the ceiling like a pro.
Right then.
Hee-won, who’d been quietly munching pieces from Adebayor’s grill, piped up.
“Psh, that’s nothing. Jeong-woo’s always been handy. Back in the army, the logistics officer gig was begging for him. Nah, not just that—the CO down to the first sergeant were all trying to convince him to take an officer post.”
With that, Hee-won snagged another browned piece and shoved it in his mouth.
Not all praise, though.
As folks started drifting away one by one, Adebayor grumbled with a hint of annoyance.
“Ma nags too damn much. Step outta your zone even a little, and he’s yelling.”
“True. Sometimes he drills us so hard I wanna puke—and not in a good way.”
Even Dignity, Adebayor’s biggest fanboy, jumped right in.
Togah’s mouth opened... then snapped shut.
His face screamed total agreement.
Meanwhile, Owen focused on grilling with the tongs Adebayor had handed him.
But he snuck peeks at Hee-won.
Even shot Adebayor a look.
The senior coach, who spent the most time with Jeong-woo, was right there.
Adebayor wasn’t clueless, though.
Catching Owen’s glance, he looked at Hee-won and winced.
“Wait, why’re you even here, Coach?”
“...”
Hee-won looked a bit hurt.
They’d been chatting and laughing just moments ago, and now it was like he’d only just noticed.
“Khm, been here a while... anyway!”
Suddenly, everyone except Adebayor tensed up.
Talking smack about the manager when he wasn’t around? Pretty much.
But Owen spat out his drink at what came next.
“You think that nagging’s just for you guys? Jeong-woo—that punk, I mean Manager Ma—is a hardass. Can’t breathe next to him. Sit still for a sec, and he’s barking orders. I’m not a damn Duracell.”
That’s when it started.
Hee-won’s gripe-fest, laced with real frustration.
“Why’s he always shoving scouting down my throat? Fine, go do it—then soon as I’m back, it’s ‘Let’s swing by the academy and check the kids’ progress!’”
“Does the guy not sleep? Before big games, he’s scheming tactics till dawn. Ignores half my input but keeps me around, staring like ‘Got any genius ideas?’”
“Sure, it helps the team overall... but Ma’s not human. Keep up with his stamina, and half the staff drops dead. Sometimes I wish he’d crash for two days straight. Take a break. Hell, I’m not even sure he sleeps anymore. Haven’t seen him close his eyes in... one, two months?”
“Anyway...!”
By the end, Adebayor was patting Hee-won’s back with sympathetic eyes.
“You’re good, Coach. Life’s like that.”
After that, things shifted back to casual team chat.
But one guy just didn’t fit in.
Bald-headed Quick Floyd.
Even as the others laughed about match stuff, he stayed quiet.
As the team grew, Floyd felt like he was the only one stagnating.
* * *
“Whoa, Hee-won. You walk in, and the office reeks of meat.”
Jeong-woo grinned at Hee-won bursting through the office door.
Hee-won sniffed his own clothes and smirked.
“Yeah. Pork and campfire smoke soaked right in.”
With that, he slid a paper lunchbox onto the desk.
Inside, neatly packed pork belly grilled by Adebayor and Owen themselves.
“Ran over before it cooled. Dig in.”
“You bastard...!”
Hee-won puffed up his chest at Jeong-woo’s touched look, sniffing proudly.
“That’s what friends are for, right?”
“Rice?”
“Huh?”
“Kimchi?”
“Uh?”
“Scallion salad? Dipping sauce? This is basically ‘eat plain rice with no sides,’ ain’t it? At least some ssamjang?”
Hee-won’s jaw worked for a sec.
Damn, he had a point.
Then resentment hit, and he scowled.
“Hey, I hand-picked the cuts—no oxtail bones or anything!”
The two bickered like that for a while.
Time passed.
The pork belly vanished into Jeong-woo’s gut.
“So, how was it?”
Jeong-woo asked, slouched sideways in his executive chair.
Hee-won flopped onto the guest sofa and shrugged.
“Team vibe’s solid. Drew out some gripes, like you wanted.”
Best way to build unity? Boss-bashing sessions.
So Jeong-woo had sent Hee-won in to nudge it along.
Get the players to vent about the manager.
Hee-won had balked at first, of course.
‘Nah, I’m just grateful to you. Bowing 180 degrees right now. For real. Zero complaints. But if it’s my job... I’ll poke around a bit.’
Jeong-woo felt a twinge of regret.
‘Dude needs to vent too.’
He knew he’d piled on Hee-won lately.
Part of the plan was letting him gripe with the squad.
Hee-won glanced over and gave a thumbs-up.
“Adebayor spilled first anyway. Didn’t even need me.”
“...”
That was unexpected.
Hee-won dodged Jeong-woo’s sharp look and mumbled.
“So I just chimed in. A few ‘yeahs’ here and there.”
Vent sessions helped the team too.
Jeong-woo was owner-manager.
No matter how tight they were, hierarchy lingered.
He needed to know their beefs.
Stuff that didn’t come up in one-on-ones.
‘Bottled-up resentment’s no good.’
Hee-won rattled off the gripes next.
Jeong-woo jotted them down.
No plans to air it out loud.
‘You got these issues, huh?’
That’d blow Hee-won’s cover.
Just gather the feedback and fix incrementally.
Still, Jeong-woo pondered.
‘Need a staffer close to the players. Someone to draw out their real feelings.’
They had player liaisons, but not enough.
Some clams up with theirs around.
Hee-won meshed with staff and bantered with players like buds.
‘One of the few who’ll spill without holding back.’
Plus, he read players’ emotions like no one else.
That’s why Jeong-woo sent him today.
Hee-won had brought back one key takeaway.
“Quick Floyd... he’s got some issues.”