Chapter 109
Chapter 109
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 109
Chapter Title: Must Grow (9)
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Black-Haired Tactical Genius
Chapter 109: Must Grow (9)
Clink.
Hossab Guardiolla carefully set down the teacup he was holding onto the table below.
A faint bitterness crossed his face as he stared at only one thing.
The close-up of Mikel Arteta on the TV screen right in front of him.
"We lost."
Arteta bowed his head toward the Gunners, his eyes rimmed red.
It was a gesture of apology.
Taking responsibility for the team's slump.
Even so, some vented their rage.
[Mikel, out!]
[Mikel, oooout!]
They even held up banners in protest, while others shed tears in sorrow.
"..."
Hossab simply watched Arteta in silence.
Such was the fate of the defeated, after all.
He fell into thought for a moment.
'It was an incredible match.'
Bolton's tactics had particularly stood out.
'They placed Quick Floyd in the center, but... it was essentially a Pulse Nine role.'
A Pulse Nine specialized in direct breakthroughs for goals rather than linkage play.
And Bolton's manager Ma had set the stage for Quick Floyd to get his shooting chances.
'Pak, Sensuous, Frank, David, and others... He organically moved his high-work-rate resources to shake Arsenal's back four.'
Quick Floyd slipped into those gaps and unfailingly found his shot opportunities.
'Owen and Pak diving in simultaneously to prepare for second balls.'
It was truly regrettable when that shot, deflected four times, became the sequence leading to a goal.
But that process was something that could be countered tactically.
Arsenal, however, had failed to do so.
'Nuño Tavares and the other attackers fought hard, but...'
The same went for Bolton's players.
From star Pak to Sensuous Ruff, they all exploited opportunities perfectly, stabbing at weaknesses.
Bolton attacked from all directions, preventing Arsenal from focusing on any one side.
Yet they deliberately yielded one flank while sealing off other areas more tightly.
'The timing of substitutions was decisive too.'
One of Arteta's fatal weaknesses was his squad rotation.
He was slow to react to unexpected situations, with late changes or mismatched players.
Ma, on the other hand, was different.
The moment he boldly subbed off Adebayor for Quick Floyd, Hossab was certain.
"This match... flowed exactly according to the scenario Ma had scripted."
Today's game had made it clear.
The day would come when he faced off against Ma.
* * *
[<Official> Arsenal sacks Mikel Arteta!]
Arsenal dismissed Arteta immediately after the Bolton defeat.
But the Gunners weren't satisfied with just that.
- Isn't it just Arteta's problem?
- We need to clear out all the players too! Sell like Tottenham did and force a generational shift!
- First, change the owner! That guy's not even interested in our club, let alone investing!
On top of that, the Gunners' fury toward Bolton exploded massively right after the match.
They stormed Bolton's official YouTube channel, hurling abuse at everyone from Adebayor to Quick Floyd and Owen.
The vitriol aimed at Ma Jeong-woo was beyond imagination.
Of course, Jeong-woo responded in his usual way with a mention.
[Gunners, I respect you all. I understand your anger too. So please buy some Ma merch dolls. They'll blow away all your stress :] !]
Tap-!
In a dark office lit only by a yellow desk lamp beside a wooden desk.
Jeong-woo slouched in his executive chair and hit enter.
"Kuh-huh."
Just imagining the Gunners' reactions brought a sly grin to his face.
A quick refresh, and in seconds, hundreds of comments had piled up.
- Get out of Horwich and I'll rip your mouth apart.
- The moment you step outside Bolton, you'll meet a miserable end.
- If you vanish without a trace, don't think I won't be the culprit.
Some even made him flinch.
- Ma, you just reached for your cigarettes, didn't you? I'm watching you.
"..."
Jeong-woo froze mid-reach for the cigarette pack on the left side of his desk.
He furrowed his brow, glanced toward the window behind him, and grumbled.
"Is there a sniper out there?"
Swish!
He quickly pulled down the blinds to cover the window.
Only then did he grab the cigarette pack again, pull out a stick, and light it up.
Flick, flick-!
He struck the flint on his 250-won lighter.
A bittersweet feeling lingered nonetheless.
"Arteta..."
He held no personal grudge against the man.
If anything, there was affection.
Jeong-woo had once been a Gunner himself.
Back when Thierry Henry dominated the EPL.
"Arteta was pretty good as a player too."
As a player, Arteta had shone as Arsenal's defensive midfielder.
Even if his peak was short, his history with the club was substantial.
As a manager, Arteta was far from subpar.
"Just incredibly unlucky."
He was the type to assign detailed roles to each player.
If there was a flaw, it was his overly cautious squad management and lack of tactical fluidity.
"Those weaknesses stood out especially this season."
With key players sidelined by injuries and some starters losing their love for the club, that was the biggest cause.
The loss to Bolton stemmed largely from the accumulated effects of that slump.
Of course, even through such turmoil, Arsenal remained a clear powerhouse.
Being in the EPL proved it.
"And we took that team down."
Sneer.
His lips curled upward.
Bolton coverage across media outlets was all praise.
The compliments toward him didn't stop.
[Bolton's Ma! Aggressive soccer against Arsenal!]
[Thrilling slugfest ends 5-4! Bolton Wanderers claim historic win!]
[From defensive to counter-attacking tactics! Now attacking too! Who is Bolton's Ma?!]
Even some London outlets had sung his praises.
"Huuu-!"
Jeong-woo exhaled gray smoke through his parted teeth.
The next articles were all rave reviews for Quick Floyd.
[Quick Floyd! Induces two own goals!]
[Quick Floyd named MOM in Arsenal match!]
[Quick Floyd carries with 2 own goals induced, 1 goal, 1 assist!]
The kid was even more impressive than expected.
"Results-wise, not even Ronaldo could complain. Heh heh heh."
Once the second half kicked in, he was a shooting machine.
Some of those shots hilariously rattled Arsenal.
Of course, sustaining that form was unlikely.
"Lucas Moura would've been world-class if he'd consistently shown his Ajax game form."
Most players' performances fluctuate wildly based on personal condition or opponent style.
"Still, if he can show even half that Arsenal form... League One will be a cakewalk."
It was like a burst of untapped potential.
Such flashes were rare even across Europe's top five leagues.
Continental competitions saw obscure strikers from minor leagues hat-tricking against big clubs from the top three leagues.
But that was usually it.
Most flickered briefly like shooting stars, then faded into obscurity.
"Huuu-!"
Jeong-woo exhaled smoke through his nose and teeth again, narrowing his eyes.
Then he said.
"Anyway, now we have to grab that potential and hold on tight. Maximize it into real ability."
A full year had already flown by.
Guiding training and playing matches had solidified his conviction bit by bit.
Suddenly, visions flashed in his mind: Owen's cannon shots, the star's blistering runs ending in goals, Floyd's deflected strikes.
Scenes contributing to Bolton's climb up the table brought a smirk to his face.
"These guys... have more growth potential than I thought."
Above all, every match deepened his feeling.
The passion for soccer he'd lost was reigniting, flicker by flicker.
* * *
Bolton Wanderers' march showed no signs of stopping.
They won rounds 25 and 26, holding onto third place.
The points gap to second-place Plymouth Argyle was now just two.
Four points behind first-place Hull City.
The media shouted it out.
[League One's dark horse! Bolton Wanderers!]
[One season to soar into title contention! Bolton!]
Until mid-season, outlets outside Bolton had pegged them for mid-table or worse.
Now perceptions had flipped.
One columnist, intoxicated by their recent form, wrote:
[Bolton Wanderers are no longer underdogs. They're like falcons poised to soar! (excerpt...)
Owen's both feet are machine guns, as Ma said...
Star Pak's power doesn't yield to Mbappé...
Floyd's dribbling...!
Dominic Shield's defending...!
Frank and Dave's dedication...!
Overall, they're an opera! A symphony of talents blending into beauty?]
The columnist added.
The conductor leading it all was none other than Ma Jeong-woo.
Bolton advanced relentlessly under owner-manager Ma Jeong-woo.
On February 10, in the FA Cup Round of 16 against Championship side Barnsley, they snatched a golden win.
Locked at 0-0 until the 43rd minute of stoppage time in the second half, Owen's long-range rocket rippled the net.
Owen roared in celebration.
Jeong-woo immediately switched to Bolton's signature 10-back to stifle Barnsley's attacks, securing the precious victory.
* * *
In the winter transfer window, Jeong-woo ultimately closed without adding players.
No suitable targets emerged.
Yet no one felt regret.
The team's upward trajectory was the main reason.
Jeong-woo found defense a bit lacking but not a major issue.
Their bolstered attack covered it easily.
Right now, Jeong-woo—dressed in rumpled suit—stood awkwardly amid the dense foliage of a glamping site alongside strategy planning head Charlotte Emma.
"Look at that, team leader."
He pointed at one spot.
"The kids?"
Emma peered in that direction, narrowing her eyes.
Through her turquoise irises, she saw children laughing and racing across the grass.
Jeong-woo nodded slightly.
A glance showed dark circles under his eyes.
The culprits were Shirus Muamba and his friends invading his office the day before.
They'd barged in endlessly, demanding playtime without rest.
Sure, Jeong-woo had baited them at first by allowing it.
But now it was too late to back out.
It had boosted Bolton supporters' affection, making it hard to refuse.
In the end, he'd dug his own grave.
"You know those kids play that hard all day, and the next day they're right back at it just as hard?"
"Of course."
Emma nodded calmly and continued.
"Studies show boys aged 8 to 12 recover from exercise better than marathon or cycling pros."
Just stating facts, yet Jeong-woo's under-eye shadows darkened further.
Each time the kids glanced their way, he flinched and shrank deeper into the bushes.
Finally, with a resolute expression, Jeong-woo declared.
"Damn it, this won't do."