Chapter 120
Chapter 120
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 120
Chapter Title: FA Cup Quarterfinals (10)
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Black-Haired Tactical Genius
Chapter 120: FA Cup Quarterfinals (10)
The reporters held their breath.
'Here he comes...!'
'Wow, he's practically glowing today...!'
They had been waiting for Bolton's manager, Ma Jeong-woo, who had just stepped into the mixed zone.
The local Bolton press practically idolized him.
Dressed in a black suit, he took his seat with an unusually serene expression.
"Bolton pulled off a 2-1 comeback victory against Manchester United! What do you think were the key factors in the win?"
One reporter fired off the first question in an excited tone.
Jeong-woo answered without missing a beat, as if he didn't need to think about it.
"It's because the players performed so well. They ran their hearts out for the win and exceeded their usual capabilities in this match."
Of course, tactics played a huge role too.
They had countered Cristiano Ronaldo's custom tactics throughout the first and second halves.
At the same time, Bolton conserved energy by dropping their line, while Manchester United burned through theirs.
Some of the sharper tactical minds among the reporters pointed this out.
BBC reporter and tactics expert Aaron Vicars was one of them.
He looked at Jeong-woo with eyes full of curiosity.
"Against Manchester United, Bolton layered a back four on top of another back four in defense. You stuck with that approach right up to the end of regular time. Was there a specific reason?"
Vicars was genuinely curious.
No matter how strong the opponent, going so defensive risked complications if they conceded a single goal.
'Of course, the double back four was... pretty unique.'
It was a glimpse into just how tactically savvy the man before him was.
But against United, even an extreme defensive setup left them vulnerable to counters.
Jeong-woo's thinking was different.
"In the past, we faced Solskjær in a friendly, and we've been analyzing his game footage nonstop to understand his tendencies. This was a tailored defensive strategy based on that."
"Were you certain before the match that Solskjær would stick to his Ronaldo-centric tactics...?"
Vicars had seen it too.
Ronaldo was always at the end of Solskjær's attacking plays.
Jeong-woo nodded without hesitation.
He added,
"Yes. And in the process..., we laid the groundwork to prevent Solskjær from switching tactics easily and sowed confusion. Since they're stronger than us, we focused on spreading out their attacks."
Putting Adebayor up top was a prime example.
Just placing him at the front forced Solskjær to divide his attention.
As expected, United pressed forward but stayed wary of Bolton's potential counters.
Bolton had a track record of tactical triumphs in big games, after all.
The Q&A session dragged on for quite a while.
Even a few reporters from Manchester's Trafford area had to admit Jeong-woo was impressive today.
'Very professional...'
'They broke him down that thoroughly?'
'His way with words is flashy. Better than Solskjær...!'
Just like after the friendly, Solskjær had skipped the press conference and gone straight home after the loss.
Jeong-woo, on the other hand, bantered casually, shrugged eloquently, and showed off his silver tongue.
He didn't hold back on the criticism either.
"Personally, Solskjær's fatal flaw is his overreliance on his established starters. You could see it in today's game, right? Ronaldo started even after playing the previous match. Same with Sancho and Rashford...!"
"The EPL has shorter rest periods than other leagues. Rotation is essential. But Solskjær didn't do it."
"His substitutions... weren't great this time either. So..."
Of course, not everyone appreciated Jeong-woo's words.
Leon Moses, the reporter who'd eaten plenty of humble pie from him before, was one.
Moses openly showed his displeasure and grumbled.
"Does Bolton's manager Ma see Manchester United's Manager Solskjær as beneath him? After just two wins. The first one doesn't even count—it was a friendly."
He added with a smug smile,
"League One and the EPL are worlds apart."
He even brought up salary levels to belittle Jeong-woo.
Jeong-woo didn't care.
He just chuckled softly and shut Moses down with one stroke.
"Isn't it a fact that I'm better? Once could be luck, but twice?"
The reporters buzzed for a moment.
It was a bold statement that could've sparked controversy, win or not.
Jeong-woo didn't stop there.
"Personally..., I think Solskjær should get a health check."
"A health check?"
"No, psychological treatment first, probably."
Moses looked uneasy at the unexpected response and shot back.
'What bullshit is he about to spew now...!'
Jeong-woo added with a look of genuine concern.
"Yes, stress is the root of all evil..., I saw it throughout the match. Solskjær exploding in rage like he was having fits. His face was changing colors like a traffic light."
"..."
"I saw his legs give out too. He's the opposing manager, but..., as a fellow in the business, I can't help but worry. Makes me feel bad..., like maybe I hit his mentality too hard without thinking..., sigh!"
Moses immediately countered.
"It's just one loss—psychological treatment?"
He even raised his voice.
"No respect for the opposing manager like this...!"
But Jeong-woo just smiled wryly and countered.
"Why should I respect him?"
"What?"
"He's the enemy. And it's a local derby. So, I have to crush him thoroughly. Even if it means trash-talking."
Jeong-woo paused, narrowed his eyes slightly, and chuckled.
"And in the end, I did crush him. Proved once more that Manchester is blue."
Flash, flash-flash, flash-flash-flash—!
The camera strobes erupted nonstop right then, like for a regular.
* * *
The next day.
Solskjær sat on the plush sofa, blinking his eyes repeatedly.
Sunlight filtered through the half-open blinds.
Across from him sat a kindly old man with platinum hair, smiling warmly.
"What's the problem?"
The old man asked softly.
Solskjær's face went from detached to frowning.
A wave of overwhelming anger had surged up.
"Ma the manager..., that bastard...!"
"Now, calm down. Ma the manager...!"
"That fucking prick! Hah! You motherfucker! Shit...!"
"...."
The old man slowly closed his mouth before Solskjær could finish.
The man who'd seemed dazed moments ago was suddenly spewing curses at the air.
His face flushing beet red.
"Ma the manager, you son of a bitch...! Fucking...!"
Scribble, scribble, scribble!
The old man, who'd been watching Solskjær intently, jotted notes on a pad from the desk.
[Sudden verbal aggression toward a specific target...
Repetitive outbursts...
Anger management issues...
Regular psychological counseling recommended...]
* * *
Two days had passed, but Bolton's victory still dominated the front pages of many outlets.
[Bolton Wanderers—! Defeats Manchester United twice...!]
[Emmanuel Adebayor! Proves world-class against Manchester United!]
[Owen Precise! Mid-range specialist even against EPL sides!]
One outlet even ran this headline.
[Bolton! Truly Manchester United's nemesis—turning into a local derby rivalry...?]
"Hey, Jeong-woo. According to a Manchester daily poll..., 77% of Red Devils hate Bolton more than City this season, at least."
Slouched in his executive chair, chuckling at articles, Jeong-woo shrugged at Hee-won's words.
"They got crushed not once but twice. What do you expect?"
Thoroughly dismantled, at that.
Tactically dragging it to extra time, not just luck.
'Of course, Adebayor hyung and Owen carried the endgame.'
If Adebayor hadn't fired up his will..., they might've lost outright.
'Owen's mid-ranger was chilling.'
Perfectly providing a second ball to Adebayor from that Creeky adjustment spot, then blasting a cannon shot to seal it.
De Hea's misjudgment helped too.
'Yeah, De Hea seems off his peak.'
Either way, United was still reeling from the loss.
Even Red Devils were questioning Solskjær's tactical chops now.
- : Solskjær only won by riding his team's coattails...! Time to sack him!
- : Losing to League One says it all, right? Fire hiMad Dog get Poch!
- : Fuck! Told him to bench Ronaldo, but he plays him till late second half..., ugh!
Bolton, meanwhile, got universal praise.
Not just Wanderers fans—even Kop (Liverpool supporters) and Blues (City supporters) flooded YouTube channels with congrats.
Jeong-woo's lips curled into a sly grin.
"Now, time to add the finishing touch."
"Finishing touch?"
Hee-won furrowed his brow, and Jeong-woo nodded, nostrils flaring with whatever image was in his head.
"Rio Ferdinand said it—after the whistle, a monument would rise at University Stadium. So..., shouldn't we pray for his soul?"
Under the deep blue early dawn sky.
Hee-won stood blankly at Gate A of University Stadium, blinking in disbelief.
His pupils shook.
'No way, why is this...'
Overnight, a perfect square marble slab had appeared knee-high in the entrance center.
It was unmistakably a tombstone.
Jeong-woo placed a single lily before it with unusual reverence, then stepped back two paces carefully.
He glanced at the stunned Hee-won and murmured softly.
With the look of bidding farewell to a dear old friend.
"Now, let's bow."
Hee-won could only blink in absurdity.
Ignoring him, Jeong-woo bowed precisely twice, as if at a proper ceremony.
In that moment, Hee-won read the inscription.
[Manchester United, rests here.
1878. 4. 26. ~ 2022. 3. 17.]
"..."
Now, Hee-won thought it was all too predictable.
This guy was really gonna get himself killed soon.
'Bulletproof vest... probably won't cut it.'
Some fervent Red Devils sniper might even have Jeong-woo's heart in their sights right now.