Chapter 129
Chapter 129
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: uly
Chapter: 129
Chapter Title: Uphill (9)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Beep, beep, beeeeeep—!
The final whistle blew.
Yeeeeeeeeah—!
At that instant, the Wanderers erupted in cheers even louder than if they had just scored a goal.
It was as if the ground itself was swallowed by a roar so massive it could punch a hole in the sky during those brief moments.
"Promotion! Promotion...!"
Park, the hero of that final goal, collapsed to his knees, his legs giving out beneath him.
His face was a mix of daze and ecstasy.
Even with promotion right in front of him, it still hadn't sunk in.
"You idiots~!"
Adebayor bolted out like a 100-meter sprinter, kicking off from the technical area.
He grabbed Frank Gerrard's tear-streaked face with both hands and yelled.
"Why are you standing there like morons? Huh? We won! We won!"
It wasn't just Adebayor.
The coaching staff on the sidelines and the players on the bench all rushed onto the pitch, hugging each other in joy.
Even the stadium announcer's voice cracked as he shouted.
[Bolton Wandeerrrrrs~!]
[In the 2021-2022 season, League One Round 45 against Plymouth Argyle: 4-0 victory! Promotion secured!]
[Aaah! Yes! Indeed! After a mere three seasons, Bolton Wanderers are back in the Championship!]
Bang, b-bang, baaang—!
As the announcer's cry rang out, bright blue fireworks shot skyward from spots all over the ground.
As if on cue, Wanderers fans everywhere tried to vault the fences and flood the pitch.
"Waaaaaah! Wandererrrrs~!"
"Come here, come here! Let me hug youuuu!"
Security was out in greater numbers than usual, but there was nothing they could do.
Meanwhile, Jeong-woo remained slumped casually in his folding chair.
His gaze fixed on the fans breaking through security and storming the pitch.
The broadcast cameras alternated between theMad Dog him.
The commentators looked impressed instead.
[Is Bolton's Manager Ma already thinking ahead?]
Jeong-woo was generally seen by the media and public as an ambitious hardliner.
One example: declaring before the League One season that he'd lead mid-to-lower-table Bolton into the promotion race.
So, the commentators naturally inferred from the subtle smirk tugging at Jeong-woo's lips.
[Absolutely! That confident expression! That smile only the ultimate victor can wear! Bolton's Manager Ma is thinking about what's next!]
[What's next?]
[League One title, of course! And even in the Championship, he's aiming for promotion in his first season! So this promotion is just a minor joy for him!]
"We wonnnn!"
"Promotion! Promotionnnn!"
"The king of Manchester is Boltonnnn~!"
"Oaaaaaah—!"
Now countless people were going wild on the pitch.
Some stripped off their shirts and roared.
The players were lost in the crowd, barely visible.
They were so ecstatic they hadn't even noticed Jeong-woo still planted firmly in his chair in the technical area.
"Pfft."
Finally, a laugh burst from Jeong-woo's lips.
'Promotion, huh.'
He had set it as the initial goal, but he'd never truly believed it would happen.
He glanced down.
Tremble, tremble.
His fingertips, draped over the armrest of the folding chair, were shaking faintly.
Now that promotion was locked in, his body was reacting first.
A strange thrill had been building under his feet since the whistle.
But for some reason, he didn't feel like jumping around with the others.
Instead, he was picturing it in his mind.
The conclusions he'd drawn from reviewing today's game and all the ones before.
'I can do it.'
Yes.
Even in this moment, Jeong-woo was envisioning Bolton's future—and drawing a positive one.
'Owen, Adebayor..., Park, everyone's performing.'
Beyond expectations, even.
They were competing among themselves, growing round by round.
Thanks to actively using the platoon systeMad Dog rotations.
No one was lagging; their performance rose across the board, giving them a fitness edge too.
Jeong-woo narrowed his eyes.
'Definitely, comparing a year ago to now—the difference is huge.'
Even Park had shown dazzling growth.
Bolton had advanced with him.
It hit him anew: he'd grown alongside them.
And he was excited.
"Heh heh heh."
Just recalling last year—how Sunderland's former chairman got his happy ending—brought a sinister chuckle and his nostrils flaring.
Of course, Jeong-woo planned to challenge for promotion from the Championship too.
Unlike before, he'd built so much here at Bolton.
His imagination soared, lips curling wider.
'But what if they offer 130 million pounds (200 billion KRW), or 200 million pounds (322 billion KRW).'
'You never know.'
'Ooh~! Bolton's economic value is insane; what if they eagerly throw down the cash.'
He pictured lounging on a massive cruise ship with beautiful women.
"Kehehet."
His nostrils bounced merrily.
Then—
Grab!
"Huh?"
Someone suddenly seized Jeong-woo's shoulder.
Startled, before he could look up, they yanked him to his feet.
"Lift him up!"
"Uwaaah!"
"Manager Maaaa! We love youuu!"
In his unguarded moment, a group of pot-bellied, shirtless middle-aged men had snuck up and hoisted him by his arms and legs.
Whoosh—!
Next came the bumps.
Launched sky-high in a blink, Jeong-woo scowled furiously, thrashing.
"You bastards!"
* * *
Seven days flew by.
At the Hull City press conference, manager Andy McCann—half-bald—spoke gravely.
"Hull City will absolutely hold our current position."
Andy McCann's Hull City was atop League One.
Two points ahead of Bolton.
McCann's eyes gleamed sharply.
"In fact, even a draw seals the League One title for us."
But McCann insisted.
No complacency against Bolton.
He acknowledged it.
"Bolton have shown form befitting their place. They're clearly better than Plymouth Argyle, who dropped to the playoffs."
He praised Bolton's Manager Ma highly.
"Early criticism for Middle Eastern 'bed football,' but then variable tactics, attacking flair, smart rotations—he piled up points steadily. Tactically very capable. So..., tomorrow, Hull City will go all out."
Unlike McCann's cautious presser, some media predicted Hull's win.
[Hull City! Clinch title against Bolton?]
[Draw seals League One for Hull!]
Simple reason.
Since Jeong-woo took Bolton's helm, they'd lost all three against Hull.
This season's loss cemented: Bolton weak vs. Hull.
Plus, the League One finale was at Hull's home, MKM Stadium.
This season, Hull had lost just once there.
* * *
May 25.
MKM Stadium, capacity 25,000.
Away end: barely a thousand Wanderers.
But they belted out chants from kickoff.
Singing Manchester's a joke.
"Ha, really."
Hull manager Andy McCann was dumbfounded.
League finale, against the leaders—and they diss Man United out of nowhere.
He thought:
'Not championship material.'
He'd praised Bolton yesterday.
Still did.
'Owen Precise and Prodigy Park starting.'
Park: scoring charts #2. Owen: assists #1.
Plus Shearer Kane, Sensuous Ruff, Adebayor—loaded attack.
'Frank Gerrard and David Dignity excel in blocks and cuts.'
Every Bolton player was a threat; their form unrecognizable.
But one thing people missed.
Hull City far superior.
McCann was rock-solid on that.
Proof in his sharp gaze.
His tiger-like players on the pitch.
Striker Malik Wilkes: 23 goals, scoring #3.
Mid Greg Doherty: assists #2.
Hull players dominated top ranks.
McCann prayed fervently.
'Win, no matter what...!'
Even a beast goes full throttle for a rabbit.
* * *
Goooal—! [Emmanuel Adebayooooor! World-class, scoring just 3 minutes after sub!]
77th minute.
Andy McCann's sharp eyes grew hazy.
By the 80th, he mumbled blankly.
"Uh?"
Then Prodigy Park sprinted down the left flank at terrifying speed, one-touching Owen's drop to the net.
Goooal—!
Net rippled lightly; commentators leaped up.
[Goooal! Prodigy Paaaark!]
[Extra goal exploiting his signature speed! Park hits 26—ties #1 Rahim Strong!]
83rd minute.
Hull Stadium, but Tigers' roar long dead.
Instead, the thousand Wanderers stood, roaring nonstop.
Oooooh! Oooooh! Ooooooh!
Bolton piled on attacks.
Tap, tap—!
[Ooh! Quick Floyd! Nutmeg to Hocus Pocus!]
[Wipes Hull's backline in a flash...!]
Thwack—!
[Shooooot!]
Fist—!
[Hull keeper Nathan Baxter punches...! But aaah! Deflected ball lands right at Kane outside the right penalty...!]
No time to finish.
Thud—!
No angle needed; Kane smashed left inside-foot as it dropped.
Skim—!
Grazing far post, Kane sighed.
But he thumbs-upped teammates.
Wanderers applauded.
Bolton kept tormenting Hull.
Unbelievable to watchers.
Commentators repeated.
[I predicted a nail-biter, but...!]
[It's one-sided!]
[Like Bolton cornering Hull, landing counters!]
Normal McCann: barking orders.
Not now.
84th minute: 6-1.
Bolton sealed League One title before full time.