Chapter 148
Translator: uly
Chapter: 148
Chapter Title: Derby Spirit (1)
Gulp...!
Tough Moor Stadium's away gate.
Ethan Roberi, with his brown curly hair, stepped through the gate guided by the usher after the locker room talk.
His face was flushed with excitement.
"Me, a starter...?!"
Even on match day, he could hardly believe it.
When he lined up to the left of the Bolton players and faced the Burnley players, his heart pounded like crazy.
He flinched again.
"Th-they're huge...!"
In front of Burnley's striker Chris Rud and James Tarkowski, both easily over 190cm, he looked like a little kid.
And they were provoking from before kickoff.
"Your manager's a fucking idiot."
Chris Rud spat out casually.
David Dignity on the right snorted with laughter.
"Sean Dyche is the real idiot. Bringing up old shit like that—what a dwarf."
"Nope, that's something all the Claret fans are pissed about. Our boss just spoke for us."
"Then why didn't you do it to Owen Coyle?"
"What?"
"How shit must he have been for a rival team's Bolton fan like you to transfer there? And do I really have to bring up something from 10 years ago?"
They bickered like that but didn't even look at each other.
From the outside, it just looked like rivals chatting and laughing before the game.
Besides Rud and Dignity, a few others were growling too.
Burnley's midfielder Jack Cork picked on the quiet wonderkid Park.
"Hey, running around like a scaredy-cat. Do it again today. I'll trip you before you even run and snap your leg."
Of course, Park ignored him without a glance.
Overall, the two teams created a razor-thin tense atmosphere even before the game.
It was a derby, but the managers' mind games stirring up derby rivalry played a big part.
Even as they entered the gate, the Claret fans at Tough Moor chanted in unison.
Fucking Bolton~!
Fucking Bolton~!
Fucking Bolton~~~!
The chants grew louder, ringing in Roberi's ears.
For Roberi, who had just earned his first start in the 9th round, this atmosphere felt like a heavy burden.
Some Burnley players snickered and mocked him too.
"That little kid's supposed to take us on?"
"Pfft! Looks like he'll fly off if I tap him."
"Isn't that the guy Man City ditched?"
"Hey, kid. Come at me, I'll go easy—puhahaha!"
It stung when they hit his sore spot, but the tension was overwhelming.
"Starting debut...!"
Yeah.
For Ethan Roberi, this Burnley match was his professional debut.
And of all opponents, it was league 10th-place rivals Burnley.
For the young Roberi, the pressure was only natural.
But even amid the burden, Roberi burned with ambition.
The pressure to perform mixed with raw hunger.
"I'll prove myself...!"
After shining on loan at Bolton, Roberi was determined to return to Manchester City and break into the first team.
To him, this stage was just the first mountain to climb.
Right then.
Squeeze—!
Flinch!
Ethan Roberi shuddered at the sudden heavy weight on his left shoulder.
Looking back, Jeong-woo had appeared with a bright smile, firmly pressing Roberi's shoulder.
"C-Coach?"
"Nervous?"
"N-No, sir!"
Roberi denied it instantly.
Though his hands were ice-cold from tension.
Jeong-woo stared straight into Roberi's eyes and spoke.
"I'm saying it again: don't go for physical battles. It doesn't suit your body at all."
He'd emphasized it in the locker room too.
From practice games at Man City and video analysis, Jeong-woo had seen it.
Roberi forcing physical duels that didn't fit his frame.
'He kept getting knocked down like that.'
Squeeze—!
Jeong-woo nodded at the agreeing Roberi, gripped his shoulder harder, and added.
"You're the tumbler in this match—the one that doesn't stay down. Develop your own weapon: weak physically but never falling."
He didn't forget the punchline.
"Oh! You can go down in the box."
* * *
Sean Dyche was a defensive manager.
He typically set up a balanced 4-4-2 but dropped the back four and midfielders deep.
Today's game was no different.
[Tall strikers Ashley Barnes and Chris Rud up top for a long counter strategy!]
[That's the kick-and-rush that's terrorized the EPL for seasons!]
Like the commentators said, Dyche often struck with counters using two tall strikers or a big-and-small pairing.
But Dyche's expression wasn't bright right now.
'My strikers are isolated.'
Ten minutes into the first half had passed.
But no long passes from defense or the keeper had connected to the forwards yet.
Instead, Bolton was cleverly using his kick-and-rush against him.
11th minute of the first half.
Keeper Wayne Hennessey saved Shearer Kane's shot and charged out to lump it long.
Dash dash dash—!
But he hesitated.
"You bastard...!"
In a blink, wonderkid Park from the left flank swarmed like a moth to a flame with forward pressure.
In that gap, Bolton's defenders marked up Chris Rud and Ashley Barnes.
Thwack—!
Only when Park backed off did Hennessey swing late with a long kick.
Right to Chris Rud, who backed up behind Bolton's Dominic Shield, eyeing the landing spot.
Thud—!
Rud timed his jump to the drop and headed it on.
But his face crumpled in frustration.
'What the fuck...!'
Mid-jump, Shield leaped too, disrupting his balance with a shoulder barge.
Thump—!
On landing, Rud's brow furrowed deeply.
He'd aimed between the center-backs for Ashley Barnes darting in from the left. But off-balance, it went to Bolton's fullback instead.
Delicate controlled the deflected ball cleanly with a left-foot outfront trap and struck without pause.
Thwack—!
[Delicate's opposite cross—!]
Bolton's top passer alongside Owen Pressais, Delicate's switch of play arrowed across.
The Wanderers flinched, half-rising.
Ooo—!
At the spot where halfway and touchline met, the ball dropped perfectly onto Ethan Roberi's right instep.
Then the fans groaned in worry.
Almost simultaneously, Burnley's Jack Cork charged knee-first from close range.
[Oh, Jack Cork barging in!]
[Roberi! Cork's pressure is infamous for being brutal on a kid like this!]
The commentators sighed briefly, predicting the rest.
The slight Roberi would crumple and sit down, obviously.
But no.
Jack Cork's pupils widened hugely as he went for the standing tackle knee-first.
"What?"
He'd expected the kid to flee forward and blocked the path from the side.
But suddenly, the kid feinted forward then nudged the ball with his right heel outside!
Whoosh—!
The ball slipped through his legs unexpectedly; Cork froze for a second.
Roberi didn't miss it.
'Now...!'
Slide—!
He seemed to burst forward but twisted his right foot like hooking the turf, turning sharply to the right flank.
"Crazy...!"
Cork's eyes bulged even as he thawed.
At the same time, he felt it.
Thud—!
A sharp gust as Roberi blasted past him unexpectedly.
That was the start.
Thud, thud— thumm—!
[Roberi! Oh, Roberi!]
Roberi shook Cork in a blink, reclaimed the drifting ball, and tore toward midfield at insane speed.
Burnley's defense couldn't regroup.
Couldn't even try.
"Block him—!"
Center-back James Tarkowski bellowed, but he was pinned low too.
Park, Kane, and Sensuous Ruff's front three loomed ready to exploit the line anytime.
"Huff, huff—!"
Ethan Roberi glanced between the hesitating Burnley defenders and Bolton attackers poised to surge into the box.
He panted hard but kept sprinting.
And remembered.
'Be the tumbler.'
From locker room talks and tutoring sessions, Manager Ma had drilled it into him.
'Direct challenges? You lose 100%. No pride, no bullshit—just accept the weight class difference.'
Manager Ma had been blunt.
He was flyweight.
But Championship defenders were all middleweight to heavyweights.
Losing 1v1s was natural.
Instead, Manager Ma gave direction.
'Not head-on—sideways, or toy with your dribbling specialty. Disrupt balance first, stop them powering full tackles. Or turn their pressure against them.'
Right on cue,
Thud—!
"Hngh—!"
Burnley's 190cm striker Chris Rud closed in tight on Roberi's right flank.
From the start, he'd dropped quick anticipating the ball to Roberi.
Pure Dyche defensive mindset.
The commentators sighed too.
In just 1-2 seconds, Rud would crush Roberi physically from the right.
And it hit spot-on.
Smaaaash—!
Rud slammed full force into Roberi's right shoulder mid-stride.
The commentators gasped at Roberi staggering wildly to the opposite side.
[Ohh, Roberi! Pushed off by Rud's physicalit—!]
But they cut off.
[Oooo—?!]
They were stunned instead.
Ooooooo—!
Even Wanderers thinking the chance dead shot up from their seats.
Slide, thump—!
Roberi seemed to tumble left but rebounded the force into a graceful Cruyff turn, arcing beautifully.
"What...!"
Rud, hitting a spinning door that passed right through him, buckled under his own momentum.
"Huup—!"
Thwack—!
In that instant, Roberi exhaled raggedly and chipped toward goal.
Thump—!
Clang—!
In a flash, wonderkid Park sliced between center-back and right-back, finishing crisply with his right instep.