Chapter 152
Translator: uly
Chapter: 152
Chapter Title: Derby Spirit, (5)
Bolton's time flew by quickly.
After defeating Burnley, Bolton Wanderers carried on their winning streak through league rounds 10, 11, and 12.
Having not suffered a single loss in 12 official matches, Bolton even climbed to the top of the table.
But it was nothing more than a brief shower.
In the subsequent league round 13, they suffered their first defeat against Bournemouth, who were running second.
December.
Was it the aftermath of that blow from Bournemouth?
Bolton Wanderers then lost two in a row to Sunderland, dropping back to third place.
Yet in the post-match interview, Jeong-woo smiled and said this.
“We’re going through a process of getting tougher by clashing and fighting like this.”
December 17.
League round 15.
Middlesbrough manager Jimmy Hens showed a confident attitude in his interview the day before the match.
“Bolton Wanderers have only picked up points against mid-to-lower table teams so far—that is, the weak ones. They’ve just been very lucky!”
That’s exactly how Jimmy Hens saw it.
You could tell just from Bolton’s losses to Bournemouth and Sunderland, both top-tier Championship sides.
“I’ll say it again: they’ve had good matchups.”
On the other hand, Middlesbrough had struggled from the start of the season, facing top teams in a row.
But that was temporary.
They had steadily piled up points against mid-to-lower table teams afterward.
And with three straight wins recently, he was confident.
“They don’t have the ability to beat strong teams. Plus... the longer it goes, the harder it’ll be for Bolton to rack up points.”
“No, what do you mean by that?”
A reporter fond of Bolton furrowed his brow slightly and asked back.
Jimmy Hens slyly curled up the corner of his mouth and replied.
“Because their squad depth isn’t thick enough. In the end, the main players’ fatigue will hold them back from point-hunting.”
He even puffed out his chest proudly and added.
“Middlesbrough’s club value is more than double Bolton’s! And my managerial experience compared to Manager Ma’s... it’s ten times greater!”
The simple reason Jimmy Hens was so confident was that even the media had recently voiced concerns.
They wondered if Bolton’s thin squad was already starting to drag them down as the second half of the season approached.
Above all, ahead of this match, Owen and Ace Pak couldn’t make the away trip due to minor injuries.
* * *
December 18.
70th minute.
“...”
Jimmy Hens, who had been so confident the day before, had been silent since the 70th minute.
His shaken gaze betrayed his bewilderment.
Thud, thud, tap-!
[Oh! A dummy run followed by a Rabona fake! Oooh! As he surges forward with another dribble, Middlesbrough’s fullback Ricky Moose lunges with a standing tackle...!]
Screech-!
Thud-!
[Oh yeah~! He went for it! Ethan Roberie! Timing it perfectly with Ricky Moose’s outstretched leg, he flicks the ball through the open gap between Moose’s legs with an outside-of-the-foot step!]
Swish-!
At the same time, Ethan Roberie turned into the space behind where Moose’s weight had shifted.
“Where do you think...!”
The flustered Moose hurriedly spun around, trying to grab Roberie’s jersey.
But it was too late.
Bang-!
Robie had already whipped in an inswinging cross toward the goalmouth.
Thud-
Splash-!
[Goooaaaooooaaal! Emmanuel Adebayor~!]
[He leaps from a standstill and easily adds another goal!]
[Adebayor, subbed on in the 60th minute, links up fantastically with Roberie!]
Just five minutes later, Quick Floyd put on a monstrous performance.
Thud, thud, tap, tap!
From the halfway line, he dazzled with a forward dribble mixing left foot, right foot, instep, and outside steps.
“Urgh!”
The Middlesbrough players clinging to him on the flank were easily shrugged off by his changes in pace—slowing down then exploding forward.
[Ooh! Oooh! Oooh!]
Even the broadcasters and the away Wanderers fans let out unified gasps of admiration.
‘Whoa...!’
Floyd himself was stunned when he realized he’d reached the penalty arc purely on individual dribbling.
‘When did I ever get this far...?’
It was no exaggeration to call it a trance-like dribble.
He’d advanced by minimally shifting the ball whenever an opponent lunged, and somehow ended up here.
Ahead of him now, he saw them.
Two center-backs hopping from foot to foot at the right distance apart.
There was no time to think long.
Already, the Middlesbrough players who’d been peeled off him like onion layers from behind were charging back with fire in their eyes.
Bang-!
Before they could shackle his ankles, Floyd unleashed a merciless left-footed inside shot.
Ooooh-!
At that moment, the Wanderers fans shot up from their seats.
“Ah...!”
Floyd let out a short sigh at the same time.
Just as Manager Ma had tutored him, he’d aimed for the far post corner.
But it curled too much and headed for the near post instead.
And there, the goalkeeper who’d read the direction was already half a step there.
Thwack-!
“Huh?”
Floyd, mid-sigh, suddenly widened his eyes.
The ball, flying at knee height, struck a center-back’s shin midway and ricocheted sharply.
Slowed by the friction, it bounced twice on the pitch and rolled forward.
“Gasp!”
By then, Middlesbrough’s keeper had committed fully to the near post and spun back in horror.
But too late.
Roll, roll,
Splash!
Like a tumbleweed, the ball rolled right into the far post corner net as originally planned.
Yeeeeeeessssss~!
After two straight losses, their scorching attacking instincts erupted, and the Wanderers rose as one, roaring with sky-shattering force.
Conversely, the home fans began trickling out of the stands one by one, even though the match wasn’t over.
“...”
Manager Jimmy Hens could only gaze at the pitch with a stricken expression.
He didn’t even consider a tactical change to overcome this.
With that goal, the scoreline had stretched to 6-0.
It was a dismal game among dismal games—one where the home fans deserved a refund.
* * *
A bright afternoon.
Bang-!
Ace Pak, as always, unleashed a shot from near the penalty arc.
Normally, he’d be doing it alongside Emmanuel Adebayor, the team’s ‘idiot’ nickname holder, but not today.
Adebayor had decided to nap at home during this rare rest period.
Bang-!
Whatever. Ace Pak trained alone on shooting.
All the while, he kept replaying Adebayor’s and Manager Ma’s advice in his head.
‘Ditch the flair and go simple, fast, and precise! That’s how to maximize your strengths.’
Following Manager Ma’s advice, Pak resolved to think as little as possible.
The moment he got the ball, he ran like mad, and he never hesitated on a shot.
Thanks to that, he’d already notched 6 goals in the Championship.
In the old days, he would’ve been thrilled.
But...
Thud-!
Pak weakly rolled the last ball and furrowed his brow slightly.
‘Something’s lacking.’
6 goals over 15 rounds.
Sure, he’d sat out round 15 with a minor knock, but it still felt short.
Compared to League One, his tally had definitely dropped.
He could feel it too.
‘It’s definitely different.’
The Championship wave was incomparably fiercer and stronger than League One.
Every defender he faced was sharp and powerful.
Intelligent marking was commonplace now, forcing more back passes.
Maybe that’s why he was training so hard right now.
Heh!
Suddenly, Ace Pak burst out laughing.
“When did I get so greedy...?”
Just two years ago, he’d been ready to end his soccer career.
He’d looked into opening a café, scouted other jobs, completely turning his back on soccer.
But in two years, here he was, racking his brains on how to do even better in this spot.
More than that, the dreams he’d harbored as a kid were creeping back up.
The national team.
‘I thought they’d all withered away...’
No.
That dream was fueling his life, pushing him to take one more step, two more.
‘Thanks to Manager Ma...’
Manager Ma was the one who’d let him dream again.
If he hadn’t called him here, he’d probably be walking a path far removed from soccer—he’d thought that countless times.
‘And no one knows better.’
Compatibility with the manager is crucial for a player.
A coach’s tactics can stifle a player’s talents all too often.
But like him, you could grow and grow.
And he’d realized something.
How brutally hard it is to wear the taegukgi on the left chest.
‘Even with all this growth, still no call-up.’
But one thing was clear: he was getting closer, bit by bit.
Pak had seen it too. Recent articles where Paulo Bento had fielded questions about him multiple times.
[Paulo Bento: ‘I know Pak, who’s playing in the Championship.’]
[Paulo Bento: ‘Pak’s speed is impressive...!’]
So Pak held hope.
Maybe, just maybe, the national team would call him soon.
Squeeze-!
That thought infused strength back into his legs.
Clap, clap-!
Pak slapped his cheeks twice and shouted.
“Yeah! I can do it!”
Even standing still felt like a waste now.
Dreams often come true at unexpected moments.
Just like right now.
“Go to Korea.”
“Yes...?”
Ace Pak blinked.
After training, he’d stopped by the office at Jeong-woo’s summons.
And there was Jeong-woo, lounging crookedly on the sofa, grinning at him as he said it.
“I said go to Korea.”
“No, why...?”
Even then, Ace Pak couldn’t comprehend.
But strangely, his body seemed to know—his heart pounded wildly.
His cheeks flushed red too.
Seeing Pak like that, Jeong-woo flashed his white teeth and continued.
“You got the call. Selected for the East Asian Cup national team. They want to see your skills up close with their own eyes.”
“Ah...!”
Pak’s mouth slowly gaped open.
Jeong-woo found the expression funny but held back a laugh and landed the blow.
“It’s mid-season, but we’ve decided to let you go. It’ll be a huge stepping stone for your career.”
Plus, it would massively boost his market value.