Chapter 23
Chapter 23
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 23
Chapter Title: League Round 30 (4)
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Not a single player held back, charging through Rochdale's ranks like they were locked in hand-to-hand combat.
Beside him, Hee-won kept clutching at his chest where his heart kept skipping beats, his wrinkled face scrunching up even more.
"This bastard, you're making my heart race like crazy because of you. You really wanna pull off a gamble like this?"
He'd been skeptical ever since the halftime instruction to go all-out attack.
Usually, with a 2-0 lead, you'd switch to a defensive setup to minimize risks.
At first, Hee-won had even suggested parking the bus with a nine-back.
Of course, Jeong-woo shot it down flat.
Jeong-woo stared straight ahead and replied.
"It's not a gamble."
"Then what is it?"
To Hee-won's retort, Jeong-woo added with a smug grin.
"It's advanced psychological warfare."
"..."
Jeong-woo glanced at Hee-won, who was squinting at him suspiciously, and pressed on.
"Think about it. How long can our guys hold out crammed into the penalty box? If we're lucky, they won't score an own goal lifting their legs in defense."
It made sense when he put it that way.
Jeong-woo crossed his arms and put on a solemn expression.
"This is... well."
He propped his chin up, acting all intellectual.
"Yeah, total mudslinging across the board. Defense disguised as attack."
Hee-won couldn't find a solid counterargument.
Especially since Jeong-woo's all-out assault—masquerading as a forward mudfight—was completely shutting down Rochdale right now.
"No wonder he subbed in those two fresh legs at halftime... developers with stamina to burn..."
It all clicked.
* * *
Jeong-woo had a knack for spotting players' strengths and weaknesses better than anyone.
Not just spotting them—he excelled at highlighting them.
[Ooooh! Quick Floyd!]
Partnering with center-back Dominic Shield to anchor defense all first half, Quick Floyd now surged deep into Rochdale's right flank with the ball.
"Yes! Go on! Oooh! Oooh! That's it!"
Hee-won, next to Jeong-woo, was fired up now, shouting with a flushed face.
Jeong-woo, meanwhile, eyed the bald head gleaming under the sun.
'184cm. Short for a center-back, but great ball control.'
Just as he thought.
Thud, thud, thwack, thwack—!
Even at full speed, Floyd dazzled with instep, outstep, Cruyff turns, toying with the opposition.
"Urgh!"
The opposing full-back twisted his torso for a desperate sliding tackle, brushing Floyd's left side.
But thud—!
Like he had eyes in the back of his head, Floyd sidestepped crisply with his left outfoot.
"Isn't that guy nicknamed Flash?"
Hee-won muttered, watching Floyd play like the ball was glued to his instep.
Jeong-woo nodded slightly.
"Bald Flash, they call him."
Now he got why the nickname stuck.
Sunlight on that bald dome lit up like a bulb.
Blinding the opponents so they couldn't mark him properly—that was the origin.
"..."
Kinda bittersweet.
Then it happened.
Ooooh, ooooh, oooooh!
The Wonderers' cheers swelled louder than ever.
Floyd had breezed past three defenders, reaching deep into the right corner.
Fans near the fence yelled.
Cross, crooooss—!
But Jeong-woo shook his head.
"Nah, he can't cross."
Sure enough,
Thud—!
Instead of a direct cross, Floyd pulled the ball back.
"You little...!"
The center-back blocking him cursed, thinking it was a feint.
Floyd, though, thought to himself.
'No shooting angle at all...!'
Even pulling back, his eyes shook wide.
That was the fatal flaw keeping him in the second team under Derek Scott.
Flashy dribbles were all he had.
Whenever a shooting chance arose, tension spiked, narrowing his vision.
Still, Jeong-woo assigned him dribbler duties as a center-back to draw aggro with long-distance runs.
Bonus: pressure disguised as attack deep in enemy territory.
Like now.
"They're all converging on him!"
Hee-won shouted, seeing Rochdale's center of gravity shift to Floyd.
Floyd shoved forward into the nearby center-back for extra pressure.
"You maniac! Don't headbutt me!"
The opponent's center-back panicked at Floyd thrusting his sweat-and-light-glinting bald head first.
All per Jeong-woo's orders.
Jeong-woo scanned the back instead of Floyd.
There, right-back Delicate (25) had pushed up to midfield and received the pass.
Speed, dribbling, physicality—nothing special.
But,
Jeong-woo smirked.
'Crossing? Sharpest around.'
Whoooosh—!
Delicate glanced at goal once, took a quick breath, then whipped in a left outfront cross.
At the same time, the left half's golden boy charged unmarked into the box.
Ooooh ooooh ooooh—!
Fans rose as one.
Thud—!
[Goooooooaaaal!]
The net rippled beautifully.
Just four minutes into the second half, another goal.
Scorer: Slow Bulky (24), called up from Reserves League.
"Raaargh!"
Bulky pounded his sturdy chest and roared.
A 2m4cm tall striker strong in the air.
Another one-tool wonder.
Headers only—stamina bottomed out otherwise.
* * *
It wasn't pure reckless attack.
When losing possession, Jeong-woo set up a 5-3-2 for Rochdale counters.
Defensive line dropping deep to defend.
But the instant they regained the ball, it shifted.
Three-back formation, stoppers surging forward like midfielders.
No different now.
The commentators yelled.
[Ooh! Quick Floyd crosses the halfway line again, linking with the half! Switching with the side midfielder, shaking Rochdale!]
Left and right wing-backs turned full wingers on attack.
Inverted wingers, not classic.
With stoppers wide, they cut inside to bolster midfield battles.
Fake positions crisscrossing sowed chaos in marking.
Only Dominic Shield held the defense alone.
"Damn, Jeong-woo, you sly fox...!"
Hee-won now gazed at him with admiration.
He'd seen Jeong-woo's tactics occasionally in K-3 League.
But nothing this chilling.
Limited training meant loose organization.
Yet players roughly held formation, covering weaknesses.
Just moving to spots created shutdowns.
'Cuz of the crowd?'
Over 30,000 fans roaring nonstop.
Skin prickling long ago.
Hee-won rolled his eyes.
Bolton held the ball, but Bolton pressed too.
Everyone but the center-back pushed deep for first, second, third waves.
'Just trapping and passing?'
Marking individuals like basketball screens.
Jeong-woo corrected sporadically.
"Don't waste time passing!"
"See space? Direct shot!"
Pre-match staff meeting: No tiki-taka here.
Long counters or short—fight in attack.
Leverage stamina to deny gaps.
And it worked like a charm.
* * *
Horwich Radio.
DJ Aaron Bench was mid-broadcast, watching the match.
And he was stunned repeatedly.
Bolton dominating Rochdale?
[Everyone! Bolton's pressing Rochdale unbelievably!]
[Feels like they've reclaimed their attack!]
[Oh my god...! Like they've penned them in. Quick Floyd! That head's too shiny—is that blinding the opponents?]
Pre-match, zero expectations.
Rochdale 16th, Bolton 24th.
Most starters transferred out, new faces everywhere.
A draw would've been golden...
[This... might flip opinions on Bolton's current manager in just one game!]
Bench was ecstatic, enraptured.
* * *
Bolton vs Rochdale streamed live across Bolton Parish.
Club boardroom too—front office staff huddled around the screen.
Including Charlotte Emma, her blonde hair in a low ponytail.
Men stole glances at her.
Bolton's undisputed beauty.
Emma listened to staff chatter.
"Whoa, am I dreaming?"
"Has Bolton ever played like this...?"
"Like a different team."
"Always defending endlessly..."
Front office buzzing with shock.
Emma's mouth hung open.
'Unbelievable.'
She couldn't believe it either.
Like them, she never imagined such a transformation.
Camera caught Jeong-woo.
'That guy...'
Cheering players passionately, adjusting positions live.
Yesterday's chat flashed.
'I never take this club lightly. If it goes down, so do I.'
Didn't hit hard then.
Now? Opposite.
First game, Bolton reborn.
'No, a whole new team.'
For the better.
Defeatist players now scrapping for victory—skin tingling with the heat.
Center: owner-manager Ma Jeong-woo.
Watching his sparkling eyes on screen, Emma whispered.
"Staked his life on the club..."
Cheeks faintly red.
* * *
Rochdale, shellshocked, switched tactics under assistant coach.
Counter somehow, chase goals—equalize, overturn.
"Bulls! Drop right for zonal!"
"Kevin gets ball? Darren! Deep run forward always!"
Useless.
After three goals from 24th place, Rochdale's mentality cracked.
Instead,
Thud—!
[Aaah—! Rochdale! Pass error in defense, gifting Bolton a chance!]
Focus lapsed, errors in danger zones.
Jeong-woo, victory sealed, played final sub.
Tweet—!
[Quick Floyd, tormentor of Rochdale's flanks all game, coming off!]
[Aaah, Wonderers applauding!]
Time ticked.
Tweet, tweet, tweeeeeet—!
Final whistle.
Jeong-woo roared bigger than ever, shedding debut pressure.
"Yesssssss—!"
Cameras panned stands.
Fans sang victory chant, faces moved.
'Wonderers~! Wonderers~!
Pride of Manchester!
Wonderers~! Wonderers~!
Strongest in Manchester County!'
First win in 12 games—some Wonderers teary.
A blonde man hugged his 4-year-old son, face flushed, bellowing from deep.
"Yes! That's it! Live and breathe Bolton! Live Bolton!"
Have a wonderful day~
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