Chapter 25
Chapter 25
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 25
Chapter Title: Bulldozer (1)
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Nelson Oakley came from a family of Bolton Wanderers supporters for two generations. He was a resident of Horwich.
Naturally, he was one of the regular customers at the convenience store located in the Bolton club facilities.
The reason was obvious.
It was the closest convenience store to his house, right there at the University of Bolton Stadium.
“Let's see... sliced ham, white bread, and salsa sauce...”
The downside was that it only stayed open until 7 p.m.
Still, compared to other areas that only operated on match days, Oakley was just grateful it was open at all.
Today, he was heading there on an errand for his wife, with his son in tow.
“Papa! Over there! Over there!”
His son, riding on his shoulders and clutching his hair like reins, shouted excitedly.
“Hm?”
Oakley turned his head in the direction his son was pointing.
There was a decent crowd gathered there.
“Over there! Over there!”
His curious son bounced in place, shouting even louder.
“Want to go check it out, son?”
“Yeah!”
Oakley was curious too, so he chuckled and started walking over.
“A raffle event?”
Oakley blinked.
In front of him stood several raffle machines.
Each draw cost about two pounds—around four thousand won.
‘That’s kinda pricey...’
Unlike Oakley, the people around him boldly handed over two pounds and pulled out round capsules.
Then,
Pop!
They twisted off the lids, unrolled the white slips of paper inside, cheering or groaning in disappointment, over and over.
“Yes! Got an ice cream!”
“Honey, ice cream’s cheaper elsewhere...!”
“Oh, yeah?”
The prizes were just ice cream, so maybe it wasn’t worth it.
Of course, his son’s eyes were already sparkling.
Just then, a cheer erupted from the other side.
“Whoa! It’s a ticket voucher!”
Bolton’s cheapest tickets currently went for seven pounds—about ten thousand won—with the priciest at thirty-two pounds, or fifty thousand won.
Prices varied depending on derbies or matches against top teams.
Many of those watching sent light congratulations or envious glances at the ticket winner.
Oakley, who’d been about to walk away, stopped dead in his tracks.
‘Tickets are prizes too?’
He’d been ready to pass on ice cream, but tickets changed everything.
Plus, his son yanked his hair like reins, halting him.
And so,
Pop!
Oakley fed two pounds into the machine.
He pulled out a fist-sized round capsule and glanced at his son perched on his shoulders, grinning.
“Son, want to open it?”
“Yeah! I wanna open it!”
His son snatched the capsule eagerly, as if he’d been waiting for this.
“Just twist it open.”
“Yeah!”
Following the instructions, his son slowly twisted the capsule open.
Then he peered inside with sparkling eyes and unrolled the paper.
But,
“Huh?”
Something was off.
Instead of joy, his son wore a puzzled expression.
‘No grand prize?’
Feeling uneasy, Oakley took the paper from his son.
His own eyes soon went wide.
“...Huh? What’s this?”
[Congratulations! You’ve won a Daily Staff Experience Ticket!]
* * *
The moment Ma Jeong-woo laid eyes on Niki, Thompson’s son, a thought crossed his mind.
Did they really need to pay for extra hands?
Niki, a teenager, was already volunteering at the club for the experience.
“Of course, labor deserves monetary compensation... but there are exceptions sometimes. Especially when we’re desperate for manpower right now.”
Jeong-woo muttered as he trudged down the corridor.
Park Hee-won walked beside him.
That sparked an idea in his head.
“People are way more curious about the club than I thought. You wanted to work here as a kid too, right?”
“Yeah.”
“You even tried it out a few times.”
Hee-won didn’t deny it.
From his school days, nurturing dreams of soccer, he’d always wanted to see how a club really operated firsthand.
He’d even paid for experience programs and competed for spots like they were match tickets.
And so,
“Mr. Oakley? This way. Oh, and grab that toolbox over there.”
“Y-Yes!”
The two halted abruptly.
Just a few steps ahead, they saw Oakley, the experience participant, scurrying off at the directions of facilities staff Thompson.
Despite the busy schedule, the smile on Oakley’s face wouldn’t fade.
Jeong-woo added smugly,
“It’s not like they’re forced to work just because they won the raffle. They’ve got their own jobs. It’s all voluntary. They just coordinate schedules with the club if they want to.”
Hee-won let out a small sound of admiration.
“Man, thinking of solving the manpower shortage like this with temp volunteers...”
Jeong-woo shook his head with his trademark cocky expression, even pressing a finger to his lips like he’d learned from somewhere.
“It’s not about free labor. It’s about instilling a sense of community as Wanderers.”
“...?”
“We’re family, or something like that?”
Hee-won grimaced and muttered,
“Fa...mily-like company... no, club.”
“Hey! Watch your pronunciation!”
* * *
Jeong-woo didn’t neglect his role as club owner either.
“Nice to meet you. I’m DJ Aaron Scoop.”
“Aaron Scoop?”
“You’ve got good instincts. I’m Aaron Bench’s brother.”
Jeong-woo shook the grinning Scoop’s hand and smiled back.
‘You sneaky bastard.’
He’d stuck to local Horwich radio for a while.
But today, he was visiting Kearsley Radio.
It was part of his plan to communicate directly with Wanderers fans from the start.
Kearsley still had plenty who didn’t like him.
They’d beaten Rochdale, but him sitting in the dugout as owner? That rubbed them wrong.
Like right now.
‘That punk... should I chuck a rock at him?’
‘Hold it. They won the opener, at least.’
‘Or kidnap him after the broadcast and lock him up at my place for a bit? Might make an interim manager show up.’
Jeong-woo snorted, then narrowed his eyes.
‘These guys sound like they’re trash-talking me.’
Beyond the booth, the PDs sat with arms crossed, looking like they were plotting something sinister.
Even the DJ’s questions carried a hint of gripe.
“You sent out most of your starters and only brought in two new signings. Plus two call-ups from the reserves. Don’t you see the squad size as a problem...?”
“Not at all.”
“Why not? You know League One’s twenty-four teams, and Bolton Wanderers is the only one with a first-team squad under twenty players?”
He knew.
It had even sparked multiple rebellions from the coaching staff.
But Jeong-woo showed no concern.
Instead, he countered with a relaxed smile.
“Think about the Derek Scott era. Over more than twenty rounds, Derek used just sixteen players. Once he settled on someone, he ran them full-time, basically.”
“Derek was stubborn as hell.”
This time, the DJ agreed.
Jeong-woo grinned and piled on.
“Exactly. Derek was a brick wall. But he’s gone now, so no more on that. I’m just here to share my thoughts with the Wanderers, that’s all.”
“Not to convince them?”
Jeong-woo shook his head firmly.
“No convincing needed. You don’t have to understand me. Heck, curse me out like in the last interview if you want.”
“You’ve got some spine, owner.”
“Someone said I’ve got a face thick as steel plate.”
Jeong-woo kept the banter light with the DJ as he continued.
“Now, let me explain further. All that’s left for Bolton is the league. Early exits from cups actually gave us more rest than rival clubs.”
“But a bigger squad lets you mix up tactics more, right?”
“Of course. More variety in player styles means more tactical options. But I think we’re fine as is. No rush to sign anyone. I want to focus on the now.”
The interview flowed on without pause.
Just like in Horwich, the staff beyond the booth started seeing Jeong-woo differently.
His verbal chops were top-notch for one.
His voice demanded attention, drawing eyes with some magnetic pull.
Even the shady glares softened.
‘Hold off on the rocks for now.’
‘Smart.’
Jeong-woo brought up the Rochdale match.
“Everyone thought we’d lose to Rochdale. But what happened?”
“A 3-0 thrashing.”
“Some call it luck, but that day, our lads outplayed them fair and square.”
Suddenly, Jeong-woo leaned in.
“I said this at the press conference: If we drop even one of the next three games, I step down as manager.”
“Still on the table?”
Aaron’s eyes lit up.
Jeong-woo nodded boldly.
“Yes. Two games left now.”
Mentioning it on radio was to draw more fans.
He said as much himself.
“Some hate me. Maybe most. They’d love if I quit on the spot.”
He furrowed his brow slightly.
“Some might come to the stadium hoping to see me humiliated live.”
Aaron Scoop didn’t deny it.
He’d been one of them.
Jeong-woo’s face spread into a smile.
“If it brings in crowds, I’m all for it.”
“Good... with you?”
Scoop blinked in mild surprise.
‘Even if the masses tear him apart?’
Jeong-woo seemed genuinely pleased.
“If they’re coming because of my resignation drama, it’s still love for Bolton.”
Aaron Scoop looked dumbfounded and tossed out,
“If you lose one of the last two and have to step down... can you really bow out that gracefully?”
“I guarantee it. And I promise to hire a manager the fans will love. But...”
He trailed off, wrinkling his nose playfully before adding,
“I don’t think we’ll lose.”
“Confidence overflowing. Just like the last interview.”
Scoop was starting to like Jeong-woo’s cool assurance and boldness, even feeling a touch moved by his final words.
“I’m not just here to fill a squad. I want to fill Bolton’s future—thoughtfully and substantially. That’s why I trust our current players. That’s my confidence.”
* * *
The broadcast aired across Kearsley, Horwich, and Bolton.
Wanderers listened intently to Jeong-woo’s voice.
So did the players.
They heard it at home, the training center, or in the car.
[I trust our current players. That’s the source of my confidence.]
David Dignity, driving through pounding rain, caught the broadcast by chance and felt a strange stir.
‘He trusts us...’
* * *
Delicate, a second-team player under Derek Scott, froze mid-stride on the treadmill at the training center.
[I’ll give every player an equal shot. We’ve hit rock bottom. Now, it’s time to climb.]
Jeong-woo was talking.
About fair competition.
About the team’s present and future.
Delicate cranked up the treadmill speed.
His eyes burned with ambition.