Chapter 29
Chapter 29
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 29
Chapter Title: Bulldozer (5)
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[GOOOOOOAL! Bolton Wanderers!]
[Owen Precise! Blasting in a return goal after a year and a half with a free kick!]
“What?”
Victor Jones jolted up from his seat in shock.
Up until Chong-a started dashing back, it had all been the same as before, but the outcome was completely different.
Rooooaaaar-!
Owen’s eyes widened wide.
The fans’ ecstatic cheers momentarily faded from his ears.
In that instant, Owen’s mind went completely blank.
* * *
A few days earlier.
“Pavlov’s dog.”
On a bright afternoon at Bolton’s first-team training ground.
Jeong-woo, dressed in rumpled training gear, stood there crookedly and said it.
Hee-won glanced at the players practicing free kicks and asked.
“Pavlov’s dog...? What the hell is that nonsense? What are you scheming now?”
Jeong-woo smirked and replied.
“What we’re going to do right now.”
With that, Jeong-woo gave a nod toward the front, and Chong-a swiftly circled around to the left side of the defensive wall near the penalty area.
At that moment, Jeong-woo shouted.
“Owen, now! Smash it right in front of Chong-a!”
Owen followed Jeong-woo’s instructions and struck it as hard as he could toward where Chong-a was sprinting.
Thwack-!
Chong-a easily flicked his right foot at the ball sailing over his head like a hurdle and scored.
With no heavy pressure during training, it wasn’t too tough to put it in.
“It’s one free kick tactic that plays off Chong-a’s speed.”
Jeong-woo let out a long yawn and added, looking at Owen.
But Hee-won’s expression wasn’t all that bright.
“Not bad. But if it doesn’t work once, it’s useless, right? Chong-a’s not exactly the type to capitalize on a single chance anyway.”
“Yeah, exactly. Tactics usually have to be one-and-done. But this time, we keep doing it until it works—that’s the goal.”
“What’s that got to do with Pavlov’s dog? Making the defenders drool every time Chong-a runs?”
Despite Hee-won’s words, Jeong-woo stuck to the consistent free kick routine.
Once more, Chong-a moved deep into the left like a machine.
Defenders crumbling as they chased.
And from behind, a block already in position ahead of time.
It was obvious it’d be blocked. But Hee-won’s eyes rolled toward the gap behind the collapsing defenders.
In that instant, his pupils shook.
On the opposite side, an empty space flashed into view for a split second before vanishing.
Hee-won’s face turned to one of disbelief.
“You?”
Jeong-woo grinned.
“See it? Owen won’t miss that hole. Unlike Chong-a, that guy’s got proper aim.”
* * *
Hee-won recalled that memory from days ago as he looked at Jeong-woo.
It was absurd.
He’d talked about exploiting that split-second collapse in the defense, but the free kick practice had clearly ended there.
And spotting a gap that opens and closes in the blink of an eye, then striking it precisely? That was even harder.
Yet right now, in this moment, they’d scored a goal they hadn’t even practiced.
Hee-won narrowed his eyes.
“You bastard, you told him separately in advance, didn’t you?”
“If I had, it would’ve failed. He’s the type who buckles under pressure. And he’s not really the kind who aims and shoots—he goes by instinct.”
“Huh? You just trusted that?”
“No. I kept brainwashing him. Telling him to look into my eyes.”
“Not even hypnosis.... Anyway, he scored, so we’re good. Heh heh heh.”
Jeong-woo left the now-cheered-up Hee-won behind and turned to Owen.
Owen Precise snapped back to attention.
Waaaaaaah-!
The cheers piercing his ears grew louder and louder, like the volume cranking up.
Before he knew it, his body was bouncing front, back, left, right.
Looking around, his teammates were rushing over with huge grins, shaking his whole body in hugs.
“Owen! That goal was insane!”
“Puskás level! That goal was definitely Puskás level!”
“You bastard! Your shooting touch is still alive, huh?”
Only then did Owen realize, just like in practice days ago, that he’d scored a free kick goal.
The first person who came to mind was none other than the club owner and manager, Ma Jeong-woo.
‘Manager...!’
Looking toward the technical area, Jeong-woo had his back turned, shouting toward the crowd with a face drunk on euphoria.
“See that! Did you see it! That’s my hidden strategy! No, I told you not to cheer with picket signs!”
An old man near the fence, a die-hard Wanderer apparently, was unfailingly expressing his joy with a picket sign.
“Ooooh! You damn Ma bastard! From today, you’re my grandson! Huh?!”
In that moment, Jeong-woo’s back suddenly looked broader and bigger than anyone else’s.
* * *
The Shrewsbury Town manager had no choice but to panic.
He’d thought the win was in the bag during the first half,
[Bolton Wanderers!]
[Entering the second half with morale at its peak!]
[Exactly! They’ve completely seized control since Owen Precise’s comeback goal!]
[Oh my god! Owen! You’re crazy!]
Just as the commentators said, Bolton started pushing high like they had against Rochdale.
Especially one guy who was unleashing a barrage of threats.
Thwuuung-!
Thaaang-!
Thaaang-!
Thud-!
“That, that bastard...!”
Under the penalty arc.
The Shrewsbury Town manager’s eyes locked onto the guy just standing there, spraying passes.
It was Owen Precise.
Early in the match, he’d been darting around only to get battered by defenders like a reed in the wind.
But once he took position, the guy had flipped 180 degrees.
Just like now.
Thwuuung-!
The soaring ball flew past the four-back defense in the blink of an eye, reaching the final third.
Thud-!
At the same time, Chong-a burst through the left half-space at insane speed and stretched out his left foot to collect the ball.
“Block iiiit!”
The Shrewsbury Town manager bellowed, veins bulging in his neck.
Thaaang-!
Luckily, Chong-a’s shot sailed high over the crossbar.
But the manager had no time for relief.
His eyes rolled wildly, whites bloodshot with rage.
Before he knew it, Bolton was unleashing fierce attacks centered on Owen.
Owen still only moved one step, two steps, sometimes three at most, lingering around the arc.
He never strayed farther.
No need for big movements,
Thud-!
Passes linked up right at his feet.
Or a quick dribbler like Floyd would bring the ball straight to him.
Right after, Owen Precise swung his left or right foot without fail.
Thwuuung-!
The air-bursting sound drilled into eardrums nonstop.
At the same time, the left and right wing forwards ruthlessly pierced between center-backs and full-backs purely on speed.
If they stuck man-to-man to stop box penetration, it only cracked their defensive line.
“Fuck!”
The Shrewsbury Town manager hopped in place, venting his fury.
His pride was shattered.
Against a rival of equal standing, maybe.
But they were neck-and-neck at 1-1 against Bolton, the team everyone was busy underrating.
And now they’d lost complete control in the second half.
Unacceptable.
“What do we do? Huh? What the hell do we do!”
He whipped around and vented to the coaching staff.
He’d tried switching tactics several times.
Since Owen’s passes were so threatening, he’d even assigned a dedicated marker.
But it backfired.
Chong-a and the right forward ‘Aaron Rapid’ exploited the looser gaps even more viciously.
Even if they stopped Owen, Delicate would step in with razor-sharp crosses.
It felt disgustingly predictable.
“What do we do! Answer me!”
Frustrated, the manager yanked off his tie and yelled at the analysts and Manager.
But no answers came back.
They’d already recited and tried countless counters, all useless.
The manager was just lashing out, passing the buck.
* * *
‘Empty net, shoot, pass, overlapping...!’
Owen kept repeating it in his head.
The single goal had already restored his confidence.
Now he understood Jeong-woo’s words.
‘Your teammates create the chance, not you.’
“Huff, huff, huff!”
Even now, his teammates were charging desperately, breathing raggedly.
Shrewsbury players were getting dragged along one by one, swept up.
And Owen kept seeing it.
Gaps opening in the opponent’s defensive third like the parting of the Red Sea.
Second half, 29th minute.
Owen’s eyes flashed.
There it was. An empty net.
Da-da-da-da-da-!
Right on cue, Park Chong-a burst into the left half at tremendous speed.
Naturally, the center-back and full-back trailed after him.
On the right, another quick striker, Rapid, charged in.
His face pale from repeated sprints.
Thud-!
Almost simultaneously, the ball arrived at Owen’s feet.
“Huuu...!”
Owen exhaled sharply through clenched teeth.
In a flash, his conversation with Jeong-woo resurfaced.
‘Why do you need me?’
‘You’re precise.’
Suddenly, his pupils blazed.
‘Yeah, I’m precise...!’
Thwuuung-!
The instant the ball impacted his instep at the end of his thought, Owen’s sharp gaze nailed the top corner of the goalpost.
The ball left his foot,
Splash-!
Following his line of sight straight and powerfully, it ripped into the net.
* * *
[GOOOOOOAAAAAAL!]
[Bolton Wanderers! Owen Precise! Returning after a year and a half and slamming home a brace!]
[Bolton! Their greatest prodigy is back! Not even young Buffon could stop that screamer!]
Uwaaaaaaaaah-!
An even bigger roar than after the first goal erupted from the Wanderers.
They stood en masse, jumping around like they were at a club.
From afar, it looked like waves crashing.
Still, cheering with ‘Ma, out’ picket signs was a bit unbalanced.
And the hero of the two goals, Owen Precise, was now swept up in emotion.
“Ah...!”
Stepping back onto the first-team stage after so long.
League One instead of the Championship, but the feeling was fresh anew.
Honestly, up until kickoff, fear had flooded him countless times.
When the fans’ boos hit, he’d wanted to crawl into a hole.
But now,
‘Owen! Owen! Owen!’
The Trotters’ prodigy~!
The Wanderers’ future~!
The Whites’ present!
Owen Preciseeeee!’
The fans were chanting his name with flushed, heated faces.
The fervent support song they’d last sung for him a year and a half ago!
Shivers rose from his feet.
His eyes welled up red.
And,
“Manager...!”
Whipping around, Owen ran straight to his mentor first.
Jeong-woo was already in the technical area with arms spread wide.
‘Welcome to the Ma line.’
He’d managed his expression, anticipating the broadcast cameras.
Inside, he thought.
‘Making a story like this. Great for drawing crowds. Heh heh heh.’