Chapter 78
Chapter 78
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 78
Chapter Title: Mad Dog (5)
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Second half, 31st minute.
Jeong-woo placed his hand on his chest again and spread three fingers.
It was a new instruction change.
If the opponent crossed from the side into the box, just form a block.
In other words, focus solely on set-piece defense, no reckless counterattacks.
That’s when it started.
Dominic Shield and the other players with aerial advantages concentrated only on heading the incoming ball far away.
Sometimes out to the touchline, or to a teammate after exchanging prior signals.
And Pak prepared for infiltration from the left upper half-space.
He, too, faithfully carried out Jeong-woo’s instructions.
No counters unless there was a specific signal.
That was the directive.
So even when the ball deflected off a defender and fell at his feet, he didn’t push forward recklessly.
Instead, he focused on turning the ball over with approaching teammates to disrupt the opponent’s tempo.
At the same time, Pak noticed.
When Charlton earned a set-piece chance, gaps slowly opening between their defenders.
Second half, 38th minute.
Thwack—!
Pak, lingering on the edge of his team’s left area, suddenly widened his eyes.
‘It’s coming...!’
Didier Ramsey, overwhelmed by Dignity and Delicate’s pressure, resorted to another cross.
But even to Pak, that cross looked flimsy.
And the 2-meter tall center-back, Dominic Shield, headed it away with ease.
Thud—!
The ball dipped toward the ground and landed precisely at Pak’s feet.
At that instant, Ramsey, who had attempted the cross, let out a defeated sigh.
“Haa..., fuck! Another failure!”
That was it.
Bolton wouldn’t attempt a reckless counter; they’d circulate the ball and wait for a surer chance.
Bolton had dropped back anyway.
‘They’re scared, these guys.’
The fullback marking Pak three steps away, Aaron Phoenix, felt the same.
If anything, he grew arrogant.
‘Means we’re still the threat!’
Even at 3-3, Addicks still held the game’s momentum, right?
Moreover, the opponents were hunkered down taking punches.
Just moments ago, Bolton had matched their full-pressing strategy with fire of their own, but now even that was dismantled.
By Jimmy Jones.
As he thought, a smile crept back onto Jones’s lips.
‘They tried choking us with full press..., but that’s the end of it.’
He’d racked his brain in real time and found the answer.
Cut their press early using set-piece situations.
‘Make them not even attempt it.’
Charlton players already held a high line, turning the entire team into defenders applying first pressure in Bolton’s half.
Intentional fouls or whatever it took.
So now, even when the ball deflected for a counter chance, Bolton hesitated to push up.
Meanwhile, Charlton’s frontline attackers charged ferociously every time Bolton circulated in their defensive third, forcing blind passes.
Jimmy Jones was convinced.
‘They judged covering the whole defense was too much. So they conceded the flanks, baiting our weak crosses. Then they planned to overwhelm with full press.’
A brilliant move.
But now, it was useless.
‘They can’t even dream of it anymore.’
Indeed, unlike minutes ago, Bolton had dropped their line and showed no intent to advance.
They’d realized it.
Don’t give Charlton space behind.
But for Jimmy, it didn’t matter now.
Like Bolton, raise the line, gain numerical superiority in press..., and they’d win.
This was one of Mad’s prescribed tactics.
Precisely, a countermeasure.
[When the tactic I meticulously crafted isn’t working. But objectively, the opponent’s squad seems inferior. If your players have high tactical understanding..., the answer is simple. Mirror them.]
Yes.
Torment them with the exact same tactic.
Bolton’s individual quality lagged far behind Charlton’s.
‘Crack them slowly like this!’
Even now, watching the ball connect to Pak, he was certain.
‘Circulate it...!’
Thump—!
“Huh?”
Jones panicked.
“What?!”
The fullback marking Pak three steps away, Aaron Phoenix, was just as flustered.
No, he didn’t even have time to panic.
Whoosh—!
In the blink of an eye, Pak lofted the ball long behind him to the right.
Then he exploded in the opposite direction from Phoenix, tearing down the field.
That simple one-two already opened massive space between hiMad Dog Phoenix.
Phoenix spun reflexively to chase the ball and Pak, only to face harsh reality.
“Gone?”
The space behind was empty.
* * *
Pak ran and ran.
Each powerful stride and push forward filled his lungs to the brink.
His ball control was a mess.
The ball he lofted sometimes rolled 1m, nearly 2m.
But it didn’t matter to Pak.
At full speed, that distance was nothing—he’d catch up in seconds.
And soon, it appeared in his sights.
‘The keeper...!’
Charlton’s goalkeeper lunged out before hesitating, eyes darting left.
He didn’t need to look.
The moment he’d burst forward, Sensuous Ruff—who’d subbed on three minutes ago—had sprinted from the opposite flank.
Sensuous had toed the offside line from the start.
Not as fast as Pak, but he still led Charlton’s chasing defender by four steps.
In that moment, everything slowed to a crawl for Pak, like slow motion.
Then halftime words from Jeong-woo echoed.
‘Pak. After all that grinding, a long run chance will come your way for sure. Might even be a one-on-one with the keeper. But honestly, that’s too much luck-based. Actually disadvantages you. You’re a developer.’
Jeong-woo was straightforward.
He’d pointed out Pak’s finishing issues.
Plus, after a reckless sprint, his shots lost accuracy and power.
‘It’s true.’
He already felt half-dead.
One slip in focus, and his legs would give out.
So Jeong-woo gave the solution.
‘Just drive forward.’
‘Pardon?’
Jeong-woo grinned and glanced aside.
‘I’ll mess with the keeper using Sensuous. Just carry it straight to the goal line.’
He added,
‘Even if you miss, no big deal. Plenty more chances. Doesn’t have to be you.’
That stung Pak instead.
A burning desire to score surged.
Now, Pak gritted his teeth.
Entering the opponent’s area, he caught every twitch of the keeper.
‘Right side...!’
Distracted by Sensuous’s approach, shifting his weight subtly away.
Poised to dive anywhere a shot came.
Pak wouldn’t let that stance settle.
‘I grinded shots too, you knowwww—!’
With an inner roar, he swung his right foot like he’d topple forward.
Thwack—!
* * *
Pak knelt by the corner flag, gazing up at the stands.
His face flushed redder than ever.
“Huff, huff, huff—!”
His breathing stayed ragged.
The stands erupted as one, fans on their feet chanting in unison.
Pak! Pak! Pak!
He’s our Bolton Sonic~!
Pak! Pak! Pak!
The league’s fastest bullet in League One~!
“Hoo—! Hoo—!”
His chest heaved wildly.
His breathing hadn’t steadied.
Pak wore an incredulous expression.
From the touchline, the stadium announcer bellowed, voice booming.
[Pak PAAAAK—! After a monstrous 70m sprint, he pulls off an amaaaazing goal!]
[It’s the winner, the winnnnner gooooal—! He’s dealt Addicks a fatal blow!]
Yeeeeeeah—!
Fans roared back like thunder after the announcer.
‘I..., I did it...!’
Finally, Pak’s wide eyes took it in.
Wonderers bouncing mad.
All screaming his name.
Some near the fence tried vaulting it toward him.
For a split second, goosebumps prickled from his feet up.
‘I scored!’
Stagger—!
Just as joy spread across his face, Pak crumpled forward weakly.
Teammates had swarmed, piling on him from behind.
“Come here, you beauty!”
David Dignity, heaving rough breaths, planted a kiss on the forehead of a stunned, joyful Pak.
* * *
Second half, 44th minute.
Jimmy Jones stood rigid in the technical area center.
His bulging eyes bloodshot with whites blazing red.
Fists clenched white at his thighs.
From the coaches behind, groans of dismay erupted.
“That, that...!”
“No pride at all!”
Even the away Addicks fans unleashed fury.
“You fucking bastards! Is this soccer?! Huh?! Is this fucking soccer?!?”
Before long, Addicks weren’t cheering—they were hurling abuse at Bolton’s manager, Ma Jeong-woo.
“Ma you motherfucker! Hey! I’ll rip your fucking mouth off! You fucking dog!!”
Addicks near the fence chucked water bottles and trash onto the pitch.
Meanwhile, Jeong-woo stood arms crossed, utterly nonchalant.
Even smirking faintly.
The reason for their rage was simple.
He was executing exactly what he’d posted on SNS before.
Thud—!
[Ohhh! Pak collides with Ryan Vince and goes down! No, how far is he rolling?!]
Thump—!
Crash—!
[Sensuous Ruff! Looks like he got clipped in the thigh and fell..., but why’s he clutching his ankle in agony?!]
[Oh, Sensuous! Calling for medicals in pain! Face says broken bone...?]
[Regular time’s long over!]
[And now David Dignity’s down too! Ow, complaining about one leg!]
Time-wasting soccer, plain and simple.