Chapter 89
Chapter 89
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 89
Chapter Title: Revenge Blood Battle (4)
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“Fuck!”
Now even Lowell Gardner was letting out a rough curse from his lips.
It had all happened in an instant.
Rahim Strong had just crossed the halfway line when he was intercepted.
By Park, who had shifted into central midfield, no less.
Right after that, it was like Park had been hit with a double-speed flu.
Before Gardner could even issue marking instructions, Park had lofted a long ball and dashed straight into the penalty area.
‘Not just Park.’
Starting from the moment prodigy Park succeeded in the steal, everyone in Bolton’s ranks who had been gradually advancing began sprinting at full throttle.
There was no way proper marking could happen.
Not when ten players were surging forward all at once.
And the result was this.
“A penalty kick...!”
The assistant coach beside him let out a short sigh.
Suddenly, Lowell Gardner felt a sharp pain in his right big toe.
Last season, right after losing to Bolton, Gardner had kicked over a water cooler in rage—only to smash the field hard enough to leave a dent.
That had fractured his toe.
The fans in the University Stadium stands were now rising as one, chanting.
Goal! Goal! Goal! Goooal-!
Their unified roar was so loud it made his eardrums ring.
In contrast, the Latics fans in the away section watched anxiously as the Bolton player approached the penalty spot.
Owen Precis, his blond hair slicked back in an undercut, No. 10.
In this moment, to the Latics, both his feet looked like precision cannons.
“Dean!”
At that, Lowell shouted to the goalkeeper.
Lowell’s Wigan side always prepared for penalty shootouts.
“Just like we practiced!”
That one line was enough.
Wigan’s keeper, Dean, clapped his gloved hands and nodded vigorously.
During goalkeeper coaching sessions, Lowell had analyzed each of Bolton’s potential penalty takers and drilled the saves.
Dean had already saved two penalties this season.
He was excellent at reading the kicker’s direction.
‘Even against Owen...!’
Thwack-!
Splash-!
[Gooooaaaal! Owen Precissss-!]
[The powerful shot straight down the middle ripples the net!]
“What confidence!”
[Wigan’s keeper thought Owen was going left and dove with everything he had... but oh, this might bruise his pride!]
“Right down the center! He completely fooled the keeper!]
* * * *
Bolton transformed right after snatching the opener.
And it continued into the second half.
Tap, tap-!
[To Delicate, then to David Dignity!]
[Oh, back to Frank Gerrard on the side pass...!]
[Connected to Owen Precis...!]
Boom-!
[Owen’s cannon shot just clears the crossbar!]
[On closer look, Wigan’s keeper Dean barely tipped it away with his fingertips!]
Dean, who had leaped like a frog and deflected it with his fingertips, was now pale as a ghost.
“What the hell is this...!”
Dean’s pupils shook wildly.
It was the 10th minute of the second half.
By now, most of Bolton’s players were loitering deep in their half.
In that short time, Wigan had already conceded four long-range shots.
They’d been tormented four times by the left-right penetrations of prodigy Park and Sensuous Ruff.
Even Wigan’s defenders were reacting confusedly to the sudden barrage.
“Alan! Cover the left...!”
Center-back Great shouted with veins bulging in his neck, but had to spin around quickly.
Sensuous Ruff had already burrowed into the right half.
“Alaaan-!”
Even as he yelled for the full-back Alan to fill the gap he’d left.
But Alan was just as busy.
“You fucking...!”
He was fuming, unable to make a proper move from the arc’s lower right.
David Dignity, deep in Wigan’s half, was holding him up like a basketball screen play.
Every time Alan tried to break left, Dignity stuck out his hips to mark him.
All while brazenly saying,
“You’re at our University Stadium—wanna try some K-food? Head out B Gate to the food corner; their Korean hot dogs are killer.”
Alan’s reply was concise.
“You bastard!”
“Wow, damn it!”
Adebayor, watching from the stands, let out an exclamation.
He wasn’t even in today’s squad.
So he was spectating Bolton’s game from the stands.
“What is this?”
From the first half onward, through to the 10th minute of the second, Bolton’s advance felt like Roman legionaries marching.
They’d crept up slyly at first, and now they were practically playing half-court in Wigan’s half.
Some were even man-marking Wigan players, tying them up.
“Does this make sense? Huh?”
The Wigan that Adebayor knew was definitely a top team in League One.
They usually dominated possession in most games.
But the moment they conceded, everything flipped.
Now Adebayor muttered with a grin.
“Those Latics idiots shriveled up like total losers.”
Even as he smiled, he suddenly recalled his recent chat with Jeong-woo.
‘Your playstyle fits better with possession and pounding opponents than the counterattacks we’re using now. So wait. I’ll set up that environment for you soon.’
Adebayor’s smile deepened.
“That guy... he’s even better than I imagined.”
* * * *
Jeong-woo slyly curled the corner of his mouth and muttered.
He’d seen the articles.
Wigan was supposedly much stronger than last season.
Some press even pegged them as the top promotion favorites this year.
But Bolton had grown stronger too.
In fact, compared to last season, Bolton had made the biggest leap among all 24 teams.
So Jeong-woo stated firmly.
“We’re the ones who’ll pin them down and beat them senseless. The moment they step out for the ball, we’ll make ’em shit themselves.”
That was why he’d run the platoon systeMad Dog rotations all this time.
“Why do you think I’ve been spinning our kids like tops, using everyone evenly?”
Not just equalization—upward leveling.
Especially in training, he’d pushed their stamina to the extreme and hammered organization.
Thanks to that, Jeong-woo’s Bolton had evolved beyond defense-first into a new tactic.
Jeong-woo grinned at Pick and muttered.
“Picky eating’s bad for you.”
“The midfield’s looking good now?”
Beside him, Hee-won asked with delighted eyes.
Bolton was still prowling sharply in Wigan’s half.
Jeong-woo had dragged a folding chair to the technical area and sat, drink in hand.
“Good? We’ll use it when needed. But right now, we’re smashing them with Dutch total football.”
Total football meant the whole team dominating through passing play and positional mastery.
Full attack when attacking, leaving no gaps; full defense when defending, pressing relentlessly.
Then Jeong-woo tilted his head.
He’d suddenly caught the naming bug.
He furrowed his brow slightly and muttered.
“Nah. Let’s call it the return of our country’s 2002 World Cup semi-final swarm football myth.”
Swarm football was one of Korea’s tactics from the 1983 Mexico Youth Championship.
Pure stamina and organization forging a miraculous fourth place.
That’s why Jeong-woo had placed the prodigy in central midfield.
“Park’s got that instep control.”
His work rate was top-tier, excluding Owen and Dominic.
So he’d pushed Owen higher and used Park to shut down counters.
Even turning it into counter-counter origins with his skill.
The result: a penalty that gifted the team a perfect opener.
In Wigan’s half.
“Push Aguero and Strong up top!”
After another blow following last season’s, the assistant coach yelled in frustration.
Lowell Gardner’s face was now beyond flushed—ready to explode.
Part of him found it absurd.
Unbelievable.
‘Am I dreaming right now?!’
A total nightmare.
Bolton was exchanging quick, concise passes in their half.
Prodigy Park and Sensuous Ruff were penetrating the left and right halves relentlessly.
Boom-!
[Aaaah! Owen’s sneaky long-range stunner-!]
Ting-!
[Dean! He barely tips the ball that drops just below the post with his toe!]
“...”
Whenever space opened, Owen unleashed shots.
Just watching ground his teeth.
Wigan couldn’t cope with Bolton’s pressure.
Still, he issued orders.
“Gabriel! Rahim! Get into the half-spaces and look for line breaks!”
Even without the assistant’s advice, he’d have done it.
‘Just pierce behind with a long counter!’
He was sure an equalizer would regain control.
Hee-won muttered a bit worriedly.
“What if they push the line up and get hit behind? They say cornered rats turn and bite.”
Jeong-woo glanced at hiMad Dog said.
“You idiot, you believe rat sayings? Crush ’em so they can’t squeak, and it’s all good.”
Saying that, Jeong-woo wore a more vicious grin than ever.
* * * *
Second half, 34th minute.
‘Got it!’
A long counter erupted from Wigan’s half.
Rahim Strong vowed this time he’d nail the counter.
He and Gabriel Aguero had just barely beaten the line.
‘They bit on the dummy run!’
Bolton’s defenders along the halfway line were late, fumbling to turn.
But Strong’s face twisted.
Whoosh-!
Prodigy Park charged right at him.
Even a tempo late, he overtook Strong in under two seconds.
Thwack-!
Park stretched his right stud ahead of Strong, instepping the ball away.
“Fuck! Shiiiit!”
Strong bellowed a curse.
The cleared ball went straight to Bolton’s keeper, Screech.
But the next play was the problem.
Boom-!
Screech launched a long kick, landing perfectly at Owen’s feet under the penalty arc.
Boom-!
Owen trapped it cleanly and linked into a turn-and-shoot.
Whish!
Wigan’s keeper Dean could only gape as a fierce wind grazed his right cheek.
Splash-!
[Gooooaaaaaaaal! Owen Preciiiiissss-!]
[His second for the team!]
[Bolton Wanderers! Dominating Wigan once more!]
Bolton’s advance didn’t stop.
Just five minutes later.
Splash-!
Wigan’s net rippled violently again.
The commentators were now half-standing, bodies rising from seats.
[Gooooal! Paaaark! Park threads between defenders, nudges Owen’s straight pass with his right foot for the dagger goal! This is just... a nail in the coffin!]
Yaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh-!
University Stadium was now a full-blown festival.
Meanwhile, Latics fans streamed out the gates from the away end. The broadcast cams caught their faces—defeated soldiers, every one.
Some clutched their heads, sobbing.