Han Shin's Sunderland Era: Two Hours Before Official Appointment
Two hours before Han Shin's official appointment as manager of Sunderland AFC.
"You crazy bastard, I knew you'd make it this far. You know that, right? Congrats, you son of a bitch. Plenty of Korean players over in Europe, but you're the first manager, yeah?"
"That's right. Not just the first Korean—the first Asian ever."
Inside dressing room D104 at the Stadium of Light, Han Shin sat at a vanity mirror, talking on speakerphone. Bright lights washed over his face, softening the dark circles under his eyes. A four-tier box of cosmetics sat beside him. On the table lay stacks of A4 documents highlighted in fluorescent pen: player photos with estimated transfer fees, a tactics notebook scrawled with recruitment plans and go-stone diagrams, and the script for a new program.
The cover read:
Black Cats: Road to the Top
(Working title: Kickoff in Sunderland)
The blonde makeup artist lifted her brush, ready to apply eyeshadow.
"Could you close your eyes just a little?"
"Hang on a sec, Dong-ha."
He lowered his gaze and shut his eyes.
"Perfect. You've done this a lot—you're a natural."
"That's all thanks to your skill, Emma. Always appreciate it."
"Oh my, Player Han—no, I should call you Manager Han now, shouldn't I?"
"Just keep it casual, Emma."
Emma, the striking blonde, had known Han Shin since the Manager War. She'd signed on as his personal traveling makeup artist for the Sunderland media circuit.
"Manager, you must be really popular with the ladies, right?"
"Women? They all get sick of me and leave."
"What? Why? You're as handsome as a BTZ member and you've got the talent to match."
"Emma, how do you feel about a guy who's always working?"
"A man focused on his work is attractive, isn't it?"
"What about a guy who games all day long?"
She tilted her head.
"Hmm... gaming? That's a fine hobby. As long as he puts it down when he's with his girlfriend, right?"
"I mean all day. Girlfriend comes over and he doesn't even glance at her—just games under the excuse of 'work.' Then after the games, he watches football every night."
"Ah... that's the worst. Absolute worst."
"That was me."
Emma twirled a strand of her wavy hair around her index finger.
"Ah, I see. You know, I find a man who's passionate about anything attractive. It means he's got fire, right? A guy who's good at games can be sexy too~"
"Hey, hey, you idiot. What the hell are you two babbling about in English? She doesn't understand Korean, right?"
Han Shin's given name was a single character—Shin—so back in school his nicknames had been "Shin-sane," "God God," or "Liu Bang." Why Liu Bang? Because in the Chu-Han Contention, Han Xin had been "Liu Bang's lackey." Simple as that.
Emma tapped her brush lightly.
"Did I interrupt your call? You said he's a friend? What's he saying in Korean?"
"Nothing much. Funny enough, he's asking the same thing—what we're talking about."
"Got it. Don't mind me—keep chatting. Now open your eyes? How's it look?"
His face reflected in the mirror.
"Perfect. Flawless as always."
What even changed?
"Heehee, thank you!"
"Yo, is that makeup lady hot?"
"Hot? Objectively, yeah. But is that what matters right now? *Yawn*... Anyway, once the makeup's done, filming starts right away."
"Hold up... it's 2 p.m. here, so it's a crazy 6 a.m. over there and you're filming?"
"Bro, this hyung's done his share of broadcasts. Today's schedule is angelic. Angelic. We're shooting early because of the press conference later."
"One taste of TV and you're already putting on airs. Still, a press conference is sick. Can I watch it live?"
"Search SAFC TV on YouTube. They said there'll be a YouTube livestream later. Or just put on Sky Sports—they're covering it too."
"Oki oki, I'll hit like and drop a comment. But why's a guy even wearing makeup? Debuting as an idol or what?"
"I put on foundation for the first time after coming here. The lights are so harsh for broadcasts that you need makeup. Covering the blemishes is nice, though."
"You never did look great on camera. Yo, you're blowing up these days, right? TV, YouTube—it's all about you. My buddy's a celebrity. This hyung is moved."
"Bullshit. Hey Dong-ha, talking like this actually makes me feel alive."
"Why? Schedule looks packed as hell. Life in England tough?"
"Life in England is hard... nah, not that. Wonder if you'll get it. Speaking only English all the time—how do I put it? Limited expressions, feels... cringey? Like a duck egg stranded on a deserted island."
"Technically you're a foreign worker now."
"Yeah. Foreign laborer. At least in London I saw plenty of Koreans. Out here it's pure locals."
"Don't get every word, but I get the vibe. Your English is solid though."
"Sure. But try speaking only English all day. It's exhausting."
"By the way, internet says British food is trash. How's that?"
"Food's... adapting. Oh, I ran into the three old uncles of Sunderland. They pointed me to a solid fish and chips spot. Pretty decent."
"Hahaha, three uncles? What is this, Romance of the Three Kingdoms? Sounds like a bunch of old fogeys."
"Old fogeys? Sigh, you're an old fogey now too. How are you still the same even as you age? Guys like you leave the worst comments on YouTu—"
Dong-ha cut him off.
"So if I come to England, you buying me fish and chips or whatever?"
"Obviously. You think I can't afford one meal for you? You know Michelin, right?"
"Kinda? Suits required, prices insane, food the size of a booger on the plate—that's Michelin, yeah?"
"You crazy bastard, hahaha. Close enough, but three-star Michelin is a whole different class. Class. I'll treat you to the full course. Wait, there are Michelin places in Korea too—you've never been?"
"Why would I waste money on that? For that price I could smash a few solid bowls of gukbap."
"Then stick to gukbap when you get here."
"Just saying. If you buy, I'll gobble it up. But invite your parents first."
"I was already planning to formally invite the family once I'm settled."
"Filial son. Real filial. They even hung a banner for you in our neighborhood. You know?"
"A banner?"
"You not online at all? I'll send a pic later."
"Haven't had time to look."
Meetings for the new program launch, reading the script they'd handed him, paperwork, even a small move—there had been endless things to do.
"You're catching insane hate too. You'll live forever. Yo, that Portuguese manager did an interview saying he'll retire if you succeed—you see that?"
"Mourinho? Yeah, I saw it. Personally I loved that romantic manager... now I guess I have to retire him with my own hands."
"You idiot! Leaving the title race to some random doghouse? That confidence is unreal. What if you get sacked? You'll be so embarrassed."
"Embarrassed about what? Managers get sacked every day. If I really suck, I'll pack my bags and leave."
"Whoa, is this that 'Wonyoung thinking' thing? Look at that lucky-viki mindset. You've always been like that."
"Wonyoung thinking? What's that?"
"It's a thing. Don't even know outdated slang."
"Whatever. If I get sacked, your England tour and Michelin full course are off."
"Sorry sorry, please succeed so the goryeojang succeeds. Yo, I'm recording this. No take-backs later, deal?"
"Goryeojang, you psycho. No take-backs—just get your ass over here."
"Oki oki. More importantly, any pretty girls in England?"
"Girls, girls, okay. Yo, if you come to England and my makeup artist is interested, I'll introduce you."
"You for real? I'm packing right now for a one-month backpacking trip to England."
"Do it. The club rented me a house—four bedrooms, so you've got a place to crash. Just bring yourself."
"Sick. Never been to Europe once. Gotta catch a Tottenham match before Sonny retires. Any ticket discounts?"
"I'm not the Tottenham manager—why would there be? I'll check, but for one person I can probably get you a VIP seat for our matches."
"Whoa... trusting you and booking the plane ticket for real?"
"Yes yes, please book it already."
"Ah, I keep forgetting no matter how many times I hear it. Where'd you go again? Am I getting early-onset dementia?"
"Sunderland. Super quiet town. About three hours by train from London? Actually, you can fly straight into Newcastle. Tell me in advance if you're coming—I'll pick you up if I'm free."
"Newcastle instead of London? Oki. Wait, you already bought a car with the prize money?"
"Nah. Club provided the car too."
"As expected of God God—you've made it. What car? Since you're a manager, Mercedes? No, England, so Rolls-Royce, Aston Martin? Don't tell me there's a chauffeur too?"
"Chauffeur? It's not even a new car—just a company vehicle. And Rolls-Royce? That's for the owner."
Rolls-Royce... maybe if we reach the EPL. Kyril looked like he had over ten cars, by the way.
"Getting picky. It's free though—I'd bow to the owner in thanks. So what model?"
"Nothing fancy. Just come see it."
"Dragging this car thing forever. What is it? Embarrassed? I'd happily drive a free Morning."
"Ha... fine. It's a Nissan. Nissan."
"Nissan? Traitor. Traitor."
"Knew you'd say that. Sunderland has the world's largest Nissan plant. Something about supporting the local community."
"Traitor traitor, Han Shin is a traitor."
"No one more patriotic than me. And who knows? Maybe Hyundai will come knocking for a sponsorship."
"You? Just because you became a manager in Europe your shoulders are up to Baekdu Mountain. You're not that big."
"Yo, use your head. First Asian manager in a European league—sponsors won't come? They're watching. Might hear through the club soon."
Sponsors aside, Championship broadcast rights are relatively cheap—will Korean networks buy them?
"Yes yes, you'll just plaster yourself head to toe in Hyundai and Samsung Galaxy."
"I was gonna give my friend a full club tour, but maybe I should cancel."
"Ah hyung please. I wanna shake hands with the players and say hi too."
"I haven't even done that yet. First meeting with the players is today."
"Why?"
"Why else? Manager duties start today."
"Oh... not nervous?"
"Not nervous? Honestly, a little. That good kind of tension, you know? I even wrote a script for what to say."
"Hahaha, you crushed it in Manager War. Was that acting too?"
"Half acting. When else in life would I have done something like that?"
"True. Whoa, so you'll play against Maeng-gu too?"
"No. Man United is Premier League, Sunderland is Championship—second tier. Next year I'll face Man United."
"'Champion' but second division? There's that similar name. What was it?"
"Champions League?"
"Yeah that. Different from this?"
"Where do I even start with a football noob... Champions League, or UCL for short, is the international tournament where the top teams from each European league compete."
He flicked a finger.
"The Championship is a domestic English league—one tier lower."
"Got it. Frog in a well. That's it."
"You don't get jack. I need to hang up and finish prepping. Gonna grab some water too."
"Anyway, amazing. Flip on the TV remote and your face pops up?"
"Not sure if it'll air in Korea."
"Why? Their own little league so TV doesn't bother?"
"No, they broadcast everything here. Korea has to buy the rights to show it—dunno if they will. Probably will?"
"Hmm..."
"Oh, and our team's doing a Seoul tour."
"When?"
Knock knock knock.
"Hang on—yes, come in."
The door swung open and a Black woman with curly hair and oversized headphones—a production staffer—stepped in.
"Manager Han, are you ready? Rehearsal starts in fifteen minutes."
"Yes. Almost done."
"Lots of lines on day one—you've got the script down, right?"
"Saved to hard drive."
"Nice~!"
She flashed a thumbs-up.
Emma winked.
"Makeup's almost finished too~"
"Understood. Come out when you're ready. I'll check again five minutes before."
"Yes, thank you."
Han Shin picked up his phone from the table.
"Yo, gotta go. Fifteen minutes left. I'll text the schedule later."
Is this managing or acting? Can't wait to meet the players.
"Then when you come to Korea, let's grab soju. Spill more stories."
"Hell yeah, soju. Craving so much food."
Jokbal with makguksu, pajeon with makgeolli, hot pot, jjimdak, kimchi jjigae—countless dishes flashed through Han Shin's mind.
"Alright, good luck~ Booking the flight and sending proof~"
"Yeah~ See you soon."
Emma finished by studying Han Shin in the mirror and adjusting his hair.
"Manager, just the hair left. Forehead out or covered?"
"Important day—let's go up. What does the expert think?"
"Back in the day if a guy wore his hair down people said he looked insecure or gay, but with K-pop styles popular now, lots of guys wear it down."
"That so?"
"Still, first meeting with the press—better open and refreshing than stuffy, don't you think?"
"Yeah, good. Put it up."
"Will do."
Knock-! Knock-!
Not much time left yet?
"Yes, be right there."
Creeeak—the door opened to reveal club owner Kyril Dreyfus. He spread his arms wide in greeting.
"I am a fool?! I love you—that's from Entertainment Weekly, right?"
"Oh Kyril! Bonjour~ Your pronunciation's improved massively already! Hahaha."
"I've been practicing diligently."
Kyril held something in his hands.
One's clearly a scarf.
"Anyway, Manager Han, you're still perfect as our club's face."
"Thank you. You're no slouch yourself, Kyril."
Emma greeted him.
"Hello, Mr. Owner!"
"Emma, right? Looking forward to this season."
"Of course! Naturally. By the way, do you know how relaxed the manager is right before filming? Not a hint of nerves. I'm the one shaking."
"Not true. Thinking about the infamous English press conference and meeting the players—I couldn't sleep a wink, and my hands are even trembling a bit."
Kyril and Emma almost shouted in unison.
"No way, liar!"
"Actually I couldn't sleep because I was excited."
"Knew it!"
Emma finished spreading the pomade and picked up the spray.
"Lodgings okay?"
"Absolutely. Love it!"
"Haha, anything inconvenient, just tell my secretary."
"Understood. By the way, less than ten minutes to the opening shoot—what brings you here?"
"Ah! I came to deliver good news and a gift for the manager."