[Official Site] Sunderland Appoints Han Shin as Manager — Official
A few days earlier, while Han Shin was still staying at the hotel, a text message had landed on his phone.
Of course I know.
In an age of smartphones and computers, promoting a player’s or manager’s arrival had become non-negotiable. With transfer fees casually blowing past ten billion won these days, clubs even rolled out CGI to produce trailers that looked like Hollywood movie teasers. That was the trend.
The one that still sticks in my head is Alexis Sánchez’s Manchester United unveiling, right?
The Chilean legend of a striker walking out while a piano played “Glory Glory Man United.” The thumbs-up Sánchez meme flashed through Han Shin’s mind. Back at Barcelona they used to call him the “Messi-less King” — when Messi wasn’t there, Sánchez reigned. After Arsenal he had joined United on a weekly wage of a staggering seven hundred million won.
Yet at United he managed just two goals and four assists in twenty-seven appearances, earning the fans’ scornful label of “freeloader.” They joked he treated his wages like a meal — gobbled them down and let out a long, satisfied burp — so they crowned him the “Burp King.” Shirt number 7, wage of seven hundred million: the wordplay practically wrote itself — “Seventy-Seven Hundred Million.”
“Pfft…”
The meme had faded with time, but that official video was still talked about years later for how epic it looked.
“And now I’m the one shooting an official video like that?”
How could he not feel a thrill?
Still, unless you’re a big-name manager, don’t they usually keep it pretty bare-bones?
Emily’s messages continued.
A single brilliant idea sparked in Han Shin’s mind.
Wearing a hanbok.
He saved her number and replied at once.
Thirty minutes of video call later, it was over.
Emily can chatter nonstop all by herself — pure marketer through and through. Only one thing bothers me…
“Have you ever ridden a horse?” she had asked.
“A horse? No.”
“Then look forward to the day!”
“You’re not planning to put me on a horse, are you?”
“It’s a secret~ I’ll send the concept art~”
And that was that — she had said everything she wanted to say and hung up.
Even now.
Thump-! Thump-! Thump-!
Two women were hammering on the door.
“It’s embarrassing, so just put the pants on and I’ll open it!”
“No! That’s exactly what makes it good!”
“How does it look?”
As Shin turned a full circle, the purple-and-black durumagi swirled and fluttered with a soft rustle. He was dressed head to toe in a handmade hanbok set — jeogori, baeja, and even a gat for the finishing touch.
“Is this traditional Korean clothing? It’s absolutely beautiful.”
“In Korean we call it a hanbok.”
The foreigners seeing a hanbok for the first time broke into applause at its beauty.
I almost never get the chance to wear one, but it does look sharp.
Speakman in particular was fascinated.
“Han-voo-bog?”
“Han. Bok.”
“Han. Bok. Is that right?”
“Perfect.”
“Tricky pronunciation. Do Korean people wear this every day?”
“No. These days you almost never see anyone walking around in a hanbok. It’s traditional formal wear.”
“And the hat? Never seen anything like it — totally cool and edgy.”
“In Korean this hat is called a gat.”
“God?”
“Same pronunciation.”
Kyril ran his fingers over the sleeve.
“I see. The fabric is so ornate. Did kings wear this?”
“The cut differed a little, but everyone from the king down to commoners wore hanbok.”
How long has it been since I last put one on? I almost went overboard and ordered a gonryongpo, but that would’ve been too much, right?
“I’d like to order one myself.”
Emily flashed a mischievous smile.
“If the chairman wants one, I can arrange a custom order.”
“Oh, really?”
“Of course!”
Han Shin made a suggestion.
“Kyril, since you’re the chairman, if you’re going to wear a hanbok you should try a gonryongpo.”
“What’s that? Another type of hanbok?”
“The royal robe you mentioned earlier. Usually bright red with dragons embroidered on it — one look and the king’s majesty hits you.”
Kyril shook his head.
“Oh là là~! Wouldn’t a Frenchman get roasted for wearing that?”
“When you visit Korea, want to try a matching set with me? It’ll look great on you.”
Emily made a note on her tablet.
“I completely agree with Manager Han. And more importantly…”
She rubbed her thumb and forefinger together.
“The merch revenue would be delicious!”
“If both of you insist, I’ll consider it. Emily is one of my most trusted staff, after all.”
A crew member hurried them along.
“Alright, time to head to the open lot for the official video shoot~”
Emily linked her arm through Han Shin’s.
The manager’s pretty muscular, isn’t he? Sexy. And we get along so well!
Hiiiiiiing—!
Clip-clop, clip-clop~
Prff, prff
The animal stamping its hooves, white mane and tail swishing, was a horse.
“That’s a good boy~ Sunlight.”
England was the birthplace of countless sports beyond football — tennis, golf, rugby, hockey, rowing, even badminton. Among them was the sport beloved by royalty, by Sir Alex Ferguson (one of the all-time managerial GOATs), and by Wayne Rooney of the “barrel dribble”: horse racing, the aristocrats’ pastime.
When Britain’s biggest celebrities ended up as racehorse owners, you could truly call it a nation of horses. Even in London you regularly saw mounted police. The Changing of the Guard at Whitehall was worth seeing at least once.
And yet…
“You seriously want me to ride a horse?”
“Why, scared?”
“Scared is one thing — horseback riding? This is surreal.”
Especially while wearing a full-set hanbok complete with durumagi.
“I looked up the origin of your name, you know. Han Shin — after the Chinese general, right? And your nickname Hannibal comes from Hannibal Barca of Carthage, correct?”
“That’s right.”
“Question: what does a general ride~~~?”
“A horse?”
“Bingo! Honestly I wanted to airlift an elephant for Hannibal, so count yourself lucky it’s just a horse.”
“Haa… fine. I’ll ride. You’re impossible.”
Shin approached the horse and its owner.
“Pleasure to meet you. I’m Manager Han Shin. What’s this fellow’s name again?”
The owner stroked the white horse’s back.
“Sunlight.”
“Not aggressive, is he?”
“Not at all — he’s a real softie. Here.”
The friendly-looking owner handed Han Shin a carrot.
“Let’s take a minute to get acquainted before you mount. Try gently offering the carrot near his mouth.”
If I’m doing this anyway… ah, what the hell.
“Sunlight~ Looking forward to working with you today.”
Crunch-crunch
Sunlight eagerly devoured the carrot, then lowered his head and nudged closer.
“Our Sunlight is usually friendly with people, but he seems to have accepted you especially fast, Manager.”
“You mean the kind of acceptance where he’s fine with me climbing on his back? Hahaha.”
“Exactly. He’s asking for a stroke. Give his mane a gentle pet, would you?”
When Shin softly ran his hand through the mane, Sunlight bent one knee slightly.
The coat’s incredibly soft, but the muscle underneath is solid. Now that I look, he’s a handsome one.
“He’s ready to ride already. I’ll help you up into the saddle.”
With the groom’s assistance, Han Shin — gat still on his head — swung lightly onto the horse’s back.
“Feet in the stirrups.”
“How does it look?”
Applause erupted from the entire broadcast crew on site. Emma and Emily cheered.
“You look amazing, Manager!”
The groom clapped too.
“Impressive. Beginners usually struggle to mount cleanly on the first try, yet your legs closed so naturally. Have you ridden before?”
“No, first time. Must be because he’s a thoroughbred — and you’ve trained him well.”
“Hahaha, thank you. Toes up, yes — now make a fist and take the reins.”
“Like this?”
“Perfect.”
The groom took the front of the reins.
“To start, press gently with your heels against his flanks. Or give two light taps — tap-tap.”
Han Shin lightly tapped the horse’s side with his heels.
“Irya!”
“What?”
“Ah~ that’s how we signal in Korea.”
“So you have ridden before. No beginner mounts this easily. Shall I let go?”
“Just a second!”
Clip-clop- clip-clop-!
“I’m… okay?”
“You’ve got rhythm, Manager. To turn, just apply pressure on the reins. Pull hard and he’ll stop, so be careful.”
They rode from the stadium entrance all the way out along Millennium Way.
“Irya! Irya!”
My backside is bouncing and it stings a little. Still pretty fun, though?
Once he found his balance, Shin waved casually at the cameras.
The groom spoke to Emily.
“He’s already riding so well — one more lap and you can start shooting right away.”
Emily grabbed a portable megaphone from the crew.
“Manager~ One more lap and we roll!”
“Got it~!”
Durumagi streaming behind him, Shin circled the parking lot once more and returned to the green-screen set prepared for CGI work.
Emily shaded her eyes with one hand and looked up at him.
“You look just like a general~!”
“Thank you. Unexpected general treatment feels pretty good. Want a turn?”
“I’ll pass~”
Still, after this much hype, if I get sacked it’ll leave a mark on football history. People will talk about it for a good ten years.
“Shin! Which general is the most famous in Korea?”
Ninety-nine percent of Koreans would name the same great man without hesitation.
“Without question, Admiral Yi Sun-sin.”
“Yi Sun-sin…”
Shin held up an open palm toward Emily.
“Ah! Even so, if you’re thinking of using Admiral Yi’s name for marketing, please stop.”
Emily asked back,
“May I ask why?”
“I haven’t achieved anything yet. Borrowing the name of a national hero would feel disrespectful.”
I’d probably get cursed out six ways from Sunday.
“Ah~ understood. If that’s how you feel. What about when you win the Premier League?”
“Then maybe I’ll dare to borrow it once.”
“Deal! And this!”
“That’s… a sword?”
“Yep, a sword. It’s a prop, so you won’t cut yourself on the blade.”
“Whoa…”
Shin drew the sword and examined it.
“Damn~ this looks badass.”
He snapped a selfie.
“I’ll take it for you! Hand it over.”
“Thanks.”
Emily switched to selfie mode and took several shots that included her own face.
“Strike a pose.”
They held a full photo session worthy of a star’s Instagram.
A short while later the photographer and director argued over angles, finally compromised, and started giving Shin directions.
“Alright~ look this way~ and raise your arm a little.”
Click- click-
“Great~ Can we get the front hooves up? Like Napoleon. Trainer, is that possible?”
The trainer gave instructions.
“Manager, when I give the signal, give the reins a light pull.”
Shin nodded. The trainer moved to the horse’s front, holding a carrot slightly above eye level.
“One, two, three!” On the trainer’s cue Shin pulled the reins.
“Uh~~ uh!!! Shit!!”
The horse lifted its head toward the carrot and naturally reared its front hooves. In that instant the camera flashes exploded.
“Yes! Perfect!”
“Good boy, Sunlight, good boy. Hoo… thought I was gonna die.”
The director shouted,
“One last shot! This time, Manager, raise the sword higher. Watch your expression!”
Han Shin nodded, face tight with concentration.
Holding the horse’s pose while striking his own looked anything but easy, yet—
“Let’s go, Sunlight!”
On the trainer’s signal the horse reared again.
Han Shin set a stern expression and thrust the sword high as shutter after shutter fired.
“Flawless! In thirty years I’ve never photographed a manager like this!”
The photographer wore a look of pure satisfaction.
“You can dismount now!”
Shin hopped down lightly and stroked the mane of the horse he had already befriended.
“Thanks, Sunlight. We got some killer shots thanks to you.”
Hiiiiiiing-!!
A rough tongue licked his face, tickling him.
“Yeah, yeah. Next time I see you I’ll be holding a trophy.”
“Pfft, do you speak horse?”
After the shoot Emma brought a towel and Emily a water bottle.
“Great work! These are going to be legendary photos!”
Shin cracked the bottle open and gulped the water down.
“I busted my ass, so I hope the results are worth it.”
Emma wiped the sweat from his forehead.
“Thanks. But Emma, aren’t you off the clock?”
“The makeup I worked so hard on is already smudged. I have to fix it.”
“Service is excellent. You suffered in the blazing sun because of me, so I’ll make sure you get a tip today.”
“I’m fine! I do this because I enjoy it.”
“Don’t refuse — take it when it’s offered.”
“Instead of a tip… then dinner… Ack!!! What are you doing!”
Emily had “accidentally” stepped on her with a high-heeled shoe.
“Oh, sorry! I misstepped! Are you okay?”
“You did that on purpose!”
“No I didn’t — why would I?”
From a distance Kyril walked over, holding up his phone to show the photo already uploaded to the official site.
“This is the coolest, handsomest manager photo I’ve ever seen!”
“It’s already up?”
“Updated on the official site. You’re officially the manager now.”
“Congratulations, Manager!”
Pop! Pop!
Emma and Emily set off the modest party poppers they had stashed in their pockets.
“Thank you. Thank you. I still can’t believe I’m actually the manager.”
Shin rubbed his hands together in anticipation.
“Shall we head straight to the locker room? I can’t wait to meet the players.”
Director Speakman corrected him.
“The players aren’t in the locker room right now — they’re doing individual sessions and warming up on the training ground.”
“Then let’s go to the training ground.”
Emily snatched the sword from Shin’s hand.
“Manager! Your schedule is still packed.”
“What’s left?”
“Photos on the pitch, another set in the stands, then back-to-back BBC and Sky Sports inauguration interviews. And while the players matter, you also need to greet our facilities staff.”
“Ah. I should visit the canteen, tour the training facilities, and introduce myself to the coaches too.”
“Plus the youth academy, and you have to visit the women’s team as well.”
“So today’s just one long day of introductions.”
“Exactly. We need to make it crystal clear who’s the boss of this club.”
“Boss? We’re not the mafia.”
“Manager, you do know, right?”
“Know what?”
“The press conference. A ton of journalists applied. There won’t be room to stand in the press room.”
“Well… that sounds exciting.”
Emily shook her head hard.
“Be careful. British journalists are nastier than you can imagine. They’ll be itching to tear into you.”
Kyril’s face twisted the moment the word “journalists” came up.
“Useless trash that contributes nothing to society. Pure garbage.”
Even this golden boy has been hounded by the press, huh. Makes sense — the Durants are famous. Hack journalists are the same everywhere.
A press conference, huh…