Chapter 11

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Translator: Silver Dragon

Chapter: 11

Chapter Title: One Italian Midfielder, One Dutch Coach, and One from Korea...

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I left Gattuso's house after receiving some excellent hospitality.

While waiting, I had divided up the money I'd exchanged into dollars and handed out envelopes to the staff at the Italian office.

"This is a special bonus."

"No, Vice Chairman."

"The wine business went well, and the additional football-related requests turned out great too. We need to compensate for the extra work."

This time, the Italian office staff had meticulously gathered data on every Serie A team and pulled in info through journalists and agents, making everything fall into place perfectly.

"Thank you, Vice Chairman."

"While you're in Italy, build some rapport with agents and journalists. Soon, we'll be handling player contracts worth tens to hundreds of millions of dollars."

Manager Jeong's eyes widened at that.

"Of course, we'll prepare generous incentives for it."

"Yes, Vice Chairman."

Honestly, this deal only worked because Gattuso was still a kid. Back then, family, managers, or even neighborhood friends often handled negotiations directly.

If history played out as it should and Gattuso went to Milan, he'd get a professional agent from then on, and the haggling would get brutal.

I called Dalglish to let him know.

"We've successfully signed Gattuso."

[Oh, really?]

I told him how I'd been invited to Gattuso's home, shared stories about his family, and even mentioned that his father-in-law was now the head chef for the Blackburn squad.

[Diet adjustments and stadium food ventures—cut back on booze and fried stuff for the lads, get 'em hooked on Italian cuisine, and it'll be fine.]

"Sounds good. Then we should head to the Netherlands and bring back someone who can rewire our strikers' mindsets."

[Van Basten, right?]

"Yes, I've already set up the meeting."

Marco van Basten, the Swan of Utrecht, three-time Ballon d'Or winner.

Later, he'd coach Ajax and the Dutch national team, but I'd bring him to Blackburn as our strikers' coach.

Sure, no official coaching license, but this era allowed temporary hires under a manager's guarantee.

And Van Basten was legendary for doubling strikers' goal tallies with just a few stern words—pure magic.

"Great. The second half of the season looks promising."

[One more player request, if I may?]

"What is it? As long as it's not some academy kid who can kick a ball."

I'd wanted to scoop up all those teenage prospects who'd explode in 5-6 years, but UEFA labor laws killed that.

England's rule was 'over 16,' but poaching unregistered youth from other clubs got you branded a pirate and blacklisted.

Anyway, prospects could wait for the right timing. What I wanted was one thing.

"I'd like to sign one Korean player. That okay?"

[Korean? No offense, but even if it's your national team player, does Premier League quality even exist there?]

Dalglish's brutally realistic take only fueled my conviction.

"I'll bring in a player the manager will love."

[Fine, since it's Mr. Lee's budget. But remember one thing: I respect you, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠but I won't carry a Korean player who doesn't meet my standards to the end.]

"Of course."

With the call wrapped up, I set my plan in motion for that one Korean signing.

Utrecht, Netherlands.

I'd returned here on my way back to England after wrapping up in Italy.

A tall Dutchman fresh off a round of golf at the Utrecht course spotted me and greeted me warmly.

"Mr. Lee?"

"Yes, that's me."

"Long trip—must've been tough. Coffee?"

Van Basten spoke bluntly and straightforwardly, heading straight to the golf lounge.

As he ordered coffee, he got right to it.

"You've come to see me twice now, so this coffee's on me. But your offer? I'll politely decline."

"!"

Van Basten shrugged, swirling his coffee cup.

"After wrecking my ankle and retiring in '95, I swore off football forever. That resolve still holds."

"Marco, isn't it a shame for football's Leonardo da Vinci to vanish from history without training even one successor?"

"I'm not thinking about my future in football, and I don't have a coaching license."

"We can sort that out. Excuse me, but do you know Blackburn Rovers?"

"The English teams I know are Arsenal, Newcastle, Manchester United, and Chelsea."

Mentioning Newcastle meant he knew Ruud Gullit, his close friend, was the manager there.

"Too bad. If Marco came to Blackburn, your buddy Ruud Gullit would be thrilled."

"!"

"Of the old Dutch Orange trio, Rijkaard coaches the national team, Gullit's at Newcastle. Couldn't Marco van Basten start as a coach, molding strikers on a team where a season goal is a miracle?"

Van Basten downed his coffee, lost in thought.

A random EPL bottom-feeder pitch from a stranger? No interest. But dropping Rijkaard and Gullit hit a nerve.

"What about my coaching license?"

"As I said, it'll come under the manager's temporary endorsement."

"When do I start?"

"Right now, if you come with me. I'm the COO with full authority at Rovers."

"Unbelievable..."

Van Basten drained the rest of his coffee, looked to the sky, and chuckled.

"Guess I owe the coffee after all. This lounge chat might go down in history."

"England, huh... Any good Italian spots there?"

I stifled a laugh at Van Basten—who clearly dreaded British food—and replied.

"There's an amazing Italian chef named Mario Romano. I hired him as our players' dedicated head chef."

"Deal. But contract's till season's end. If it doesn't work, I'm out anytime."

I extended my hand to seal the agreement.

Just like that, Gattuso as player, Van Basten as coach—secured.

"Everyone, the Swan of Utrecht—three-time Ballon d'Or winner—has come to save Blackburn Rovers!"

After Gattuso's signing ceremony, Marco van Basten—wearing a Blackburn cap and windbreaker—waved to the press alongside him.

Even four years post-retirement, this Euro 1988-winning Dutch legend, three-time Ballon d'Or recipient, FIFA World Player of the Year, Golden Shoe winner, and eight-time top scorer across leagues and internationals shocked the world as Blackburn's new coach.

"Mr. Lee! How did you get Marco van Basten here?"

"Who knows? Guess our passion to lead Rovers to glory got through."

"Sherwood out, Gattuso in; coaching staff bolstered with Van Basten and Ian Porterfield, the wild man post-Bolton. Any more transfer targets?"

"One Korean superstar."

"!?"

Reporters exchanged stunned glances before firing questions.

"In front of a Dutchman, from the team we thrashed 5-0 in last year's World Cup?"

Laughter rippled through the crowd.

"Mr. Lee, we get the patriotism, but does Korea have a Cha Bum these days?"

Yeah, to them, Korea's football legacy starts and ends with the '70s-'80s Bundesliga legend Cha Bum.

But mark my words: Korea would soon produce hordes of Premier Leaguers.

And I'd deliver the first one in '99—faster than Park Ji-sung or Lee Young-pyo!

"Good for Rovers' Asian marketing. Uniform sales might tick up."

"You there, what's your name?"

I pointed out the older white reporter who'd snarked about the 5-0 and kits.

"Tony Stone, Sky Sports' Blackburn beat writer."

"Listen up, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Tony—this isn't some tourist who can't play. I'm bringing a core player who'll power Rovers."

"Sure, sure~ If there's ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a Korean with that talent, by all means. Hit a real star, and I'll dedicate a full feature column at season's end."

"Deal. Rest of you, take note: I'm fetching a Korean talent that's out of this world."

The reporters, scenting blood, snapped photos furiously, scribbled notes, and grinned like wolves.

Lately, Blackburn stories seemed more about me than players or the manager. Make the most of it.

Spread the name of me and Daeyang far and wide.

Let them know I'm the real savior of Blackburn.