Chapter 14
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Translator: Silver Dragon
Chapter: 14
Chapter Title: Vs Tottenham Hotspur
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Blackburn's current league standing.
16th out of 20 teams.
A home win against Leeds, followed by an away loss to Derby County—still clinging precariously to their position.
And the next match was against Tottenham Hotspur, that unforgettable name to Koreans.
"Facing Tottenham at home, right after Sherwood's transfer, no less."
I headed to the Ewood Park training ground ahead of the home game.
What especially caught my attention was Yoo Sung-chul.
Thump!
"Urk?!"
Yoo Sung-chul went tumbling from the monstrous body check unleashed by 191 cm Chris Sutton.
"Welcome to the EPL!"
Sutton tossed out the line as he blew past the rolling Yoo Sung-chul.
But Yoo sprang right back up and chased after Sutton with dogged tenacity.
His body was caked in dirt, battered and scraped everywhere, but he gritted his teeth and kept after him—pure grit.
"Once we got him here, he hustles hard all over the pitch."
"!?"
"His fundamentals are lacking. Typical third-world player—compensates for poor technique with his body."
Brian Kidd, the assistant manager, came up beside me and gave a cold assessment of Yoo Sung-chul.
"He'll adapt in time."
"If he sticks to the training program."
Thump!
"Oof!"
This time, Yoo Sung-chul collided with B-team Martin Taylor and went rolling again.
Yoo Sung-chul was a sturdy 184 cm and 78 kg himself, top-tier physically in the K-League.
But his opponent, Martin Taylor, was a 193 cm, 95 kg muscle-bound defender freshly promoted from the youth team.
Charging head-on against that was downright brave.
"This is the player we're grooming. Promoted from youth—just needs to sharpen his defensive smarts."
"Name's Taylor?"
"Martin Taylor."
With his absurd physicality, it was a shame to waste such talent. This local lad had stood out in the youth setup.
This was the Martin Taylor infamous for his EPL killer tackles.
"Go play ping-pong, Korean."
"!!!"
Ah, should I rough up that Taylor punk?
The trash talk lit a fire under Yoo Sung-chul, who shot to his feet.
And right after, Taylor's massive frame collided with another player.
This time, an A-team guy under 180 cm went tumbling—but unlike Yoo, he charged straight at Taylor.
"F***! Where'd you learn soccer, you bastard?"
"Hey, hey, hey! Stop!"
True to form, Gattuso just barreled in and grabbed Taylor by the collar.
Even Martin Taylor, afraid of nothing, flinched when the head-shorter Gattuso came at him like a rabid dog. Wilcox, Duff, Kevin Davies, Sutton, and others rushed in to pull them apart.
"You beanpole bastard! Tackle like that one more time, and you're dead meat!"
Gattuso's face flushed red as he lunged again, making Taylor shrink back.
Gattuso then brushed the dirt off the staggering Yoo Sung-chul from all the collisions and gestured for him to get into position.
Man, it'd be something if those two crossed paths in the 2002 World Cup.
The intense training wrapped up, and everyone was catching their breath with sports drinks.
As they started heading home one by one, one guy remained.
"Mr. Ryu, training's over."
"I'm staying for more."
"You need to pace your stamina."
"I feel too far behind."
At Yoo's insistence on extra solo drills to the end, Dalglish smirked and called over the coaching staff.
"What do you do with a stubborn fool who won't rest when told? Guess we gotta grind him till he tastes like sugar, huh?"
And so Yoo Sung-chul stayed late into the night for individual drills, starting from the basics.
Premier League Round 23.
Blackburn Rovers vs Tottenham Hotspur.
Ewood Park.
Rooooar— Roooooooar—
[Sherwood, you traitor bastard!]
[You abandoning Rovers like Shearer?]
[Traitor who fled to London—drop dead!]
The 30,000 home fans welcomed Tim Sherwood with a deafening barrage of boos and thick vitriol.
Less than a month after his transfer, Sherwood faced Blackburn again.
And on our side, we'd brought Gattuso and Yoo Sung-chul.
Yoo Sung-chul on the bench. Central midfield with Gattuso-Marcolini as the Italian double volante.
We'd pushed for striker Matt Jansen at 4 million pounds, but with Davies in form...
Tottenham had Ginola and Sherwood in the center, Sol Campbell anchoring defense, and Stephen Iversen up top with Chris Armstrong.
Tweeeeeet—
Kickoff, and the match was underway.
Both sides in 4-4-2 long-ball football, hoofing it aimlessly while trading brutal tackles to disrupt possession.
Thump!
"Ugh!"
After 30 minutes of back-and-forth, Duff opted for a dribble breakthrough instead of a cross, charging right to the penalty line.
"That's it, Duff! You settle this..."
As Duff wound up to shoot, a black powerhouse defender slid in with a tackle.
"Gah!"
Tweeeeeet—
Sol Campbell, Tottenham's heart and captain, had slid just outside the box.
He stood with hands up, while Duff clutched his leg.
"Hey, you bastard! You crazy?"
"What? What's this Italian on about?"
Gattuso was first in, jawing at Sol Campbell. In seconds, Tottenham and Blackburn players clashed in chaos.
Gattuso charged like he was Blackburn's franchise star, leading the fray. His relentless pressing from midfield, never backing down in intimidation—exactly the glue the team needed.
The scuffle ended in a free kick. Jason Wilcox prepped to take it.
Leg injury had him hobbling, but just one big one. Come on, one massive...
Wilcox sprinted up and smashed it. The ball arced perfectly into the net.
"Yes!!!"
The 30,000 fans erupted, crushing Tottenham's momentum.
Yeah, take down Tottenham and climb, Blackburn!
After Wilcox's first-half free-kick goal, the match stayed a fierce slugfest.
Thump!
Tweeeeeet—
"This bastard for real!"
"What? What?!"
Tim Sherwood crumpled from Martin Taylor's body check, then jumped up furious—as the Blackburn fans' boos intensified.
"Traitors pay big."
"Punk kid!"
The youth-promoted Martin Taylor showed no mercy to Blackburn's long-time legend Sherwood.
Sherwood ground his teeth and attacked again.
61st minute of the second half.
Sherwood dribbled past Taylor this time and lofted a huge cross.
Tottenham's main gun Iversen leaped like a gymnast and headed it home.
Goal.
"Arrrgh!"
A cry of anguish echoed from the VIP box where the acting owner sat.
And from the bench, a shadow watched it all.
"Ahh..."
Yoo Sung-chul clenched his fists, eyes glued to the pitch.
Before the game, he'd gotten cheers from the Korean correspondents gathered in Europe.
'Yoo Sung-chul, Korea's first Premier Leaguer.'
'We're all set up. Score one, please.'
'Forty million watching. We'll film you awesome—get on the pitch.'
He wanted to play.
Sure, training hadn't impressed, and this soccer was worlds apart from what he'd known.
But he had to get in somehow.
He always arrived first to training, left last from matches.
He ran till his body broke in practice games, till his heart burst and legs gave out—pure running.
Now 1-1 after the second-half equalizer. 75th minute ticking down—maybe not today.
Then assistant Brian Kidd urgently told Kenny Dalglish.
"Wilcox can't hold. He'll collapse completely."
"Hand the armband to Sutton and sub him. Mr. Ryu."
"!?"
"Warm up. Time to feel what the EPL's really like."
Yoo Sung-chul bolted up and started warming.
Tweeeeeet—
Blackburn captain No. 11 Wilcox limped off; No. 25 Yoo Sung-chul entered.
"Give it your all, Korean."
Sutton fastened the armband in his place. Yoo Sung-chul finally stepped onto the pitch.
[What's with that Asian?]
[The one the acting owner dragged in?]
[Hey, mate! Do us proud—who knows if you're Chinese or Jap!]
Amid the fans' shouts from all sides, Yoo Sung-chul thought of his family, the World Cup, the fans—and stepped up.
Tweeeeeet—
In the time left, Yoo Sung-chul ran like a madman.
"Gap there..."
Sherwood targeted the hole left by Wilcox, but Yoo Sung-chul chased like lightning.
Sherwood shook him off easily and floated the ball central.
Thud—
Bam!
"Where?!"
Gattuso leaped from midfield for a header clear. Yoo Sung-chul dashed for the loose ball, but Tottenham midfielder Darren Anderton was quicker.
Whack—
Anderton kneed Yoo Sung-chul in the gut while stealing the ball.
Yoo Sung-chul gasped for air, but no whistle—the ref played on.
The gut shot choked him. J-League would've been a foul; this was a warzone.
"Ryu!"
'Fall here... and I'm done forever.'
Fueled by rage, he staggered up and ran.
Henchoz and Taylor swooped in for the clear.
Yoo Sung-chul's ordeal continued.
Elbow to the forehead, rear tackle shredding his calf—he teetered on collapse.
Echoes haunted his ears.
'Too rough for the EPL.'
'Ryu, you're decent in Asia, but to survive here? Double down.'
*Ptui.*
Yoo Sung-chul spat blood-tinged saliva and clenched his teeth.
'I'll show you why I'm here.'
Time slipped away.
90th minute gone; 3 minutes added.
"Everyone up! Go! Go!"
Yoo Sung-chul bolted on Dalglish's call.
Duff surged central through packed defense. Davies and Sutton battled Tottenham backline, muscling in.
Thwack!
The last desperate cross, lofted hard.
A bit short. Sutton chested it down, twisted, and rolled—as Gattuso and Davies converged.
Davies got there first, recalling van Basten's lesson.
He unleashed full force. The shot cannoned off the post.
As Sol Campbell lifted his foot to clear...
Suddenly, a bleach-blond Asian hurled his body at the ball.
"Urk?!"
Campbell inwardly screamed— that madman diving headfirst as he cleared? One slip, and it'd be a head instead of ball. Disaster.
The airborne ball kissed Yoo Sung-chul's head before Campbell's foot.
Grazing his occiput...
It bounced off the turf into the net.
Tweeeeeeeeeet—
In the dying moments, Blackburn Rovers' miraculous winner.
The final whistle blew: Blackburn 2-1 Tottenham.