Chapter 21

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Translator: Silver Dragon

Chapter: 21

Chapter Title: The EPL's Great Demon King We'll See Often From Now On

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The press was in a frenzy, and as always, I jumped right into the interviews with enthusiasm.

Facing down the rabid British media without flinching had paid off—now they all came knocking with smiles.

After the Southampton match, we played three more games. We scored four goals but unfortunately ran into Liverpool and lost narrowly.

But after that, we faced Charlton and Nottingham Forest, both scrapping in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the relegation zone alongside us.

Against Charlton, it was none other than Gattuso who blasted a long-range shot for a 1-0 win.

In the Nottingham Forest game, winger Kevin Gallagher stepped in for Wilcox after a long absence, teaming up with Kevin Davies. And once again, Yoo Sung-chul paired with Ian Wright to secure a 3-2 victory.

With that, we climbed to 12th in the league. Nottingham and Charlton were eventually confirmed for relegation, while Southampton ended up at 18th, teetering on the guillotine depending on the Coventry City vs. Wimbledon result.

And we still had one final big match left against a powerhouse to close out the season.

[Glory~ Glory~ Man United~]

A red tide swept through the quiet town of Blackburn.

Dozens of buses, pubs, and hotels overflowed with figures waving red jerseys and red flags.

It was the home clash against Manchester United.

FA Cup winners, Champions League finalists, and locked in a fierce Premier League title race with Arsenal—just three points ahead—they were finally here.

They'd been in town since the day before, hollering like the place was falling apart. Watching that, I pondered.

Did the revenue from all those Man U fans spending money outweigh the damages from drunken brawls and hooligan antics?

I barely slept a wink that night, and by morning, the town was a total wreck.

"Beer cups everywhere, vomit all over, and why the hell are the benches and lampposts smashed too?"

It was only Wednesday morning, so there must've been some massive ruckus at dawn.

I'd scheduled a late afternoon at the Daeyang Global office, so I focused on stadium duties first.

A few hours before kickoff, the roar of intense morning training piqued my curiosity.

I headed to the away team pitch to sneak a peek at United's squad.

"Hey!"

"?"

A gravelly voice, thick Scottish burr ringing in my ears.

"Who the hell are ye?"

Dealing with trade in Glasgow, I'd heard that accent from grizzled execs.

This old coach, over sixty, built like a tank with a towering frame past 180cm, fixed me with axe-sharp eyes as he approached.

Finally meeting the man in the flesh.

Alex Ferguson.

Man United's manager and heartbeat.

The Premier League's final boss was bearing down on me.

"Deaf, are ye? Why're ye skulkin' around while my lads train?"

"Ferguson? I'm Lee Dae-hyun, running Blackburn. Call me Mr. Lee."

"Never heard of ye."

"Haha, crack a newspaper once and you'd know."

Ferguson's eyes flashed as he sized me up slowly.

"The Asian businessman holdin' Jack Walker's shares and pullin' Rovers' strings?"

"That's me."

"Then yer the enemy. Tryin' to spy on my players? Piss off."

He was prickly as hell.

"Just wanted a look at Man U's world-class stars overflowing the Premier League."

"Need autographs? Get one after the match—if ye score on my team."

Confident bastard.

With the EPL treble in sight for his unbeatable squad, no one measured up.

"No points for Man U today, old man. Our team's unity is unbreakable."

"Blackburn's Blackburn, Rovers is Rovers, no matter what."

Damn, sharpened a saw on his tongue?

I left the master of trash talk, Alex Ferguson, and headed to our training pitch.

"Hey, Mr. Lee!"

Kenny Dalglish approached, and I recounted the exchange.

"Alex Ferguson ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was even rougher than I thought. That Glasgow growl chasing folks off."

"Hahaha, the old codger's a handful. Not all Scots are like that, mind."

I mimicked the accent on that last bit for Dalglish.

"Said we'd need to score on United first."

"Well then, we can't let United pop champagne in Ewood Park today."

With resolve hardened, Blackburn Rovers geared up.

We had Newcastle left, but this Man U clash was the season's true blockbuster.

No Roy Keane, Solskjaer, or Scholes, and it was still a monstrous lineup.

Seeing David Beckham shaking out his golden locks and Ryan Giggs with his bushy beard oozing macho vibes, I wondered if Rovers could handle those wings.

With 76 points atop the table, Man U faced distant 73-point Arsenal watchers as Blackburn kicked off.

Beckham-Giggs terrorized, but our Duff-Wilcox pushed back. Kevin Davies roamed upfront, Ian eyeing chances.

Bam!

Jaap Stam, the 190cm+ Dutch powerhouse, bulldozed straight into our heading target Kevin Davies, snatching the ball effortlessly.

He launched it forward like it was nothing.

Nicky Butt controlled centrally and fed Giggs.

"Hey, that—!"

Gattuso lunged for Butt but got picked off by one pass. The ball reached Giggs's feet.

That's when Yoo Sung-chul charged, starting a game of tag.

Sung-chul pursued relentlessly, but Giggs matched his blistering speed.

Gary Croft and Taylor swarmed; a collision finally stopped him, but Giggs's chipped ball before falling found Dwight Yorke.

A thunderous long shot.

John Filan barely clawed it away.

United kept pouring forward.

Defenders and mids never back-passed after cuts—they charged ahead in pure attack mode.

"Man U really were something back then..."

Ferguson's no-back-pass philosophy unleashed Giggs's dribbles and Beckham's razor crosses, tormenting our backline with Yorke and Cole.

Unpredictable flanks and central runs kept yielding dangerous shots.

"Urgh!"

Thwack!

In a heart-stopper, Yorke's blast ricocheted off the post.

"Dwight, you idiot! Quit ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠chasin' golden boot and look around!"

Ferguson, chewing gum calmly early on, exploded from his seat, face beet-red, bellowing.

One solid hit, and our defense would crumble—a terrifying onslaught.

Nearly 8-2 possession battle. Our Duff dribbles and Ian Wright chances emerged, but...

Whump!

Peter Schmeichel soared to deny the fierce shot.

Kasper was great in his prime, but dad Peter was another level.

He smothered our rare shots, punting to midfield.

Andy Cole and Dwight kept creating; we conceded in that half-court siege.

"Argh! Giggs!!!"

Ryan Giggs scored, ripping off his shirt to flaunt his apple-tree chest hair.

Halftime: 1-0 United.

Ferguson clapped post-whistle, strolling the pitch, smirking up at the VIP box.

Was he looking for me after earlier?

In the Blackburn locker room, Kenny Dalglish fired up the squad with a passionate face.

"Listen up! United's distracted by the Champs League final and Arsenal title fight. They bullied one in, but we can flip this!"

Dalglish addressed the team.

"Duff! Your dribbles match Giggs. Break through and battle."

"Kevin, good fight with Stam earlier. Ward, go harass Stam."

"Wilcox! Captain up, keep spirits high. Rino, hound Butt and Phil Neville. No Scholes, no Roy Keane—that's United."

One by one, Dalglish pumped morale.

As Yoo Sung-chul moved late, Dalglish grabbed him.

"Ryu!"

"Yes, boss!"

"If Giggs dribbles at you again, smash him head-on!"

"Giggs? Okay, got it!"

Halftime kicked off.

Second half kickoff—Blackburn pressed.

We met Giggs and Beckham charges head-on.

Bam!

Tweet!

Gattuso tackled Beckham mid-cross, sparking fury. Beckham charged.

"Shit! You bastard!"

"What? Bring it?"

Gattuso and Beckham collided; Giggs and Phil Neville pulled their guy, Yoo Sung-chul and David Dunn grabbed Gattuso.

Gattuso roared undaunted, even as Stam and Gary Neville closed in.

Chaos yielded Gattuso a yellow; Ferguson screamed for red.

Dalglish just grinned, applauding Gattuso with a thumbs-up.

Next surge: Irwin barreled into Sung-chul, toppling him.

Tweet!

Irwin raised hands claiming no intent, then hauled Sung-chul up forcibly.

Sung-chul silently brushed mud from his kit and passed to Wilcox.

Down 1-0, we grimly held against United's attacks, countering fiercely.

Stam glued Ian Wright tight, immobilizing him.

Sung-chul, taking Wilcox's pass, spotted both Ashley Ward and Ian marked. As Phil Neville slid in, he decided.

Full throttle—a K-League signature laundry-line screamer rocketed goalward.

Schmeichel dove desperately at that range.

Direction right, but the ball knuckled off the post, bounced in.

Rooooaaar!!!

Yoo Sung-chul's goal, kissing the inside of the post.

"That's it!"

Best signing ever.

This match was unforgettable.

Full time.

1-1 draw. One point off Man U.

But United players cheered?

"What the—?"

"Arsenal lost to Leeds. United clinch the title on their own."

"!"

Blackburn CEO John Williams grinned, offering a handshake.

"Well fought, Mr. Lee."

"Ha, haha!"

I shook, then beelined for their bus post-match.

Alex Ferguson looked sour-faced; his players kindly ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠signed for away fans despite it.

"Hey, hey!"

"!?"

I flashed one finger per hand: 1-1. Ferguson's scowl deepened.

"Great job today. Man U players, I'm Lee Dae-hyun, future Blackburn Rovers owner!"

"What?"

"Acting chairman?"

While they gawked, I dropped the line.

"Scouting for next season. Got 30 million pounds transfer budget ready!"

"Ignore him! Ears shut, sign for fans."

I whipped out my notebook, wading into fans to shove pen and pad at Beckham and Giggs.

Beckham stared baffled; Giggs took it and signed anyway.

A match full of meaning, a fitting season end.