Chapter 35
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Translator: Silver Dragon
Chapter: 35
Chapter Title: Arsenal and Leeds Doubleheader
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Having wrapped up business in Korea, I returned to England.
When I arrived at Manchester International Airport, not only were employees from our company there, but a swarm of reporters as well.
"Mr. Lee, welcome back to England."
"Have you heard? United's allowed Henning Berg to transfer to Blackburn."
Ah, that's the story.
No wonder. Dalglish had been saying the defense was collapsing, and Berg would be a huge boost as emergency reinforcement.
"Besides Henning Berg, any other signings planned for the winter window this season?"
I answered the question.
"If a good player comes along."
"You're maintaining a miraculous position this season—are you already thinking about international competitions?"
"Of course, folks from the press. How many times have I said it? We're stockpiling strength for world-class signings next season!"
"Just who are you planning to bring in that you keep calling 'world-class'?"
"Are you seriously going to snag Zinedine Zidane, the one you missed out on before?"
Laughter erupted from all around, and I waved as I got into the car.
Then we kicked off Henning Berg's signing ceremony, posing together with the Blackburn kit.
"Do your best."
"Back with my hometown team, so I'll work even harder."
And with that, we secured Henning Berg in the winter transfer window and geared up for the next match.
An away game at Highbury Stadium.
We had to face Arsenal in London.
Facing Arsenal, who sat third in the league, the media's take was unanimous.
Kevin Phillips vs Thierry Henry: Who's the EPL's Top Striker This Season?
Arsène Wenger: 'We'll definitely nab Blackburn and chase Man United to the end in the title race—then overtake them.'
Arsenal had sold Anelka to Real Madrid this season and brought in Thierry Henry from Juventus.
They repositioned the wing forward Henry as a central striker, and his potential exploded.
And partnering with Henry was Davor Šuker, the Croatian legend signed from Real Madrid.
From the VIP seats, watching Croatia's Davor Šuker warming up brought a flood of thoughts.
"The cornerstone of Croatia's World Cup semi-final miracle in France, and..."
Back in Korea, the 'certain someone' involved in the Busan acquisition kept calling him his 'best friend in the football world,' dropping his name constantly.
Guess I should see what he's got.
Tweet—
Arsenal kicked off with an attack.
Gennaro Gattuso, ever reliable like a bowl of hearty soup this season, and Paul Ince stepped in for Parker, who'd slumped since Boxing Day, to face Arsenal's forwards.
Ray Parlour and Ljungberg broke down the flanks, while Vieira moved centrally, Arsenal's tactic to press hard early with physicality.
Arsenal was famed for their beautiful, pretty passing soccer, but with Vieira on the pitch, a heavy hammer lurked beneath the elegance.
Thwack—
Tweet!
A collision between Vieira and Paul Ince sent the ref sprinting over to yellow Vieira.
Today, Vieira charged like a hulking tank every time Arsenal pushed forward centrally, cutting plays left and right.
And every time he sprayed a pass, Thierry Henry was the one latching onto it.
"Whoa!?"
Henry, just hitting his stride this season, was genuinely menacing.
Overwhelming speed and his signature dribble blew past Yoo Sung-chul and Gattuso, who couldn't keep up and got pushed back.
Henning Berg and Stéphane Henchoz, making their debuts today, tried to block, but Henry shrugged off Henchoz and fired a shot before Berg could react.
GOAL!!!!!!
"Damn, that guy's..."
His left-footed strike, shrugged past Henchoz, evaded Schmeichel's fingertips and bulged the net.
Henry celebrated smugly, kissing his fingers and pointing at the scoreboard replay.
The press had hyped Phillips vs. Henry, stressing him out, and Wenger had stepped in to defend him, apparently.
Henry wrapped up his payback celebration.
Kickoff again.
This time James Beattie and Kevin Phillips pushed forward, Shaun breaking through.
With Damien Duff out hamstring-injured, Gareth Barry filled the left wing, covering with work rate and physical battles instead of dribbles—but Vieira snuffed them out, spraying dangerous passes.
As the towering Vieira ramped up the tempo, Henry broke through again.
"No, don't—!"
Swish—
Henry feinted a shot before passing; Šuker latched on and slotted home.
The defense had been toyed with.
"Damn it!!!"
Halftime: 2-0.
Plenty of time left, but it felt like a backdoor goal away from disaster.
"You rookies won't get past me."
Vieira exuded a totally different aura from Roy Keane in the United game—overwhelming physicality and footwork belying his size cut everything down.
Gattuso and Ince clung to him, but with partner Petit and flanker Ljungberg piling on, it was like facing three at once.
In times like these, you needed a dribble to pierce the giants—but post-Duff, all the flair fell to Shaun Wright-Phillips.
A 168cm bullet of a kid couldn't bust through their physical wall.
That's when Dalglish yelled from the bench.
"Ryu! Attacking!"
"!"
Orders for right-back Yoo Sung-chul to push forward instead of defending.
With Shaun struggling solo, send the physical Yoo ahead to overlap—and Dalglish raised the line.
As both wing-backs surged, Vieira smirked.
'Just as the gaffer predicted.'
Pummel them early, then when attacks stall, Dalglish raises the line.
Arsène Wenger had pegged Dalglish's rigid long-ball 4-4-2 as turning to chaotic charges when pinned back—and here it was.
Vieira handed off the back to Petit and charged forward.
They were all-up; one cut and pass to Henry or Šuker made it 3-0.
The moment he moved, Yoo Sung-chul barreled in.
"!"
The right-back cut centrally, shrugging him off toward the right—then Shaun surged with the ball.
Petit chased from behind, but he whipped in a cross; James Beattie met it.
Thud—
But Wenger, knowing Beattie's header-target tactic, had Martin Keown up to win the aerial duel and foul him.
No whistle; as they scrambled, Kevin Phillips snatched it first.
"Oh no!"
Phillips rifled a mid-ranger right away; David Seaman had no chance.
"That's it! Goal!"
Pumping my fists, my heart raced with the comeback strike.
After Henry's goal, Phillips jabbed a finger at Arsenal's attack, strutting Highbury's pitch like he owned it.
Halftime: 2-1.
One more goal. Just one!
Kickoff; Vieira drove forward himself.
Left Henry, right Šuker leading; this time Henchoz took Henry, Berg on Šuker.
As right-back Yoo helped bind Henry, he passed sideways instead of breaking.
Thud—
But Henning Berg nicked it quick and hoofed it long.
The ball clanged in midfield; as Vieira scrambled back, Paul Ince switched left.
Gareth Barry took it, but Dixon charged; Barry fed Gattuso, dragging possession.
Gattuso, brimming with confidence against anyone, bulldozed into Petit.
Petit down, but Keown's tackle tripped Gattuso too.
Tweet—
"Perfect!"
Even better.
Free kick just outside the box.
Petit clutched his head in despair at the prime spot; Keown, no yellow but on wall duty.
Kicker Gareth Barry stepped up, curling his trademark left with power.
The ball arced high; Beattie charged, but Silvestre and Petit yanked him to spoil the jump.
But it flicked right off the wall—Shaun Wright-Phillips controlled the dropping pass.
Kevin Phillips again, taking Beattie's layoff.
Seaman rushed out, but Phillips chipped past him into the empty net.
"Yessssss!!!"
44th minute.
Lightning equalizer to 2-2.
Phillips flashed two fingers at Henry, one on the other hand.
His two goals to Henry's one today.
On the bench, Wenger's furrowed brow twisted deeper, hawk-faced fury roaring at his players.
"Grab the points at Highbury, Rovers!"
I clapped, cheering the team on.