Chapter 38
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Translator: Silver Dragon
Chapter: 38
Chapter Title: EFL Cup Final
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Coca-Cola Cup, Rumbelows Cup, Capital One Cup, Carabao Cup... It had been called by many sponsor names over the years, but right now, it was the Worthington Cup.
Anyway, the League Cup final was fast approaching.
With the Wembley showdown on the horizon, I was holed up in my office, swamped with company business.
"Vice Chairman, headquarters just greenlit the special CF."
"We should've done this ages ago. Anyway, that's sorted now."
Park, the section chief, faxed over details from HQ about the Daeyang Global CF.
It was the existing ad featuring Yoo Sung-chul, now with an added logo: [Cheering on Yoo Sung-chul's League Cup victory challenge.]
"For the cup competition broadcast rights this time, SBC wants in alongside TVi."
"I've already chatted with Sky Sports about that special coverage."
British broadcasters sure know how to hustle.
It wasn't even the full season package—just the one cup final—and they were willing to sell separate rights for it.
Sure, South Korea could use every foreign penny right now, but the stations had been playing chicken until "Blackburn reaches the League Cup final" and "Yoo Sung-chul might play" tipped the scales. SBC finally stepped up big.
To ring in the new millennium, Koreans would get to watch a Premier League team in action, airing Sunday night at 11 p.m.
"Gag Festival on Sunday night, then this special as the nightcap—perfect."
"Vice Chairman, Daeyang Global's distribution division is running a special product expo."
"Yeah, I told my brother to treat it like peak season and run a week-long event."
Events like this usually need guarantees: Blackburn wins, Yoo Sung-chul plays.
And I was dead certain we'd win—and that Sung-chul would suit up.
February, as the 99-00 season hurtled toward its close.
For reference, after beating Newcastle in the FA Cup fifth round, we'd faced Bolton Wanderers in the sixth and won 2-0 to reach the semis.
The FA Cup semifinalists were [Blackburn - Aston Villa - Chelsea - Charlton].
Uncannily, it was a cluster of teams we'd bought players from... and sold to.
With semis starting at Wembley, that meant three shots at the hallowed ground for us.
"Whew—talk about football's holy grail."
Today wasn't just the squad; Daeyang Global was going all-in on marketing, so Rep Kim and Section Chief Park had tagged along too.
"Vice Chairman, first time at Wembley?"
"Came a few times during my LSE days for concerts. Michael Jackson, Guns N' Roses, Eagles... that sort of thing."
I even remembered sneaking off from school for those shows.
And now here I was, back as a football club owner to watch a match.
I sent the staff to VIP seats and headed over to the press area.
"Oi, Mr. Lee!"
"It's Blackburn's owner."
As soon as they spotted me, shutters clicked like mad. I just flashed a casual thumbs-up.
"League Cup final: the underdog rebellion. How are you approaching it?"
"No pressure facing a Second Division side that made the final?"
Just as I figured—they wanted to paint us as villains, Tranmere as the noble underdogs. Not on my watch.
"We're winning. We've got reasons we have to."
Right on cue, a Rolls-Royce limo pulled up.
I bolted over when I saw the plates; the press trailed, figuring it had to be someone huge.
The door opened. Aides spilled out, unloading a wheelchair.
Then, with his daughter Linda's help, out came a figure struggling to stand.
Jack Walker, Blackburn's founding chairman.
"Make way. The chairman's not doing interviews due to health issues."
His aides tried blocking, but Jack—masked up—nodded with a smile and pulled something from his coat.
A weathered old Blackburn Rovers muffler, worn for years.
The moment they saw it, even those notorious British hacks fell silent.
"Everyone—Blackburn's going to win. We cannot lose."
My shout hung in the air; the press exchanged glances.
Tranmere had gotten the full underdog hype machine.
But one wrong word about Blackburn? Instant pariah status.
Jack Walker, cancer-stricken and recovering in the Channel Islands, dragging his frail body here—maybe his last chance to see the team he'd built.
Tranmere's underdog tale? Nah. This was Blackburn's epic saga of legacy.
I couldn't catch the Korean broadcast.
Rep Kim filled me in live via international call, relaying the TV feed straight to my ear.
[Hello, everyone. I'm caster Song Jae-il, alongside commentator Shin Mun-seong, for SBC's special broadcast of the England League Cup: Blackburn Rovers vs. Tranmere Rovers.]
I wasn't wild about the commentator, but seeing it go out live? Gold.
[Yoo Sung-chul's in a major tournament chasing European silverware today, just like Cha Beom-gon before him.]
[Absolutely proud moment. England's Premier League is Europe's top flight—Manchester United, Arsenal, Liverpool, Leeds get the buzz—but Blackburn's on the map back home since Daeyang Group took over.]
Skipped the chit-chat; confirmed the feed and dove into the match.
Sung-chul wasn't starting today—bummer.
Back four: [Wayne Bridge - Southgate - Henchoz - Jeff Kenna]. Mids: [Duff - Barry - Paul Ince - Shaun Wright-Phillips].
Blackburn pushed forward with James Beattie and Kevin Phillips up top.
Tranmere had no big names, but under John Aldridge, they were a rock-solid unit.
Thud!
Beep-
Every dribble attempt met a crunching tackle—fouls only when we threatened a breakthrough.
Sly as hell: no crossing chances, multiple markers swarming, turning our pressure into counters.
Gareth Barry pinged a left-footed cross from midfield, but as soon as it lofted, two or three Tranmere heads cleared it.
We dominated 7-3, but they parked the bus, goalie the lone man out.
Then Tranmere broke on the counter.
"Whoa?!"
Their forward exploited a split-second gap and fired—Schmeichel dove, snagged it.
I bellowed at them to focus, he blasted it long. Ince collected.
"Go! Go!!!"
Ince—the guy with more trophy lifts than most—pointed directions, dribbling through himself.
Aldridge knew it; two defenders pounced. Age catching up, Ince switched play wide.
Shaun Wright-Phillips took it, weaving with his signature flair.
No defense could stonewall the little bullet who'd danced past Chelsea, United, Leeds unscathed.
Cross in—Beattie headed, keeper palmed it. Kevin Phillips followed up—keeper stretched, blocked again.
"Those bastards are good."
"Any team reaching a final isn't just First or Second Division anymore. Cough cough..."
Up in VIP, Jack Walker hacked into his handkerchief, hand trembling as he clenched a fist. Wembley glory burned in him fiercer than anyone.
First half ended 0-0. Gutting.
Kenny Dalglish subbed at halftime.
"Kevin, not your day, eh?"
"!"
"Prep for the trophy ceremony later. Ian— you're on."
Out came league top-scorer Kevin Phillips; in went veteran Ian Wright.
Shaun and his dad, back on the pitch together.
Second half kicked off. From the bench, Sung-chul fidgeted tensely—unusual for him.
'Korea's rooting for you in a special broadcast tonight.'
'Honey, family's all gathering to watch the final. Give it everything.'
'Sung-chul, make us proud. You're the only one of us shining in the English leagues.'
Chats with press, soccer folks, family— he needed to play today.
Gaffer watched arms crossed, easy smile. First sub: Ian.
Back-and-forth frenzy resumed. At 55', Shaun's dribble sent the ball not to Dad but back to Barry.
Barry's long left cross found Beattie, who laid it off. Ghostly Ian Wright ghosted in.
Ian just nudged it, bending the path goalward.
That broke the deadlock—90,000 Wembley faithful erupted.
GOAL!!!!!
The stadium shook like an quake; bench cleared in roar.
Dalglish's swap paid off. At 60', next sub queued.
"Parker!"
"Yes, boss."
"Replace Ince. Hunt that midfield like always."
"Got it."
Veteran Ince gassed; Scott Parker stepped up.
Left on bench: Henchoz (cup-tied from United), Martin Taylor, Blooms, outgoing Ashley Ward, and Sung-chul.
Time ticked as he waited, anxious.
78'.
Damien Duff dribbled, skipped the cross to Beattie—ripped it home.
"That's it!"
2-0.
Trophy practically in Blackburn's grasp.
"Ryu, Ryu!"
"!"
Dalglish hauled Sung-chul up.
"Fifteen left, accounting for stoppage. You're on for Shaun—no hero dribbles. Help Parker and Barry lock the midfield."
"Y-Yes!"
"Korea's hanging on for you? Show that camera some face!"
Dalglish saved Sung-chul for the finale.
Heart pounding with joy, he zeroed in. Board flashed the sub; weary Shaun high-fived him out.
"Nice play."
"Good luck."
Sung-chul stepped onto Wembley's League Cup final pitch amid 90,000 souls.
Flashes exploded from the commentary booth.
He'd made it to a Wembley final.
"Yes! Sung-chul's coming on!"
Winning was great, but if he sat? Nerve-wracking.
Fifteen-ish left.
In for Shaun on the right wing, he charged, nicked a Tranmere ball, fed Parker—clean first defensive win.
Parker-Barry-Sung-chul holding midfield; attacks left to Duff and the Ian-Beattie duo on counters. Blackburn controlled possession.
Tranmere kept charging; Sung-chul and Parker snuffed another.
They had the grit to reach this stage.
Unrelenting to 90'—deserved respect.
Stoppage third minute: Tranmere forward broke solo. Sung-chul chased doggedly.
Stretched full for wing duty, perfect tackle stole the ball clean...
Tweeeeeet-
ROOOOARRRRR!!!!
"We won! We did it!"
Blackburn Rovers: EFL Cup champions.
Whistle blew—players mobbed, Dalglish sprinted arms wide onto the pitch.
Fans and squad in pure carnival.
Rep Kim and Chief Park whooped, phones glued, relaying live.
"Vice Chairman, massive! Ratings in Korea are gonna explode."
"Country's going nuts. Monday headlines locked."
They hugged it out, sensing the windfall.
I threw double thumbs, then slipped quietly aside.
Jack Walker, struggling up with a shaky handclap—eyes misty.
"Wanted to show you a trophy this season."
"Best decision entrusting it to you."
"Trophy ceremony—you coming down?"
"Old man's road ends here. Seeing it, etching it in my heart—that's enough. You go."
This season's EFL Cup glory.
Finish the league strong, push FA Cup semis to another Wembley final—vowed it right there.