Chapter 7
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Translator: Silver Dragon
Chapter: 7
Chapter Title: A Korean Investor Emerges in the Premier League
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"From this very spot, I declare to the Blackburn Rovers fans: I will overcome this season's trials and fight for future glory!"
With as much fervor as possible—practically a declaration of war—so those notorious British reporters would dismiss it as bluster and splash my words across every broadcast!
"From this moment forward, I will be the trumpet of glory for Lancashire!"
As I spread my arms wide and shouted, the flashes from the cameras exploded even brighter.
I could see some of them laughing while scribbling furiously with their pens.
That's right—go ahead, you media vultures. You're famous for the racket you make, so have at it.
And so, as Blackburn Rovers' majority shareholder, I stepped forward before the press.
The reaction was tremendous.
But it wasn't all positive.
[Blackburn Rovers Welcomes Premier League's First Foreign Capitalist.]
[Fulham, and Now Blackburn? Do Foreign Investors Even Understand Football?]
[Blackburn Supporters: Relegation Woes Can't Be Fixed by One Investor from Asia.]
Even the newspapers painted the same picture.
Local stations aired interviews with furious Blackburn supporters stepping up to vent.
"I've lived here for over 50 years, and this is the team I've cheered for my whole life. Foreign capital? No way in hell!"
"Jack Walker's been irresponsibly neglecting the club. He's not seriously planning to sell our team to that foreign capital, is he?"
"Just hire a proper manager! What's this interim coach Brian Kidd nonsense? And who're they bringing in as the real boss? That Asian guy himself?"
Oof, check out these reactions.
Back then, the English Premier League was notoriously closed off to foreign capital, even with massive media backing. In less than a decade, it'd turn into a battleground for Russian, American, and Middle Eastern tycoons. And I'd be the EPL's first—and England's second—foreign club owner.
I'd already contacted the European branch to set up an office in Blackburn and ship all my stuff here.
For now, I'd focus here, while Kim in London handled the small stuff.
RRRR- RRRR-
My phone buzzed—familiar number.
"Hello, I've got you."
[Hey there, Blackburn's new investor. Saw you on the news.]
A gravelly middle-aged Scottish accent crackled through the receiver.
It was the man I wanted to bring in as Blackburn's new manager, with Brian Kidd as his assistant.
"King Kenny, have you made up your mind?"
'King' Kenny Dalglish.
The legendary Scot from his playing days at Celtic and Liverpool.
He'd already proven himself as a manager, leading Liverpool to glory. He was the one who'd won the Second Division for Jack Walker and orchestrated that fairy-tale 94-95 title.
I'd gotten his contact from Jack right away and started talks. Perfect timing—he'd just stepped down from Newcastle due to poor results.
"Kenny, I was planning to make Brian Kidd, who was set to be manager, your assistant instead and bring you on board. Time to decide."
[When you put it like that, how could I say no?]
"I'd like to offer a two-year contract. Come sign it—we'll call the press."
[Hmm—let's do 1+1 instead.]
"?"
Usually, managers wanted multi-year deals, while the front office pushed short ones.
But Kenny Dalglish was offering a one-year deal himself.
[Truth be told, after failing at Newcastle, I'd planned to quit managing altogether. But hearing your pitch changed my mind.]
"Retire? You're nowhere near done."
[First year: escape relegation. If we succeed, full season next, then back to Glasgow. What do you say?]
He put it that way, so I agreed for now.
"Sounds good. Any staff you want to bring?"
[A few idle Scots mates of mine.]
And with that, as acting owner, I checked off the first big box: appointing a manager.
"Everyone! King Kenny is back. The man taking over Blackburn Rovers for the rest of the season is Kenny Dalglish!"
In Blackburn's Ewood Park office that December winter day, the manager who'd brought the club its greatest glory returned.
Short in stature at just over 5'7", Kenny Dalglish waved leisurely to the press with a gentle smile.
I shook his hand and held up a Blackburn Rovers jersey alongside him.
Public opinion had been tepid about me, but Dalglish's return was massive news for them.
"Kenny, what made you come back to Blackburn?"
"Hahaha—call it redemption? Ending my career after Newcastle felt too soon."
"Mr. Dalglish, do you think you can pull Blackburn out of the relegation zone?"
"I've won titles before—what's harder than that? We'll be in the Premier League next season too."
Laughter erupted everywhere with every quip from Dalglish—a jovial interview.
Great call bringing him in. In my past life, by the time he managed Liverpool in his old age, he had charisma but was seen as outdated. But this is still the '90s EPL.
Dalglish's long-ball 4-4-2 wasn't old hat yet, and he had what it took to wrangle this disorganized squad.
"A question for Mr. Lee."
A reporter turned to me.
"Fire away."
"Rumor has it Brian Kidd was lined up as Rovers manager but got demoted to assistant. Were you gunning for Kenny Dalglish from the start?"
"Of course. I called him up and said, 'Let's make more glory at Blackburn.' He said yes right away."
"You've taken over as Sports Director with shares delegated from Chairman Jack Walker. After this season, will Mr. Lee buy out Blackburn entirely?"
"We'll decide after survival. Fan support first, right?"
"Any signings planned for the winter window? Being from Asia, will you bring in Asian players?"
"Let me be clear: If a player fits Blackburn's needs, I'll bring them from Asia, Africa, the Americas, Europe, Oceania—anywhere. Get excited. Blackburn Rovers will own this winter transfer window!"
I pumped my fist, arms wide, and bellowed.
"Blackburn of Lancashire is eternal!"
The camera flashes confirmed it—this was headline gold.
[Blackburn Rovers Shock Appointment: Dalglish.]
[King Kenny Returns: Eastern Director's First Win.]
[Dalglish: 'Blackburn Will Be in the Premier League Next Year'—Bold Confidence.]
['Lancashire Forever!' Cry from the Eastern Entrepreneur.]
Football news was all Dalglish now.
The rest was Arsenal and Man United's title race.
"Man, Arsenal and United are really going at it, huh?"
Section Chief Park, an Arsenal fan, had diligently clipped EPL articles beyond ours and handed them over.
"Who do you think takes the league?"
"Arsenal for me—my team. Got a favorite, Vice Chairman?"
"Man United."
Park gave a wry smile, but I pointed to a photo in the paper of Manchester United's roaring manager, Alex Ferguson.
"These guys are gonna make waves this year. League? They'll go for the Champions League and FA Cup too."
"Treble talk? They're on fire, sure, but Brits always struggle in Europe..."
Park shared what he knew about European football back then.
"Truth is, English clubs have been weak internationally. No Champions League or UEFA Cup wins in over 15 years."
"There was that ban in between."
"Yeah, but Spanish and Italian teams dominated—Real Madrid, Barcelona, AC Milan, Juventus..."
"Cycle's turning. Time for England to win."
I finished signing documents, grabbed Park's clippings, and headed out.
"Weekend Blackburn home game—Newcastle. VIP tickets. Coming?"
"Wouldn't miss it."
"Round up who wants to go. Tickets on me."
The folks who'd come from the London office to Blackburn were one of two types: genuine football lovers like Park who wanted in on the action, or ambitious types stamping favor with the Daeyang Group heir.
December 12th, Ewood Park.
The 31,000 seats weren't full even on a weekend—fans disillusioned by the results, no doubt.
Still, over 20,000 supporters sang chants before kickoff, stoking the stadium's fire.
"Mr. Lee."
"Ah, President Williams!"
Blackburn CEO John Williams approached with a warm greeting.
"Heading to the locker room to see the lads?"
"Eh... maybe after the match."
"VIP seats? Let's watch together."
No sense burdening them pre-game. We sat in the stands, praying for victory.
Blackburn lineup.
--Chris Sutton—Kevin Davies--
Wilcox—Tim Sherwood—Johnson—Duff
Davidson—Henchoz—Peacock—Kean
-------John Filan------
4-4-2 formation. Manager: Kenny Dalglish. Assistant: Brian Kidd.
As the opposing Newcastle warmed up, a blond tall striker drew boos from the crowd.
Alan Shearer.
England's legendary striker, who'd won the league with Blackburn before leaving. Now facing them as foe, the merciless Rovers fans let rip.
The whistle blew, and I watched with sweaty fists.
Standout was right winger Damien Duff.
The very Duff once dubbed 'Left Robben, Right Duff' by fans.
"Yes! That's it!"
I shot up as Duff grabbed the ball and blasted forward at blistering speed.
Kevin Davies in the middle—he'd been a name once, but now a raw prospect with just one EPL goal.
Duff drove to the penalty box, hesitated.
Davies signaled; cross up, header—keeper saves!
But the rebound fell to Duff again.
He controlled the keeper's punched clearance and slotted it home calmly...
Ewood Park erupted as one.
"Yes!"
"Goal!!!!"
Our company staff, John Williams—even he bear-hugged me, jumping wildly.
"Goal, goal, goal!"
"What'd I tell ya? We got this today!"
First blood against Newcastle. The scoreboard flashed 1-0.