Chapter 8
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Translator: Silver Dragon
Chapter: 8
Chapter Title: Time for Some Signings Now That I've Seen the Team's Situation
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Damien Duff's fantastic goal.
Leading 1-0 against Newcastle, the Blackburn players ran even harder.
Dalglish was an incredibly passionate manager.
He was out on the pitch, gesturing wildly, urging the players to keep pushing forward in a relentless attacking frenzy.
In the 4-4-2 formation, the wingers dribbled down the flanks and cut the ball into the center, where the midfielders would drive forward—a classic English kick-and-rush style.
But it was working brilliantly.
"Whoa?!"
Then, another chance came our way.
The ball dropped to Jason Wilcox, playing left winger, and he unleashed a shot toward goal, but Newcastle's keeper snatched it right out of the air.
"Aaaah!"
It was the perfect opportunity, but it was snuffed out just like that.
The Newcastle keeper who made the save was twenty-two-year-old Shay Given.
The man who would later be called "Given the God."
"Given's a real sore spot for us. He was originally one of our players."
"When a guy leaves and succeeds elsewhere, it stings like hell."
One of Jack Walker's mistakes back then had been letting Given go.
Walker had led Blackburn Rovers with massive investments, bringing in big-name stars and achieving huge success, but he'd let slip a super-elite keeper prospect like Given.
John Filan, who was currently guarding Blackburn's goal, wasn't bad, but he was definitely a tier below Given.
And the rotation keeper, John Flowers, was getting on in years and unreliable.
As we kept watching, danger struck our side next.
"No, don't!"
A Newcastle striker with a prominent forehead and curly hair burst forward like lightning and unleashed a spectacular header. Filan dove, but the ball ripped into the net.
"Damn it!"
"Ugh, that bastard Shearer!"
John Williams beside me clutched his head in despair too.
Alan Shearer.
He'd led Blackburn to the league title, but now as Newcastle's starting striker, he was stabbing his former club in the back.
With 20,000 Blackburn fans hurling massive boos at Shearer as he thrust one fist skyward and roared in triumph after his goal.
"Die, you traitor scum!"
"Shearer! You dog for Newcastle!"
"Damn bastard! I'll beat you to death!"
"FXXX Shearer!!!!"
The Blackburn supporters went wild, ready to hurl anything they could grab, responding with a torrent of jeers, but Alan Shearer, with his ironclad mentality, just smirked smugly after burying one against his old team.
The score was tied 1-1 in a tense battle until halftime ended and the second half kicked off.
"Vice Chairman, I got some snacks..."
"Oh, thanks."
Section Chief Park brought cola and hot dogs, but when I opened them, the quality was abysmal.
"Sorry. I checked the stadium shop, but this was the best they had..."
It was barely a hot dog—just cheap sausage in a bun with some chopped onions. And this cost ten pounds.
"The food at football stadiums is terrible, huh?"
"Ahem, there's not really a culture of eating at matches here."
Even John Williams cleared his throat awkwardly. I'd known British food was rough, but stadium grub was on another level.
I figured it was just fuel and remembered that cola was probably the best thing in England.
"This needs fixing too. Not just for local fans, but for tourists coming to see Rovers."
Setting aside the lousy food, the second half began.
We created a few chances, mostly driven by the wing duo of Wilcox and Duff.
"Whoa!?"
"Go on!"
Duff broke through and passed to Wilcox in a prime scoring position, but the shot was too weak.
Given grabbed it again.
"So close!"
"Wilcox is in real trouble."
"!"
"He was once England's top left-wing talent. But after that knee injury, he's been on a downward slide."
He was a veteran with over 300 games for Blackburn, but chronic knee issues had left him unable to regain form.
He was trying hard, but couldn't generate power on his shots, letting Given save them.
"We need reinforcements on the left wing, don't we?"
"Duff on the right is left-footed, so he could switch. Right now, they're trying to make Duff and Wilcox coexist, but it's not clicking."
Still, they managed to create attacking routes down both flanks, but the central strikers were another problem.
Thud-
A massive, lanky striker leaped for headers, but Given kept denying him.
"We paid 7.5 million pounds for that guy! His only goal was against Charlton last time!"
Striker Kevin Davies.
He'd been a hot prospect in England, brought in from Southampton for big money—in exchange for local youth product James Beattie—and now they were suffering disappointing results.
"Stupid idiot Davies!"
"Go back to Southampton! Give us Beattie back!"
"Can't you score that, you moron!"
Thick curses at Kevin Davies echoed from the stands every time he squandered a chance.
Wingers, keeper, strikers... The team's problems were crystal clear.
After a dull back-and-forth, it ended 1-1.
As the match wrapped up, players swapped jerseys and waved to the fans amid a mix of boos and cheers.
I headed to the players' locker room after the game.
As I entered the sweat-soaked locker room fresh off the match, everyone stared in surprise.
"Mr. Lee!"
Dalglish spotted me and greeted warmly, while captain Wilcox, Duff, and others came over with handshakes.
"Acting owner, how was the game today?"
"Close one. One more goal and we'd have shut Shearer up."
"We'll definitely win the away at Nottingham next."
After handshakes all around, they acknowledged me as the acting owner, standing in for Jack Walker.
"Damien, great goal today."
"Thank you."
"Kevin, put one in like you did against Charlton for the Nottingham game. No pressure."
"Y-Yes, I'll score in the next one for sure!"
I greeted each player one by one, then stepped out with Dalglish.
"The players are one thing, but we could use a few more coaches."
"Got anyone in mind?"
Dalglish dissed the current Blackburn coaches after Brian Kidd, saying they weren't up to snuff.
Then he mentioned one name.
"Being Scottish, I know a lot of coaches over there. I'd like to bring one in."
"What's the name?"
"Ian Porterfield. He's done stints at Sunderland and Bolton."
"Bring him on board. Leave the salary negotiations to John Williams."
Ian Porterfield—the guy who'd later manage in the K-League?
No reason not to have him as a coach.
"I coach the strikers myself, but it'd be great to have someone who can really teach attacking properly. Someone ideal as a tutor."
"Shall I look into retired famous strikers?"
Time to scout coaches too.
Dalglish added one more thing.
"Tim Sherwood. He's requested a transfer. Seems like his heart's not in it anymore, and we'll have a big hole in central midfield."
"Jack Walker doted on him so much, but I guess he sees Rovers as a sinking ship."
"He wants a new challenge."
Yeah, right.
He was once a prodigy compared to Zinedine Zidane, the guy behind one of EPL's all-time great quotes: "We don't need Zidane; we've got Sherwood."
And now that Tim Sherwood was leaving Rovers.
If I could go further back, I'd have grabbed Jack Walker by the collar and demanded he sign Zidane.
"Looks like he's bailing because he thinks Rovers is hopeless. We need at least 4 million pounds for him."
"If his mind's already gone, no choice."
"New central midfielder, attacking coach..."
Plenty to do.
I was essentially acting owner in Jack Walker's place, so it was on me to handle this.
"Next week, I've got business trips to the Netherlands and then Italy."
Netherlands for lens parts, Italy for wine imports. Handle those, and by New Year, the winter transfer window would open.
"Netherlands and Italy... Makes me think of that genius who shook both countries."
"!"
"The Leonardo da Vinci of football. As great as me in my prime."
A footballer who dominated the Netherlands and Italy? One came to mind.
Newcastle's manager this game was Dutch legend Ruud Gullit, and alongside him, the once-in-a-generation prodigy striker called part of the "Orange Three Musketeers."
"It'd be perfect if a genius striker like that came as a coach to develop Rovers' forwards."
"That guy's not into coaching, from what I hear. Different from his buddies."
"Got it. Good luck on the Nottingham away game."
I parted ways with Dalglish and returned to the Blackburn office.
After the match broadcast, staff were sorting documents for HQ reports.
"Section Chief Park, handle things here while I'm away on my trips."
"Yes, Vice Chairman."
Amsterdam in the Netherlands was on the schedule, but Dalglish's words had me thinking of "that legend."
"I think he's from Utrecht... How far is that from Amsterdam?"
"Utrecht in the Netherlands? Not far from the capital. Like Seoul to Suwon back home."
At Section Chief Park's words, I checked my schedule.
"I can squeeze in a quick visit."
Business trip for Daeyang Global, plus scouting an attacking coach for Rovers and a Sherwood replacement.
And another document was Dalglish's "scouting report."
Knowing my Italy trip, it listed Italian players.
"Central midfielder to replace Sherwood—tough guy who can handle the ball."
This era, Serie A outshone the Premier League.
And among players in Italy, one familiar name stood out on the midfielder list worth signing.
"Oh?"
2 years with Rangers in the Scottish Premier League. Currently with a Serie A relegation-threatened team. Transfer feasible. - Gennaro Gattuso (Gennaro Ivan Rino Gattuso)
"Oh ho!"
Gennaro Gattuso.
Seeing that name, I made up my mind.
One coach from the Netherlands, one player from Italy—I'd bring Gattuso to Blackburn.