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Translator: uly
Chapter: 9
Chapter Title: The Goal is Survival (1)
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Only on the next day did Ma Jeong-woo finally make his visit to the club.
It was a tense moment in its own way, but the actual visit process held nothing out of the ordinary.
"Nice to meet you all. I'm Ma Jeong-woo, the new owner taking charge of Bolton Wanderers."
The replies were simple pleas of "Pleased to work with you" or warm smiles of welcome, and that was it.
Right after, the front office staff dove into their respective roles.
Richard Geers took the lead, introducing the club's departments one by one.
He hadn't expected them to line up in a neat row for a group greeting like in some movie or drama, but it still felt a bit anticlimactic.
It was as if it were nothing more or less than a formality.
Like, *You're here. Okay. Goodbye.*
Just that straightforward.
Once the visit wrapped up, it was back to the office for a lecture from Richard Geers, the executive director.
That part piqued his interest, at least.
After discussions with Geers, he decided to keep the scouting budget, win bonuses, and the like at the exact amounts set by the previous owner—his grandfather.
It turned out Bolton was currently operating under a Manager system.
"A Manager handles only limited roles like team management and tactics...!"
"Ah, yes. I know about that."
Ma Jeong-woo kept this setup in place as well.
With the club's finances in such dire straits, they couldn't afford to grant the manager too much power.
Geers smiled warmly and continued.
"Then let's move on to the next item."
Richard Geers went into detail on broadcasting revenue structures, sponsors, team merchandise sales, and earnings from various competitions.
Next came staff operating expenses and the scale of the player roster.
All of which could be verified through the documents laid out on the desk.
Ma Jeong-woo's brow furrowed deeper and deeper as time wore on, practically crumpling.
"The average League One club budget per season is about £6 million (roughly 9.2 billion KRW). But Bolton Wanderers' current average is £15 million (roughly 23 billion KRW)—nearly three times higher."
The more he heard, the more outrageous it got.
Ma Jeong-woo raised his hand like a student to ask.
"Teac—... I mean, Executive Director. Why the huge gap?"
With debts already at £100 million (roughly 1.5 trillion KRW), burning through a budget far exceeding even the average?
It was like pouring water into a broken jar.
"The previous owner aimed for promotion as quickly as possible, so he shelled out big money this season to sign a bunch of players. Actually, it started right before relegation the prior season."
"..."
"Of course, even back when we were stuck in the Championship, signings well above average were ongoing."
Ma Jeong-woo got it immediately.
"So, signing players mismatched to our level is one reason the debt piled up."
"Exactly."
His mind worked strangely well when it came to football matters.
Geers pressed on.
"Player wages alone run about £9 million (roughly 14.3 billion KRW) annually..."
"Well, damn."
"Last year's deficit was a whopping £40 million (roughly 60 billion KRW). Relegation from the Championship slashed broadcasting revenue by over 60%. Contracts with existing sponsors were terminated. The new sponsors' contributions are down 70% from last year."
"Damn."
Past a certain point, it wasn't anger anymore—it was sheer disbelief.
Ma Jeong-woo was already there, chuckling nervously despite himself.
Not because it was funny, of course.
In any case, the situation was far worse than he'd imagined.
*How the hell is this club even running?*
Bankruptcy felt all too real in that moment.
To sum up Geers' words simply: since relegation last season, Bolton had been hemorrhaging losses nonstop.
No—
*It's leaking everywhere.*
Even that didn't capture it.
The dam wasn't just cracked—it was shattered, water gushing out.
Ma Jeong-woo pressed his fingertips into his crumpled brow and asked.
"You said the average season budget is £15 million (roughly 23 billion KRW), with £9 million (roughly 14.3 billion KRW) just on player wages. So what's the League One average for annual player wage spending?"
"League One's average weekly player wage is £60,000 (roughly 94 million KRW), or £2.88 million (roughly 4.51 billion KRW) annually."
"..."
Ma Jeong-woo twitched one eyebrow.
Player wages were over three times the average too.
*Are they insane?*
He suddenly wanted to curse out the previous owner.
The answer came the moment he voiced his confusion.
"So shouldn't we start with wage cuts first?"
Mid-sentence, Ma Jeong-woo rolled his eyes.
"Ah, of course, if the players refuse, there's not much we can do... But otherwise, releasing some and lowering the wage bill—or even selling them—would've been an option, right?"
As Ma Jeong-woo said, player sales or releases could easily trim expenses.
It was January now, so transfers were feasible immediately.
Richard Geers watched Ma Jeong-woo state his opinion so directly, a flicker of admiration crossing his face before he offered a counterpoint.
"The previous owner bought the club aiming for Premier League promotion. Despite our repeated suggestions, he refused to pursue transfers or releases. Instead, he pushed aggressive investments. Tragically, when we got relegated to League One instead of promoted, he invested even more."
Geers added that most of Bolton Wanderers' current first-team roster had been signed consecutively since last season.
Half of them included 24-month installment payment terms.
"..."
Installments?
Ma Jeong-woo muttered in disbelief.
"So it's like paying £6,500 (roughly 10 million KRW) upfront and then £6,500 (roughly 10 million KRW) or more in installments to bring them in."
Even forced sales would mean massive losses, obviously.
Geers nodded, still wearing that faint smile.
"That's about the size of it."
"..."
This guy.
Ma Jeong-woo could guess why he was smiling.
*Isn't that why I'm laughing in disbelief too?*
Now he saw it—Geers had achieved enlightenment working under his grandfather.
Poor bastard.
He didn't want to hear any more.
* * * * *
Another day passed.
The owner's office felt small for what it was.
Park Hee-won sat on the guest sofa, crunching into an apple.
He was currently Bolton's U-21 Manager.
He glanced over.
Spearing a slice with his fork and bringing it to his mouth, he rolled his eyes.
Ma Jeong-woo sprawled in the main seat, clutching his forehead without moving a muscle since earlier.
His eyes—were they closed or squinted? Hard to tell.
"How's the owner gig treating you?"
Park Hee-won asked cautiously.
Ma Jeong-woo cracked open his eyes and shook his head.
"Beyond imagination."
"...That bad, huh."
Ma Jeong-woo nodded in reply.
The deeper he dug, the worse Bolton's operations and finances looked.
With the team results in shambles too, a turnaround was desperately needed.
Staring at the bruised fluorescent light overhead, Ma Jeong-woo muttered.
"It's like... I took a shit and didn't wipe properly, that sticky feeling dragging on for days."
"Hey, that's gross just thinking about it."
"Like wiping your ass with a leaf."
"You ever actually done that?"
Park Hee-won's eyes went wide as he asked. Ma Jeong-woo nodded slightly.
"Sometimes in the army during field training. When there's no TP."
"Ah, I had plenty of TP back then. Why didn't you just ask?"
Ma Jeong-woo swiftly changed the subject.
"Anyway, here's my plan for what to tackle first."
"What're you thinking?"
"Hang on...!"
Darker circles under his eyes than when he'd first arrived, Ma Jeong-woo straightened up.
His gaze soon landed on the worn wooden table.
On it sat a plate of apples alongside a mess of player file binders.
Traces of staying up all night reviewing them alongside club documents from the day before.
Ma Jeong-woo stared straight at the files and declared.
"Rebuilding."
Even if it meant bleeding money, that was his final call.
* * * * *
From that decision point, Ma Jeong-woo met with the current Manager, Derek Scott.
Ma Jeong-woo glanced at the man seated to his right.
A mid-50s heavy smoker with prominent forehead wrinkles.
And a beer gut to boot.
Scott kept working his mouth as if craving a cigarette even now, perched on the sofa.
Ma Jeong-woo had already met with this guy three times.
The first was just basic greetings.
The second, a discussion on results.
Today's topic: rebuilding.
No special approval was needed since he was just the Manager.
Still, nominal manager or not, Ma Jeong-woo afforded him basic courtesy.
Derek Scott, however, showed strong resistance to rebuilding itself.
"So, you plan to shrink the squad? At this critical juncture?"
Ma Jeong-woo leaned back comfortably against the sofa and nodded.
"By League One standards, we're blowing way past the average on player salaries alone. And in return, our results are... dismal."
He'd spent the last few sleepless nights investigating the club's state.
The verdict: far too many high earners for League One.
"Some are getting wages that don't match their skill or output."
Mid-season signings from the Championship days had auto-reduction clauses upon relegation, so those had dropped.
But even then, they exceeded League One levels.
All in all...
*It's a gamble.*
He could tell at a glance.
His grandfather had gone all-in big, planning to sell the club after a jackpot.
Or maybe he'd just thought too simplistically.
Either way... it was complacent.
*Assuming expensive players mean good ones... that's way too risky and naive.*
Analysis borne of hoping pricey signings would yield gems revealed most were expensive turds.
Grandpa had gotten fleeced.
Anyway, Ma Jeong-woo laid out the full rationale for rebuilding.
Minus complaints about the previous owner.
"...So, out of necessity, we're opting for a squad-reduction rebuild."
"I can't understand it. When we should be investing to escape the drop zone, you want to downsize?"
Derek Scott refused to accept it.
His face flushed red as he vented his dissatisfaction.
"I've devoted myself to this club! And this is how you repay me—with squad cuts? It's no different from insulting me!"
With every word, Scott's pudgy cheeks jiggled up and down.
Ma Jeong-woo stared at him flatly before snapping in a level tone.
"Then how about some results to show for it."
How twisted did you have to be to see it as an insult?
"What did you say?"
Sure, that last bit bordered on insult itself.
Derek Scott's face twisted in rage.
Ma Jeong-woo tilted his head slightly, narrowing one eye.
"It's like... looking at Bolton now is like a sports car stuck in rush-hour gridlock."
"Rush hour? Sports car...?"
The look screamed, *What the hell does that mean?*
Ma Jeong-woo ignored it and continued.
"When you could just walk, it's parked smack in the middle of the road."
"What're you—?"
Derek Scott chewed his lip, clueless.
Ma Jeong-woo let his mouth droop as he said.
"When it should be flying down the highway, it's just sitting there guzzling gas. Constantly tapping brake, accelerator, brake, accelerator. Worst fuel efficiency imaginable."
Normally, he'd fire back hard.
But in the suit, or maybe because of the position, gentler words came out.
"Whether it's the players or the coach—or both, who knows. Ah, just my personal musing. Don't scowl so much; you'll deepen those wrinkles."
Scott had crossed the line first.
*England's Jo Sung-jun, huh?*
Derek Scott just trembled with fury.
"H-how dare you say that to me...!"
In truth, Richard Geers' evaluation of Derek Scott was abysmal.
Scott, who'd taken the helm mid-last season, had actually regressed the team further.
Favoring certain players and stubbornly clinging to one tactic were also flagged as flaws.
Above all, this guy...
*Has he lost all sense?*
He'd barged into the office without knocking.
Sat without being told to.
Even crossed his legs mid-conversation.
Half-informal speech sprinkled in.
Anyone could see the disrespect.
In the end, Derek Scott stormed out, huffing.
Ma Jeong-woo rose from the sofa and settled into the executive chair by the blinds letting in sunlight.
Creaaaak—!
The chair groaned.
Ma Jeong-woo rubbed his throbbing temples with both hands.
If he could, he'd fire the guy on the spot.
Beyond the awful personality, the results and squad management grated most.
But firing wasn't simple.
"Dismissal penalty alone is £100,000 (roughly 150 million KRW). Plus the remaining salary..."
Firing meant dipping into his own pocket.
He was already shelling out a hefty personal sum renting a place for Park Hee-won's family.
With no telling when more cash might be needed.
Saving every penny was best.
Suddenly, Ma Jeong-woo wrinkled his nose in disgust, sniffing.
"Something smells off."
The scent had hit him from their very first meeting with Derek Scott.
Staring at the closed door, Ma Jeong-woo's eyes narrowed to slits.
"This bastard... reeks."
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