Became The Premier League’S Youngest Manager [EN]: Chapter 7

7: Interim Manager

The novice interim manager’s achievement in leading the Premier League’s lowest-ranked team to victory was immediately overshadowed by shocking news that broke right after the game.

Everton’s defeated manager, Rafa Benitez, announced his resignation at the post-match press conference, citing ‘irreconcilable differences of opinion’ with the club’s management.

The football world was stunned by the veteran Spanish manager’s sudden resignation after completing the entire pre-season and only playing one regular season game.

However, as if waiting for this to happen, Everton immediately appointed Frank Lampard, who had been out of work since being sacked by Chelsea, as their new manager the following day.

This situation, which should have ended as a mere internal incident for Everton, unexpectedly sparked a fire elsewhere.

Frank Lampard, a Chelsea legend who had finished his playing career and gained experience managing both second-tier teams like Derby County in the Championship [English Football League Championship, the second-highest division in English football] and top-tier teams like Chelsea, had been taking a break.

The board of directors of Burnley Football Club had been secretly trying to contact him.

“Damn it… Why of all times…”

Helena, with dark circles stretching far under her eyes, cursed as she crossed out the name at the very top of the list in front of her.

It was a list of managerial candidates drawn up after the previous and current owners’ representatives had a heated debate with the only remaining director by their side.

Mike Garlic and John Banaskiewicz, who wanted a manager with proven Premier League survival experience, had suggested veteran old-timers like Roy Hodgson, who had already retired, or Neil Warnock, who was also retired.

However, Helena’s opinion differed.

“Seriously, have you even looked at our roster? We have the highest average age in the Premier League. Do you really think it makes sense to bring back a retired manager when we’re full of players who are about to retire? Are you planning to open a nursing home?”

As the two men, whose ages were much closer to retirement than the start of their careers, subtly avoided her cold gaze, Helena steadfastly asserted her argument.

“We need a manager who can lead this club from a long-term perspective. Someone who can rebuild with us even if we get relegated and aim for promotion again, someone who can lead us with a long-term vision.”

“The first thing is to avoid relegation this season…”

Helena interrupted John Banaskiewicz.

“Avoiding relegation isn’t the end! What if we don’t rebuild this time and face the next season in the Premier League? Is someone suddenly going to pour money in and rebuild for us? Instead, our squad will be a year older, right? It’s better to reform now while we have the chance!”

These were the words of Helena, who had grown up listening to stories of normalizing distressed assets at the dinner table since she was young, and who had already succeeded in normalizing distressed companies several times despite her young age.

Amidst various forms of discomfort and anxiety, Mike Garlic, who had been listening to her, asked gravely.

“Is that what you’re saying as a representative of Cartwright Fund?”

“It’s the same opinion as a director of Cartwright Fund and as a director of Burnley Football Club.”

Having barely succeeded in persuading the other two directors with such conviction, Helena was now tearfully crossing out the name at the top of the already short list.

“Damn it… Let’s see… After Frank Lampard… Steven Gerrard? Wayne Rooney? Patrick Vieira? Mikel Arteta? Simone Inzaghi? Xavi? Niko Kovac? These guys are all managing teams right now…”

Helena scanned down the list, mentally running through the names of young and promising managers in the football world.

“Is it more likely from here on out? At least they’re unemployed right now. Let’s see… Aitor Karanka? Zinedine Zidane? Zidane? I feel like I’ve heard that name somewhere before?”

The criteria that she, Mike Garlic, and John Banaskiewicz had set together after persuading them were simple:

– Under 50 years old

– Experience in a top league as a manager, preferably the English league

– Preferably experience as a player as well

– Hold a UEFA Pro License [a coaching license required to manage football clubs at the professional level in Europe]

In reality, the list itself had become shorter after narrowing it down like this.

And most of the candidates were either managing their own teams in some form or waiting for a good opportunity.

Therefore, there was little chance that they would come to Burnley, a Premier League bottom-dweller in a rural backwater of England where relegation was almost certain.

Frank Lampard, an Englishman who was out of work, was perfect, but lamenting, Helena looked bleakly at the list before picking up her phone.

Whatever the case, it was her job to contact the managerial candidates or their agents.

***

Burnley Football Club’s training ground, Barnfield Training Centre, was a state-of-the-art facility built on the outskirts of Burnley under the strong insistence of then-manager Sean Dyche and the full support of then-owner Mike Garlic.

Completed in March 2017, the 73,000 square meter space included the club’s offices, state-of-the-art training and recovery facilities, various sizes of classrooms and meeting rooms, a swimming pool and sauna.

And one indoor stadium and four full-size outdoor stadiums, six mini-stadiums, and an on-site cafeteria for players and staff, all matched to the same standards of size and grass as the main stadium, Turf Moor.

Helena immediately liked Barnfield.

Of course, one reason was that it was much more pleasant than the jungles of the Amazon, where she had only seen beasts and bugs lurking every night in documentaries, or the abandoned factory areas of Detroit, which had already become complete slums.

However, what was more important to her was that if she secured her room and board in Barnfield’s office, she could work right away without the hassle of commuting, and if she went to the cafeteria within the appropriate time, she could get something to eat that was selected and cooked by a professional nutritionist.

Solving personal laundry in the laundry room where the players’ uniforms were washed, showering in the locker room of the Burnley Football Club women’s team (Helena, who learned of their existence, immediately promised maximum support in her heart), and sleeping on the office sofa.

Helena had been happily solving her room and board in Barnfield’s office amidst the hectic work during her first week in England, but the reason she moved her residence from Barnfield, which she had quickly grown fond of, was entirely due to the firm opinions of the same directors, Mike Garlic and John Banaskiewicz.

To be precise, it was because the club staff, who were feeling excessively pressured about work because of the American boss who was staying at Barnfield day and night, had conveyed their concerns to Mike Garlic and John Banaskiewicz.

Helena, who avoided unnecessary pressure even when she was grilling, had no choice but to pack her bags again and look for a new home.

She didn’t know how long she would be in Burnley, so she was reluctant to rent a proper house (in fact, Helena was simply annoyed with managing a house).

However, after hearing that the nearest 5-star hotel was a 30-minute drive away in Bradford or Blackburn, she searched and unpacked her luggage at the 3-star Holiday Inn Express Burnley M65, located a 45-minute walk from the Barnfield training ground and a 30-minute walk from Turf Moor.

She was uneasy about driving right away in a country where they drive on the opposite side of the road, and since she only needed to shower, do laundry, and sleep at the hotel anyway, Helena had no complaints other than the fact that she was farther away from the office.

The problem was that even she, who had managed to solve her meals well even in the jungles of the Amazon, found it hard to endure eating this British food every day.

In the end, it was inevitable that the unhappy American, who was terribly tormented by the monotonous British diet served by the hotel, would head to the only McDonald’s in town, enjoying the sunlight that had appeared for the first time in a while in Burnley in August, where it rained almost every day.

“Two Big Macs. No, one Big Mac large set and one additional Big Mac. Please change the drink to a vanilla milkshake. Yes? Ah, is it for takeout? No, I’m going to eat here?”

The employee gave her a look that said, ‘Are you going to eat all of this by yourself?’, but Helena ignored the look and presented her card for payment.

There were occasional moments when she was embarrassed by the Northwestern British dialect, but at McDonald’s, you could order just by calling out the number, so there was no chance of the order going wrong.

Finally escaping the torturous British food, she inhaled two Big Macs, a large French fry, and a milkshake from McDonald’s, which boasts tradition and history, and satisfied her craving for proper junk food.

With a satisfied feeling, Helena headed to the one and only Starbucks in Burnley along the road named Burnham Gate.

The road was 2.5 miles long, but to Helena, who had freely roamed the mining areas in the middle of the Amazon and the abandoned factories in Detroit, a paved road in a British rural town was no problem.

And it was not a coincidence but almost inevitable that Helena met one of the few foreigners and co-workers residing in Burnley at the Starbucks she arrived at after walking.

“Oh? Kim?”

“Ah, hello, Miss Cartwright.”

“Oh my gosh. Miss Cartwright, I feel like I’m being scolded by a professor. Just call me Helena.”

“Ah, yes.”

He was annoyed to run into his boss on a holiday morning, but he felt like it would be too obvious to ask to change the coffee he had already ordered in a mug to a paper cup.

Hyungmin had no choice but to show Helena the table he had occupied.