webnovel

The Rise of Millwal

"No one likes us, it doesn't matter!" "It doesn't matter if everyone likes us!" Aldridge, possessed by time and space, never imagined that one day he would become the boss of the notorious Millwall in England. The Edwards family gave Ferguson seven years to finally recreate the dynasty of the Busby Boys. After Graham's glory, the arsenal was looking for the next Chapman. The professor who was fired for the first time left for Japan, always waiting for the call from Europe. Liverpool, which has won the Champions League four times in seven years, still lives in the shadow of Manchester United. White Hart Lane is gradually becoming ordinary, Stamford Bridge is dimly blue, Jin Yuan's violent Ben challenges the throne, Keegan trains the gorgeous magpie to soar to the sky! In the summer of 1994, the Millwall Youth Army, led by young coach Aldridge, was about to rewrite the history of a hundred years without a championship. That dark blue of a mad lion is determined to sweep Europe...

nt_a · Sports
Not enough ratings
557 Chs

 Turning the Tide  

Not only Beckham but Ferguson was also smiling, applauding to praise his players' performance. Everything seemed to get back on track, returning to the familiar rhythm of the Red Devils, Manchester United.

Just after the second half began, Manchester United scored a goal, overturning their poor start of being two goals down. With nearly forty minutes left in the match, United made a substitution first.

McClair, the forward who had been almost invisible in the first half, was taken off for Scholes.

Seeing this substitution, Aldrich noticed Ferguson at the sidelines, giving tactical instructions to his players. He understood that Ferguson wanted to stabilize the pace of the game.

With Manchester United now in the lead, it would be Millwall who felt anxious. Bringing in Scholes could strengthen midfield control, and alongside the back-row reinforcements, his presence was a sharp weapon for counterattacks.

At this time, Scholes did not have a fixed position in midfield; he was moving closer to the penalty area during the match. In the following two years, before the arrival of Yorke and Cole, who would form a deadly duo, Scholes had a high call among fans to replace the less favored Cole as a forward.

A team that went from a two-goal lead to trailing by one—how devastating would it be after being scored on three times?

At least Millwall's players on the field were not shaken in their confidence. Right after conceding the goal, they immediately set up their formation to get ready for the kick-off from the center circle.

Aldrich felt gratified; after a year of experience in League One, this young Millwall team's greatest confidence was their ability to score!

Last season, they had scored a staggering 140 goals across the league and cup competitions combined. Scoring was not an issue for them.

Falling behind is nothing to worry about!

In the stands, Manchester United fans began to sing loudly, their voices booming.

Meanwhile, Millwall's fans in the East Stand were somewhat bewildered, stunned into silence after being overturned from a two-goal lead.

Brady glanced around and suddenly clenched his fists, swinging them in front of him as he began to chant: "Nobody likes us, we don't care! Nobody likes us, we don't care!"

He looked left and right, continuously repeating the chant until gradually, the East Stand erupted in a synchronized chorus from Millwall fans, their voices echoing like thunder.

Even though there were no disturbances between the fans in the stands, behind the calm facade lay Manchester United fans' scorn for the Millwall supporters. They resembled affluent magnates, while Millwall fans appeared as street beggars—why should they pay any heed to those who ask for alms? Isn't that just sullying their own eyes, dirtying their own hands, and degrading their own reputation?

After Aldrich saw Scholes come on, Manchester United tried to toy with Millwall by passing the ball around in midfield. He strolled casually along the sidelines, chuckling to himself: Is the game over? Old fox, you've made a mistake that might be irreparable!

As United tried to control the midfield to set the game's tempo, Millwall's players organized a frantic but orderly press, preventing United from controlling the match for even a minute!

Scholes had the ball at his feet and intended to pass it directly back to Keane, but Makelele intervened with a quick foot, deflecting the ball to the left flank. Beckham just managed to control it when Neil came in with a precise tackle to steal the ball, leaving a wobbly Beckham, struggling to keep his balance, completely unable to get back on defense.

Neil surged forward again, the pace of the attack undiminished.

Butt closely tracked Nedved, while Keane was hustling over to support the flanks. After a quick one-two with Pires, Neil took two dribbles toward the left side in front of the penalty area, while Gary Neville positioned himself to monitor Pires as he advanced toward the box.

Millwall had focused their attacks on the left flank in the first half, causing United's defense to lean to the right. In Neville's view, the only thing apart from Neil with the ball was Pires not far off, which was enough to make him uneasy.

Bruce and Palister closely marked Trezeguet and Larsson, both of whom coincidentally darted toward the left in a bid to create a numerical advantage in that area, causing the defenders to follow suit.

Just as Neil found himself with limited space to carry the ball, Neville decided to step up, but Neil surprised everyone by playing the ball across the middle.

Shock ran through the United defense. Was that a pass to Nedved?

Turning to look, they realized Nedved hadn't moved up; he was merely drawing Butter's attention.

However, on the path the ball rolled toward the center, a Millwall player raced in.

Who was it?

Bernd Schneider!

After assisting Trezeguet's early goal, the young German player, who hadn't made any impressive plays since, surprisingly positioned himself at the edge of the penalty area!

Ferguson utilizing Erwin's to venture forward and earn a free kick had relaxed the attention on Schneider's marking.

As United's defense tilted to the right, the two forwards had drawn the center-back's attention away with their movement, leaving Schneider unmarked in the middle, while Erwin's late support came too slowly.

Facing this pass, Schneider distinctly remembered Aldrich's tactical request.

Focusing attacks on the weak defensive right side of United had been the theme in the first half. Now, as United attempted to shore up their right flank, Schneider had more room to maneuver toward the center.

Arriving at this position, he could either pass it off again or take a shot himself! Whatever he chose, he must absolutely not hesitate!

Observing the gaping hole in the United defense, Schneider's eyes filled with determination. He had been watching closely before he reached the receiving position, noticing Trezeguet and Larsson's run toward the left. As the ball rolled toward him on the right, Palister abandoned his mark on Larsson, rushing toward him.

Was it a pass to Larsson?

But there was still too little space.

Schneider decisively opted for a long-range shot.

The boss had said before that matches against Manchester United were crucial encounters fitting of Millwall's level!

If he intended to be here, he had to have the ability to rise to such a grand occasion!

Schneider was well aware that his dribbling and penetrative abilities could not match Pires on the left, but he had a strong and determined heart.

I must be worthy of such a battle!

Boss, keep your eyes wide open; I won't let you down!

When the ball rolled before him, Schneider had already adjusted his steps, bending his right leg back, unleashing a fierce shot!

The perfect posture of his striking body captured in a powerful, heroic moment.

Deep within, Schneider roared: "Damn it, ball, get into Manchester United's goal! I don't care if it's Schmeichel; even if he were a god, he wouldn't stop Millwall from stepping on the lofty Manchester United!"

Bang!

The ball shot off like a cannonball, with no spin at all, arcing towards the upper left corner of the United goal!

Schmeichel lunged for it, but the angle was too tight; he couldn't reach the ball.

Then, a muted thud reverberated around the stadium, sounding particularly striking amidst the silence.

The ball struck the crossbar but hit the lower side and ricocheted into the net.

With gritted teeth and a fierce look on his face, Schneider saw the ball hit the back of the net. He clenched his fists in celebration and then turned to run towards the coaching staff with his arms wide open.

Old Trafford fell into a deafening silence, with the Red Devils fans dumbfounded.

That world-class goal was absolutely perfect, beyond criticism; it was simply enviable!

Millwall's fans in the East Stand erupted in unison, waving their arms and generating a roaring tide of noise.

"A stunning long-range shot, a brilliant world-class goal! Germany has produced another talent capable of reaching the world stage! His name is Bernd Schneider! What kind of magic does Aldrich possess? Why are all his players so astonishing? Even more impressively, we can see Millwall's fighting spirit after being overturned; it's like they haven't been affected by conceding three goals, patiently and purposefully attacking again to score!"

"Martin, you are absolutely right! I once doubted Schneider was just lucky to assist early in the game, but that's clearly not the case. Millwall's attacking strategy is intricately structured; they focused on the left flank, exploiting United's soft spots. Bruce, being too old, simply couldn't cope with the aggressive forwards. Meanwhile, as United's defense began to patch up this weakness, vulnerabilities appeared on the other side. Young Neil would pass the ball to the right, and that has to be the coach's game plan; otherwise, he would surely have continued to progress with Pires or directly coordinate with the forwards. Still, his cross neatly exploited the cracks in United's defense. This attack from Millwall was not random or isolated; it stemmed from their efforts in the previous fifty-five minutes!"

"United had just wanted to stabilize the game's rhythm, trying to lead Millwall by the nose, but they were wrong; they could not control the game tempo at all, and Millwall defiantly rejected United's domination!"

With a smile on his face, Aldrich watched as his coaches and substitutes rushed out to welcome Schneider, who ran toward them like a hero, embracing in a jubilant celebration.

Once the crowd dispersed, Aldrich straightened his suit slightly, his mind still filled with a powerful belief in victory.

United's goal conceded was half self-inflicted.

You want to stabilize the game tempo?

What a joke.

The players had been mentally focused and running with full effort since the very first second of the match. Physically, they were in an extremely elevated state. For United, once they took the lead, they intended to slow down; however, abruptly halting their physical momentum would require a warm-up period to rev up again.

Just a moment ago, Neil had intercepted Beckham's ball. In some sense, that demonstrated Beckham's decline, his slower handling—even Keane and other defenders were clearly a step behind Millwall's attacking players!

And Schneider's impact at this point was no mere coincidence.

Millwall's front-line attack had developed a set of effective tactics in League One; they were already adept at using the flanks to deceive. However, today against Manchester United, the strong left flank attack was not a feint—it was a heavy blow delivered with intent.

Disregarding Ferguson's expression at this moment, Aldrich made a substitution after leveling the score.

During halftime, all the substitutes were warming up on the sidelines, with Solskjær, Ballack, and Vieira continuing their warm-ups as the second half began.

At this point, Aldrich substituted Solskjær for Trezeguet.

As Trezeguet left the field, his head down, Aldrich welcomed him, smiling as he said, "Do you know why I substituted you?"

Trezeguet lifted his head, feeling somewhat embarrassed as he replied, "Boss, I understand now."

After the indulgences of the offseason, it was apparent that his stamina was failing to keep up with the match tempo. During Manchester United's attacks, his ability to drop back and disrupt play was diminishing. Although Aldrich had planned to substitute him at sixty minutes, he made the change three minutes early.

Aldrich patted him on the shoulder, smiling, "Just understand."

Trezeguet took the jacket handed to him by Craig, put it on, and after high-fiving his teammates, he sat down, silently resolving to train harder when he got back.

Today's match against Manchester United made him realize just how intense the games between strong teams could be and how fast the pace was—nothing compared to last year's match against Middlesbrough.