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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 · sport
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Passionate and Joyful

At just 17 years old, Ronaldinho found out on the morning of the final that he had made the team roster. Although it was just the substitute list, he was thrilled because this was his first appearance in the first-team lineup. Even sitting on the bench excited him beyond belief. 

Though he was a key player for the youth team, he had little presence in the first team.

Sitting upright on the bench, young Ronaldinho resembled a soldier on standby, completely focused. His gaze flicked between the match and Aldrich, waiting eagerly.

"Boss, when will it be my turn?"

He waited and waited, watching keenly.

Van Nistelrooy scored, putting the team in the lead. Wise received a red card and left the pitch, and the remarkable veteran Larsson scored again...

Ronaldinho's anticipation began to fade into a sense of disappointment as time passed.

Just then, Aldrich approached him, instructing him to warm up. Ronaldinho felt as though he had heard the most beautiful sound in the world. Instantly revitalized, he leaped off the bench and began his warm-up exercises on the sidelines.

At the same time, Aldrich ordered Lampard and Gattuso to warm up as well.

Larsson was walking back around the field, accompanied by the team doctor. Aldrich stepped forward and said to Larsson, "You need a break today; you've already pushed your limits."

With players older than himself, Aldrich always spoke in a friendly tone. Only when addressing younger players did he adopt a slightly more authoritative stance.

Larsson had a thigh strain, but it wasn't serious. With a break coming up and no national team duties, the injury wouldn't impact next season much.

"Boss, thanks for not leaving me on the bench."

After smiling and saying this, Larsson returned to his seat, where a team doctor began massaging his thigh. Given Millwall's current lead, there was no doubt they would win the match. Larsson figured he wouldn't leave just yet, as a trophy presentation awaited them later.

Aldrich said nothing further; both he and Larsson understood each other without words. 

This season was crucial for Larsson, who was pushing for a goal-scoring record. His teammates were supporting him, and if he missed out on this opportunity, it would likely be a lifelong regret.

As the three players finished warming up, Aldrich stood by the sidelines preparing to make a substitution. Benitez and Jensen were assigning in-game roles to Gattuso and Lampard, while Aldrich called Ronaldinho over.

"Nervous?" Aldrich asked with a smile.

Ronaldinho looked around the field, observing the players. Shaking his head, he replied, "Not really. I've always wanted to play alongside them."

Aldrich glanced at the players on the field. Millwall featured talents like Nedved, Makelele, and Southgate, giving younger players a psychological boost. This was his usual method for nurturing newcomers after stabilizing the team's structure—strong guiding the weak. Although Nedved and the others weren't exactly old, their strength was undeniable.

"Do you recall your defensive duties?"

"Sure!"

"And when we're on the attack, where do you need to show up?"

"I understand!"

Aldrich smiled as he gently squeezed Ronaldinho's shoulder. "Just enjoy the atmosphere today, don't overthink it."

Ronaldinho nodded and, at Aldrich's cue, headed toward the fourth official. But halfway there, he turned back.

Aldrich raised an eyebrow, wondering if he was having second thoughts.

Instead, Ronaldinho approached him with a serious demeanor. "Boss, if I score, will you celebrate with me?"

Aldrich chuckled, thinking the kid was overthinking it. "Sure, I'll celebrate, but you can't just focus on scoring."

"I know, I know, but scoring is part of my job in this position. If I score, I'll come find you to celebrate." 

Aldridge was a little helpless. He put his hands on Ronaldinho's shoulders, turned him around and pushed him toward the fourth official. "Stop wasting time and come on."

He, along with Lampard and Gattuso, were substituted in.

Ronaldinho replaced Larsson on the left wing, while Lampard and Gattuso took over for Ballack and Makelele.

Once on the pitch, Chelsea's counterattacks surged forward. Gattuso and Lampard swept across the defensive front, while Ronaldinho participated defensively alongside Zambrotta on the left flank.

With even numbers, Millwall's defense was nearly flawless, forcing the attacking team to commit more players forward. In one-on-one situations, they rarely had an advantage.

This kind of counterattack was risky, relying on momentum and a period of intensive pressure to create chances. If they couldn't quickly score, attacking players would lose heart, opening up more defensive gaps.

As the clock ticked down, Chelsea struggled to attack. Being a man down, they had to work harder, and in the last three minutes, they were running on empty.

Di Matteo took a desperate long shot next to Lampard, but it was right at Butt, who confidently gathered the ball.

Despair filled the hearts of Chelsea players and fans alike, and at that moment, Butt surged forward, throwing the ball to the left side near the center circle.

Chelsea defenders paid little attention to Ronaldinho, the newcomer. As they shifted from offense to defense, their focus was on stars like Nedved and Gronkjaer, with Van Nistelrooy tightly marked by Leboeuf.

Ronaldinho received the ball near the center circle on the left flank, with only one defender, Clark, in front of him.

Clark seemed intent on pressuring Ronaldinho to win the ball back and launch a quick counterattack.

With his back to the defender, Ronaldinho controlled the ball and began to twist his body to the right. In response, Clark reached out his foot to attempt a steal.

But Ronaldinho swiftly changed direction halfway through, switching to the left and slipping past Clark, then surged forward at full speed!

The path ahead was clear as Ronaldinho launched into a long, determined run.

In a sprinting competition, he might not win first place among Millwall players, but he'd definitely be in the top five. However, under ball control, he was the fastest in the squad, thanks to his exceptional touch and technical skills.

Leboeuf stuck closely to Van Nistelrooy's movement, while Nedved began to sprint forward. Sinclair, not wanting to take any chances, also chased after Nedved.

Meanwhile, Ronaldinho was crossing the halfway line on his own, charging forward without anyone to stop him.

With only two center-backs remaining, they likely deemed Van Nistelrooy and Nedved as more significant threats. The unassuming young Ronaldinho was assumed to be there just to support the "big brothers."

As Ronaldinho approached the penalty area at high speed, remarkably, no one stepped up to challenge him!

Aldrich stood up from his seat and walked to the sidelines, looking completely astonished.

"Damn, no way?! What's going on here?"

Once Ronaldinho entered the box, Sinclair finally abandoned Nedved and rushed to close him down, realizing Ronaldinho was not looking to pass!

Sinclair moved laterally, but Ronaldinho skillfully executed a feint and slid the ball past him. The fluidity of his motion was impressive; by the time Sinclair shifted his body, he lost his footing and slipped right in front of Ronaldinho.

After making the lateral pass, Ronaldinho found a clear shooting angle and took the shot without hesitation.

With a clean strike, he sent the ball into the near corner of the net, leaving the goalkeeper helpless!

"Goal! He's scored! Who is that? Who is this kid? Starting from midfield, he dribbled past Clark, then fooled Sinclair in the box and finished it! Who is this player? Millwall has another genius rising? It's Ronaldinho! Let's remember this name, because this is his debut in the first team and he just scored in the FA Cup final! Aldrich-Hall is going crazy, but that's exactly what football is about! What a beautiful goal to behold! It's Ronaldinho's moment, and we should celebrate!"

The stands erupted in cheers. Even though Millwall's football philosophy emphasized teamwork, fans could never resist the thrill of an individual display. The passion was palpable.

Millwall fans shouted and whistled, celebrating the goal.

Some diehard supporters gleefully shouted to their companions, "That's Ronaldinho! I've known about him for ages. He's the brightest talent from the Leo Academy! Joe Cole can't hold a candle to him! I always knew this day would come. He'll be one of our top stars!"

The entire Millwall coaching staff and players flocked to the sidelines, both to celebrate post-match and to process Ronaldinho's incredible goal.

After witnessing the goal, Aldrich could hardly contain his happiness. "Did you see that? Did you see that?" he asked his coaching staff excitedly.

Although the goal showcased Ronaldinho's individual brilliance, it was partly due to Van Nistelrooy and Nedved creating space for him while the opposing defenders underestimated him.

Regardless, Ronaldinho had scored on his debut in an FA Cup final. Even as a mere embellishment, it was more than enough to excite him.

He dashed to the sidelines, bursting with joy. "Boss, I scored! Let's celebrate together!"

Aldrich clapped, beaming. "Well done!"

Ronaldinho shook his head vigorously. "No, no, no! Come dance with me! I promised myself I'd have you dancing on the sidelines with me!"

Aldrich was taken aback, but Ronaldinho called out again, "You're not going back on your word, are you?"

The surrounding coaches and players watched with anticipation, urging Aldrich on.

With a resigned nod, Aldrich acquiesced, stepping back as Ronaldinho approached him, and together they began to dance the samba, both smiling widely.

After performing a playful 360-degree spin and trailing their right hands through the air, the two embraced.

The crowd in Wembley Stadium erupted in applause, with the Lions' fans standing and cheering. Millwall's flags waved on the stands like rippling waves.

Fans witnessed Aldrich and Ronaldinho dancing the samba, bringing sheer joy to their faces, as the happiness radiated from the spectacle.

Under Aldrich's leadership, Millwall was never short on passion, and now it was enriched with joy.

Chelsea players and fans, however, could only watch in disbelief as their rivals celebrated without restraint, envy flickering in their eyes.

The commentator, moved by the scene, excitedly praised Millwall's football and team spirit.

As Aldrich released Ronaldinho, he made the sign of the cross over his chest and pointed toward the sky.

Teammates rushed over to congratulate him on his goal and exchanged hugs.

Four minutes of stoppage time remained, but the game didn't restart immediately.

Sinclair had injured himself while defending Ronaldinho, slipping and straining his thigh in the process.

Chelsea really tried their best in this game, but in the end they not only lost the game, but also had players injured.

After Chelsea conceded the third goal, Bates angrily left his box, while Arthur joyfully danced inside, his jovial nature shining through.

Chelsea couldn't turn the game around, letting Millwall control the ball and waste time with passes in the final four minutes.

As the referee blew the final whistle, Southgate kicked the ball skyward, roaring in exhilaration as all Millwall players pumped their fists and shouted triumphantly.

"Treble winners!"