The King of Lions

Manchester United suffered a crushing blow despite appearing to have the game in hand, a strike that left them reeling for a considerable time. Not only had they lost control of the game's rhythm, but they also surrendered midfield dominance!

After Solskjær came on, he positioned himself as a second striker but didn't directly replace Trezeguet at the front line; instead, Larsson was left to spearhead the attack alone.

Makélélé, Nedvěd, and the retreating Solskjær together orchestrated beautiful play from the midfield, creating continuous exciting combinations that left Manchester United scrambling to keep up.

Schneider launched a cross from the flank, and Larsson cleverly anticipated the near-post header. It seemed like a sure goal until Schmeichel made a world-class save, diving to deflect the ball over the goal line.

From the corner, Palister attempted to clear with a header, but Solskjær, coming out of the penalty area, shot just wide.

Millwall's attacking momentum surged like a tide, with United's goal under siege.

Ferguson could no longer sit idly; he stepped to the side of the pitch, loudly directing his players.

Before United could regain their composure, Millwall launched relentless attacks and, against all odds, took the lead once more!

Nedvěd made a quick run to connect with Pirès' pass and then relayed it to the retreating forward, who caught United's defense off guard: Larsson.

Bruce and Palister were focused on Larsson, and in a split second, he darted back. They hesitated for a moment, and Larsson, with his back to goal, deftly nudged the ball with his heel, threading it between Palister and Bruce. Solskjær surged into the box and pushed the ball toward goal. No matter how adept Schmeichel was, his arms couldn't stretch wide enough to save it.

The ball slipped into the bottom corner, and after shooting, Solskjær was knocked to the ground by Bruce.

"Oh my God! How many goals will this match see? In the seventy-third minute, Millwall leads again! Larsson and Solskjær switched positions, with Solskjær unexpectedly darting into the box while Larsson retained possession. The United defense momentarily lost focus and were punished; Solskjær, a strikingly impressive forward, exhibited decisive and calm precision inside the box. The shot may not have looked quick, but the angle was strikingly accurate. Schmeichel, having a hard day, was left vulnerable; it wasn't his fault – Millwall's goals were all spectacular."

Solskjær got up from the ground, a confident and joyful smile on his boyish face. He raised his arms in triumph, fists clenched, much like Aldrich on the sidelines, signaling a declaration of victory!

Aldrich emphatically waved his fist in the air; that goal was simply magnificent.

After bringing on Solskjær, Millwall adjusted their formation from 4-4-2 to 4-2-3-1. Solskjær lurked behind Larsson as a shadow striker, but more cleverly, he and Larsson could interchange positions, catching United's defense off guard in an instant.

The Scottish manager was furious!

Ferguson's face turned a deep shade of anger as he shouted at his players with a piercing gaze, his flailing arms giving a clear command: Attack! Get your asses forward!

Having conceded two goals within the first twelve minutes, United still had nearly eighty minutes to make a comeback.

But now with less than ten minutes left in the game, time was running out for United. Especially after this latest goal, many players wore blank expressions, seemingly lost as to what to do next!

Fortunately, Ferguson's presence on the sidelines quickly pulled them from their nightmare, awakening the blood of the Red Devils once more.

The Millwall fans in the stands sang loudly, celebrating.

Who dares to underestimate us?

What's happened to Manchester United?

The Lions are trampling on the Red Devils!

Aldrich's instructions to the team were straightforward. Like Ferguson, he urged his players to keep pressing forward!

At this point, the situation was clear: retreat meant death!

United had once led 3-2 but now found themselves down 4-3!

Millwall was in exactly the same boat; Aldrich couldn't allow his players to fall back – this wasn't Lion's Den Stadium. This was Old Trafford, the Theater of Dreams!

Here, the Red Devils' fighting spirit was not to be underestimated; they were the sovereigns of this place. Without the courage to dethrone the king, victory would remain unattainable!

The pace of the game picked up even further than before, with both teams exchanging attacks. Shots were visible almost every minute; it wasn't that both sides neglected defense, but at this fast pace, both teams exhibited excellent ball control, requiring just a few seconds to complete an attack.

Giggs lost the ball, and Nedvěd launched a long pass over the halfway line. Larsson raced forward and took a shot from outside the penalty area, but Schmeichel dove expertly to parry the ball away for another world-class save!

Beckham crossed from the side, and Cole redirected the ball to Keane, who also attempted a long-range shot—this one sailing just over the crossbar.

The teams exchanged breathless attacks, with spectators holding their breaths, fearing goals could come at any second.

Beckham's threat from the right wing dwindled, resorting to blind crosses, while Cole's chances to receive the ball in the box were increasingly rare. Even when opportunities arose, he couldn't effectively challenge the goal.

Throughout the game, Giggs, entangled with Thuram, began to retreat significantly. After receiving a pass from Butt, he set off on a dribbling run. Schneider closely pursued him, prompting Giggs to fake an inside cut before passing to the advancing Keane.

Thuram blocked Giggs's path to cut inside, forcing him to sharply alter direction and go to the byline. Keane delivered a diagonal pass to the edge of the box, and Giggs succeeded in reaching the ball. Thuram had already retreated in time, but as he attempted to close in on Giggs, the latter's footwork faster; he crossed it with his left foot!

Millwall wasn't intimidated by crosses near the goal, knowing United lacked a strong striker in the small box. However, Giggs aimed his pass outside the penalty area.

Makélélé tightly marked Keane but soon realized the ball wasn't headed towards him. At the edge of the box, a figure appeared: Scholes!

Before the ball even hit the ground, Scholes struck it in mid-air. The ball, powerful and swift, flew toward the goal, bouncing just in front of it!

The angle wasn't particularly tricky, but it fooled the keeper Keller, who dove to the ground but failed to stop the shot as it slipped through his arms into the net.

"Scholes! Scholes saves Manchester United! In the eighty-first minute, United equalizes again; it's now 4-4. Both coaches' substitutions have had a notable impact. Although Scholes spent most of the match 'invisible,' he replaced McClair, a forward. Scholes scoring proves his value!"

Old Trafford erupted in cheers, but the United players, still unsatisfied, quickly retrieved the ball to race back to the center circle.

A draw wasn't enough to satisfy the Red Devils.

Aldrich scratched his head, feeling somewhat helpless.

The game was unusually fast-paced, making it impossible to predict when another goal might come. Millwall also had several golden opportunities but failed to convert. It could only be said that United capitalized on their chances, achieving positive results during counterattacks.

Both teams were drenched in sweat; Millwall players wiped their brows, out of breath but unperturbed after conceding. They quickly regrouped for kick-off.

Conceding an equalizer? No big deal; let's strike again!

Aldrich didn't issue defensive orders, leaving his players without any hesitation.

Once the game resumed, the two sides continued to engage in high-paced attacking exchanges.

In this moment, both teams were intensely focused, with no one daring to relax for a second.

Time ticked away slowly, and as the match approached the 89th minute, the score remained 4-4. The Manchester United fans found themselves nervously accepting that a draw might just be tolerable.

Millwall was performing at a top level today; if they maintained this form throughout the season, who could predict how far they might go?

Once again, Millwall mounted an attack. Thuram passed to Nedvěd, who turned quickly with the ball and faced off against two players: Butt and Keane.

Who would he pass to?

Pirès? Or perhaps Schneider?

Or directly to the forward ahead?

Both defensive stalwarts were waiting to predict Nedvěd's pass.

However, once Nedvěd gained momentum, he rapidly dribbled through the two players!

Butt and Keane had anticipated a pass, yet didn't expect the Czech powerhouse to bulldoze through!

Keane turned to grab Nedvěd's jersey while Butt went for a slide tackle. Like a wild stallion freed from its restraints, Nedvěd burst past the two of them, pulling away effortlessly!

Keane and Butt stared in disbelief: at 90 minutes, how could he still be this fast? Are you even human?

Nedvěd charged forward with the ball like lightning, and United's four defenders quickly retreated into the box as Millwall's attacking line pressed forward towards the penalty area.

After initiating his sprint, Nedvěd raced on, maintaining his speed, and at the edge of the box, he passed the ball to Pirès, who immediately lifted the ball into the box. The ball sailed just over Bruce's head; United's defenders kept a close eye on Larsson, Solskjær, and Schneider within the area.

Yet, Nedvěd, having completed the pass, continued his stride into the box, cutting through United's defense as if wielding a sharp knife.

Palister rushed to block Nedvěd, yet he stumbled and fell, unable to catch up. Bruce could only stretch an arm to impede the speeding Nedvěd.

The galloping Nedvěd almost shoved Bruce's arm aside, leaping high to meet the descending ball with a powerful header!

His flowing golden hair soared through the air as his iron-like physique imparted considerable strength to the ball.

Schmeichel dove toward the near post, reaching out but failing to make contact. Despair washed over him as he closed his eyes, hearing the name reverberate across the once-bustling Old Trafford.

"Nedvěd! Nedvěd! Our Lion King, Nedvěd!"

The Lion Roar fan group erupted in a chant for Nedvěd's name.

The fighting spirit of the Lions aimed firmly to conquer the Theater of Dreams!

The iron lion, Nedvěd, treads over the Red Devils, making his mark on Europe!