Praise or Trap?

Millwall returned from the San Siro triumphant, with three points in the bag, leaving AC Milan reeling in the aftermath of defeat and a touch of chaos. 

The reigning Serie A champions had underperformed in the league, falling short of fan expectations, and their hopes of advancing in the Champions League could only be saved by a miracle. Besides Zaccaroni being in a crisis of confidence, Galliani's work was also being questioned.

Aldrich left the San Siro feeling quite satisfied.

Here, especially after the match, he enjoyed the praise that a successful person deserves, particularly savoring the moment of making the Italian media—those who had mocked, belittled, and ridiculed him—lower their haughty heads. Why shouldn't he be happy?

Italian media had always scoffed at Millwall's lack of history and tradition. Even when they beat Juventus two years ago, they wrote it off as nothing more than luck on Millwall's part.

Now, however, who would be foolish enough to mock or sneer at Millwall? Anyone who did would only make themselves look like a complete fool.

Aldrich remained in Milan alone, turning down Moratti's invitation. No doubt, Moratti was still looking to make deals and acquire players. Over the summer, he had made a record-breaking signing by bringing Vieri to Inter, and as the new season kicked off, everything seemed to be going according to his dream scenario. In the first five matches, Inter had achieved four wins and one draw, radiating dominance. Yet, over the past month, things had taken a turn: three losses and one draw in the last four games. Could Moratti really remain calm? Losing the Milan derby could be attributed to morale issues, but defeats to Bologna and struggling Venezia? How could he not be concerned?

Aldrich had a good personal relationship with him, but no player deals had been made so far. Now Millwall wasn't looking to sell any players, so to avoid awkwardness, Aldrich simply turned down Moratti. He stayed in Milan for one more night, and the next morning, he and Rolin and her daughter went to another Italian city to enjoy the day.

After a relaxing day, Aldrich returned to the club to get back to work. On Friday morning, as he walked into his office, Yvonne knocked on the door and came in, placing a pile of newspapers on his desk.

"What's this?"

"Uh, I think you should take a look. It's the news from Italy today."

"Heh, I'm not a child. Are you trying to flatter me with praise from the Italians?" Aldrich said half-jokingly, though he was secretly a bit pleased.

How many could make the Italian media praise an English coach? It wasn't something just anyone could do.

But of course, while being pleased was fine, one must never forget to maintain their composure.

As Aldrich picked up the newspapers, Yvonne watched him with a half-smile, and his smile quickly froze, turning into anger.

He read one paper, then moved on to the next.

Yvonne suddenly said, "The praise you got was from yesterday's Italian newspapers. Should I bring more to flatter you?"

"These bastards!" Aldrich threw the newspapers on the desk, trying to steady himself.

Even if the Italians praised him, there was a limit to it. Yesterday, they had praised him, and now it was over. Were they really going to keep praising Aldrich every day?

Today, however, the real story had arrived—almost all Italian media were spreading a single message: Why aren't Italian players like Pirlo, Gattuso, Zambrotta, and Materazzi coming back to Italy?

This wasn't a question; it was a statement.

The exclamation mark was there to remind all Italian teams, especially the wealthier, more famous ones, that it was time to bring the Italian children back to their homeland!

It sounded a bit like pulling on emotional strings, and Aldrich had good reason to call them "bastards."

If they really wanted to bring the Italian kids back home, why wasn't Barzagli's name on the list? He wasn't like De Rossi, hidden in the youth team—obviously, it was Barzagli's performance in the last match that failed to convince anyone.

At its core, this was about poaching players!

Aldrich realized what this was: the praise from the Italian media was a sugar-coated trap. Behind their compliments, they secretly hoped for Millwall's collapse.

If any Italian team managed to convince these Italian players, who had risen to prominence at Millwall, to return to Serie A, Millwall might not fall apart entirely, but it would certainly suffer a significant blow.

The media's campaign would undoubtedly have some effect. They emphasized the glory of playing in Serie A, the honor of being part of Italy's top teams, the support of Italian fans, the convenience of life back home, and the ease of speaking Italian rather than struggling with their broken English, which would only invite the mocking of arrogant Brits.

Though these advantages were only one side of the story, the media focused solely on the positives.

While England's media could sometimes be "vulgar, shameless, and without boundaries," at least during this period, they were quite respectful and tolerant of foreign players, especially those from strong, mainstream football nations. Zola was treated like a demi-god, and Ginola had always been a star. Such treatment from the media was something they probably wouldn't even get back home in Italy, and this was one of the reasons why more high-level foreign players were landing in the Premier League.

But once these advantages were diminished or neutralized, it would inevitably make players' resolve to stay in England falter.

Aldrich caring deeply about whether a player might leave? Impossible.

Even if Pirlo handed in his transfer request tomorrow, Aldrich wouldn't bat an eye.

If a club's fate rests solely on a few players, then its foundations are inherently weak.

Even if Aldrich himself disappeared tomorrow—along with the entire first team—would Millwall suddenly collapse?

No way. With the successes and resources they've built up over the years, Millwall would still hold a stable position in the Premier League. They could hire a capable coach, bring in known talents, and carry on. But whether they'd ever relive their past glories—or rise even higher—that's another question entirely.

Even if those Italian players were to leave tomorrow, Aldrich would simply spend more time developing new players.

But that wasn't something he wanted to focus on right now.

What's a dynasty, really?

Is it about taking lands, expanding constantly, cementing power, and dominating an era?

If an empire collapses the day after it's built, don't even call it a dynasty—that's a joke!

For Millwall and for Aldrich himself, the era of conquering lands is already behind them. If given the chance to start over, Aldrich is confident that he could do it again, it would just take three or five more years. But he doesn't want to start over; he hopes to begin right now, carving out the glorious history of a dynasty.

Seeing Aldrich silent, Yvonne also regained her composure. She didn't say anything further and simply turned to leave. She just wanted to pass the message along to Aldrich.

Before heading to the training ground, Aldrich called Andrew.

By chance, Andrew was the agent for these Italian players.

Andrew had been a major figure in the European football transfer market for two years now. Other clubs, even if they couldn't make a deal with Millwall, would still try to build a relationship with Andrew as part of normal public relations. His company had already built a vast network in England, with over 100 players signed under the Premier League, Championship, and League One. Though fewer players were signed in other countries, his total player count still exceeded 200. Whenever Andrew's name came up in football news or reports, it was always prefixed with a title: "The Tycoon."

The voice on the other end of the phone sounded lazy, probably because Andrew had just woken up.

"Ah, I've already heard about it. Actually, several strong Italian clubs have been in touch with me in secret over the years. They're most interested in Nedved, with Pirlo further down the list. Today's news is just the Italian media finally breaking the unspoken truth and turning a private matter public."

"What do you mean?"

"What I mean is, don't worry."

"Worry about what?"

"Don't you worry about Pirlo and the others leaving?"

"Heh, why would I worry? Did you ever see me show even a second of sadness when Shevchenko left? Or when Trezeguet left, or Helguera…"

"Yeah, yeah, I get your point now. So, why did you call me?"

"I just want you to relay one thing. If, down the line, anyone decides to leave, tell them this: a career isn't a game you can restart. Miss your chance at glory, and it's gone for good."

"In your name?"

"Yes, in my name. I'm sick of telling this to each player who wants out, time and again. I've given them everything I could. If they want to go, I've never held anyone back. That's it. Goodbye."

Andrew wasn't in London at the moment. He had bought a grand castle mansion in Edinburgh last year, and now, wearing pajamas, he was standing on the balcony. In the bedroom behind him, two women were still sleeping soundly with their bare backs to him. In front of him was a picturesque countryside view. Suddenly, he shouted to the sky: "Aldrich, damn! Can you make me even prouder, my brother!"

After shouting, he closed his eyes and laughed out loud.

Over the years, he'd seen countless people bowing and scraping in front of him. Managers desperate for top players had no choice but to suck up to him, especially in negotiations where they often had to make concessions.

He'd met all types: the weak, the strong, but only Aldrich, his own brother, was beyond grasp, admired from afar. Aldrich had always been his own man—unpredictable, almost radically so.

So what if you're a top player?

So what if you're idolized as a star?

If you're here, we'll enjoy it together. If you're gone, I'll carry on just fine.

No coercion, no forced loyalty. If we click, we stay; if we don't, we split. Let's not bind anyone. My success won't falter, my glory will continue. And one day, when you look back, will there be regret, loss, or the wish to turn back time? As for me, I won't.

After finishing the call, Aldrich put the matter behind him.

After all, he couldn't make the Italian media shut up about his players. What came next was up to the players themselves.

Despite playing a Champions League match in the middle of the week, especially with two attacking players having played the full 90 minutes, Aldrich still sent out his full-strength lineup for the weekend league match. After this, they would enter a period of international breaks, with many national teams playing friendly matches. Players going to national teams could take a break, with only a few European national teams playing playoff qualifiers for the European Championship.

In the 15th round of the Premier League, Millwall defeated Sheffield Wednesday 5-1 at The Den, extending their winning streak to 15 matches in the new season, while also breaking the club's all-time record with 19 consecutive league victories across seasons.

Other competitors, Manchester United and Arsenal, won their matches as well. Leeds United, in the 13th round, suffered a heavy defeat, and in the previous round, they had predictably lost to a promoted team. But they were lucky this round to face another promoted team, and O'Leary managed to get a narrow win at home to stop the losing streak. Chelsea, after four consecutive losses, managed a draw at Goodison Park with Everton, extending their winless streak to five matches.

The Premier League was quiet. No manager wanted to talk about Millwall, not even Ferguson or Wenger, who refused to mention the team.

They understood that talking about Millwall would not only fail to affect them, but would also put immense pressure on their own teams. The terrifying gap in the points table was like an invisible mountain, leaving the teams chasing behind in despair.