A Fresh Hope for England

As soon as the friendly match ended, the England national team boarded a flight back to London that very evening. The players, still buzzing from the international fixture, were too energized to settle down. It was clear they needed some time to mentally "cool off" before they could rest.

With the limited time the national team had together, Aldrich made the most of every moment. During the flight, while the players had little to do, he and his coaching staff decided to analyze the match with the team. Without access to video footage, they relied on the notes the coaching staff had taken during the game. These key points were shared with the players to help them reflect and internalize the lessons for themselves.

When the analysis wrapped up, exhaustion swept over the cabin like a wave, leaving it in a hush. Aldrich, seated by the window, jotted down reflections and areas for improvement in his notebook. His train of thought was interrupted when someone sat beside him. Turning, he found Alan Smith. Aldrich closed his notebook and asked, "Is there something you need?"

Alan Smith made his debut for the national team today and put in a decent performance. He worked tirelessly in defense, disrupting the opposition effectively. Additionally, he played a crucial part in Gerrard's penalty, providing the link-up that set up Joe Cole's decisive pass.

Alan Smith, blunt as ever, said directly, "Coach, I have two things to say to you. First, when Leeds United faced Millwall last season, I spat at you. I want to formally apologize for that, and I hope you can accept it. Second, thank you for calling me up to the national team and giving me the opportunity to play."

Aldrich, his expression unchanged, responded calmly, "Alright, then I have two things to say to you as well. First, it's normal for a man to have a temper, but as a professional player, emotional control is one of the basic requirements of professionalism. Losing your temper is easy, but you must consider the consequences. When you put on that jersey and step onto the pitch, the team's interests come first. If you genuinely believe venting your anger helps the team, then by all means, go ahead. But in reality, it's usually the opposite. Second, being called up to the national team doesn't mean much. I'm sure you appreciate this opportunity, but just appreciating it isn't enough. You need to work hard to increase your contribution to the team. I believe you have that determination, so keep striving. Don't let yourself down."

Smith was silent for a moment, seemingly processing the advice. He eventually nodded and left.

Aldrich watched him go, then turned inward. Smith's past behavior hadn't bothered him much. Leading a team through countless matches each year exposed Aldrich to all manner of incidents, both on and off the pitch. Players and fans could be volatile, but Aldrich preferred to focus on his work and not dwell on personal grievances.

As a player, Smith was not someone Aldrich expected to spearhead England's attack. His goal-scoring record fell short of elite standards, but Aldrich valued his grit and ability to disrupt opponents. Smith was best defined as a defensive forward—creating pressure up front, aiding teammates, and providing assists.

Thinking about Smith, Aldrich couldn't help but sigh.

His career was a lamentable story of unrealized potential. From the moment Riise's ferocious strike left him with a career-threatening fracture to Ferguson's failed attempt to reshape him into a midfielder at Manchester United, Smith's journey seemed filled with cruel twists.

Turning a relentless striker into a defensive midfielder like Keane—what was the missing piece?

The answer lay in positional awareness, a skill that demands years to develop. While Smith had the spirit of a relentless warrior, defensive players require more than just sheer effort. Overzealous tackling can sometimes do more harm than good. Consider the Italian defenders, who remain unnervingly composed, allowing their opponents space to control and turn with the ball, striking only at the perfect moment. This approach contrasts starkly with English defenders, who stick to their man like glue, refusing to give even an inch of breathing room.

The flight touched down in London past midnight. Aldrich gave the team a day off to rest and reunite with their families before preparations for the World Cup qualifier against Albania began.

Aldrich crept into the house quietly, not wanting to disturb his family. However, as he reached the living room, the commotion from upstairs made him pause.

He hurried up the stairs and pushed open the door to Bert and Earl's room. Inside, he found Yvonne, still in her pajamas, trying to calm the two little troublemakers with toys. But the scene was pure chaos.

Bert, from his crib with bars, was repeatedly tossing a small football around, entertaining himself. Yet, the moment the ball fell out of reach, he'd erupt into loud cries, demanding someone fetch it for him.

Meanwhile, Earl was on another bed, bouncing up and down as if he were dancing. He was wide awake, full of energy, and utterly unconcerned about the late hour.

"Sometimes they're angels, and other times... they're little devils," Aldrich lamented.

Yvonne turned abruptly, almost dizzy from her back-and-forth tasks—sending Earl to bed one moment, and helping Bert pick up balls the next.

Seeing Aldrich, she gave a wry smile. "Well, maybe they get that from you."

Aldrich took off his suit jacket and walked over to Earl's bed, gently coaxing him to sleep. Yvonne felt a bit more at ease now, as she only needed to entertain Bert.

"I watched the match live. Why didn't you seem excited on the sidelines? Was it the pressure?"

"No, it was frustration," Aldrich replied.

With a knowing smile, Yvonne teased, "Hmm, seeing Spain's starting lineup, I'd feel frustrated for you too. It was like a deliberate slight."

"Exactly. Even if I won, so what? It feels like a hollow victory."

"Ha! But I bet the Spanish national team's coach feels even worse than you do right now."

Aldrich chuckled. "Haha, yeah. He's probably not just frustrated—he's got a whole list of problems to deal with..."

After Bert played himself into exhaustion and fell asleep, Aldrich took a quick shower. When he returned in his pajamas, Earl had also been lulled to sleep by Yvonne.

Aldrich wrapped his arms around Yvonne's waist from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder. "How about hiring a nanny?"

"Shh."

Yvonne turned, took his hand, and quietly led him out of the room. She turned off the lights and closed the door. On their way back to their bedroom, she smiled. "No need. My work isn't too demanding, and I've got time for them. Like you said, while those little guys may act like devils sometimes, they can be so sweet when they're angels. During the match, Earl kept trying to feed me fruit. I'm stuffed!"

Aldrich chuckled but said nothing more.

The next morning, Fleet Street published the post-match reports from the England-Spain friendly. Predictably, sensational headlines were splashed across the front pages.

"England's Tactical Triumph Over Spain!"

"Three Lions Unstoppable in Their Comeback!"

"Hall Revitalizes England: A New Era Begins!"

These shameless outlets conveniently ignored their overwhelmingly pessimistic predictions just a day earlier, where most had forecast England's defeat under Aldrich's leadership.

But after England's victory, they quickly pivoted, showering England with praise and flattering Aldrich with such fervor it could make anyone feel suffocated.

Still, some articles offering professional analysis were worth a read. They highlighted the strengths and weaknesses of England's new tactical approach and evaluated individual players' performances.

For instance, Beckham's deeper position allowed Neville unimpeded access to the wide corridor while maximizing Beckham's long-passing ability. In advanced positions, his crossing was a known threat and heavily marked. But when he dropped deeper, his sudden, pinpoint long passes during transitions often proved more devastating.

England's switch to an additional midfielder at the expense of a forward bolstered defensive solidity while lending more structure and variation to their counterattacks.

Aldrich's work in just a few days had sparked hope, though it remained to be seen how far England could go on the international stage.

Later that morning, Aldrich woke up to find Yvonne already at work. She'd left a note on the bedside table, reminding him of their lunch reservation at a restaurant.

After freshening up, he headed to his sons' room. The two boys, seemingly more energetic than their father, were already standing in their cribs, full of activity.

Aldrich scooped them up and brought them to the gym, setting them down on a carpet to play. Oddly, the little ones weren't as lively now. Instead, they each grabbed a bottle, sat down, and sucked on their pacifiers in unison, gazing up at Aldrich as he jogged on the treadmill.

Aldrich had been running for twenty minutes when his phone rang, interrupting his workout. Gasping for breath, he answered to find Sir Alex Ferguson on the other end of the line.

The Scottish manager started by congratulating him on his successful debut as the national team coach. Then, he launched into a casual conversation, rambling about various topics until Aldrich was thoroughly baffled.

He nearly blurted out, "What exactly are you calling me for?"

Fifteen minutes into their chat, Ferguson finally got to the point of his call—not directly, of course. Aldrich had to connect the dots himself.

The gist? It was as simple as: "Come on, young man, let's not run my Manchester United boys ragged in these national team friendlies, yeah?"

After hanging up, Aldrich didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

In yesterday's friendly, Beckham and Neville had gone the full 90, while Scholes had been spared—just barely—after sixty minutes on the pitch.

To be fair, Aldrich totally got why Ferguson was worried. Manchester United's season opener hadn't been great, and with so many internationals in the squad, the summer tournament had clearly taken a toll.

Meanwhile, Millwall had no such problems. Pirlo was benched for most of his national team's games, Nedvěd and Larsson were enjoying their vacations, and Ronaldinho? He had nothing to do with the European Championship.

To make matters worse, their star striker was embroiled in tabloid scandals with no end in sight. Ferguson, eager to dethrone Millwall this season, clearly faced an uphill battle.

With all this context, it was easy to see why Ferguson didn't want his players returning to Manchester worn out.

Although Aldrich was firm in his coaching decisions and resistant to external influence, he did empathize. England players already faced grueling seasons, and giving them some rest during a less demanding period, like a friendly match, seemed reasonable. He had done the same for Owen.

However, Aldrich also understood the importance of building a solid foundation. In the early stages of his tenure, it was crucial to give the core team enough playing time to establish chemistry. Once the team was well-integrated, he could afford more flexibility.

After changing into casual wear, Aldrich noticed the fridge was running low on supplies. He placed Bert and Earl into their stroller, donned a pair of stylish sunglasses, and headed out with his twin sons to shop for groceries.

The community they lived in was upscale, populated by well-to-do residents who didn't make a fuss over Aldrich's fame in football. Neighbors greeted him like any other member of the community, and occasional neighborhood events provided opportunities to mingle. While Aldrich was a popular topic among football fans, he wasn't treated as a celebrity anomaly.

Yvonne had chosen this neighborhood precisely for its balance—a place where they could blend into the community while maintaining their privacy.

As Aldrich drove slowly out of his driveway, he exchanged waves and smiles with passing neighbors. A few even gave him a thumbs-up, likely in praise of his team's performance yesterday.

Aldrich returned their gestures with a polite smile, though he couldn't help but wonder, "If we'd lost yesterday, would they be flipping me off instead?"