Fooled

At the English Football Coaches Association dinner, Aldrich received the award for the best manager in League One, second only to Nottingham Forest's manager, Frank Clarke, in terms of charisma. Nottingham Forest had just been promoted to the Premier League and, under the guidance of Frank Clarke, a protégé of Brian Clough, they achieved a remarkable third-place finish in the league—a small miracle for Nottingham Forest once again.

During the evening, Aldrich had brief conversations with several Premier League managers. Many of them were interested in bringing players from Millwall, so they approached Aldrich to gauge the situation. However, for those teams lacking a prestigious background, Aldrich asserted that none of his players were for sale.

As the season drew to a close, Middlesbrough secured the last Premier League promotion spot, formally ending the campaign.

Aldrich then turned his attention to the summer transfer market.

He assigned Adam the task of handling sponsorship deals, including arrangements with Barclays Bank, Puma, and advertising within the stadium. These efforts were expected to generate a substantial income of around three million pounds for the team at the start of the season.

Early in the morning, after having breakfast, Aldrich called Andrew and arranged to meet at the corner of the street.

At ten a.m., a white BMW pulled up by the curb. Aldrich saw Andrew behind the wheel, with a stunning young woman in a light dress sitting in the passenger seat—someone he didn't recognize but smiled and greeted nonetheless.

"Hey, what's up this morning?" Andrew asked casually.

Dressed in a loose outfit, with his shirt untucked from his trousers, Andrew got out of the car, pulled out a cigarette, leaned against the car door, lit one, and offered Aldrich another.

Aldrich chuckled as he lit his cigarette. "I was hoping to discuss some transfer matters with you, but you look pretty busy. Never mind, can you just send a company assistant to help me? I might be going abroad in the next month or two, but I'll be running around domestically first. I need some scouts."

Blowing out a smoke ring, Andrew turned his head back towards the car and said, "Hey babe, why don't you head home? I've got some serious business to take care of."

"Huh? Didn't we plan to go on holiday in France?" she protested.

"Sweetie, work comes first. We can go on vacation later," he replied dismissively.

"Andrew! Your promises are garbage!"

"Lol, maybe. You can take the car and, from now on, don't reach out to me again. Bye."

Andrew showed no grace in front of the agitated beauty. Without a care, he wrapped his arm around Aldrich's shoulders and moved forward, pulling out his phone to call for another car.

Aldrich let out a laugh. "Just like that, it's over?"

Andrew crouched down by the street, taking a drag from his cigarette, and stated casually, "Well, it's done. She believes she's a princess. I can only say sorry; I'm not the prince who's going to spoil her."

Aldrich admired Andrew's nonchalant attitude; despite his playboy persona, he always knew how to prioritize things.

Realizing he only needed some information and didn't require Andrew's constant company, he squatted by the roadside and said, "You really don't need to stay with me. Just go on your vacation."

Andrew flicked his cigarette butt away and turned with a grin, saying, "Are you kidding? Our money isn't blown in by the wind. If I'm not involved in earning money, what's the point of my life? You definitely came to me to buy a player, right? As the owner of the agency, I should go with you; that's sincere. Money won't just magically find its way into my pocket."

Aldrich chuckled and nodded, saying, "Alright, let's go together."

Not long after, Andrew's assistant arrived in an Audi. Andrew grabbed a tie from the assistant and tied it around his neck. Right there on the street, he tucked his shirt in and styled his hair, shining his shoes against the car tire. Within three minutes, he emerged looking impeccably sharp—a transformation that left Aldrich in awe.

"So, where to?" asked Andrew.

"Help me look up four players in your company's database: Joe Cole, Ashley Cole, Rio Ferdinand, and Frank Lampard."

After Aldrich finished speaking, he gazed out the car window, quietly waiting.

Andrew dialed his company's office on his phone. All the information was stored there, regularly updated. His scouts were no less capable than those from top clubs—if anything, they were more like detectives.

Each year, the media would hype up new footballing talents, but very few would actually make it to the big stage. The first name Aldrich mentioned certainly qualified, and perhaps a more widely recognized name for the future would be better: Joe Cole.

Joe Cole was a prodigy with talent that had drawn attention from all directions since he was a child.

Currently, Aldrich didn't have much leverage to offer—only money—but for many players, that in itself was a temptation. While there were people in the world who could resist the lure of money, most only had a price in mind.

"Neither of the two Coles has signed with any team. As for Ferdinand and Lampard, things are somewhat tricky. My latest update is that this summer, West Ham United is looking to give them a contract for the senior team."

Aldrich closed his eyes for a moment, thought deeply, and said, "Then let's go find those two first. It's intriguing to poach from our rivals—why not? How much will West Ham United pay them per week?"

"It could top out at £600, or it might only be £60." Andrew replied.

"I'll offer £3000."

"Ha! You're going to be seen as a naïve fool with too much money!" 

"Time will tell who the real fool is."

Andrew drove Aldrich directly to Rio Ferdinand's home.

Aldrich decided to make the visit himself. He believed that some transfers required the manager's personal touch to persuade players effectively.

There was a story about how the Manchester City manager waited in his office for Giggs to sign a contract, only for it to get dark without the signing happening. The next day, he found out that Manchester United's Sir Alex Ferguson had paid a visit to Giggs and poached him from under City's nose.

In London, Aldrich had already gained a fair amount of notoriety. As last season's shining star in League One and Millwall's upcoming Premier League journey, media buzz about him and the club had spread like wildfire within the football community.

Thus, Aldrich and Andrew visiting Ferdinand's home drew significant attention from Ferdinand's family, even bringing in relatives. Through his sincerity and the salary offered in the contract, Aldrich managed to convince Ferdinand to join.

Frank Lampard's transfer was slightly more complicated; his father held a position at West Ham but had a poor relationship with the club. Aldrich promised Old Man Lampard a position at Millwall and used the attractive salary on offer to bring Lampard on board.

West Ham, who had initially planned to offer contracts to Lampard and Ferdinand in July, discovered in frustration that their star prospects had been lured away by their rivals, Millwall, through high wages.

Last season's young talent surge at Millwall was Aldrich's greatest asset in attracting players. Despite having yet to achieve anything in the Premier League, every young player on his team seemed packed with potential, shining brightly under his guidance.

As night fell, Aldrich and Andrew drove to the outskirts, munching on takeaway junk food and sipping beer, chatting beside the Audi. By the end of the day, Aldrich had signed four young players for the club.

Even though Joe Cole was just 13 and Ashley Cole only 15, Lampard and Ferdinand were already 17—definitely valuable assets for the next two to three years.

The success of the first day boosted Aldrich's confidence, but the next day in the North West of England's Merseyside, he met a string of setbacks.

Manchester United had their 'Class of '92', while Liverpool boasted their 'Class of '96'; in that class, three players stood out.

In one morning, Aldrich was first turned down at Carragher's house and then sent packing by Owen's parents.

The only one left was Gerrard, whom Aldrich arranged to meet at a café. 

Wearing casual clothes and trying to put on a mature façade despite his youthful appearance, Gerrard's darting eyes betrayed his cleverness.

"Refused? Why? Steven, if you have any concerns, feel free to voice them. Is it the salary? If £2000 is too little, I can offer £2500. If you're worried about accommodation, the club can provide an apartment..."

"Uh, sir, thank you for your kindness, but I don't want to sign with any team except Liverpool." Gerrard averted his gaze and lowered his voice.

Aldrich scratched his head in confusion. "Huh? Then why are you trying out at other clubs? And why agree to meet with me? You could have just rejected me over the phone."

Aldrich had come in with high hopes, especially after hearing that Gerrard was looking for a club to trial with but couldn't find any offers. He thought everyone else was blind to Gerrard's talent.

Gerrard spoke softly, a hint of embarrassment in his voice, "Honestly, I was trying to put a bit of pressure on Liverpool FC to expedite my contract."

Aldrich was left speechless.

Damn it!

I've been played by this kid!

And I became his stepping stone!

There was no doubt that news of Millwall trying to recruit Gerrard would spread quickly. Even if reporters didn't catch wind of it, Gerrard would surely be the one to spill the beans, hoping it would reach Liverpool's ears.

Discouraged, Aldrich left Merseyside, feeling a significant blow to his transfer aspirations.

On the drive back to London, he couldn't help but chuckle at himself. He should have seen this coming; those hopeful stars from elite clubs were not so easily persuaded. As homegrown prodigies, why would they want to drift aimlessly outside their prestigious teams? 

Only unambitious clubs like West Ham, lacking depth and ambition, could easily lose players, just like Paul Ince had years ago...

After a sigh, Aldrich pulled himself together, planning to move on to the next target. Good talents could be found outside of the big clubs; it was merely a matter of sifting through the sands to find the gold.