Return to Triumph
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**Rotterdam Stadium**
**Barcelona 1-4 Millwall**
**Match Time: 93:48**
The Barcelona fans in the stands looked blank, their sadness concealed behind silent eyes.
Aside from occasional camera shots, no one paid them any more attention.
The Lions' fans were already celebrating, counting down the final moments.
Neutral fans were completely won over by Millwall, standing in anticipation of the moment the championship was officially announced.
The Barcelona players on the bench were expressionless, while on Millwall's side, all the coaches and players gathered at the sidelines.
Finally, when the referee blew the final whistle, the stadium erupted with thunderous cheers.
"Millwall! Millwall! Millwall!"
Players on the sidelines rushed onto the field, with some coaches starting to celebrate exuberantly.
Benítez took a few steps onto the field, then suddenly turned around and saw Aldrich with his eyes closed and head raised as if engaged in some religious ritual. Curiously, he asked, "Aren't you coming to celebrate?"
Aldrich took a deep breath, his face smiling. As the tension finally eased, it felt as if even the air had a flavor, refreshing and delightful.
He opened his eyes and told Benítez, "You go ahead. I'll join you in a moment."
With that, he turned and walked towards the Barcelona bench.
After the match, the Barcelona players stood on the field with vacant expressions. Some were holding their heads in despair, while the coaching staff and some substitutes walked onto the field to comfort the players.
Aldrich approached Robson. Despite losing the final, the veteran coach, having weathered many storms, maintained a calm demeanor.
The two embraced and spoke, Aldrich putting aside his smile and saying with seriousness, "It's a pity we didn't face Barcelona at their best today."
Robson gave a faint smile and replied, "Why are you being so honest? You should say that today's Barcelona was the strongest! That way, Millwall's victory would be even greater."
Aldrich shook his head. "Confidence and arrogance are only a fine line apart. We won today, but it's not the end of the story. If this group of players thinks they are invincible, today's victory might plant the seeds of disaster. I will let them celebrate, then once they calm down, I'll tell them: you didn't face the strongest Barcelona, not even Ronaldo was in top form today."
Aldrich was sincere in his words. He wasn't just flattering his opponents; he spoke his mind.
Barcelona, under the pressure of catching up with Real Madrid in La Liga, had given their all in the recent Spanish derby. Combined with inconsistent player performance and other factors, Barcelona wasn't at their best today.
Especially with the European focus on the talented Ronaldo. Despite an impeccable season record, his form had fluctuated throughout the season. Last month, after Barcelona's president Núñez rejected Ronaldo's demand for a pay rise and cast doubt on his future at the club, Ronaldo was distracted by transfer rumors. Núñez had always been opposed to bringing Ronaldo to the club,Now, all of Europe knows that as long as the buyout clause for Ronaldo's contract is paid, the alien can be taken away from Camp Nou.
Robson patted Aldrich on the arm and said, "Don't belittle yourself. Your team performed better today. You deserve the championship. Go, celebrate with your players. They're surely waiting for you."
Aldrich shook hands with Robson and then turned to walk onto the field.
As he approached the celebrating players, they gathered around him. Aldrich hugged each player, praising their performance today.
When he reached the other end of the field and embraced Zambrotta, cheers erupted from the stands.
"Aldrich! Aldrich! Aldrich! Damn, look over here!"
Aldrich looked toward the stands and saw the Lions' fans. Brady and Fred were at the front. Brady shouted at him with a scowl, "Give us some souvenirs! Your suit is nice, give it to me!"
"I want the tie!" Fred jumped up and shouted.
"Give me your underwear!"
A female fan's shout from the back made everyone laugh out loud.
Aldrich, not shy at all, took off his suit and untied his tie, tossing them to Brady and Fred.
"Damn! Don't grab it! What use is it if it's torn? Hey, the quality is actually pretty good!"
Brady hugged the suit and, after a while, put it on when he saw no one was fighting for it. He looked somewhat comical as the suit didn't quite fit him.
Fred, wearing his jersey, tied the tie around his neck. The two looked like a comedic duo.
From the moment the match ended, the live broadcast kept the cameras on Aldrich, capturing his gestures of tossing the suit and tie.
Afterward, Aldrich stood alone at the sidelines, the passionate scene of the Lions' fans behind him. He scanned the field, imprinting every moment in his mind.
The players running and celebrating, the coaches grinning with pride, the crowds saluting the fans...
And the despondent Barcelona coaching staff and players.
This was an incredible era.
At this moment, Aldrich saw Mourinho comforting Guardiola from thirty meters away, perhaps offering mutual consolation.
Victors and vanquished, so pure on the green pitch.
Aldrich closed his eyes again, feeling the crazed atmosphere in the stadium, with deafening sounds echoing behind him.
"Millwall, Kings of Europe!"
"Millwall, Kings of Europe!"
Today, there was no miracle, just a legend.
Two years ago, Millwall was fighting in League One, and now they were English Premier League champions and the kings of European competition!
Aldrich, in the midst of the excitement of success, felt a greater sense of relief.
He had once again fulfilled his promise.
Millwall's young players, give me some more time, some more support, and let us continue this legend!
"Boss?"
Hearing his name, Aldrich opened his eyes to find himself surrounded by players.
Nedvěd, Larsson, Schneider, and Trezeguet, all shirtless, were smiling at him, while other players were around him.
Aldrich looked slightly surprised as he was suddenly lifted off his feet from behind.
Southgate shouted, "Boss! Thank you!"
The players joyfully threw him into the air.
Aldrich looked at the clear Dutch sky, laughing to the point of intoxication...
After the award ceremony, Aldrich and the team boarded a plane back to London that night.
The flight from Rotterdam to London took less than two hours.
The team boarded the plane close to ten o'clock. The players took turns holding the championship trophy, continuing the post-match celebration in a frenzy.
Aldrich was also pulled into the group photos. They popped champagne, raised toasts, and sang and danced in the cramped cabin.
When the plane landed in London, no one was clean. Most were drenched in beverages, looking quite disheveled.
Before disembarking, Aldrich stood at the front of the aisle, smiling and asking, "What are your plans after we land?"
"Go home and sleep!"
The players replied in unison. Schneider, noticing Aldrich's surprised expression, laughed heartily, "Boss, of course we know there's another final waiting for us the day after tomorrow!"
The other players' expressions were half-smiles, which made Aldrich laugh and scold, "Alright, I hope you can reassure me. Rest tomorrow, report back the day after tomorrow morning, and in the afternoon, we'll win another trophy. That will be our last match of the season. You should all agree with me; you don't want this season to end in defeat, do you?"
"Of course, we want to be the treble winners!"
Southgate shouted loudly. Under his leadership, the other players also cheered.
The players were still in high spirits, especially when Aldrich and his team exited the airport. They were amazed by the scene outside.
Returning as heroes to Millwall, not only were the reporters swarming in, but Millwall fans in London also came to the airport to welcome their champions.
It was nearing midnight, yet the fans' enthusiasm didn't wane. They held up club scarves and chanted Millwall's name.
Camera flashes and television cameras focused on the crowd.
Aldrich and the coaching staff led the way out. Compared to his usual polished appearance, he seemed a bit unruly this time, with his shirt and pants rumpled, his hair slightly disheveled. He smiled, waving to the fans, while pulling his luggage.
Benítez and Jansen, each holding the European Champions Cup, followed Aldrich. They raised the trophy to show the crowd, eliciting high-decibel cheers and applause.
When the players emerged, the atmosphere reached another level.
First to come out was Nedvěd, followed by Larsson with his hands on Nedvěd's shoulders, and Southgate with his hands on Larsson's shoulders.
Millwall's players filed out like a long procession, rhythmically chanting one phrase.
"Treble winners! Treble winners!"
At first, the fans chanted their names, but soon the sounds merged into a unified rhythm.
"Treble winners! Treble winners!"
Millwall's team returned triumphantly, their spirits high. Under the gaze of fans and reporters, they boarded the bus to leave.
Everyone knew that Millwall's season wasn't over yet, and as they chanted, they were set to challenge for their third trophy of the season: the FA Cup!
Now, they were not just the focus of London but of all England.
Just the images of their victorious return made headlines across major TV stations, repeatedly broadcasting scenes of the players
joyfully chanting "Treble winners."
This rapidly captured the attention of neutral fans, leading many to embrace them, and more young fans looked up to their players, marking them as their first love in the world of football!