A slap echoed throughout the entire stadium!

From the very first second the match began, the pace was incredibly slow. Millwall, known for their swift ground passing and cutting combinations, lost that trademark speed. The players resembled gladiators, every inch of the pitch fiercely contested, relying solely on physical confrontations to determine the outcome.

On the stands, the war between the fans continued, while the match remained locked in a stalemate. Aldrich, however, was unfazed. Even in a physical battle, Millwall had no reason to fear West Ham United.

In the seventh minute, Vieira attempted to push forward with the ball when the young Williams from the opposing team charged in and took him down, clearly kicking Vieira's foot. Referee Walton immediately halted the match.

Williams provocatively waved his hand at Vieira, signaling him to stop pretending to be hurt and get up quickly.

The Hammers fans in the stands roared, mocking Vieira for being "so fragile."

Walton approached Williams and showed him a yellow card. No matter how Walton explained it, the referee firmly warned him.

The FA was keenly aware of the significance of this East London derby and hoped for a "safe" conclusion. Therefore, the referee had to control the foul play whenever danger signs arose to prevent the situation from escalating.

This yellow card establishes a measure for the intensity of fouls.

Aldrich stood quietly on the sidelines instead of approaching the fourth official to complain. In many cases, raising complaints to the referee is unproductive; the coach only has authority when the team has a notable status in England.

The game resumed, and Millwall's players struggled to adapt. In training, they were accustomed to off-the-ball runs, quick interchanges, and one-touch passing. However, today they needed to break down those seamless movements into several distinct actions.

They had to adopt a stand-still position, secure possession under physical pressure, and only then make their passes. The runs became less dynamic, making it hard to break free; the opposing players would closely mark them.

After about twenty minutes of adapting, Millwall's ball control noticeably improved.

As for West Ham's attacks, with the slow rhythm, even the most straightforward passes were easily intercepted by Millwall.

Dumitrescu received the ball on the wing. Just as it settled at his feet, Thuram muscled in and dispossessed him effortlessly.

Regarding muscular strength, few teams in the Premier League can rival Millwall; however, Millwall simply does not embrace a physical and hard-hitting style of play.

Redknapp's expression was grave. He felt he had miscalculated, underestimating Millwall as a technically refined team that relied on fluidity. Now, he intended to intimidate them with a rough, English-style brute-force strategy.

Yet nearly thirty minutes into the match, West Ham had not managed a single shot on goal, unable to penetrate Millwall's formidable defensive barrier in front of the box.

Redknapp had no ingenious tactics left; he could only hope that his team could create some surprises from set-piece attacks.

Focus matches didn't necessarily mean excitement. The two top commentators from Sky Sports found themselves frustrated, reporting dryly on who intercepted whom and whose attempts went astray. The slow-paced game offered little enthusiasm for commentary.

Meanwhile, the atmosphere in the stands remained electric. Fans shouted back and forth, jeering each other, as Millwall players who received the ball faced a barrage of deafening boos.

Aldrich furrowed his brow. He noticed Ballack was working hard today, but his efforts were misdirected.

Seizing the opportunity during a dead ball, Aldrich called out to Ballack, "Michael, Michael, over here!"

He was preparing to give Ballack some crucial instructions.

Just then, an unexpected turn of events unfolded.

In the stands behind West Ham's goal, a young fan wearing a Hammers jersey leaped over, taking advantage of a moment when the security guard was distracted and dashed onto the pitch.

Upton Park erupted; the Hammers fans roared with laughter, cheering on their "brave" supporter.

Out of nowhere, a young male fan in his twenties burst onto the pitch, launching the security guards into a wildly uncoordinated sprint after him. These guards, bless their hearts, didn't look like they had seen a gym in years; one hefty fellow stumbled and fell with all the grace of a toppled tree, transforming the serious situation into a laugh-fest that had everyone in stitches!

This fan appeared to have a purpose as he sprinted across the pitch, flipping off Millwall players as he shouted out "f—ck you!"

Larsson and Trezeguet were the first targets of his ridicule. Trezeguet attempted to rush at him, but Larsson held him back.

The fan reveled in his sprint toward Millwall's half, flipping off Nedved, Vieira, and Makélélé in turn.

Behind him, a string of security guards pursued him, but they were unable to catch him. He darted around like a slippery fish, evading capture, until finally, he had his sights set directly on Aldrich at the opposing coach's bench.

Nineteen-year-old Ballack was stunned; he had never witnessed anything like this. The Hammers fans cheered in unison, hailing this intruder as their hero.

Let's thoroughly disgrace Millwall! Let's tear apart their morale!

Aldrich hadn't managed to speak with Ballack before this unexpected interruption.

Seeing the fan charge towards him, Aldrich expected nothing less than a raised middle finger aimed at him.

With an emotionless face, Aldrich observed the fan's ferocity and fervor.

Five meters, three meters, one meter!

Suddenly, the fan skidded to a halt, realizing he had reached his destination. He raised both hands, ready to deliver an insult, his mouth beginning to form derogatory words when Aldrich made a shocking move.

Slap!

An uproar burst from Upton Park, followed by a stunned silence.

The previously boisterous fans froze in disbelief, rooted in place.

What just happened?

Aldrich had anticipated the charge, raising his right hand and delivering a crisp slap that sent the fan sprawling to the ground!

Then, the world fell silent!

"Wow! What just happened? That was the most explosive moment I have ever seen! Andy, did you see that? Did you see that? That fan who rushed onto the pitch ran at Aldrich, only to get slapped in the face and drop like a sack of potatoes!"

"What happens now? The head coach just hit one of the opposing team's fans, and it's away from home! What will the referee do? I believe Aldrich had the right to defend himself, but he initiated physical contact with the fan. This creates a dilemma for the referee!"

After slapping the fan to the ground, Aldrich maintained a calm demeanor while out-of-breath police and security guards rushed in to subdue the dazed fan, glancing at Aldrich with odd expressions as they escorted him off the field.

"Michael, Michael!" Aldrich called out to Ballack as if nothing had happened, but Ballack was still in shock.

After Aldrich called his name twice, Ballack finally came to his senses, saying, "Boss, I'm listening."

Aldrich spoke firmly, "Their forwards are being tightly marked in the box, and because of the pitch conditions, it's difficult for them to break free and make quick, small-area bursts. Your previous zone covered from the box line to the box line. Now, extend that area a little further up, from midfield to their goal. Understood? Be proactive and create threats on their goal."

Ballack nodded in understanding. Aldrich patted him on the shoulder and sent him back onto the pitch.

At that moment, Upton Park slowly came back to life.

Millwall fans were bouncing with pride from Aldrich's previous actions; it had made them swell with pride.

Fuck!

You're going to mess with us, huh?

Charging into the pitch to mock our mighty lions—this is just self-humiliation!

Signs of chaos began to appear in the stands, as fans from the Hammers grew restless and many felt the impulse to flood the pitch themselves.

Damn it!

How dare you hit one of our Hammers fans!

Kid, you won't leave here alive today!

Suddenly, police surrounded the stadium, warning and resisting while even bolstering their numbers to contain the Hammers fans.

Seeing the match nearly slipping out of control, referee Walton and his officiating crew huddled, then hastily approached Aldrich, pulling a red card from his pocket and showing it to him.

Aldrich threw up his hands in protest, questioning, "What did I do wrong? Why am I getting a red card?!"

Referee Walton stepped closer and quietly said, "Mr. Aldrich, this is for your own good. Look around! If you stay within the fans' sight, there's no guarantee that another fan won't charge onto the pitch in the next hour. Regardless, you hit that fan, and that has stirred anger among the home fans."

"But I was defending myself! Who knew that guy wouldn't come up to me with a knife?!"

"Those are things you can explain to the FA after the match. For now, to ensure the game can proceed, please leave the field and allow the fans to calm down. Please cooperate. Thank you."

Aldrich's face was filled with anger, but the referee had already issued a red card to him, forcing him to accept the decision; the referee was not showing favoritism towards West Ham United and was acting in consideration of Aldrich's safety.

Before leaving, Aldrich made a fist gesture to all his players, then strode purposefully toward the players' tunnel. The staff quickly approached him with two umbrellas, one on each side, to shield him.

As he walked towards the tunnel, it indeed started to "rain."

Coins, lighters, watches, shoes...

Millwall players saw their coach being sent off while also stung by the fan's previous gestures, all filled with a burning rage.

East London derby, damn it!

We can't afford to lose!

This was no longer just about the fans' pride; the players realized it concerned their own dignity!