The Rise of Millwal

Chapter 106: Broken Spirits of West Ham Fans

Chapter 106: Broken Spirits of West Ham Fans

After Aldrich walked into the players' tunnel, the emergency officials appointed by the FA immediately followed him closely. If it had been the second half, that would have been understandable, but Aldrich was sent off in the first half. From that moment on, he could only be a spectator, as he wasn't allowed back into the dressing room during halftime.

Aldrich calmly walked to a guest room under the guidance of the West Ham staff, where he continued to watch the game via television.

Two FA officials stood by the door like bodyguards, both in their thirties, observing Aldrich with curious eyes.

The first half soon ended, and neither Millwall nor West Ham managed to create good chances, finishing the first half with a draw.

Aldrich leaned back on the sofa with his legs crossed and turned to the FA officials with a smile, "Could you get me a cup of coffee? No sugar."

One of them stepped out to fetch coffee from the club staff, while the other kept a close watch on Aldrich, looking more anxious, afraid he might slip away to the Millwall dressing room.

He was thinking too much.

Aldrich planned to stay put until the game was over, feeling utterly bored. He took out his phone, and just then, a call came in. He pressed the answer button.

"Aldrich, you're going to be in the headlines again!"

"I don't want to be; I was just shocked."

"Ha, you're lying! You can't give instructions now—what if the team loses?"

"Lose? I don't see West Ham having the talent to win; Millwall isn't going to lose."

"Wanna bet?"

"Bet on what?"

"Dinner tomorrow night. I found a great Chinese restaurant and thought we could go together. If Millwall can't win, you treat me; if they win, I'll treat you."

Aldrich rolled his eyes, "That sounds unfair."

"Come on, show some of that gentlemanly charm!"

"Fine, it's a deal. See you tomorrow night."

After hanging up the phone, Aldrich casually turned to see the other FA official sitting beside him, wearing a somewhat fawning smile.

"Sir, do you have a moment?"

"Well, I read in the paper that you're dating that Spice Girl, Chisholm?"

Aldrich shrugged, "Yeah."

"Could I get an autograph? My daughter is a big fan of hers."

After staring at the man for three seconds, Aldrich succumbed to his fatherly love. He pulled out a small notebook and pen from his suit pocket and handed them over. "Write down your address, and when they release their first album, I'll have them sign it and send it to you."

"Thank you, thank you! Mr. Hall, you're really impressive for your age. I actually admire you as well; you're handsome, and your team's style of play is truly enjoyable..."

Aldrich forced a smile and responded lightly before his coffee arrived. He held it while sipping, waiting for the second half to begin.

When the second half kicked off, Aldrich was now quite familiar with the two FA officials. They sat side by side like fans watching the game on TV. Aldrich felt something was missing, so he stood up, opened the door, and waved to a passing club staff member, offering money plus a tip to grab some snacks—anything from fries to fried chicken.

In just a few minutes, Aldrich was back in the guest room, enjoying snacks with the FA officials while watching the game.

Meanwhile, Upton Park was filled with a tense atmosphere.

The Hammer supporters were shouting to crush Millwall.

They were basking in confidence as if they had made a shrewd deal.

They sacrificed one fan, and the opposing coach received a red card!

"Can this 'strategy' be duplicated in every game from now on?"

Redknapp's small eyes widened a bit as he now sat on the coaching bench. Regardless, the absence of Millwall's coach on the sidelines was a significant blow!

But he misjudged the situation.

"If Aldrich was sent off due to his own actions, the players on the field would likely consider their coach immature and unreliable. However, just a second ago, they had been humiliated, and the next moment their coach knocked the troublemaker to the ground, which made them feel completely vindicated; their frustration was quickly avenged! When the boss was sent off, it felt like an unjust treatment. Now it was their turn to fight for their boss, for themselves, and for the fans!"

West Ham's attacks weren't breaking through, and Redknapp urged the midfield to push up with the most brutal long-ball tactics. They naturally adapted better to the field than Millwall did.

However, this approach didn't fare well against Millwall's layered defense.

The ball came flying in and then flew right back out again.

Millwall's players had adapted to the field after the first half and were performing better, showing smooth coordination in small spaces.

Yet, they were lacking a bit of luck with their final shots. Larson and Trezeguet struggled to get the ball turned at the front line, and their efforts were inadequate.

Neil made a sliding tackle from the left, intercepting the ball from Rolando. Fans along the sidelines yelled for a foul, but Neil quickly got up and passed the ball, mumbling a curse under his breath.

Nedved received the ball and passed it to Vieira, who was moving up right central; Ballack, Nedved, and Vieira pushed forward together. With the ball being rapidly transferred among them, West Ham's defense was forced to tighten its grip.

Ballack received the ball at the edge of the penalty area. With two forwards tightly marked, he didn't hesitate and unleashed a long-range shot right at the goal line.

The ball, like a cannonball, was slightly too direct, and West Ham's thirty-four-year-old goalkeeper, Milosevic, jumped but failed to touch it due to the ball's speed.

The faces of West Ham fans froze, but they heard the sweetest sound.

Bang!

The shot hit the crossbar, creating a loud sound.

Ballack, clutching his head in disbelief, saw the ball bounce back; someone leaped high near the penalty spot to head it back toward the goal!

Inside the penalty area, West Ham's players were stunned. Ballack's shot had momentarily stopped them, but Millwall's two forwards weren't just going to watch; they had been trained to seize second chances.

It was Larson, with his keen sense, who headed the ball toward the left side of the goal—a direction Milosevic had no hope of saving.

As the ball went in, Larson landed and immediately turned to look at the linesman, noticing the flag still down. A frenzied smile broke across his face as he ran to the Millwall fans in the stands.

"It's Larson again! Ballack's long-range shot almost found the net but hit the crossbar; however, Millwall still had Larson, who keenly followed up with a header to score the team's first goal. This super striker has been in fantastic form this season, and with the first half of the league still underway, he's a strong contender for the Premier League Golden Boot. Will he outperform Shearer in the scoring charts?"

After scoring, Larson ran to the Millwall fans, with teammates rushing to him, roaring in celebration.

After the celebration ended, Larson went to the corner camera and pointed at the lens, saying, "Hey, boss, are you watching the game? This goal is for you!"

In the guest room, Aldrich and the two FA officials jumped up. Aldrich even ran around the long table, imitating a glide celebration for three laps.

"Mr. Hall, he's fantastic! Too bad he's not English."

"I don't give a damn whether he's English or not; he's a Millwall man, and that's enough."

After the celebration subsided, Aldrich sat down, loosened his tie, and continued indulging himself in snacks.

Redknapp sat with a grim face, driven to a corner. The noisy atmosphere at Upton Park was now piling on him with immense pressure.

This was the East London Derby!

Was this a game they could afford to lose?

Redknapp immediately made a substitution, desperately sending on another forward.

Watching the live broadcast on TV, Aldrich saw this substitution and rested his feet on the table, nearly lying down while watching, chewing on chicken nuggets, and muttering, "Old Red's out of options now; he's making a desperate move."

"West Ham has added a forward; isn't it Millwall that should be worried?"

Aldrich waved his hand, "Them strengthening their attack means their defense weakens. Many teams, when trailing against strong teams, switch to offense and end up losing even more. The reasoning is the same; Millwall is clearly stronger than a rubbish team like West Ham. I welcome old Red to get even more extreme with a 4-2-4 or even a 2-3-5. History has shown that piling up forwards is an outdated tactic."

As Aldrich continued to chat, the live broadcast showed West Ham pressing hard, only for Millwall to counterattack from their half. Vieira launched a long pass, and Trezeguet, running for the ball from the left side of the penalty area, took a shot that squeezed into the bottom corner—Milosevic was powerless to respond!

Aldrich raised his hands in jubilation, exclaiming, "Old Red, you'll be in the headlines tomorrow too; this substitution was a huge mistake!"

Millwall's first East London Derby since ascending to the Premier League concluded with a score of 2-0, as West Ham suffered a crushing defeat at Upton Park.

As the match ended, the roar of boos filled the stadium.

As twilight descended, the West Ham fans, still seething after losing the derby, found themselves in chaos. Despite the Metropolitan police deploying a significant force to maintain order, they couldn't prevent riots from occurring.

Large-scale clashes erupted between the two fan bases outside the southwest corner of Upton Park.

All the shops on Green Street and Barking Road were smashed that night, and the chaos continued into the night...