The Rise of Millwal

Chapter 172: Shocking Headlines

Chapter 172: Shocking Headlines

The next morning, Aldrich got up early. He gently moved Melanie's arm, which was resting on his chest, aside and tiptoed out of bed. After closing the bedroom door quietly behind him, he spent twenty minutes working out in the gym. Following that, he took a quick shower, went downstairs to make breakfast, and after eating, left a note before driving to Andrew's company. He sent Andrew a text on the way, but received no reply—most likely he was still asleep.

Andrew's company was located in a business district in West London. He rented an entire floor of an office building. The interior was decorated just like any other regular workplace, but his meeting room and office were surprisingly large. His office had a serious and formal décor, while the meeting room was much more relaxed, featuring a bar, a sofa, a sound system, and a television—overall, it felt comfortable and inviting.

Once Alderich arrived, a pretty secretary led him to the meeting room. Aldrich told her to treat him casually since he wasn't a stranger, and asked for the day's newspapers.

Before long, the secretary returned with a stack of newspapers and placed them on the coffee table in front of the sofa.

The wide range of newspapers was overwhelming. Aldrich sat quietly on the sofa, quickly leafing through them. Most of the news was skimmed over in mere moments before leaving it aside to grab another.

Mainstream outlets naturally focused on the previous day's English Premier League match, where Manchester United had suffered a humiliating defeat at home.

The headlines were certainly shocking.

Phrases like "Old Trafford Devastated," "The Fall of the Red Devils," and "The Rampant Lions Conquer the Dream Theater" were among them, clearly knocking Manchester United while praising Millwall.

Aldrich read with a sense of disinterest, but a few tabloids, as expected, printed a piece of news that frustrated him.

"United's New Star Captivated by Rampant Lions' Young Manager, Comes to Join!"

The accompanying photo showed him sitting across from Beckham in a restaurant, with the two Spice Girls beside them.

As a port city, Liverpool was brimming with news. The paparazzi, once getting a scoop, often sold it among their peers. After all, news couldn't be buried for too long, and such speculative stories couldn't really be considered exclusive or sensational.

However, a writer who got a hold of a mundane story could spin it into something sensationalized with a powerful pen.

Beckham met Aldrich in Liverpool on the day after the match; what exactly happened didn't matter.

It was all about adding some enticing words to stir up public interest.

"Perhaps after witnessing Hall's team destroy his own, Beckham is already considering leaving Manchester United. The crushing defeat against Millwall doesn't seem to have dampened his spirits; it appears his heart is no longer with Manchester United."

For the past year, media speculation about conflicts between Aldrich and Beckham often floated around, but now they suggested that the two had cleared the air, even sitting together to discuss a shared future...

In some entertainment sections, the same story appeared, with mostly similar images but altered content—romanticized portrayals of "Golden Boy and Girl" with Aldrich and Beckham becoming brothers-in-law. Ridiculously, there were even congratulatory messages at the end.

Aldrich looked expressionless as he tossed the newspaper into the trash can.

From now on, whenever Victoria and Beckham were in social situations outside of work, he would make a point to keep his distance.

As for how Beckham would be punished by Ferguson after such news surfaced, it was no longer of concern to Aldrich.

Andrew didn't show up at the office until ten in the morning. Upon entering, he directly said, "I'm packing my bags at home; I'm flying to Brazil this afternoon. I've successfully arranged Rivaldo's transfer there, and have made some contacts who want to build stable relations in Europe. I'm looking for a larger development in South America, so I'm going to collaborate on opening an agency there. Do you have any suggestions?"

When discussing business, Andrew didn't waste a single breath on trivialities.

After thinking for a moment, Aldrich replied, "The transfer models in South America and Europe are vastly different. Since you're going there to set up a company, just try to keep a low profile. The way agencies handle player ownership in South America complicates transfer dealings, so if you're moving players to Europe, it's best to avoid disputes."

Andrew nodded in agreement, realizing just how astonishing the South American transfer system was.

In Europe, player ownership only resides with clubs.

But in South America, ownership can lie with agents or agencies. When European teams want to sign a player, negotiations shift from club-to-club interactions to dealings with agents or agencies.

Complexity aside, the potential gains were immense.

In places like Brazil or Argentina, buying out a player's rights for a few thousand pounds was commonplace, and once that player made a name for themselves, flipping them could yield profits in the millions—profits that could be a hundredfold or more.

Andrew waved at Aldrich, and the two left the meeting room, heading instead to his office.

Inside the office, Andrew used a key to unlock the drawer of his desk and pulled out a document to hand to Aldrich. He stated, "Since the inception of my company, you've had me searching for one of the individuals you mentioned, and I have finally tracked him down. I'm quite intrigued; five years back, this child was only four years old. What led you to believe he was special?"

Aldrich perked up, casually responding, "You have your networks, and I have mine."

Andrew raised an eyebrow but chose not to press further.

Aldrich sat down, lit a cigarette, and calmly opened the document. On the first page, he spotted a photo on the upper left corner.

It was a nine-year-old boy named Lionel Andrés Messi.

The document gave a brief overview of his family situation.

As Aldrich read, he asked, "How did you find him?"

Andrew lit a cigarette himself, exhaling the smoke lightly. "I've deployed hundreds of scouts in South America, over thirty just in Argentina. Their main task is to gather data from all youth teams across the country. The rest of the time, they roam around anywhere there might be a football team, collecting information. This kid was discovered in a community team in Rosario. Age, characteristics, name—all match your requirements. Based on your reaction, it must be right."

Aldrich flicked the ash off his cigarette and nodded, "It's him."

Luckily, this kid wasn't hiding in some remote village; Rosario is at least Argentina's second-largest city.

Thinking back, even Barcelona's scouts might have trouble scouting him if he were in a dead-end location.

As Aldrich continued reading, he frowned.

"Your assessment is that they won't come to Europe?"

Andrew nodded. "Yes, his father is his coach now. My contacts told me they expect him to play for a local team in Rosario."

After thinking for a moment, Aldrich closed the document and said gravely, "Have your people arrange a top-tier medical examination for him, and I'll bring him to London."

Andrew looked puzzled and furrowed his brow. "A medical exam? How do you arrange that? If someone suddenly wants to do a check-up on you, would you agree? They'd just think you're crazy!"

Aldrich scoffed at his concern, exhaling smoke in amusement. "You always think you're so clever, but the truth is you're quite dim. Can't your people disguise themselves as youth team coaches from an Argentinian club? River Plate, Boca Juniors, hell, it doesn't matter which one—just put a generous contract in front of them, and the medical exam will be a no-brainer!"

Upon hearing this, Andrew pondered over it and grinned as he pointed at Aldrich, joking, "You're not clever, you're cunning! Among the three brothers, you're the one most like Dad."

"Arthur's a rogue; I'm nothing like him."

"Ha! He'll definitely kick your ass if he hears that!"

The two brothers shared a laugh before Aldrich, who had come to visit that day, reviewed a pile of collected intelligence reports that Andrew had prepared.

Aldrich flipped through the documents swiftly, hardly pausing to look at anything other than names and photos before moving on to the next.

While they chatted casually, Andrew, who hadn't had breakfast, asked the secretary to pack a whole table of takeout. He even popped open a bottle of good wine, drinking with the casualness of having soda.

Aldrich thought it was humorous, seeing a table cluttered with street food alongside a bottle of premium red wine; it was like observing someone feasting on a dish costing five pounds at a street vendor while drinking an expensive bottle of wine worth thousands of pounds.

Suddenly, Aldrich halted his flipping through the papers, his keen eyes fixed on one particular document. He looked left and right, finally confirming that this person was someone he recognized.

"Ha ha ha ha!"

Andrew raised an eyebrow, wiping some salad dressing from the corner of his mouth. After taking a sip of wine to soothe his throat, he asked, "What's so funny?"

Aldrich pulled out the document and tossed it across the table towards Andrew. "Get him. Within two years, I want him at Millwall."

Andrew bent over to examine the situation closely and said, clearly exasperated, "What are you talking about? Have you lost your mind? We haven't even recouped our investment in Ronaldinho yet, and now you want to do this? This guy has a really complicated family situation; getting him settled in would cost at least four million pounds. You'd be better off just going for a well-known star—he's nothing but a country boy."

Aldrich crossed his legs, grinning complacently. He was clearly in a good mood.

Andrew exclaimed loudly, "Hey, Aldrich, have you lost your mind? This kid, Sergio Lionel Kun Agüero del Castillo, has not only parents but five siblings as well! Damn it, I've never met anyone like you—when you plan to steal someone, you want the whole family too!"

Aldrich snapped his fingers decisively and declared, "I'll cover the costs; why are you so worried? Just focus on bringing him to London. The club can offer his father a job—he can continue working as a driver or managing the pitch; there will be plenty of job openings in the future. As for his siblings, I won't demand they go to a prestigious school; just a decent one will do. Housing is simple too; I have eight vacant apartments, so I can easily give them two."

Andrew scratched his head, asking solemnly, "Can you explain the reasoning behind this? Is it because of your connections at play? Why didn't you mention his name before so I could find him?"

Aldrich shrugged. "The kid's adorable; I just like him. I think that's reason enough. At the very least, if I'm spending my money, I want to do it with a clear conscience. If he ultimately proves me wrong, then consider it charity work—I'll be happy regardless."

Agüero's family of eight lived in a slum in the capital, with a total monthly income of under 600 pounds—indicating how tough life was for them.

Andrew, incredulous and half-laughing in frustration, chose not to press further; after all, the three brothers had similar dispositions. Once a decision was made, it was like trying to pull a stubborn bull back.

He called in the secretary to clean off the table and said, "Alright then, I'll make contact while I'm in South America. By the way, I have several advertising contracts waiting for your players; can you give me a green light?"

Aldrich shrugged nonchalantly. "My demands are simple. During vacations, I won't interfere with what the players want to do, but during the season, they can shoot ads or sign autographs in their spare time as long as it doesn't disrupt their training. Andrew, you also need to understand that while most agents only care about money, wise agents know that players have to perform well on the field for their market value to rise. If off-field activities interfere with a player's performance, it'll ultimately hurt you as their agent."

This time, Andrew nodded seriously in agreement.