At halfti, Aldrich stood before his players, tactical board in hand, ticulously explaining the adjustnts for the second half. He felt a sense of pride watching his team. Even though they had already achieved what most players could only dream of, they showed no impatience during these tactical discussions. Everyone, even those not directly involved in the changes, listened intently with full focus.
This level of professionalism stood in stark contrast to so players who lose their drive after achieving success.
As the second half began, Manchester United made a promising start. Beckham and Giggs dominated the flanks with their crisp crosses and darting runs, creating pressure. However, Yorke was clearly off his ga today. Whether it was Beckham's precise diagonal balls or Scholes' incisive through-passes, Yorke struggled. One heavy touch wasted a brilliant opportunity, and another mont of poor decision-making saw him attempt a weak shot instead of passing to Cole.
United's brief spell of dominance quickly fizzled out, and Millwall regained control.
Wes Brown, after being tornted in the first half, received more defensive support in the second. Yet, as Millwall's attacks intensified, it beca evident that Brown wasn't the only weak link—the full-backs were faltering too.
While Neville, with years of experience, held his ground against Ronaldinho during critical monts, the real trouble ca from the left side.
"Schneider with a brilliant fake! He twists and turns, leaving Silvestre completely out of sorts! Schneider charges down the right flank unchallenged, cuts the ball back to the edge of the box—Pirlo's unmarked! A shot from distance... GOAL! Millwall doubles their lead! It's 2-0!"
As Pirlo jogged over to Schneider to celebrate, Gattuso sprinted up from behind and tackled him playfully to the ground. Schneider, grinning, dropped down beside Pirlo, the two lying face-to-face on the grass, sharing a laugh.
Schneider was relishing this mont. Playing as a right-back had often ant facing legends like Roberto Carlos and Figo, where he was frequently put under imnse pressure. Now, he finally had the chance to dominate.
There wasn't much for Silvestre to agonize over.
Such is the life of a defender—more often than not, they're destined to suffer.
With a two-goal cushion, Aldrich substituted his attacking trio, bringing on Klose, Gronkjaer, and Villa to maintain the offensive pressure.
Silvestre was utterly frustrated.
Whether it was defending against Larsson earlier or facing Gronkjaer now, neither of them engaged him in one-on-one duels. For Larsson, there was little value in directly taking on a full-back like Silvestre. Instead, by timing his runs into the box and slipping past the defense, Larsson could create a goal—a far more effective strategy than beating Silvestre ten tis over.
Schneider, on the other hand, relentlessly attacked Silvestre's side. When Silvestre shifted centrally, Schneider took the space out wide. When Silvestre stayed wide, Schneider either beat him one-on-one or combined effectively with teammates, leaving the defender constantly second-guessing.
Aldrich's primary focus remained on defense, and much of his halfti adjustnts centered around this area. For Gattuso, it was a stern test.
Manchester United naturally exploited Millwall's weaknesses during transitions. When Schneider couldn't recover in ti after an offensive push, United targeted Giggs down the left flank.
Receiving the ball, Giggs sprinted forward, prompting Gattuso to imdiately track him. From the mont Millwall's attack broke down and United countered, Aldrich had his eyes on Gattuso's movents.
Gattuso scanned United's attacking setup. As the ball reached Giggs, Gattuso was already on the move, reacting quickly and positioning himself between Giggs and his teammates, cutting off potential passing lanes. At the sa ti, he signaled to Pirlo to cover central areas behind him.
Compared to the often composed Makélélé, Gattuso, the newly erging starter, exuded a commanding presence on the pitch.
He locked down the best defensive spot, shut off Giggs' options for quick passes, forced him to slow the play, and stuck to him like glue.
Leadership material? Maybe not in the classic sense. But Gattuso has his edge—pure, untad "mad dog" spirit!
Watching Gattuso's defensive display, Aldrich nodded in approval, his eyes filled with admiration.
The ball wasn't won back imdiately—that wasn't the point.
In the span of 6–7 seconds, Gattuso's sharp positioning and dogged persistence slowed United's attack. This brief delay allowed Millwall's forwards to track back, shifting the montum of the match yet again.
Giggs ultimately chose to dribble down the wing and send in a cross, but Materazzi calmly headed the ball away.
Aldrich rose from his seat and walked to the sideline, clapping his hands for the team's defensive effort and giving a thumbs-up.
Praise shouldn't only be reserved for offensive plays. Defense deserves recognition too. If you want to win championships, defense is more important than attack.
Ferguson was absolutely livid—his face as red as Manchester United's kit!
How on earth does Millwall always land the right guy?
I'm saddled with players like Bosnich, while they ship off Trezeguet and bring in Henry. Makélélé leaves, and bam—they've got another tough-as-nails Italian in his place!
If you were to compare Makelele and Gattuso, Makelele would undoubtedly score higher. However, different players require different approaches. A manager shouldn't force players into a rigid system but should instead craft tactics that suit the personnel available.
For Millwall, it's only the defensive midfield position that has seen a significant change.
Makelele's ability to link up play is sothing Gattuso lacks. Conversely, Gattuso's reactive and relentless pressing is a strength Aldrich can harness to elevate the team.
Over the years, Aldrich hasn't just been giving Gattuso ga ti; he's been teaching him to play smarter. After all, Gattuso has been with the team for quite so ti now. In his early appearances off the bench, he was impulsive—displaying more chaos than controlled aggression. His yellow card count as a substitute outnumbered that of the starters.
But in the past two years, Gattuso has toned it down, transitioning into playing intelligent football while retaining his fiery spirit.
There's no contradiction in this. A player who runs tirelessly across the pitch doesn't have to be reckless or prone to rash tackles.
In the 73rd minute, Scholes delivered an absolutely exquisite through ball. Materazzi stretched his leg to intercept it, but the ball narrowly slipped past his toes. Yorke, successfully beating the offside trap, received the ball and laid it off for Cole. Now unmarked and positioned near the penalty spot, Yorke unleashed a thunderous shot.
It was as if he was trying to bring down a plane from the sky!
"Unbelievable! Yorke's attempt was so wildly off-target, it's almost unbearable to watch it again. It's sheer tornt for Manchester United supporters. What on earth is he doing?"
"Could it be that his mind is sowhere else?"
"Sowhere else? Andy, what are you implying here?"
"Implying? Oh no, Martin, I'm not implying a thing." laughs lightly
This Charity Shield match was about to give Ferguson a heart attack.
How could anyone squander such a golden opportunity?!
Yorke's poor form was evident to everyone today, and it naturally prompted speculation.
Could it be connected to his steamy affair with that Page Three girl?
After all, in the Premier League, star players often beco pri targets for gold-digging socialites.
Yorke, with his standout performances for Manchester United, had inevitably beco a tabloid darling.
Fortunately, most of Millwall's stars were either married or foreign players who managed to avoid the relentless British paparazzi.
Aldrich gradually brought on substitutes, and the scoreline remained unchanged. By the end of the match, Millwall had defeated Manchester United 2–0.
"Congratulations to Millwall for winning the Charity Shield, the curtain-raiser for the new season. Fleet Street has been buzzing about other teams aiming to take down Millwall. But judging from today's ga, the gap between Manchester United and Millwall is still significant. It's hard to imagine any team stopping them unless Millwall sabotages themselves."
After shaking hands with Ferguson, Aldrich hugged each of his players, congratulating them. But he knew that for a title like this, a asured celebration was enough.
The team held a brief trophy celebration at Wembley, took photos in the locker room, and then boarded the bus for their return journey.
As they prepared to leave, Aldrich noticed Ronaldinho was missing. When he inquired, Joe Cole grinned mischievously and said, "He rushed off for a date."
Curious, Aldrich asked, "A new love interest?"
"Yeah, a gorgeous TV presenter," Cole replied with a cheeky smile.
Aldrich didn't think much of it.
In fact, he thought it was a good thing.
Players need relationships and families.
It's far better than partying in nightclubs. At least it's a proper relationship.
At the end of the day, as long as it doesn't affect their performance on the pitch, it's all good.
The team had a week to rest before the new Premier League season kicked off.
Returning to East London, Aldrich gave the players a day off, while he drove to his new ho.
This season, Yvonne had resigned from her position at the club. She didn't want her presence there to tarnish Aldrich's reputation or fuel gossip about an office romance.
The house's décor, entirely decided by Yvonne, was simple and cozy—neither lavish nor overly decorative. It was a reflection of her style, and Aldrich liked it that way.
When he arrived ho, the house was empty. He sank into the sofa, lost in thought.
Bert and Earl had been sent back to Liverpool. lanie, along with the other three mbers of the Spice Girls, had released a new album, which was performing well in the market. That ant her career was far from slowing down, and she would be busier than ever.
As he thought about his two sons being away from him, with no family nearby to care for them, a pang of sadness swept over him.
The sound of the door opening broke his reverie. He turned to see Yvonne walk in, carrying several bags.
"What did you buy?" he asked, curious.
"Just so things for the kids," she replied.
"For the kids?"
She glanced upstairs. "I set up a room for Bert and Earl. I bought bedding and other things suitable for their age. If you decide to have them stay over, at least you won't be scrambling. And if... if you or their mother would prefer I'm not around, I can stay at my old apartnt while they're here."
Aldrich stared at her, his gaze intense. Yvonne began to feel uneasy and waved her hand. "Hey, what's with you? Say sothing!"
Without a word, Aldrich shrugged off his jacket, loosened his tie, and walked over. He dropped the bags onto the floor, cupped her face gently, and pressed her against the wall. His eyes locked onto hers, and he whispered, "I don't want to talk. I just want to kiss you."
"Maybe you should shower first," she teased. "You sll like... hmm..."
Aldrich silenced her with a kiss. After what seed like forever, he pulled back. Yvonne, still holding onto his neck, laughed. "Mr. Hall, I know you just won a trophy that you don't particularly care about, but you seriously need a shower. Tell —who poured champagne all over you this ti?"
"Gattuso," he replied with a smirk.
"Did you retaliate?"
"No. I'm saving it for training in a couple of days."
"Hmm, professional revenge, huh?"
"Of course not. It's all for his own good. Don't question my integrity as a coach."
"Ha! Excuses! Go shower."
With an air of mischief, Aldrich hoisted her over his shoulder. "You seem to have worked up a sweat yourself. Let's shower together."
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