As the first half ca to a close, the players made their way toward the tunnel. Both teams maintained an ordinary deanor, but the Millwall players were a bit disgruntled. Aldrich walked towards the tunnel from the sidelines, while fans in the stands leaned over, gesturing at him in various ways.
Booing, jeering, sarcastic applause, curses, laughter, and even shouts rang out: "London boy, don't get too excited! We're Manchester United, and we won't be easily beaten. So what if we're two goals ahead? By the ti the match is over, you'll be crying your way back to London!"
Aldrich walked on with a calm expression, unaffected by the pressure from the Manchester United fans. It was the most foolish thing to engage with them.
Once back in the locker room, Aldrich glanced at the players. They all seed okay, their spirits intact. Clearly, competing against a powerhouse like Manchester United was an opportunity they longed for.
However, he noticed that Trezeguet was breathing noticeably faster than the others. Despite having regained his physical condition through pre-season training, the fast pace of the match was taking a toll on him. The indulgence of the sumr holiday still lingered on.
Aldrich took out a pen and sketched a simple tactical diagram on the board, circling Neil's position. He turned to Neil and said, "Forget the first half. In the second half, keep pushing forward to support the attack, and don't carry any psychological burden."
Neil nodded vigorously. Toward the end of the first half, he had been afraid that another mistake while pushing forward would lead to a goal against them, so he had stayed cautious and grounded.
Aldrich held back a crucial thought; in reality, he felt half of the bla for the goal conceded after Neil's mistake rested on his shoulders as the head coach.
"Claude, if we find ourselves in a similar situation as the first goal again, don't rush to intercept the counterattack. Retreat first, even if it ans returning to the penalty area. Just make sure we're not outnumbered in the most dangerous areas in front of our goal, compressing the space for their attack before they enter our box."
As Aldrich addressed Makelele, the players instinctively lifted their heads to look at him. Noticing his calm smile, they couldn't help but feel that Aldrich's aura of charisma had sohow intensified.
In fact, Aldrich's previous tactical arrangent had involved Makelele needed to quickly intercept counterattacks from the flanks. However, that hadn't been effective. The width of the field was a factor, and with Manchester United's two-wing strategy, it was only natural that Makelele couldn't outrun the ball. It was a tactical misjudgnt on Aldrich's part; when Makelele went to intercept Beckham, it left space in the center, giving Butt the opportunity to push forward.
"Aldrich's adjustnts at halfti ant overturning his previous tactical setup, and he felt no sha in that. Mistakes are sothing everyone makes; errors are not to be feared, but it's frightening to refuse to acknowledge them and fail to learn from them."
By having Makelele retreat near the penalty area after a counterattack, even if Manchester United managed to penetrate the box with nurical superiority, Millwall's defensive line wouldn't be severely compromised, allowing them to maximize the compression of vertical attacking space.
After laying down so specific tactical instructions, Aldrich once again rallied the players' spirits, praising their performance during the first 45 minutes and hoping they could continue it in the second half.
The halfti break ended, and the players made their way back onto the pitch.
Aldrich returned to the sidelines, hands in his pockets and chin tilted slightly up. This stance offered the players a boost of confidence.
His infectious attitude had gradually influenced the team over the past year.
If a head coach were timid, retreating into a shell when facing Manchester United, lacking the courage to challenge, even if Aldrich had the likes of Matth?us, Baggio, and Maldini—so of the best contemporary players—they might still face a humiliating defeat.
Ferguson took his place on the touchline again, chewing gum as if he was calmly back in the pre-match zone.
Referee Durgin's whistle blew, signaling the start of the second half and Manchester United kicked off.
Though the match was still tied, Manchester United was running out of ti with only 45 minutes left. They clearly didn't want to drop points in the first round of the league, especially not at ho against a newly promoted team.
As a result, Manchester United launched a fierce offensive, and Millwall could only drop back to defend at the start of the second half.
Watching the developing situation from the sidelines, Aldrich suddenly noticed sothing unusual about Man United's formation. The number of red jerseys on the field seed different from the first half.
It was a visual trick; focusing on the midfield blurred the players at either end of the pitch in his peripheral vision. Most of the ti, he was intently watching the interactions between the two teams, and the red and blue silhouettes were roughly even as they moved about.
But suddenly, he sensed that Manchester United had more players involved in the attack than in the first half!
Who?
The extra player had to be an unexpected elent!
He focused in and spotted a player discreetly moving from defense into the attackers' area.
Left-back, Erwin.
As Aldrich realized this, he saw Schneider teaming up with Thuram to press Giggs, who had just received the ball. Aldrich's heart sank; there wasn't even ti to shout a warning. Giggs lightly passed the ball to his right, and Erwin, having spotted the opening, sprinted from Giggs's right side toward the front.
"Intercept him!" Aldrich yelled.
The players, highly focused, couldn't possibly hear Aldrich's shout, and even if they did, responding quickly was nearly impossible.
Schneider and Thuram, having spotted the interplay between Giggs and Erwin, instinctively reacted.
Seeing he had the positional advantage, Thuram abandoned Giggs while Schneider dashed backward to cover the gap left by Thuram, ensuring that Giggs could not exploit any advantage in that mont.
Thuram decisively sped up, aiming to intercept Erwin from the side. He extended his thigh to block Erwin, and in a fierce tackle, he managed to win the ball, but Erwin ended up on the ground.
Durgin halted the match, signaling a foul by Thuram.
Frustrated and helpless, Thuram bent down to pick up the ball and held it tightly in his hands before slamming it onto the ground.
Durgin produced a yellow card for Thuram.
Aldrich was fuming but ended up laughing at the absurdity as he shook his head and applauded.
Damn it!
Thuram's action, though sowhat forceful, could it really be worse than Roy Keane's blatant tackle against Nedved?
The location of the foul was neither completely advantageous nor disadvantageous; it was just outside Millwall's penalty area, about thirty yards from goal.
Beckham would take the free kick.
Aldrich felt a chill go down his spine.
When facing a master of set pieces, there's little a coach can do.
Should he assemble more players in the wall? Or advise the goalkeeper which way to dive?
"Aldrich couldn't tell how far Beckham's free-kick skills had developed today. Last season at Millwall, his free kicks were rely average."
"Defending a direct free kick doesn't involve overly complex tactics. The wall blocks angles to the near post, while the goalkeeper covers the far post. The concept is straightforward: the wall acts as a barrier along the shortest straight-line path between the ball and the goal. Players jump to expand the defensive area, and the goalkeeper focuses on the far side. If the ball is aid at the far corner, it will take longer to reach the goal, giving the goalkeeper more ti to react."
Millwall set up their wall, while other players kept an eye on United's attackers lurking inside and around the box.
Calmly, Beckham stood behind the ball, observing the wall—a group of familiar faces.
In the five months he had spent at Millwall, he was satisfied with everything except for the ending.
But the thing that infuriated him the most was Aldrich's yelling at him in the locker room.
Having been chosen by Manchester United as a boy, Beckham had naturally grown up in pride, but Aldrich had left an indelible shadow on him.
He needed to prove himself, especially in front of that young coach.
With all his heart, he wanted to tell him: "You're wrong!"
Durgin's whistle sounded, and Old Trafford fell silent.
Under the spotlight, Beckham paced forward, his left foot firmly planting at his take-off point. Simultaneously, his left arm swung upwards in an arc to maintain balance as he tilted significantly to the left. He struck the ball perfectly with the front part of his right foot, generating imnse spin and power.
The ball soared, spinning violently.
The wall jumped, Sousgate reaching his highest, yet failing to touch the ball.
It seed the ball would fly over, but after clearing the wall, it began to dip while following an exaggerated arc that looked like a rainbow.
As the wall ca down, Millwall's players collectively turned to look at the goal, while goalkeeper Keller stood frozen in disbelief, his head turned, only to see the ball nestling into the net. The stands at Old Trafford erupted like a tidal wave of red, cheer booming and resonating through the air!
The Beckham arc rises!
"3:2! Manchester United has turned the score around right at the start of the second half! From a disastrous two-goal deficit, they've reclaid control of the match! That free kick was absolutely magical; the trajectory was simply breathtaking!"
"It's sheer artistry! David Beckham, having just erged as a key player for Manchester United, has proven his worth. Alan Hansen, you underestimated these kids; Beckham's free kick is sure to be cherished for a long ti!"
Beckham laughed, joyfully opening his arms wide towards the stands, radiating pride and triumph!
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