Chapter 467: All-In Gamble
Though Aldrich kept a calm demeanor from start to finish, it was partly because of the team's trailing score. He had to stay composed. With his players' fighting spirit intact, standing on the sidelines cheering them on might only confuse them, as if their efforts weren't enough.
Yet inside, he was savoring every moment of this match, gradually becoming more and more exhilarated.
Ferguson had thrown him a curveball, steering the game into an unexpected direction.
Everyone knew Manchester United would go on the attack. But going all-out like this, throwing caution to the wind? That caught Aldrich off guard. Coaches watching the game might well think Ferguson was going for broke.
But what was he betting on?
Everything.
With Keane charging forward, utterly fearless, wasn't it obvious? He was betting it all.
Defense, be damned?
Strangely enough, by halftime, it looked like Ferguson's gamble had paid off.
If they're going for broke, Aldrich thought, then I'll match them. Let's see who wins this all-in gamble.
This was the reasoning behind Millwall's adjustments toward the end of the first half: attacking players stayed forward, letting United's wing players charge at them directly without worrying about tracking back.
For any Italian coach schooled in traditional football, this match was anything but instructional material. It broke all principles of team play.
Both teams abandoned the midfield altogether, turning the game into a pure exchange of attacks—one team would attack, and then the other would counter. Attack and defense, usually intertwined, were split into two isolated battlefronts in this match.
Manchester United's four midfielders and two forwards faced off against Millwall's four defenders and two defensive midfielders. Meanwhile, Millwall's lone attacking midfielder and forward trio squared off against United's sole defensive midfielder and three-man defense.
Because Millwall had been forced to adjust late in the first half, the effects of their changes wouldn't fully manifest until the second half.
As the players left the locker room at halftime, United's team emerged with fierce determination. With just 45 minutes left to conquer this field for the first time in the Premier League, they looked ready to fight.
Millwall's players, however, stayed composed.
During the first five minutes of the second half, Aldrich instructed his team to stick to their overall formation, reverting to the original tactics from kickoff. He needed to observe and be prepared for two scenarios. If United's tactics shifted in the second half, his adjustments in the first half might have been a mistake.
But Ferguson, the stubborn Scotsman, refused to change course, even with a two-goal lead. United resumed the second half with the same attacking intensity they'd shown in the first.
Both Aldrich and Ferguson knew well a fundamental law of the pitch: a goal could happen in the blink of an eye.
Forty-five minutes might sound brief, but in terms of scoring potential? Who could guarantee the outcome?
Manchester United could overturn Bayern Munich in two minutes, and Solskjaer once scored four goals in just ten minutes. Millwall had blown Chelsea apart in 15 minutes.
Give a strong team 90 minutes, and their odds of victory skyrocket. Give an in-form strong team 90 minutes, and the score might end up beyond belief.
The play leading to each goal was what truly shaped the game.
With United committed to an all-out attack, Aldrich didn't hesitate any longer. With a sweeping gesture, he signaled his team to unleash their own full-force assault.
In the 53rd minute, Cole controlled the ball in the box, looking to turn past Southgate, but Southgate extended a leg and made the interception. Nedvěd ran back to collect the rolling ball and passed it across to Zambrotta on the wing. Without taking a touch, Zambrotta launched a long, high pass upfield.
Pirlo controlled the ball with ease, standing alone just past the center circle with no one around for ten meters. Keane and Scholes began to sprint back, while Beckham and Giggs also raced to defend. Pirlo had ample time and space to turn and set up his next move.
With Johnson visibly unsettled, he retreated immediately, while Neville and Silvestre closed in, along with Stam, forming a compact three-back plus a single defensive midfielder line, denying Millwall any open channels.
Ronaldinho, Larsson, and Henry, who had stayed up front without tracking back, began moving into position. Henry pulled back to receive, while Ronaldinho called for the ball. Pirlo quickly passed it to Ronaldinho, who, with his usual unpredictability, drove the ball from left to right.
This diagonal run completely confused United's defensive line.
When Ronaldinho reached Johnson, he passed the ball back to Pirlo. United's defenders expected a one-two, but the duo had something different in mind.
Pirlo, positioned to the right of the box, sent a cross back into the left side of the penalty area.
As Ronaldinho advanced right, both Larsson and Henry burst to the left in a lateral cross-over play that shook up the defense.
Neville, focused on Ronaldinho's path, instinctively shifted left. But when Pirlo's pass came through, he looked up, rage welling inside him!
Just a second ago, the left side had been clear. Now, both Larsson and Henry had raced into the space!
Stam was completely fixated on Ronaldinho's run after the pass, expecting Pirlo to slot a through ball. It was the most likely play, after all. But as soon as Pirlo released the ball, every United defender was left in disbelief.
Neville turned to cover Henry, who backpedaled slightly, giving the ball a light header forward. When Neville turned back, he saw Larsson right there, ready to shoot without a second thought.
Larsson's stance hinted at a blast, and Van der Gouw charged off his line, arms spread to maximize coverage. But Larsson kept his cool, using the inside of his foot to push the ball low. It rolled close to the ground, sneaking right between Van der Gouw's legs before nestling into the back of the net.
Silvestre was left completely baffled. Moments before, he had been fending off a crowd of opponents, but suddenly, he was left alone on the right, forced to witness his team's defense crumble.
The Den roared as Larsson's goal reignited Millwall's belief—they could score again!
Aldrich, arms crossed, remained composed, yet inside, he quietly wondered, How much longer until he realizes?
Ferguson, visibly frustrated by the goal, furrowed his brow, sensing there was something critical he'd missed, though he couldn't quite place it.
Three minutes later, Millwall tried the same play, closing in on goal again. This time, however, Henry missed the opportunity, his shot too direct and collected by van der Gouw. United responded with a swift counter—a simple series of long passes.
Neville lobbed the ball to Beckham, who used his signature curve, sending a beautiful arc to the far left edge. Giggs sprinted forward, controlling it with precision, just as Schneider lunged to disrupt him. Giggs, however, took the shot first, delivering a spectacular strike that slipped past Butt and into Millwall's net.
Watching the ball hit the net, Aldrich finally lost his cool, storming toward the sidelines and punching the railing in frustration.
"Hey, Aldrich, take it easy! That last goal wasn't on the players."
"Of course I know that! Manchester United just got damn lucky! Let Giggs try that shot ten more times, and he wouldn't score once!"
With defenders closing in, and the goalkeeper blocking the near post, Giggs had managed a miraculous volley that curled into the far post. Not even a divine hand could have stopped that one!
Giggs ripped off his shirt, proudly showing his chest hair as he sprinted to the sidelines, where the United team joined him in celebration.
As they rallied before the stands, each United player wore an expression of fierce pride, yelling with unrestrained arrogance.
Millwall—the 16-game winning streak, the indomitable Lions!
What of it?
On the scoreboard, who had 2, and who had 4?
After steadying himself, Aldrich knew he had to lift the players' spirits.
Two goals conceded right from the start, then chasing a goal only to lose another, over and over—such blows would shake anyone's morale.
But he wasn't about to walk over, clap his hands, and offer a pointless "Keep going!" His recent outburst—pounding his fist on the dugout's barrier—had already caught the players' attention.
Now, he walked up to the sideline, lifted his chin, extended his right arm, and pointed in a specific direction.
The players followed his gaze and saw it too—a sea of red.
It was the Manchester United squad, celebrating their goals with fervor. In the chaotic noise of the stadium, the United players' celebration stood out starkly—they were, after all, the current center of attention.
"Fight? Keep it up?"
Would those empty words help?
Aldrich needed to give the team something more than encouragement—he needed to fire them up.
Look at them! The Red Devils are celebrating wildly right on our turf!
Can you stand for this?
Southgate threw the ball upfield to Nedved, who passed it along to Larsson. Holding the ball, Larsson marched to the center circle, placed it down, puffed up his chest, and planted one foot firmly on it. Henry stood on the opposite side.
Manchester United's celebration wasn't even over yet, but Millwall's eleven players were already lined up, ready to go. They didn't bother to rush United to end the celebration—after all, they had earned it.
But the match wasn't over!
Applause rose from the stands, steady and unending. Rather than criticizing the team for conceding another goal, the Lions' fans were cheering on the squad for their determination to get back into position so swiftly.
There were still thirty minutes left to play, and for a team with fighting spirit, thirty minutes was more than enough time to turn the tide.
Aldrich never thought Millwall would lose today, even when they were two goals down. The string of lucky breaks for United was hard to believe, but he still had unshakable faith in his team's ability to win.
Ferguson exhaled a long, relieved breath. When Larsson had scored, he had immediately tensed up, but Giggs' goal had restored United's two-goal lead—a perfect scenario.
If Millwall lost their cool and threw all caution to the wind, especially if their tactical discipline slipped, United would surely score again—they absolutely would!
Today wasn't the day Millwall would make history.
It was the day Manchester United would carve a scar into Millwall's memory!
Though it wouldn't fully erase the bitterness of last season's final moments—when United's title hopes slipped in stoppage time—it was enough to crush Millwall's dreams of glory.
Millwall fans, today, you're welcome to cry all you like!
Seeing Ferguson still seated on the bench, not making any substitutions or tactical adjustments, Aldrich's lips curled into a slight smile.
On second thought, maybe another United goal wasn't the worst scenario.
Temporary victories make people drop their guard.
Sir Alex, your players are obedient, aren't they?
As long as they follow your lead, I have nothing to worry about.
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