With the FIFA matchdays still underway, England had just managed a draw against Finland. Back at Wembley, they were now gearing up to welcome the relentless German squad.
Fleet Street, always eager for drama, saw England fans lambasting the national team and calling for Kevin Keegan's resignation. Yet, as the do-or-die match approached, everyone collectively papered over the cracks, creating a facade of unity.
At Wembley, one tradition never failed—the fans standing to sing songs mocking Manchester United. Millwall wasn't spared either. Being the target of everyone's ire had its downsides, though Millwall players in the national team were few and far between. The fans, lacking clear targets, rarely took their abuse to personal levels.
Aldrich and Andrew stood side by side in the Wembley box seats.
Dressed sharply in a tailored suit, Aldrich crossed his hands just below his stomach, his expression composed as he asked, "Who do you think will win?"
Andrew, mimicking his stance, replied coolly, "At the very least, they won't lose."
Aldrich smiled silently, saying no more.
Back in his past life, Aldrich had a nagging question he could never quite shake.
Around him, the fans seemed to share one big assumption when it came to England: they were a powerhouse, no doubt about it.
Even when the topic shifted to Germany, plenty of folks thought England could go toe-to-toe with them.
That was the part Aldrich could never wrap his head around in his previous life.
Football isn't a sport where strength can be objectively compared through style, tactics, or entertainment value. Even the Dutch, dubbed "The Uncrowned Kings," caused a bigger stir as runners-up than some champions. Yet, this did nothing to prove they were the strongest.
In competitive sports, results are the only hard measure of strength. Everything else is just noise.
By this standard, Germany far surpassed England in team honors and tournament records.
What gave England the confidence to compare itself to Germany?
At best, they were on the same tier as Spain.
In his past life, Aldrich had struggled to understand.
England and Germany weren't on the same level—what was there to discuss?
Now, though, it all made sense.
It wasn't about national teams—it was the English league's victory, the sheer pull of its superstar players.
Germany, despite actively expanding its overseas presence, had struggled due to the lack of competitiveness in its domestic league. The difference in star power meant that while the Premier League dominated globally, the Bundesliga lagged far behind.
When people watch football, they naturally gravitate towards famous teams and players. In this regard, the Bundesliga had already been left in the dust by the Premier League, Serie A, and La Liga.
However, the Premier League's global success was, in reality, a triumph of foreign talent. The pool of homegrown English stars was shrinking year by year.
A significant number of fans had transferred their admiration for the Premier League's strength onto the England national team, mistaking the league's glory for the national team's.
As England faced Germany at Wembley, Aldrich's unexpected appearance attracted the broadcasters' attention. The cameras frequently panned to him, as if implying something significant.
Behind the scenes, Aldrich had been in private talks with the FA chairman, striking some agreements.
The FA, under pressure, had put the issue of sacking Keegan on the table.
There were internal discussions about hiring Lazio manager Sven-Göran Eriksson.
However, the FA chairman hesitated to break with tradition so abruptly.
Sure, firing Keegan might feel good—pinning all the blame on him would be the easy way out.
But if the FA rushes to bring in a foreign coach, they'll be diving headfirst into controversy.
The FA chairman isn't keen on inviting such criticism, especially when there are domestic candidates available—backed by local fans—who have yet to be given a chance.
But no local coach of insufficient prestige dared take on the poisoned chalice of managing England. The World Cup qualifiers had already begun, and the poor start made the timing far from ideal.
The FA was on edge. If England failed to qualify for the World Cup, it would be nothing short of catastrophic.
The FA needed a scapegoat—a figure to bear the brunt of public outrage when the inevitable happened.
Aldrich fit the role perfectly.
Everyone seemed to agree: he was the man for the job. If he failed, the FA would finally have an excuse to hire a foreign manager, with minimal resistance.
"Even our best homegrown coach can't deliver glory for England? Well, then it's time to bring in someone from abroad."
Aldrich wanted the job. His ambition was undeniable. But he wasn't blinded by it.
He gave the FA a deadline: the end of the year.
Don't wait for Keegan to lead the team to a point of no return before making changes.
The FA could give him a longer leash and focus on Euro 2004, sure—but Aldrich had no patience for that. It was far too long to wait.
So Aldrich and Thompson sealed an agreement: one more mishap from Keegan before the year's end, and Aldrich would step in without delay.
As for his salary? That was secondary.
What counts as an upset?
After England's frustrating two-point loss in the opening game, any more mistakes would deal a serious blow to their qualification hopes.
So this is it—the match against Germany is a must-win. There's no room for error!
Even a draw at home is unacceptable!
Optimism ran high among fans and the media.
"This Germany team isn't strong. We beat them on neutral ground just three months ago! We've already broken that humiliating 34-year winless streak against them. With home advantage, we should crush them and cruise to the World Cup!"
But 90 minutes later, Wembley was dead silent. The scoreboard told the tale: 0–1.
The Germans celebrated as though reclaiming old glory. It was reminiscent of four years earlier when they lifted the European Championship trophy at this very stadium.
Two matches against Germany in three months, yet when the results were tallied, England seemed to come out worse.
England's group-stage victory at the Euros? It meant nothing—they didn't even advance.
Now, after this World Cup qualifying loss, England's path to even a playoff spot, let alone direct qualification, had grown perilously steep.
Aldrich and Andrew left Wembley amidst a cacophony of boos.
Shortly after, Kevin Keegan resigned before the FA could issue a formal dismissal.
In his post-match interview, Keegan candidly admitted:
"I lack the capability to guide this team to success."
Despite his poor record, Keegan's resignation sparked an unexpected wave of sympathy across Fleet Street and the English football community.
For a moment, people were transported back to 1996.
Back then, Keegan was riding high, leading Newcastle United to a 12-point lead over Manchester United in the league. Many believed he was on the verge of dethroning Ferguson and lighting up English football from Tyneside.
But Keegan crumbled under the psychological warfare waged by Ferguson. While factors like Millwall's upset over Newcastle played a role, four years later, it became clear: the man most shaped by Keegan's managerial career wasn't himself. It was Sir Alex Ferguson.
Had Keegan overcome Ferguson's mind games, perhaps Newcastle would have enjoyed a golden era under his reign.
But history doesn't deal in "what ifs."
The animosity endured. Even Keegan's future stint with Manchester City seemed fueled by a desire to undermine Ferguson and Manchester United. The gap in quality between City and United mattered less; the rivalry carried its own unique weight.
The international break was over, and players returned to their clubs. Once again, the spotlight shifted to domestic leagues and European competitions.
England, however, was in a unique situation. Their national team manager's departure was a glaring issue that couldn't be ignored.
One day later, at 3 p.m. sharp.
The press hall of the FA headquarters was packed to capacity.
The FA had informed Fleet Street in advance that there would be a press conference at 3 p.m. The sole agenda: announcing the new manager of the England national team.
Not just the major British newspapers, but reporters from across Europe stationed in England had also rushed to the scene.
This managerial change for England had come quite suddenly.
After the team's failure at the Euros during the summer, the FA had publicly backed Kevin Keegan.
But within just ten days—following a draw with Finland and a loss to Germany—the FA swiftly initiated the process of finding a new manager.
The sudden turn of events even caught the media off guard. Though many had speculated a managerial change after the loss to Germany, it wasn't confirmed until Keegan himself resigned. Only then did the media fully shift their focus to this significant development.
So, who would it be?
FA Press Director Gibson took charge of the conference, where over 50 media outlets were present. Calmly seated on stage, he opened with brief remarks: thanking everyone for attending, expressing gratitude to Kevin Keegan for his contributions, and wishing him the best of luck following his resignation.
Then came the moment everyone had been waiting for.
In a measured tone, Gibson announced:
"We are honored to appoint Aldrich Hall as the new head coach of the England national team. He has just signed an 18-month contract with us. The FA firmly believes that under Mr. Hall's leadership, the team will overcome its current challenges, secure qualification for the 2002 World Cup, and achieve satisfactory results in the tournament."
The room erupted. A buzz of whispers and murmurs filled the air as journalists turned to one another in discussion.
Aldrich? Taking over as the national team manager?
What would happen to Millwall?
Could this spark a series of explosive developments across English football?
At that moment, Aldrich Hall, dressed sharply in a suit and exuding confidence, entered the room with a smile. Walking tall, he approached the stage, shook hands with Gibson, and turned to face the assembled reporters.
Click, click, click...
The room seemed to explode with flashes, resembling a barrage of flash grenades. Even Aldrich, a man accustomed to the spotlight, squinted slightly to shield his eyes from the overwhelming light.
When the photoshoot frenzy finally subsided, a round of applause broke out in the room.
Journalists and FA staff alike were clapping for Aldrich.
This wasn't just applause—it carried a special significance.
It marked a historic moment.
The youngest-ever national team manager in England's history had just been born, right there, at that minute, that second!
Aldrich maintained his composure, his expression steady. Smiling, he took a seat and began speaking in a calm yet firm tone:
"Thank you to the FA for this incredible opportunity. I am deeply honored and will do my utmost to fulfill this role to the best of my ability. Now, do you have any questions?"
Every single reporter raised their hand simultaneously. The atmosphere was electric.