Capítulo 80: Two cities that are strikingly different
As Aldrich stepped out of Old Trafford, ready to catch a cab to the train station, his phone rang.
It was just a habit that made him pull out his phone and turn off the silent mode. He noticed a few text messages and two missed calls—just as he took it out, another call came in.
Caller: Melanie.
"Hi."
"Aldrich, where are you? You drove me crazy today!"
"I'm heading back to London."
"Huh? You're still in Manchester?"
"Yes, just had a chat with the Manchester United manager in his office."
"What would you want to talk to him about? You two aren't even from the same era. Why don't you come over for dinner? My mom wants to meet you; she said she wanted to see my boyfriend."
"Sure, just give me the address, and I'll take a cab there."
After hanging up, Aldrich tried to suppress the gloom weighing on his mind.
He hadn't given an answer to Ferguson, nor had he outright refused.
There wasn't a problem with the transfer fee; Manchester United's offer was reasonable in this day and age—though maybe in three to five years, the prices for Larson and Trezeguet would skyrocket to over fifteen million pounds.
However, transfers involved three parties: Manchester United, Millwall, and the player himself.
If Manchester United hadn't made an offer, Aldrich could brush it off, but once they did, the situation changed entirely.
Aldrich wouldn't agree hastily, for the importance of those two players to Millwall was evident.
But he couldn't outright reject the offer either. What if the players wanted to leave? United's offer wasn't insulting, nor did it fail to meet their salary demands.
If there was a conflict between the players' wishes and the club's, keeping them wouldn't necessarily be beneficial. Moreover, Aldrich needed to maintain his image. If he forced players to stay only for them to stir up rumors of discord, it would negatively impact future signings—the club itself held no allure. If the head coach couldn't attract players, Millwall's future would be bleak.
Aldrich wasn't against selling players; after all, he borrowed thirty million pounds from his brother Barnett—how would he repay that?
Could he rely solely on the club's meager income? It would probably take a decade to settle that.
He paid his starting players salaries nearly on par with England's top stars to retain them, knowing that if he needed to sell later, he'd at least get a good price.
If the deals for Larson and Trezeguet went through, Aldrich could earn nearly ten million pounds a year from both players!
In the coming two years, he would have to sell players to balance the budget. After this season, the club would be drained; unless operating income saw significant growth this season, he could barely hold on for one more year. By 1997, he feared he'd be broke.
He couldn't afford to be in a situation where money flowed out but nothing came in. This season was too vital for Millwall in the Premier League; not merely for survival, but for achieving greatness.
While waiting for a cab, Aldrich called Andrew. When Trezeguet was brought in last year, the agent changed to Andrew, and now Larson's contract renewal was also handled by him.
He casually informed Andrew about United's offer for the two players, leaving the next steps entirely to him. In reality, he and Andrew were likely to be on opposing sides when it came to interests.
If Larson and Trezeguet hadn't just signed new contracts in the summer with a significant salary increase—especially Larson, whose weekly pay shot from eight thousand to fifteen thousand pounds—then Andrew, as their agent, would have been caught in the middle, either facilitating a transfer to United or leveraging that to secure a bigger contract for them at Millwall.
There are many things that exist between brothers without needing to be articulated; they share an unspoken bond. Aldrich felt a sense of relief, for the most challenging figure to deal with in the transfer process is often the agent, who in this case was his brother Andrew, and he was one hundred percent sure that Andrew wouldn't betray him.
The taxi arrived, and Aldrich got in, telling the driver to head to Liverpool.
It didn't take an hour to travel from Manchester to Liverpool. Although the two cities were so close together, their cultures, religions, politics, economies, and football contrasted sharply.
Setting aside his worries, Aldrich gazed out at the scenery from the car window. He could see the distinct cultural vibes of the two cities and feel how historical changes had shaped their different fates.
Manchester, with its conservative traditions, had once been the "world's factory," but that glory had faded. After World War II, its industry declined, and in the past three decades, manufacturing jobs had plummeted, causing Manchester to painfully transition toward a service economy. The city's folk felt a deep sense of nostalgia and sadness about their lost glory.
In contrast, Liverpool, as a prominent British port city, was more open, vibrant, and diverse, giving rise to extraordinary talents like The Beatles. It rapidly revived in the '90s, and in recent years, its economic growth had outpaced London's, becoming the spearhead of Britain's economic resurgence—Liverpool was a city filled with artistic spirit, nurturing many artists.
As the scenery changed before his eyes, Aldrich suddenly realized that Melanie was a Liverpudlian. Perhaps her musical talent and inspiration came largely from this magical port city.
Aldrich admired talented people and respected hard workers, and perhaps it was these qualities in Melanie that had drawn him to her.
He was indifferent toward women who had beauty without substance; otherwise, the young and wealthy Aldrich could have already spent time with countless models.
After Aldrich stepped out of the cab in front of Melanie's house, he looked down at his attire, instantly regretting his lack of preparation.
His suit was of high quality and wrinkle-free, but the knees of his trousers bore obvious stains from when he slid on the pitch to celebrate. There were also little specks of dirt on his suit from when his teammates came to hug him.
Removing his suit jacket and draping it over his arm, he stood in front of the door, feeling somewhat awkward. It was his first visit, yet he hadn't brought anything with him.
Usually attentive to etiquette and manners, he felt embarrassed.
Had he known, he should have stopped by and picked up a nice bottle of wine before coming.
After standing at the door for a while, he suddenly noticed the door opening, revealing a bemused Melanie who stared at him and quietly asked, "Why are you standing there without ringing the bell? Do you not want to come in?"
Aldrich forced a smile, "I came in a rush and didn't bring any gifts."
Melanie rolled her eyes and pulled his arm, dragging him inside. She even kissed his cheek and said, "I know you just finished directing a match. We're just having a simple dinner, not some upper-class gala that makes you all nervous. My family is really welcoming."
Aldrich internally scoffed: upper-class?
If someone else said that, Aldrich would take it as a jab.
In England, true aristocrats were not comparable to the Hall family. Genuine nobles were often seen sipping tea with ministers in Downing Street or riding horses with royal family members… the Halls were merely upstarts.
They say Liverpool people are warm and hospitable; Aldrich had a great impression of Melanie's parents when he first met them.
Melanie had a younger brother, who, like her, was a Liverpool fan.
He went to watch the Liverpool match this afternoon and saw them edge out Sheffield Wednesday with a 1-0 win at Anfield. He came home all excited and then heard that Manchester United struggled to draw against the newly promoted side. What a double surprise!
What surprised him even more was the sight of her sister's boyfriend at the dinner table, the amazing young coach of the newly promoted team, who was just a few years older than Aldrich.
The dinner went exceptionally well. Although Aldrich wasn't academically inclined, he had traveled extensively and was well-spoken and polished.
However, it became a bit of a headache when Melanie's brother, after watching the highlights, launched into a long-winded discussion about football, tossing out which Millwall player might find greater success at Liverpool while fantasizing about Liverpool winning the league this season.
Liverpool! They hadn't touched the league title since the 1990s, a traditional powerhouse in a drought.
"Aldrich didn't want to shatter his dreams. Even without Millwall's unexpected rise, it's uncertain when Liverpool will claim their next top-flight title. After all, in Aldrich's experience, it's nearly been 24 years! Whether they might surpass Manchester United's 26-year gap without a league title post-Ferguson is unclear, and there are no indications that Liverpool will quickly reclaim the championship in the years ahead; by then, the Premier League will have an entirely different landscape."
After dinner, Aldrich enjoyed nearly two hours of pleasant conversation with Melanie's family but noticed the sky beginning to darken and decided to take his leave. Melanie's mother urged him, "It's getting late—why not just stay until tomorrow? We have a guest room ready for you."
Melanie, well aware of Aldrich's habits, picked up his suit and helped him put it back on. She smiled at her family and said, "You have no idea—he's a workaholic. Tomorrow morning, he'll be off to the club, so don't pressure him."
Melanie's parents chuckled, looking at Aldrich with warmth and satisfaction. They felt that with young people like him, who worked so hard, they were a rare find in today's superficial society.
Outside, Melanie walked Aldrich to the door. They embraced and kissed goodbye, and when her cheeks flushed and she was a bit out of breath, she said, "I'm going to London this weekend to watch the match. You have to do well! Although I believe in you, it's infuriating how the media writes you off. Aldrich, you'll show them, right?"
She had a bit of time off recently, as the Spice Girls were busy with their first album.
It was understandable that Millwall wasn't being taken seriously at the start of the season; no newly promoted team ever was, especially one like Millwall that lacked heritage and hadn't brought in big-name stars.
Aldrich squeezed her soft cheek and smiled, "I don't care what others say."
Noticing her wide-eyed look of disapproval, Aldrich sighed and said, 'I just don't have the time. Who spends hours every day flipping through newspapers to see what people are saying about them? And then tries to think of a reply? Isn't that tiring? Well, I won't hold you up any longer. I have to go, but I'll be back in two weeks. By then, hehe, I bet your family won't be welcoming me.
Melanie playfully pecked him on the lips, joking, "If Millwall beats Liverpool at Anfield, you better watch out or you might not make it back to London! Haha, Aldrich, drive safe, and call me when you get home."
Aldrich shook his head and replied, "It'll be late, nothing is going to happen."
"No way!"
"Then I'll send a text message."
"No way! Call me, or I'll be ringing you every ten minutes."
"You win. I'll call when I get home. Goodnight."
Aldrich turned and walked to the street corner, getting into the cab and leaving.
It was only when the taxi disappeared that Melanie skipped back home with her hands behind her back.
In the car, Aldrich tiredly closed his eyes.
The timing of Manchester United's transfer interest couldn't have been worse. This was just the beginning of Millwall's grueling schedule. Next week, they had a home derby against Arsenal, and the week after that, they were heading back—not to Manchester, but to Liverpool…
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