章 135: Reflections after victory
Life is meant to be enjoyed to the fullest, and Aldrich didn't see the need to downplay his success after winning the championship; that would only come off as hypocritical.
What does it mean to have friends?
Aldrich believed that friends didn't have to share the same ambitions or dreams. True friends are those who join you in celebration during your happiest times and share your sorrow in your lowest moments. That's what friendship is all about.
On the night of their League Cup victory, Aldrich went wild at a bar in sande, mingling with neighbors and strangers alike over drinks and dancing with one stunning young woman after another. This was normal socializing—not some sleazy escapade. He had a blast, and after a night of heavy drinking, he was finally helped home by Ivan and Fred.
When he woke up the next morning, he came down to the living room to find Fred sprawled out on the floor sleeping soundly, while Ivan curled up on the couch, blissfully dreaming. Pushing open the bathroom door, Aldrich couldn't help but feel speechless at the sight of Brady lying in the empty bathtub, clutching a bottle of liquor.
After a quick shower, he noticed his friends were still asleep, so he brewed some coffee and stepped outside to grab that morning's newspaper.
Back at home, he settled in with his headphones on, turned on the TV, and started flicking through the news sections of the newspaper. Of course, he was most interested in the football coverage.
Aldrich subscribed to the major British newspapers, skipping the tabloids—he found those, like The Sun, were more focused on sensationalism than reliable news coverage. He spread out The Times, The Daily Telegraph, The Guardian, and The Daily Mail across the coffee table. Though he intended to flip to the sports section, some headlines caught his attention first.
With the League Cup final falling on a weekend, there had been no Premier League matches for Millwall or Aston Villa, meaning the papers offered only brief coverage of other Premier League news. However, all the major publications focused prominently on the League Cup final.
"The Roar of the Lions Shakes England!"
"English Coaching Genius: Aldrich-Hall Has Arrived!"
"A Radiant Dawn a Century and Ten Years in the Making!"
As Aldrich sipped his coffee and skimmed the articles, he grew increasingly bored.
The papers were filled with sycophantic praise, singing the accolades of him and his team. Some of the accompanying photos were quite compelling—like those of him being tossed in the air by his ecstatic players or Larson sprinting along the sidelines after a goal, all set against a dazzling backdrop of flashing lights.
Aldrich sighed and rubbed his forehead; "Fleet Street, I'm kneeling to you."
The season wasn't over yet, and what Aldrich's team needed was a reality check!
He wished there were some sarcastic voices in the papers to stir up the team's competitive spirit rather than have them floating on clouds, blissfully unaware of how hard they would fall when it eventually happened.
But that was the nature of Fleet Street: if you're popular, they'll lift you up to the stars, but if you're down, they'll stomp all over you and spit on you, too.
There was no denying that once players begin to shine in England, the country's ability to create stars is undeniable, thanks to the strength of British media. Britain is already the heart of news in Europe, and with English being a dominant language, the coverage is unparalleled by other European countries.
Italian, Spanish, German, and French news coverage simply cannot match up to the power of English, which explains why the Premier League could pull together many overvalued superstars and promote its broadcasts globally at lightning speed.
Suddenly, Ivan, still curled up on the sofa, propped herself up, rubbing her eyes sleepily. When she noticed Aldrich sitting across from her at the coffee table, she let out a startled scream and dashed to the bathroom. As she entered, there was another scream, followed by Brady's howl.
Aldrich chuckled; clearly, Ivan was concerned about her appearance. No one could say whether she looked good first thing in the morning without makeup, but she had worn light makeup the previous night, which had now worn off, leaving her a bit of a mess.
Half an hour later, the three friends had washed up and prepared a simple breakfast. They sat at the coffee table chatting.
Aldrich tossed the newspaper aside, his interest piqued by the football commentary show replaying from last night.
A panel of former players and pundits discussed tactics and analyzed every detail of the League Cup final, the atmosphere buzzing with lively debate and opinions.
Aldrich loved shows like this, finding them much richer in content compared to plain news. A football score might seem straightforward—1:0, 2:1, 3:0—just a few goals. But in those ninety minutes, it wasn't just about one player's mistake or a spectacular play that defined the match. Experienced retired coaches and insightful pundits often provided information that viewers might miss, including insights that Aldrich might have overlooked while directing from the sideline. Watching these shows was a great help for his coaching, even if he was just a spectator; it helped open up new perspectives.
After a night of heavy drinking, Fred and Brady looked a bit worse for wear, dazed and confused. They decided to head home for some restful sleep, while Ivan checked the time—she had a class at university. Aldrich planned on driving her, but just then his phone rang.
After hanging up, Ivan spoke softly, "You can go handle your business; I can grab a cab."
Aldrich smiled, "No rush, let's go. I'll drive you."
As they set off for the university, Ivan, sitting in the passenger seat, still seemed like she hadn't recovered, resting her head against the window in silence.
When they arrived at the university gate, she suddenly turned to Aldrich and asked, "Where's your pop star girlfriend?"
Aldrich replied, confused, "Who?"
"Your pop star girlfriend!"
"Oh, she's out of town promoting her album. She's not in London."
"Is that okay?"
"What do you mean?"
Ivan turned away, gazing out the window again. "She should be right beside you when you're happiest."
Aldrich chuckled, "I don't really think that's necessary. I mean, I prefer having some distance, you know? Besides, she's very career-focused. I support her career, and she supports mine. If she were with me all the time, I'd feel guilty, since I don't have much energy to spend on pampering women. I'm not that exciting of a guy," he finished with a hint of self-deprecation.
That's just how life was for a football coach; success required a lot of time. Football is constantly evolving. Not only do you need to study current styles and tactics, but you also need a keen sense to foresee what's coming. In practical terms, that means diligently studying opponents.
Sometimes the work can feel dull, but Aldrich could only make the best of a tough situation. Yet, there were moments when hours of tedious research led to the discovery of an opponent's weakness, and that brought a joyful sense of relief—like rain after a long drought. This sort of exhilaration was something outsiders couldn't truly understand.
Ivan turned her head to look directly at Aldrich for three seconds. The beauty and clarity of her eyes made Aldrich feel a bit uneasy, and he said, "You're not thinking I'm gay, are you?"
Ivan let out a light chuckle, her face blooming with a smile, as she shook her head, opened the door, and stepped out of the car. Turning back, she leaned in and told Aldrich, "Be careful while driving."
Aldrich waved goodbye as he drove off toward the club.
Before he left, he received a call from the club's CEO, Adam, informing him that a commercial partner had arrived at the club.
A representative from Puma, Wolf-Heisenberg.
About a year ago, Aldrich first got in touch with Heisenberg, but they didn't come to an agreement. By summer, Puma had reluctantly signed a shirt sponsorship deal with Millwall, marking their initial investment in the Premier League.
That contract wasn't substantial—£750,000 a year.
Now, with less than a year left on that contract, Heisenberg's visit was a clear indication that he wanted to continue the partnership.
Adam had been clever; after the New Year, he had hinted that Millwall's shirt sponsorship and front-of-shirt advertising would expire in six months.
Millwall's impressive performances in the Premier League and their frequent live broadcasts had significantly boosted the club's commercial value. Barclays Bank had already reached a verbal agreement with Millwall to sponsor the club again in the summer, a two-year deal worth £1.5 million annually.
Puma couldn't afford to sit idle either; not only was Millwall performing well in the Premier League, but with their recent League Cup win, if you looked at the memorable moments in English football this season, more than half would feature Millwall. Just looking at the sales figures of the shirts told the story—they were raking it in.
Part of this was due to Millwall's first-time appearance in the Premier League, where fan enthusiasm for new merchandise had been high. With an increasing number of neutral fans taking an interest in Millwall, this was reflected in the sales figures as well.
Decisions regarding commercial partnerships and contracts are generally made six months prior to the expiration of an existing agreement; you wouldn't wait until it's due to make a choice.
In this regard, Adam could've handled it himself, but to demonstrate sincerity, Aldrich decided to personally meet with Heisenberg, as he'd mentioned last year—he placed value on partners with whom he shared a rapport.
Arriving at the club, Aldrich personally invited Heisenberg into his office. Heisenberg delivered a round of flattery and presented a small gift to celebrate Millwall's League Cup victory.
His attitude had transformed greatly compared to last year—he was enthusiastic, eloquently praising Millwall and even using the term "great."
Both Aldrich and Adam recognized the flattery for what it was, shared a laugh, and didn't take it to heart.
When discussing details for next season's sponsorship, Heisenberg proposed a three- to five-year contract at £1.25 million per year.
Aldrich flatly rejected his proposal and presented a counteroffer.
A one-year contract for £1.25 million.
A two-year contract for £1.5 million per year.
A three-year contract for £2 million per year.
A four- or five-year contract for £3.5 million per year.
Heisenberg nearly threw his cup in frustration.
Aldrich urged him to calm down and took the time to explain the reasoning behind his proposal.
As long as Millwall maintains their Premier League ranking, next season they would be competing in Europe's lower-tier competition, the Europa League, which would help with their commercial development.
Moreover, Aldrich was confident that Millwall would be even stronger next season, going for more trophies.
Heisenberg felt that a long-term deal was too risky and proposed starting with a one-year contract, with plans to sign a two-year deal next year.
Aldrich knew his intentions—sign a contract this year for £1.25 million and if Millwall remained competitive next summer, they would negotiate a two-year contract worth £1.5 million per year.
Aldrich smiled and replied, "Mr. Heisenberg, we can continue with a one-year deal this year, but if Puma is still interested next year, my lowest offer will be £2 million."
Heisenberg was caught off guard, clearly aware that such playful number games wouldn't work with Aldrich, particularly since verbal agreements lacked any real binding power.
He left with Aldrich's proposal to discuss back at the office.
A month later, Puma agreed to the two-year sponsorship plan, and they would sign a contract in the summer for £1.5 million per year.
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