章 39: Spirit of the Mighty Lion
Former Manchester United player Blackmore roamed a vast area in the attacking zone, becoming one of Middlesbrough's most threatening offensive starters. After receiving a pass from Neil Cox in the backfield, he took a couple of strides near the center circle. Nedved had retreated and blocked his forward path, but Blackmore still made a bold attempt and launched a long pass. Originally, it was just a wide-ranging change of play, but the ball struck Nedved's shin and deflected off towards the goal line, resulting in a corner kick.
The Millwall penalty area was crowded with players; Southgate urged his teammates to mark their men. The game had entered a fever pitch, and everyone was tense.
Hignett took the corner and sent the ball flying towards the front post, where Southgate had closely marked Middlesbrough striker Graham Kavanagh.
Watching the ball approach, Southgate applied pressure against Kavanagh, the two tightly bound together. As Southgate anticipated the trajectory of the football, he felt slightly more relaxed, even though the ball was descending at the front post. Neither he nor Kavanagh were in a good position to head the ball, as they were rushing towards the goal line, almost overshooting it.
However, Kavanagh jumped up nonetheless, and Southgate followed, clearly higher than Kavanagh. Even if Kavanagh managed to head it, Southgate was confident he could block the angle with his face!
Yet, to Southgate's disbelief, Kavanagh suddenly hunched down and leaned back. The ball struck his head and deflected outward from the penalty area.
Was that a headed pass? A back flick?
Southgate didn't know, but he felt the threat in the box had been averted.
But the ball skidded towards a diagonal 45-degree angle, landing in a dangerously unprotected area. Pires rushed forward to claim it, but a Middlesbrough player came barreling in—the veteran Nigel Pearson.
As a defender, Pearson launched a stunning volley!
As the ball flew out, Middlesbrough fans in the stands expressed mild disappointment.
This kick is not so much a shot as a clearance.
The ball flew diagonally into the penalty area, its trajectory clearly intended to go out of bounds.
But no one expected that the wayward shot would carry such immense power. Schneider, retreating, couldn't dodge it in time as the ball struck his lower leg and ricocheted into the Millwall net. Keeper Keller had no reaction; in fact, all the Millwall players were left stunned.
"Gooooooal! Middlesbrough takes the lead! 2-1! 2-1! Middlesbrough is now at the top of the League One table! We thought Kavanagh was clearing the ball for Millwall, but in an unfortunate turn of events, the ball landed outside the penalty area, and Pearson's misguided shot was redirected by Schneider into his own net—it's an own goal! Millwall must be devastated! Will they lose their top position because of this own goal? There are just twenty minutes left in the game!"
All the Middlesbrough players involved in this corner attack rushed to the corner flag, and Pearson was there, basking in the fans' cheers, surprised that his clearance turned into a goal.
Schneider held his head in despair, staring blankly. He understood what this own goal meant.
Not only had their lead slipped away, but so too had their top position.
The young player felt as if he might sink to the ground.
At that moment, two men approached him: Southgate and Nedved, the team's captain and vice-captain, flanking him on either side.
"Bernd, lift your spirits. That's not your fault; no one will blame you."
"Keep your chin up; the game isn't over yet!"
With the comforting words from the two captains, Schneider gritted his teeth and raised his head. He instinctively looked toward the sidelines, eager to see how the manager would respond.
Would he be substituted in anger?
But as he glanced over, Aldrich waved at him and pointed to Nedved. In front of Aldrich stood Pires, Larsson, and Trezeguet.
Aldrich didn't care how long Middlesbrough would celebrate.
Though time was running short, Aldrich needed to clarify the adjustments to the players.
At the moment that goal was scored, Aldrich's expression went blank.
His mind seemed to enter a void, and time slowed dramatically. He watched as Bryan Robson and the Middlesbrough coaches celebrated on the bench in exaggerated slow motion.
The conceded goal was an accident, but it was also avoidable—Aldrich realized only then that he had been mistaken!
Though he claimed he would be satisfied with a draw, for the first seventy minutes, he had focused solely on tactics for winning.
The team's impressive performance over the first nine matches had bred a sense of complacency in him; he had merely pretended to be humble.
Even at Ayresome Park, he did not emphasize defense more than before; it revealed his subconscious desire for immediate success.
In contrast, Robson's Middlesbrough, clearly the home team, played conservatively, truly playing for victory.
If he could do it all over again, Aldrich would definitely not employ the same tactics.
Middlesbrough was on the defensive; Millwall could be even more so; their counterattacks were more incisive than static attacks!
As time passed, it would be Middlesbrough who first faltered; after all, this was their home turf, and Millwall was the team at the top they were chasing. If they ended up in a stalemate, it would undoubtedly be Middlesbrough who experienced the greater blow.
Feeling guilty and self-reflective, Aldrich was overcome with regret. He could relieve the pressure on his players and help them relax, but no one was there to remind him or correct his mistakes.
Once believing he held the "memory" and experience of the future, he thought he had forged himself into steel, only to find he was still just a rookie!
The team had been overturned, and suffering a morale-crushing own goal, Aldrich knew that Millwall was being pushed to the edge. At this moment, he needed to salvage not just the game but also their morale, and perhaps even his own authority and trust as the head coach.
He could only take a daring risk.
In a flash of insight, Aldrich pieced everything together. He had no time to wallow in regret or admire Robson's cunning; he had to respond swiftly. Fortunately, his plan for shaping the team had long been in his mind, though implementing it now might not be effective and certainly wasn't timely. Still, he had to make that choice.
Schneider approached Aldrich with a hint of apprehension, accompanied by Nedved. Aldrich had little time to offer comfort, so he simply said calmly to Schneider, "Forget about that conceded goal. You've played exceptionally well today, and I hope you can maintain that performance until the final whistle."
Upon hearing those words, Schneider felt tears welling up in his eyes. He gritted his teeth and nodded vigorously, the heavy guilt that had weighed on him instantly transforming into boundless determination, even allowing him to forget the fatigue of the intense seventy minutes of the match.
Aldrich kept it brief as he laid out the tactical adjustments for the front five, emphasizing that while the strategy wouldn't change entirely, it required the five players to synchronize their movements and work seamlessly together.
The match soon resumed, and with a one-goal lead, Middlesbrough adopted a more composed and cautious approach in the ensuing play.
The rhythm of cheering from Middlesbrough fans resonated through the stands, as Brady's "Lion Roar" was drowned out in the wave of support from the twenty thousand Middlesbrough fans present.
On the field, Nedved gained possession and passed it decisively to Pires on the left flank. Pires cut inside and launched a long-range shot that sailed over the crossbar, sending a shiver down the spine of Middlesbrough's defense.
Brian Robson frowned.
Millwall seemed to be getting reckless while trailing!
Trezeguet was stationed at the forefront, Larsson was on the left side of the area, and Nedved moved toward that side as well, making Pires the core attacker for Millwall.
Nedved passed, Pires connected with Larsson and executed a one-two, with Pires pushing into the penalty area, only to have the ball intercepted.
Pires cut in, Trezeguet returned the pass, and Pires went for a long-range shot...
In the ten minutes since the restart, Pires undoubtedly became the main character for Millwall, registering four shots and three breakthroughs, while also creating a mediocre header opportunity for Trezeguet.
Pires's technical prowess during these brief moments was on full display—his skillful dribbling, penetrating runs, and clever passes.
As the first-half scorer for Millwall, Pires had naturally become a pressing concern for Middlesbrough's defensive line. Containing him and limiting his movement became a top priority.
With Millwall's attacks continuing to intensify on the left flank, Middlesbrough's defensive line inevitably began to tilt towards the right.
Aldrich observed every movement of his team from the sidelines, feeling a sense of relief in his heart. Although his team was trailing, they did not show any signs of despair. Instead, they exhibited resilience and determination, fighting for every opportunity and displaying a commendable spirit in the face of adversity.
Nedved tirelessly orchestrating attacks in the midfield, circling like a flag that seemed to influence all his teammates.
Now, with Millwall focusing on the left flank, even when they pushed hard, it was all directed that way, rapidly increasing the match pace in these final twenty minutes!
As each Millwall attack unfolded, Middesbrough's defenders instinctively shifted their focus to the right.
When Pires found himself cornered on the left, Aldrich glanced at the scoreboard: 88: .... 88: ....
His expression grew solemn, realizing that the decisive moment was approaching!
Middlesbrough fans erupted with cheers when Pires lost possession on the left flank.
Cox cleared with a big kick, and an exhausted Blackmore awaited the ball in place. Brian Robson had also prepared to substitute in an effort to waste time, waiting for a dead-ball opportunity.
Just as Blackmore was about to stop the ball, a figure appeared before him.
The tenacious defender Makelele!
He sprinted in from behind, using his chest to deflect the ball, then made a swift pass to Nedved.
When Nedved received the ball, Middlesbrough's defense instinctively fixated on Pires. But this time, Nedved sent a powerful through ball to the right side.
As Middlesbrough's defensive shape had tilted right, they hardly realized how much space was left on the left!
Since that own goal left Schneider virtually non-existent in the game, he had been lurking on the left, appearing almost leisurely, yet he pressed on the opposing defense's position.
Nedved's through ball completely tore apart Middlesbrough's backline, and when Fleming finally caught on, Schneider had already received the ball by the goal line.
Calmly bringing the ball inside from the baseline, Schneider's spirit surged with greater intensity than ever; he understood that his manager was watching him intently. This opportunity was also a reward for his teammates' relentless efforts, and he couldn't squander it. Otherwise, he would never forgive himself.
Chaos erupted in Middlesbrough's penalty area as Pires stormed in from the right, Trezeguet charged towards the front post, and Larsson sprinted from the edge of the area toward the goal, causing the defense to instinctively collapse and retreat.
As Schneider entered the penalty area and faced off against Steve Wicks and Fleming, instead of attempting to dribble past them, he calmly passed the ball.
The Middlesbrough defenders gasped as they watched the ball's trajectory.
It wasn't a cross in front of the goal or a high ball into the area.
That blasted ball actually came back to the edge of the penalty arc after leaving Schneider's foot.
The retreating defenders allowed significant space to open near the top of the penalty arc.
A golden-haired figure surged in, majestic and resolute, lifting his foot for a powerful shot!
Aldrich clenched his teeth, his fingers balled into fists as he watched every detail of Nedved's shooting form. The way his thigh muscles tensed exuded pure strength, resembling an elegant ruler—a golden lion!
Boom!
With immense power, Nedved's shot blasted from his foot, propelling the ball like a cannonball into the upper left corner of the net!
"Goooooooooal! Pavel Nedved! Pavel Nedved! Millwall has equalized! It's now 2-2! 2-2! Millwall has pushed Middlesbrough back behind them; they remain the top team in League One!"
Seeing the ball fly into the Middlesbrough goal, Aldrich suddenly dropped to his knees, pumping his fists in the air and howling to the heavens!
"This goal is extraordinary!"
League One's top position?
To hell with it!
Millwall, the fierce lions, have found their spirit!
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