A Visit to Budapest

The post-match interview was more formal than usual; it wasn't just a hurried mix zone affair. Anfield was set up like a proper press conference. 

When Aldrich appeared, the reporters in the audience immediately started snapping photos, the flashbulbs making it hard to see.

"Alright, gentlemen, let's wrap this up quickly. I don't want to miss the bus. If you have any questions, please ask fast."

The Echo was the voice of Merseyside media, neither particularly favoring Everton nor Liverpool. They often revealed or tested fan reactions to new policies or news from either club first.

The reporter from The Echo was hostile, directly asking, "Why did you do that? Provoking the fans at Anfield! Your team won, sure, but shouldn't you show some class?"

Without a second thought, Aldrich shot back, "The atmosphere was loud. Clearly, Liverpool didn't welcome me, and I couldn't care less. Just like when they go to London, no one welcomes them either. Now, next question."

The Echo reporter was left speechless and wanted to continue questioning, but his colleagues were unsympathetic. They were keen to hear more headlines from Aldrich, which he had just provided.

After all, he was incredibly popular right now!

Prior to the season, it was anticipated that Millwall would struggle at the start of the Premier League, facing a grueling schedule right away. Yet, having completed three of the five toughest matches, they secured two wins and a draw. Among England's traditional big three, only Manchester United managed to barely earn a point against Millwall at home.

After the interview, Aldrich returned to London with the team. That evening, he awaited the team doctor's diagnosis report.

He got news that left him with a headache.

Southgate would be out for 5 to 7 weeks due to injury, and Trezeguet had a sprained ankle, needing at least 6 to 8 weeks to recover.

With two key players sidelined, he started adjusting the lineup. In four days, they would face a lower-tier team in the League Cup. Cup matches were often grounds for upsets, so to avoid any mishaps, Aldrich planned to field his strongest squad, regardless of the opponent.

Dean Richards would replace Southgate, and Solskjær would take Trezeguet's spot, but naturally, the overall strength of the team would take a hit.

On Monday afternoon, after training ended, Aldrich returned to his apartment, took a shower, and put on a neat suit for a banquet.

Earlier in the month was Mel C's birthday. As the Spice Girls had just debuted, they attended some commercial events, but she planned to hold a belated birthday party tonight before diving headfirst into recording their first album.

Aldrich was invited, and Melanie was sitting on his sofa, playing the Spice Girls' single on repeat. She seemed absorbed in it, a proud look on her face.

Dressed and ready, Aldrich came downstairs. Melanie looked him over and frowned, "Isn't that a bit too formal?"

Aldrich shrugged, "What should I wear? Some hip-hop attire? Come on, if I get snapped like this, how can I work?"

Melanie thought for a moment and agreed.

She linked her arm with Aldrich's as they walked outside, only to find Andrew standing at the door, about to knock.

"Hey."

Andrew paused for a moment, then raised a hand in greeting.

Aldrich asked, "Need something?"

Andrew lifted the letter in his other hand and smiled, "No worries, I'm heading home today. You have an international letter at my place, and I thought I'd bring it to you. It's probably from one of your friends overseas, right?"

Aldrich took the letter and glanced at the return address, his expression growing serious.

He returned to the house and opened the letter. The more he read, the worse his face looked.

"What's wrong?"

Melanie was startled; Aldrich's expression was as if it were the end of the world.

"Andrew, I need you to help me out! I've got to go abroad, so get my visa sorted ASAP for Hungary!"

Aldrich's breathing was uneven, and both Melanie and Andrew could even see tears brimming in his eyes.

He turned to Melanie and said, "Sorry, I won't be able to make it to Hallie's birthday party. Please tell her I'm sorry."

"Hey, what's going on?"

Melanie was influenced by Aldrich and showed a look of anxiety.

"No time to explain; I need to pack."

"Wait, I'll go with you. I'm worried about your state. I want to be there with you."

Aldrich looked back at her, hesitated for a few seconds, then nodded.

Andrew watched Aldrich dash upstairs and shrugged, helpless. He pulled out his phone to reach out to contacts in the city.

Aldrich and Melanie boarded British Airways that night, flying directly to Budapest, the capital of Hungary.

Before leaving, Aldrich called Jansen, informing him: "If I'm not back by Wednesday, you'll need to manage the game."

As the plane soared into the sky, Melanie, sitting next to Aldrich, noticed his right leg restlessly shaking, clearly anxious. She gently placed her hand on his leg, softly asking, "Getting anxious won't help now; the plane's already taken off. Can you tell me what's going on?"

Aldrich closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and placed his hand over hers. With a heavy tone, he said, "Last summer, before I returned to London, I was a football coach for the Hungarian national team. There, I met a mentor who taught me the soul of football."

...

Budapest had gradually become the largest black market in the world since the disintegration of Eastern Europe, filled with illicit wealth and the spoils of criminal transactions. Wealthy individuals often sent their aides here to buy rare treasures impossible to find in the open market.

Aldrich was clearly not there for shopping; after getting off the plane, he and Melanie took a taxi directly to a hospital in the capital.

After inquiring about the ward at the front desk, Aldrich hurried upstairs. In the corridor outside the ward, he saw an elderly woman in plain clothing with white hair, looking despondent.

The woman's face lit up when she saw Aldrich, and she stood up, embracing him.

"Elizabeth, how is he?"

Aldrich's voice trembled as he spoke.

"I don't know. He suddenly collapsed at home. Aldrich, thank you for coming. He'll be so happy to see you."

Just then, a nurse walked out of the ward, announcing that the patient was awake.

"Child, you should see him. He'll be so delighted to see you."

Aldrich nodded, collecting himself before stepping into the ward.

Melanie took the initiative to help the old woman with her arm, and the two stood at the door of the hospital room, quietly watching the scene inside.

Aldrich forced a smile as he entered the room, where an elderly man with a full head of gray hair lay quietly in bed. The man opened his eyes, seemingly adjusting to his surroundings.

"Hmm? Aldrich, what are you doing here? What happened to me?"

He struggled to sit up, but Aldrich hurried over, lightly pressing him back down. "Hey, hey, hey, what do you think you're doing? Just lie down; you're not well. Rest up, you're not a young man anymore, don't push yourself. Just like you taught me, on the training field, I listen to you; in the hospital, you listen to the doctor."

The old man sighed, settling back down, then curiously asked, "Didn't you go back to England? Are you coaching a team now?"

Aldrich perched on the edge of the bed and smiled, "Yeah, I'm coaching. My team is Millwall."

"Millwall? Haven't heard of it."

"Of course, it can't compare to Real Madrid's fame, but maybe one day it will."

"Ha, you're quite confident. But no team can surpass Real Madrid, none."

"Really?"

...

By the door, Melanie whispered, "They have a really close relationship."

"Ferenc considered Aldrich a part of his life, even though Aldrich often made him angry."

"What's wrong with him?"

"The doctor says it's Alzheimer's."

Melanie didn't quite understand, so she didn't ask further.

But a bizarre scene unfolded in the ward.

Just moments later, the elderly man looked out the window, then turned back to Aldrich, saying, "Aldrich, why are you here?"

Aldrich was visibly shaken, managing a smile through tears, "I came to see you."

"Have you fulfilled your dream? Did a team from your hometown ask you to coach? Whoever didn't hire you will regret it."

"I've found a job. I'm coaching a small team."

"What's its name? I know a few English clubs."

"Millwall."

"Uh, never heard of it."

...

Standing by the door, Melanie was dumbfounded, glancing at Elizabeth for clarification. Elizabeth gave a bitter smile, understanding the depth of the situation, "Alzheimer's is also known as senile dementia."

Melanie covered her mouth, gazing at the repetitive scene in the ward. Behind Aldrich's smile, the struggle and pain were heart-wrenching. Tears filled her eyes as she covered her mouth, fearing she would burst into tears.

Half an hour later, Aldrich sat on a chair outside the ward, his head hanging low, hands resting on his thighs, tears dropping uncontrollably onto the floor.

"Are you and Ferenc close friends, Aldrich?" 

Melanie, with a sad look, held Aldrich's hand tightly. Seeing this man's genuine side made her understand he wasn't weak but incredibly real.

Aldrich straightened up, head held high, eyes closed, and choked out, "His name is Ferenc, and his surname is: Puskás!"