A Battle of Life and Death

Aldrich is not known for coaching with an iron fist. His players—whether they're still with him or have moved on—say he's firm and demanding, but they're clear he's not the kind of coach who's heartless or overly rigid.

During training, in a rare moment of rest, the national team players sat in a circle. Aldrich joined them, sitting cross-legged in the center, and began to speak openly.

"I know everyone is exhausted. Apart from Hargreaves, all of you either play or have played in the Premier League. You're familiar with the grueling reality of having no winter break, and you understand the pressure that builds as March arrives, with every competition ramping up to its climax. The media, the cameras, the fans, the managers—everyone bombards you with expectations, demands, and commands, leaving you no room to breathe.

"I'm not going to give you a clichéd speech about enduring for the honor of the national team, because I don't believe that works. Let's be practical—you're tired, and you need rest. Over the next two days, relax and recover here as much as possible. Then, we'll head to Greece. For our away match against Greece, all of you who are starters will play. If we win, you can sit out the following match against Albania and let the substitutes take over."

The players exchanged glances, and many looked visibly relieved.

Coming to the national team camp, they had feared being subjected to the same high-intensity regimen as their clubs. Sure, the intensity and pace might feel similar, but facing back-to-back away games? That's not the same as a short domestic trip. Traveling abroad for these games is utterly draining.

Aldrich had spoken plainly.

The away fixture against Greece required the best players to ensure a win. As for the trip to Albania? The starters could see it as a bit of a break.

Wearing the national jersey is an honor, no doubt, but context matters.

Had it been the latter half of last year, when they were brimming with energy and enthusiasm, every player would've been eager to fight for their place. But now, after being run ragged at their clubs, they were dog-tired. A few extra days to rest? Perfect.

Besides, Greece was the critical battle.

As for Albania? A walkover.

By sharing his plan upfront, Aldrich wasn't just motivating the starters; he was also ensuring they understood the stakes. Greece was a must-win. A draw or loss there would make any subsequent efforts futile. There was no room for error, not for England. Failing to win would bring the relentless media scrutiny crashing down on them again.

"I'm giving you this time off because I believe it will help us win, not because I sympathize or simply want to be lenient," Aldrich explained. "You haven't played together in four months. For now, we're keeping training light. But during the match, I expect you to play with this."

He tapped his temple to emphasize his point: the mind.

"Focus, think, and show your desire to win. I'm not going to harp on about how we must beat Greece. What I want to stress is this: beating Greece is simply what you're supposed to do. With your abilities, it's the bare minimum. Don't expect praise for doing what's expected. But if you can dominate them and deliver a brilliant performance, then I'll take back what I just said—and I'll praise you."

The players seated around him, propped up on their hands in a circle, suddenly burst into laughter.

Aldrich looked puzzled and asked, "What? Did I just tell a joke?"

Beckham, Lampard, Southgate, and others couldn't stop laughing.

The youngest player, Hargreaves, finally spoke up. "Coach, the British media says your praise is like poison!"

Aldrich slapped his forehead and started laughing himself.

He'd walked right into that one.

Over the years, his frequent use of psychological tactics had made his compliments notorious. They had become almost a curse.

But it wasn't entirely his fault. When leveraging the media for mind games, there were usually two strategies.

The first was to praise the opponent—Aldrich's infamous brand of flattery. This would heap pressure on the other team, turn them into a focal point, and even spark speculation: Was Aldrich eyeing one of their players? All of it served to unsettle the opposition.

The second was to outright belittle them. Contempt or indifference could provoke an opponent into overreacting, losing their composure on the pitch.

After so many years of this, anything Aldrich said about his opponents was treated with suspicion.

"Praise from Hall is poison, and his criticism is strong liquor."

That was Fleet Street's verdict.

Although many players were smiling, they understood the essence of what Aldrich was trying to convey.

Spending more time with him, they gradually came to understand his coaching style.

As long as players didn't show issues with their professional attitude, Aldrich wouldn't rigidly adhere to the norm when managing the team. He analyzed each situation and adapted accordingly. Now, leading the national team, this philosophy was even more evident—adjusting training and match schedules based on the players' conditions, allowing great flexibility without straying from the ultimate goal: helping the team win, especially by enabling players to perform at their best during matches.

Given the current circumstances, Aldrich didn't believe that following a routine training regimen would yield the best results. Everything was in service of the 90 minutes on the pitch. Training was no exception—relaxing when needed and maintaining balance were hallmarks of his coaching style.

Since the training intensity wasn't ramped up, Aldrich focused on instilling confidence in the players, particularly emphasizing staying calm in the face of external criticism.

Although England wasn't ranked among the top three or five world-class teams, they could still squeeze into the top ten. Thus, unless facing an elite opponent, winning should be taken as a given. Victories shouldn't be celebrated excessively or lead to complacency. Instead, the players should reflect on the game, identify shortcomings, and aim to improve.

Tactically, the blueprint was set, and the team was in the process of refining it. While major adjustments were unlikely at this stage, Aldrich now turned his attention to cultivating the team's inner spirit.

England may not be a team overflowing with hidden gems, but every player who makes it into the national squad has proven quality. These are players who have weathered many storms in their careers. They can see where Aldrich is coming from. They might not admire him outright, but they genuinely accept his point of view. More importantly, his message resonates with many of them, touching on something deep within. What Aldrich emphasized was exactly what this team needed most.

Victory without arrogance, defeat without despair—the heart of a true competitor!

Even with a relaxed training regimen and ample rest, the players couldn't just lounge around. Aldrich and the coaching staff organized video sessions in the meeting room, analyzing their opponents' matches.

Instead of subjecting the players to full 90-minute matches, which could be tedious, the coaching staff presented highlights showcasing the opponent's key offensive patterns, their most dangerous players, and their attacking tendencies. This allowed the players to grasp essential information quickly and prepare mentally.

After two days of training at the Leo Training Ground, the England squad, dressed sharply in suits, departed for Greece.

In 2004, Greece's home ground was moved to Piraeus, so the England team traveled to Athens for their away game.

From the moment they arrived in Greece until the matchday, the local street atmosphere sent a clear message: Greece wasn't afraid of England!

If Finland could draw England at home, Greece believed they had a chance too.

Despite a rocky start in the first three rounds, as Aldrich pointed out, the decisive games were rounds four, five, and six. Greece's fate was still in their hands. Topping the group to qualify directly was out of reach, but they could still compete for a playoff spot.

As night fell and the stadium lights illuminated the scene, the stands were packed with fans. Greek supporters roared with passionate cheers, creating an electric atmosphere.

This was, in many ways, a match that would decide everything. Neither team could afford to lose. If England were defeated, their hopes of topping the group would be almost entirely gone, leaving them to fight for a playoff spot in the final four rounds. For Greece, a loss would mean their playoff hopes—already slim—would be gone entirely, effectively ending their World Cup campaign. After all, Germany, England, and Finland were all ahead of them in the table.

Surprisingly, though, the Greek fans in the stands didn't direct any hostility toward England. Even with Britain's long history of taking so many of Greece's treasured artifacts, the atmosphere was anything but hostile.

When Aldrich walked onto the field, he could even hear the voices of Greek women calling his name from the nearby stands. But they weren't cheering him on.

Standing firm in front of the dugout, Aldrich's face was a mask of stern determination. This was no ordinary game; it was a battle of life and death, and he couldn't relax, no matter how much he tried.

Even when leading Millwall to the Champions League final, Aldrich had managed to ease the pressure and approach the game with composure. Yet here, in an away game for England against Greece, he found himself utterly unable to unwind.

Deep within, he wrestled with countless reasons to justify his unease.

Was it his own exhaustion?

Was it the hidden risks of a team that hadn't played together in four months?

Or perhaps the players were simply burnt out?

None of these explanations could fully convince him.

In the end, he concluded that the real issue might be England's perpetual tendency to falter under pressure—a burden carried by anyone who cared about the team.

In the past, Aldrich had been free from this weight. As an observer, England's triumphs or failures had never affected him personally. But now, as the national team's head coach, he had gone from spectator to key player in the drama. Subconsciously, he couldn't help but worry about England collapsing without warning.

The players lined up to take the field. England's starters wore solemn expressions. After three days of rest, their match fitness remained intact. While they hadn't reached their physical peaks, they weren't fatigued either. Their current condition could be described as cautiously optimistic.

"The fourth round of the FIFA World Cup European Qualifiers in Group I is about to begin. Greece hosts England in Athens, with both teams desperate for a win. After three matches, Greece sits at the bottom of the group with just one point, while England has managed four. Greece's unexpected loss to Albania has left them in a dire position even before the group stage is halfway through. Similarly, England has struggled, earning only one point in their first two matches. However, following a defeat to Germany, England made a bold coaching change, appointing Aldrich Hall, who had achieved remarkable success with Millwall in the Premier League. Since then, England has secured three consecutive wins, including two impressive friendlies—victories over Spain away and Brazil at home—as well as a critical win against Albania in the previous round. Now with four points, England faces Greece in what can only be described as a do-or-die battle. A draw would be the least desirable outcome for both teams."

The players spread out across their respective halves of the pitch, ready to begin. The tension of the must-win match hung thick in the air, as the first whistle loomed.