A Fortress of Roars

Aldrich's brazen stance at the press conference made him an easy target for journalists, triggering a deluge of scathing criticism. Across Europe, mainstream media outlets piled on, branding him an overconfident young manager teetering on the edge of collapse. They sneered, accusing him of being unable to afford another loss and questioning whether his psyche had completely unraveled.

But Fleet Street wasn't having it. A few seasoned journalists penned articles with a starkly different take. They didn't start a war of words with their European counterparts but made one thing crystal clear: Aldrich had orchestrated this storm to perfection.

Indeed, Aldrich stood at the center of controversy, a lightning rod for attention.

Meanwhile, the negative fallout from Millwall's defeat was reduced to a minimum.

This was the "cunning" of Aldrich.

When the team was performing well, he heaped praise on the players, highlighting their contributions and sharing the glory. But when adversity struck, he diverted attention away from the team, using any means necessary—whether it was criticizing referees, the environment, the schedule, or thrusting himself into the center of a media storm.

He didn't care about his personal image; his priority was to create a quiet space for his team. By keeping external distractions at bay, Aldrich unified the squad's mindset, enabling them to weather difficult periods together.

Fleet Street's top journalists agreed: Aldrich had redefined the standard for excellent coaching.

On the surface, a coach's job is straightforward—win games. But winning one match doesn't guarantee the next, and many teams spiral into prolonged slumps after a single setback. Aldrich, however, had mastered a unique approach to maintaining momentum and serving the cause of victory.

For example, after Millwall's draw against Arsenal earlier in the season, Aldrich openly criticized the FA's scheduling, calling out the decision to place a high-stakes match immediately after an international break. His remarks earned him a £5,000 fine from the FA.

And what did he gain?

The media shifted its focus to Aldrich's clash with the FA instead of scrutinizing why Millwall failed to beat Arsenal. Journalists obsessed over Aldrich's comments, indirectly reducing the negative coverage and tactical analysis of Millwall itself.

A similar scenario unfolded now. European media lambasted Aldrich for his allegedly disrespectful and arrogant post-match comments. But what was the result?

Millwall weathered the fallout from their away defeat with minimal disruption. By the time the weekend's league matches concluded, the previous week's events were old news. With external pressures unable to infiltrate the club and morale unaffected, Millwall quickly regrouped and prepared for their next victory.

Fleet Street pointed out that Aldrich's approach was what many other managers lacked. Too often, coaches became overly engrossed in training sessions and tactical planning, neglecting the vital role of shielding their team during tough times. When a loss occurred, a manager had to say something to deflect attention and prevent a cycle of negativity from taking hold.

Aldrich's strategy wasn't unique to him. Many top managers, after losing crucial games, would shift the conversation to refereeing decisions—whether an offside call, a penalty decision, or an opponent deserving a red card.

Even when the officiating decisions were clear to TV viewers, these managers would deliberately raise doubts. It wasn't about misunderstanding; it was about necessity. The goal was to deflect media focus and protect their teams from undue scrutiny.

On the weekend, Aldrich led Millwall to Villa Park. With a full-strength squad, he adjusted the team's rhythm, instructing them to play conservatively, seize opportunities, and avoid squandering chances.

Aston Villa still had hopes of qualifying for next season's UEFA Cup. Facing the defending champions, who were fresh off a disappointing Champions League defeat, they aimed to strike while the iron was hot, launching an all-out assault from the first minute.

Millwall, however, played it smart, staying compact and conserving their energy for the challenges ahead. Villa dominated possession and looked threatening but struggled to create any clear chances. Pagliuca's composed goalkeeping kept them at bay, while Millwall proved clinical with their few opportunities. Henry's two goals were enough to silence the home crowd and secure a crucial victory on the road.

In the same round, Manchester United narrowly defeated Charlton at Old Trafford, maintaining their position one point behind Millwall in the league standings.

Interestingly, both Sir Alex Ferguson and Aldrich avoided mind games during this period. With both teams facing crucial second-leg Champions League quarterfinal matches—Millwall against Valencia and Manchester United against Bayern Munich—neither side wanted to waste energy on psychological warfare. Focusing on their European ambitions was the priority.

Fans gathered outside the Lion King Training Ground to cheer for the team as preparations for the decisive second-leg match got underway. Fan organizations sprang into action, creating massive new banners, brainstorming fresh slogans, composing songs, and devising innovative ways to show support. Rooted in the local community, the club's strength has always come from its fans—not its illustrious history but the steadfast support that fuels its resilience.

The fans were determined to turn the Lion King Stadium into a fortress of intimidation, ready to welcome the Bats with an atmosphere they'd never forget.

In his bedroom, Aldrich stood obediently in front of the mirror on the wardrobe door. Yvonne helped straighten his suit and adjust his tie. After giving him a thorough once-over, she nodded in satisfaction.

Aldrich couldn't help but smile wryly. "You do know the match is tonight, right?"

"Yes, of course," Yvonne replied with a grin.

Aldrich shook his head, kissed her gently, and left the house.

Yvonne walked into Bert and Earl's room, where the two boys were sitting on the floor, engrossed in a puzzle. She crouched down curiously to see what they were up to. Bert had arranged his blocks into a circle, forming a zero, while Earl had created a "3" with his.

"Ah, are you saying Millwall will win 3-0 tonight? If your dad hears that, he'll be over the moon," Yvonne said, laughing radiantly. Bert and Earl, however, showed no reaction, likely not fully understanding her words—it was a bit abstract for them.

With less than 15 minutes to go before the Champions League quarterfinal second-leg match, the Lion King Stadium was ablaze with light. The stands were almost entirely packed, a sea of blue dotted with countless banners of encouragement. A massive image was being passed across the main stand—a roaring lion, its sharp teeth bared, its piercing gaze intense, and its mane like needles. The image was as regal as it was intimidating.

Throughout the stadium, Millwall fans waved flags and chanted at the top of their lungs:

"Millwall! The Lions!"

"Millwall! The Lions!"

The visiting Valencia supporters, despite their efforts, were utterly drowned out. Just as Millwall's traveling fans had been outshouted in the first leg, now it was Valencia's turn to feel the full weight of a hostile away ground.

From the moment the players stepped onto the pitch to warm up, Valencia's players were visibly shaken by the deafening noise. English stadiums, with their close-proximity stands, amplify the roar of the crowd. The Lion King Stadium's over 50,000 fans created a cacophony that left the visitors visibly unsettled.

Inside Millwall's dressing room, silence reigned. Players, already kitted out with jerseys, boots, and shin guards, sat with their eyes closed or heads bowed. They were channeling their emotions, psyching themselves up for the battle ahead.

Aldrich sat silently at the center of the room, his mere presence an unspoken reminder of everything the team had been through together. His presence inspired focus and determination.

Finally, Aldrich spoke, his voice calm but firm. "We don't need to prove anything. We are the best team. Right now, we ignore every voice from the outside and focus on one thing—writing our history with our own hands. As long as we stay committed and fight for this, nothing can stop us. Nothing! Now, Millwall, let's go!"

He rose, opened the dressing room door, and stepped out. Larsson followed closely behind. The players filed out, forming a long line as they headed into the tunnel. Valencia's players were already there, standing alongside them, ready for the high-stakes battle that would determine a spot in the Champions League semifinals.

There was no banter, no interaction between the two sides. The pressure was palpable, the stakes too high for distractions.

At the front of the line, Southgate suddenly turned to face his teammates and shouted, "Millwall!"

In unison, the entire squad roared back, "Charge! Charge! Charge!"

Southgate lifted his head and turned back around. Before stepping forward, Nedvěd added his own battle cry:

"Millwall!"

"Charge! Charge! Charge!"

Larsson followed suit, his voice ringing out as he rallied the team with their unchanging battle cry. One after another, the three captains shouted, and the entire squad roared in unison. It was as if the pressure of the match dissolved in their thunderous cries, leaving them invigorated. Their eyes gleamed with sharp determination, and an overwhelming fighting spirit surged through them, ready to explode at any moment.

Valencia's players stared wide-eyed at this strange sight beside them.

Was this part of Millwall's pre-match ritual?

In English football, it wasn't uncommon to see teams deliver an early tackle or two to rattle opponents. But Millwall disdained such methods. Aldrich wasn't one to pull stunts like personally greeting the visiting team's bus at Anfield to create mental pressure.

Instead, Millwall's intimidation came from within—their pre-match rituals were infused with fiery passion. Though usually performed on the pitch before kick-off, today, it had erupted in the players' tunnel.

As the referee's team took to the field, the players followed close behind.

The Champions League anthem echoed through the Lion King Stadium, but the iconic music struggled to compete with the roaring cheers from Millwall's home crowd.

As Valencia's players lined up on the pitch, an unnerving thought crept into their minds: why did this feel like stepping into a den of wild beasts?

Millwall's players radiated unshakable confidence and determination. The fans in the stands transformed the stadium into an intimidating fortress, their fiery gazes fixated on Valencia like predators eyeing prey. The visitors felt isolated, outnumbered, and helpless. It was as if the crowd were waiting for the referee's whistle to unleash their Lions, ready to devour anything in their path.

"The second leg of the Champions League quarterfinal is about to begin here at London's Lion King Stadium! Millwall faces Valencia in this decisive match. A week ago, Valencia claimed a 1–0 victory at home, courtesy of a goal from González, against the reigning champions, Millwall. For Millwall, they must score tonight to keep their hopes of advancing alive. Meanwhile, if Valencia can hold them off, they will secure their second consecutive semifinal berth.

"Let's take a look at the starting lineups. Millwall remains unchanged from the first leg, while Valencia has made one adjustment: Sánchez starts, replacing Carew.

"The match is moments away. In 90 or perhaps 120 minutes, we'll find out who progresses to the semifinals. Stay tuned—it's going to be an electrifying night!"