The Rise of Millwal

Chapter 263: Frustration at White Hart Lane

The eagerly anticipated clash between Tottenham Hotspur and Millwall in the seventh round of the Premier League left everyone feeling frustrated.

This London derby didn't just miss the excitement; it was devoid of any spark.

Aldrich truly felt miscalculated.

He chooses to send out a replacement team, only to find that they are now forced to breach a heavily fortified fortress!

After half an hour, Tottenham's attacks were nothing more than individual efforts, with no signs of the overwhelming advantage they normally displayed. Aldrich suddenly realized: the opponent had no idea I was going with a bench team.

Francis probably didn't dare to gamble on what lineup Millwall would field, assuming they would come out strong, especially for a London derby on the road.

Yet Aldrich boldly sent out his reserves.

Fans in the stands were equally frustrated.

Tottenham supporters felt humiliated.

"Damn it, Francis! They're just a bunch of twenty-something kids! You're parking the bus at home? How shameless can you be? Don't let Tottenham lose face too!"

Home fans voiced their displeasure with boos directed at their manager.

Francis maintained a facade of calm, looking as if he was unfazed by the chaos.

Perhaps he was thinking: If we lose to this bunch of youngsters, I'd really have no face left!

Millwall's fans, riding high on their midweek victory over PSV Eindhoven, came to White Hart Lane expecting a thrilling battle.

Haven't Tottenham fans always felt superior?

They believe that Tottenham Hotspur's football style is the most beautiful in England. Although we at Millwall may not win the most beautiful title, we definitely play the most passionate football. As neighbors, we deserve to fight the good fight on the court.

There's hardly any animosity between Millwall and Tottenham; at most, Tottenham might belittle Millwall's financial struggles, while Millwall retaliates with a bit of disdain for the rich. Generally speaking, the fans are quite amicable.

But after thirty minutes into the game, the Millwall supporters were hoarse from shouting and finally couldn't resist tossing sarcastic remarks at Tottenham fans.

"Tottenham, will you stop being turtles?!"

Tottenham fans were in tears, humiliated by the locals!

When the second half started, most of the Millwall fans were close to crying too. "For God's sake, please be aggressive! You've built a wall around the goal that even a mosquito couldn't get through. Is this how you play? You're charging us half again for tickets compared to Millwall. Have some pride!"

Tottenham's players weren't exhausted today; they were just in pain. Aside from forward Ferdinand, whose shirt still looked new, everyone else had retreated into the box, either working hard defensively or ready to make sacrificial blocks.

Aldrich was nearly pulling his hair out on the sideline.

Today's attack comprised Duff, Van Nistelrooy, and Gronkjaer, but Van Nistelrooy was losing himself in the congestion. The king of the small box wasn't quite ready for the throne, and by the looks of it, he was probably dizzy, not knowing where the goal was. When he looked up, there were bodies everywhere; looking down, all he saw were feet. Who knows which direction was which?

Duff and Gronkjaer lacked the finesse to break through the packed defense. Gronkjaer needed space, and Duff still needed to refine his technical skills.

Aldrich happily envisioned before the game that based on Tottenham's tactics against Leicester City, Millwall wouldn't need to rely on Tony like Martin O'Neill did. With our speedy wingers, as soon as Tottenham attacks, Millwall can launch a swift counterattack, which would be like cruising down a clear road.

Tottenham Hotspur's defense against Millwall today is defense, and successful defense means clearance. The back row players all turned into spectators: "Les, it's up to you! One of their defenders is your nephew, why not let him be our undercover? Give him half of the bonus, go home with your family, and play !"

Ferdinand was initially active at the start of the first half, fighting for the ball, but soon resorted to strolling to avoid being toyed with by his foes.

The midfield trio today consisted of Nedvěd, the returning Lampard, and Gattuso. The 25-year-old, steel-like Czech was a model of professionalism, with stamina to spare and natural talent to back it up, so he was fit enough to endure the match.

But to rely solely on Nedvěd to carry these youngsters meant they displayed plenty of spirit, yet their coordination lacked threat.

It wasn't their fault. Tottenham, desperate, was closing in around the box, and with a group of industrious players running around, Nedvěd's efforts were thwarted, but he still sought opportunities to communicate and strategize with Duff, Gronkjaer, Van Nistelrooy, and Lampard.

Aldrich could no longer sit idly. He headed to the sideline to call over Materazzi.

Materazzi, spotless except for when Ferdinand made an early attempt that he easily negated, spent most of his time supporting in midfield or chasing down clearances.

"Marco, go up front. Play forward."

Materazzi had anticipated this when Aldrich called for him and wasted no time in eagerly sprinting to the front line.

Aldrich gestured to the players, clarifying how they should proceed.

Gronkjaer would push inward for long-range shots, while Mills would move up to cross from the wings. The same on the other side, with Duff moving in while Neil would push forward.

This shifted Millwall's formation to almost a 1-1-4-4.

The defense now relied solely on Rio Ferdinand.

In front of him, Gattuso held down the midfield.

From left to right in midfield were Neil, Nedvěd, Lampard, and Mills.

Upfront, it was Duff, Van Nistelrooy, Materazzi, and Gronkjaer.

Though this was how they positioned themselves to attack, upon defending, the midfielders would swiftly drop back.

Aldrich shot a lingering glance at the unmoving Francis next door: "Come on, Francis, I've done all I could; be a man and go on the offense!"

At least on the surface, Millwall was granting their opponent ample space to attack.

This was a risk, but Aldrich had no other option. If he didn't give his attacking players more room, they wouldn't be able to make plays. Some of his players were young, and not quite ready physically, and if they were confined to a small space, their technical advantages would vanish, let alone their speed. They may want to sprint, but where would they go? Into the stands?

Commentators Martin Tyler and Andy Gray were just as frustrated, feeling that the ninety minutes felt like torture.

It was a repetitive cycle: Millwall attacking, Tottenham clearing, Millwall shooting from distance, and Spurs blocking...

After Millwall took their twelfth long-range shot of the match and it was deflected by a defender, Tyler nearly wanted to smash his microphone!

He thought it was impossible to continue commentating.

If they were radio commentators without a broadcast feed, eight out of ten sentences they'd utter would be about Millwall attacking, passing, penetrating, crossing, shooting—it felt like an infinite loop.

Listening to such commentary made it seem like they were narrating Millwall's shooting practice...

The entire crowd at White Hart Lane appeared numb, wearing expressions of disbelief.

Interestingly, Aldrich had become the most active figure aside from the players on the field, continuously adjusting formations.

Mills' crosses were subpar, and even though Gronkjaer's weren't outstanding either, at least he was better than Mills, so Aldrich swapped their positions.

On the other side, Duff had no room in the box; whenever he received the ball, he couldn't even make a touch, often falling in agony from physical confrontations.

So, Aldrich opted to send in the tougher Neil into the box, while Duff would use his golden left foot to deliver crosses from outside.

This resulted in a bizarre sight on Millwall's attacking front.

"If we weren't watching the development of this game, viewers might think that Millwall's players had all been drinking today. Materazzi, Neil, and Mills, three starting defenders, found themselves at the front fighting for headers, taking on the roles of forwards."

"Hall was at his wit's end. On his bench today, there was only one forward, Van der Meyde. The young Dutchman was unlikely to make an impact in such a situation; why not let the defenders use their bodies within the box to create space? Perhaps they could eke out a miracle."

"A miracle... I think today's match is already miraculous enough."

With direct penetration blocked and no space for solo breakthroughs, even giving Aldrich a Maradona wouldn't provide him the formations necessary to break through England's defensive lines!

With more than 15 shots from distance, Millwall was on track to break their own record for both total shot attempts and shots that missed the target.

As the match entered the final five minutes, Aldrich decided to take a chance and pointed to Rio Ferdinand, signaling him to push forward.

Initially, spectators had recognized Ferdinand's presence and predicted that this match would surely be entertaining.

As Les Ferdinand's nephew, the two not only played together but also matched up against one another, creating a story to be told for ages.

But as the match neared its end, everyone shook their heads, musing silently: "This is just ridiculous!"

The two players could leisurely sit down for a hand of cards with Millwall goalkeeper Keller.

Competitive?

More like a contest to see whose shirt stayed cleaner.

As Ferdinand rushed forward, Gattuso fell back into defense, leaving Millwall wondering what formation they actually had.

One-four-five, or maybe a 1... definitely a retro setup.

Surprisingly, as Ferdinand surged forward, Millwall began to seize the upper hand.

With more height in the box, the threats from crosses increased dramatically.

A flurry of crosses alarmed Tottenham's defense, forcing them to scramble for clearances. Nedvěd, positioned keenly outside the box, denied Spurs any chance for a counterattack.

When the second minute of stoppage time rolled around, Lampard drifted to the wing and delivered a high-quality diagonal pass into the box.

Aldrich, witnessing that cross from the sidelines, had an inkling it would find a good spot, and lo and behold, three towering Millwall players were in pursuit.

Ferdinand, Materazzi, Neil.

What a sight! If someone had just turned on their TV, they'd think it was a set piece!

Materazzi overpowered the Tottenham defender to get to the ball, striking a splendid header.

Aldrich's anticipation filled him with joy as he watched the ball sail towards the net.

But within a second, that joy plummeted him into despair.

Bang!

The ball struck the underside of the crossbar, then bounced onto the ground, only to be snagged by the goalkeeper.

Aldrich fell to his knees.

He truly knelt down.

He buried his face in his hands, struggling to mask the profound disappointment.

When the referee's final whistle echoed through White Hart Lane, boos erupted like thunder!

Aldrich gathered his feelings and, deciding against shaking hands with Francis, made a beeline for the players' tunnel.

After conducting post-match interviews, he led his team away from this place of anguish.

During the interviews, without waiting for questions, Aldrich solemnly stated, "Congratulations to Tottenham on their victory."

The BBC reporter was taken aback, left speechless.

He quickly turned to a nearby colleague: "What was the score?"

"0:0."

"Are you sure?"

"The whole world is sure!"

It was then the journalist turned back to catch Aldrich, but he had already stepped away, prompting the reporter to hurriedly follow and exclaim, "Mr. Hall, you've made a mistake. The match just ended in a draw."

Aldrich turned back, irritated, and said, "That's right, a draw. For Tottenham, that's a victory. To them, there are two outcomes in football: losing equals failure, while a draw is a victory. Winning? What does that even mean?"

With that, Aldrich turned away, eager to leave White Hart Lane without another second's delay.

The BBC reporter chuckled, quickly addressing the camera: "At the Tottenham's home ground, the defending champions faced their fourth dropped points in the new season through a draw, marking their third tie. Although Hall appeared quite discontent, Millwall's performance today deserves respect; perhaps, as Hall noted, Tottenham is now quite out of touch with the concept of winning—losing isn't scary, but losing the will to win is."