<h4>Chapter 134: A Day to Celebrate</h4>


    As chaos began to swell at Wembley Stadium, Aldrich was momentarily taken aback, but he quickly reacted. He knew he must not let the fans'' rush to celebrate turn into a confrontation with the police and security; that would surely lead to disaster. He could not leave the field with the yers either, as that would cast a shadow over the victory and deal a heavy blow to Millwall.


    He had to step up, whether as Millwall''s head coach or club owner, he had to take a stand.


    He swiftly instructed his coaching staff to grab the stadium microphone. His colleagues and yers moved in unison like a ry team, and soon the microphone was in Aldrich''s hands. The yers instinctively gathered around him, and Aldrich called on Materazzi and Southgate to use them as a tform, making him more visible while he spoke.


    Once he began to address the crowd, the stadium fell silent. Millwall fans stopped in their tracks, observing the surroundings. When they saw police or security tackling fans to the ground, they didn''t intervene; instead, they stared angrily at the officers, whose actions halted under the scrutiny of those fierce gazes. The police and security, feeling uneasy, began to retreat, not daring to stay alone among the fans for fear of provoking those supporters who had an edge of unruliness.


    "Why are you targeting Millwall fans? Why? This is a day for every Millwall fan; this moment belongs to them. Sir, I respect your work, but please have some understanding for us, for Millwall. One hundred and ten years, one hundred and ten years—that''s not just the wait for the fans here today, but for their parents, grandparents, and even great-grandparents! This championship belongs to them. Please do not stop their celebration. Let theme here to express their emotions on this glorious pitch. We are not thugs; we are not hooligans. We are just football people who have waited too long for this championship."


    Aldrich''s words resonated with the Millwall fans, who nodded together, tears brimming in their eyes.


    The police and security personnel stood off to the side, unsure of what to do next. The previously crowded stadium was now quiet, and there were no fans rushing about; they simply huddled together.


    "Whatever you want to do—hug our yers, sing and dance on this pitch, or take amemorative photo—it''s all okay. But please pay attention to yourpanions, especially the elderly and young children, and don''t let them get hurt. Today, this moment, we should celebrate together and create wonderful memories. Whether others like or dislike us, we don''t care, but we can show the world that we are the purest fans. Long live Millwall! Thank you! Wow, Gareth, catch me! Ah..."


    As Aldrich finished, his trembling legs finally lost their bnce, and he fell backward. Fortunately, Jansen caught him, causing the fans who had been focusing on him to break into a cold sweat.


    They certainly did not want Aldrich, the young coach, to get hurt from a fall.


    His passionate words pierced the hearts of every Millwall fan. They began to stand orderly on the pitch, pping and chanting the names of Millwall, Aldrich, and every yer.


    Even the Aston Vi fans in the stands, who had not left, started to apud.


    The older fans among them understood the emotions of the Millwall supporters very well.


    Fourteen years ago, they had the fortune of witnessing Aston Vi reach the pinnacle of European football. Fans who attended the match even wanted to take some of the pitch''s grass home as a keepsake.


    Such emotions cannot be fabricated or prepared in advance. When immersed in that special moment, witnessing history, they would naturally flow out, and people would lose control, unable to contain the surge of feelings.


    Thunderous apuse erupted throughout the stadium. In the royal box, Wiseman finally wore a smile, starting to p as CEO Kelly whispered in his ear, causing Wiseman to nod enthusiastically.


    Figured like the FA and executives, their partnership resembled that of a party secretary and a mayor in China—a discipline leader and an economic developer. CEO Kelly existed to promote English football and generate market profits. In that moment, he thought of a great idea: turning this League Cup final into a positive narrative.


    Of course, it wasn''t about encouraging fans to storm the pitch but rather showcasing the legendary ending of Millwall''s century-long trophy drought. The scene of fans apuding and cheering for yers, tossing each other into the air, taking photos, embracing, and chatting—all had the potential for a positive spin.


    Turning bad into good is a true skill.


    At that moment, Aldrich, a coach yet to hit twenty, appeared to Kelly and Wiseman as if they had seen a stunning beauty.


    Aldrich, an Englishman, had won the championship trophy at such a young age.


    What a legendary achievement!


    He was naturally an attractive figure for marketing English football.


    The pitch, though filled to the brim, was a sea of joy. The families and girlfriends of the yers stood by, beaming with pride, while some single yers let young fans ride on their shoulders, creating a touching and heartwarming scene.


    When the awards ceremony began, Aston Vi yers were the first to approach the royal box, with Brian Little bringing up the rear. The forty-something head coach intentionally shook Aldrich''s hand again and sincerely said, "Aldrich, today you and your team not only won the match but will also earn the respect of the world."


    Aldrich smiled but said nothing. At that moment, he had lost track of where his suit had gone—probably hidden away by some unknown fan.


    As he and his yers stepped into the royal box, they received their championship medals. Aldrich was thest to walk up, and various football luminaries recognized and praised him with warm words.


    Mostly it was encouragement and praise.


    When Wiseman of the FA finally stood before Aldrich, he bent down, shaking Aldrich''s hand and whispered, "Aldrich, you nearly gave me a heart attack back there."


    "Then you must dislike me."


    Aldrich smiled as he replied.


    Wiseman, not quite catching on, thought he meant the behavior of the fans. He said, "Why would you say that? I''ve always enjoyed your matches."


    "If my team hadn''t made it to the finals, nothing would''ve happened."


    "Haha, no, what just happened was beautiful. Aldrich, you did great, but maybe next time let the fans contain themselves a bit."


    "I''ll do my best; I wouldn''t want something good to turn bad."


    "Alright, looking forward to seeing you here next time."


    "I think so, but I''m worried you might find me annoying by then."


    Wiseman and Aldrich continued to chat for quite a while before Wiseman stood up straight and walked over to hand the English League Cup trophy to Millwall''s captain, Southgate.


    Southgate and Nedved each held one side of the trophy. To be honest, the League Cup trophy seemed a bit small, especially with both of them holding it together, creating a ratherical visual.


    The two captains turned to their impatient teammates and asked in unison, "Ready?"


    The teammates, wearing their medals, waved their arms enthusiastically, and Southgate exchanged nces with Nedved before they both raised the trophy high.


    "The 1995-1996 English League Cup champions are: Millwall!"


    The anthem of champions echoed throughout the stadium. Looking up at the royal box, fans could hardly contain their emotions, tears welling in their eyes; some broke down in weeping, unable to bear the overwhelming joy.


    Aldrich loosened his tie and quietly walked down the steps. He knew the yers were celebrating, which they rightfully deserved, and he didn''t want to overshadow their moment.


    A clever coach understands how to satisfy their yers'' need for recognition and shouldn''t clumsily hoard all the glory for themselves.


    However, just as he reached the bottom of the steps, someone pressed down on his shoulder. He turned around to see Southgateughing, "Where do you think you''re going, boss?"


    Before Aldrich could even respond, Schneider bent down and scooped him up by the legs, eximing, "You''re not getting away!"


    Southgate, Schneider, Trezeguet, and Materazzi hoisted Aldrich in the air, charging him back onto the pitch with all the other yers trailing behind.


    Aldrich was at a loss for words. Were they really treating him like a trophy to toss around?


    Once on the pitch, Aldrich was tossed into the air, soaring up and down, as the yers reveled in the moment...


    On the bus ride back, Aldrich was thest to board. He reeked of alcohol, his clothes still damp from the celebration, as Larson unexpectedly poured champagne into the trophy and drenched him from behind.


    Although the yers were physically exhausted from the match, their spirits remained high as they snapped photos with the trophy and sang songs. When Aldrich stepped aboard, he raised his hands for silence, and everyone looked at him with smiles.


    "You all have two days off. Report for training on Wednesday morning, and then everything returns to normal."


    Aldrich''s words sparked cheers from the yers. Makélélé shouted, "Boss, are youing tonight?"


    As the local captain, Southgate would organize a gathering that night, where all the yers'' families would join in, but it wasn''t a wild party; it was more of a celebration.


    Aldrich shook his head and smiled, "You all enjoy yourselves; I have my own ns."


    The yersughed, most with mischievous intent.


    They probably spected that Aldrich was going out on a date with that rising pop star.


    Aldrich offered no exnation. As head coach, it was unwise for him to attend yers'' gatherings unless it was one of those raunchy parties. If he knew, he would certainly crash it but would also drag the yers away.


    Tonight, he would celebrate with Brady at a bar in Sand.