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Chapter 220: More Champion Moments

This season, the steady performance of Southgate had made him a cornerstone of Millwall's defense. Unlike Stam's fierce aggression, Southgate exuded a commanding presence—He wasn't merely a workhorse defender; he approached ball-handling with calmness and had an intentional awareness of the bigger picture that suited Millwall's tactical setup perfectly.

The young players clutched their trophies tightly, giddy as if they were children who never wanted to let go...

Just as Aldrich's eyes began to grow heavy, the ringing of the landline phone on the nightstand jolted him awake.

Reluctantly, he reached for the phone and put it to his ear.

What he heard made him both amused and exasperated.

"Boss, I can't sleep..."

Aldrich nearly yelled into the phone, "Do you have any idea I was just about to fall asleep when you called?"

"Andrey, let's chat then. Don't you have a girlfriend?"

"No."

...

By noon the next day, Aldrich still lay sprawled across his bed, with his phone right beside him. If he leaned in close enough, he could hear the repeated beeping of the line being disconnected.

Downstairs, the door swung open, and Melanie, dressed in a breezy summer dress, rushed in. When she found that Aldrich was nowhere on the first floor, she quickly ran upstairs, checking the gym and study before finally pushing open the bedroom door. Her expression shifted to one of bemusement upon seeing him sprawled out on the bed.

Climbing onto the bed slowly, Melanie straddled him. As she leaned down, Aldrich woke up, still groggy. Melanie planted a kiss on his lips and gleefully exclaimed, "Congratulations! Champion coach!"

She hadn't been able to make it to the Netherlands to cheer him on during the match because of a performance, but Aldrich didn't mind—time had been tight for Millwall.

Rubbing his eyes, Aldrich noticed Melanie wrinkle her nose at the alcohol smell lingering on him. "Did you really sleep without showering? It's disgusting. Go wash up!"

Still feeling out of sorts, Aldrich sat up as Melanie collected clothes from the floor. Turning back to him, she asked, "I tried calling you last night. Your mobile was off, the home phone was busy— I called three times. Were you intentionally ignoring your phone?"

"Oh no, it wasn't like that. A player couldn't sleep after winning the championship, so he called me to chat. I didn't even realize we talked for so long."

"Who was it?"

"Shevchenko."

"Oh, you two are quite close. What did you talk about?"

"Uh, I can't remember..."

Aldrich headed into the bathroom, realizing he had long since forgotten what they had discussed. Most likely, it had been mundane topics, probably along the lines of counting sheep to help Shevchenko calm down.

After his shower, Aldrich came downstairs in just his shorts. Melanie was in the kitchen whipping up some simple food for him. He turned on the TV to check the news.

"I'm not just emphasizing that Millwall has become the strongest team in Europe; I care more about the team spirit. Look at Shankly and Paisley's Liverpool. Millwall now shows a united front, passionate yet joyous. When they returned to London last night, the players cheered like kids playing a game. Do you think they come off as arrogant? I don't think so at all. They are enjoying football and relishing the joy of the game! What do we see from Aldrich Hall? His calmness during the game? That's just part of it. We should also notice his reaction at the moment his team achieved the extraordinary feat of winning the championship in their first European campaign—he turned to shake hands with Sir Robson. Hall is wild yet graceful, redefining Millwall's spirit, earning him respect in the coaching community."

The voice of former Liverpool player Alan Hansen filled the room, reminiscing about how he had claimed the previous season that Manchester United couldn't win anything with a bunch of kids, hoping Millwall wouldn't embarrass themselves in front of the bigger teams.

Aldrich didn't dislike him because he held his own opinions, not swayed by popularity. He often offered insights that diverged from the mainstream narrative.

Aldrich watched for a while as the football show continued to praise Millwall's triumph.

Melanie appeared with a plate of food, handing it to Aldrich before placing several newspapers on the coffee table.

As he ate, Aldrich looked down at the papers, marveling at the glowing headlines celebrating Millwall's victory. Many of the covers featured images of the team lifting the trophy, including a shot of Aldrich being hoisted into the air by the players.

Melanie sat across from him, grinning widely, which made Aldrich feel her gaze was unusual and made him uneasy.

"Have you seen enough?"

"Not enough!"

"Have I changed a lot in these few days?"

"No! So I haven't seen enough."

"Don't you have to work today?"

"I have three days off."

"Will you workout with me later?"

Melanie nodded, a smirk playing on her face, seemingly amused.

After having dinner, Aldrich took a little time to rest, while Melanie took a quick shower in the bathroom. With her hair cut short, she looked more refreshed. When she opened the bedroom door in her black bikini and didn't find Aldrich, she felt a little odd.

When she saw Aldridge jogging in the gym, she pouted, "Is this the workout you're talking about?"

Aldrich turned to look at her, couldn't help but grinned and said, "Yeah, it's just for exercise!"

"Why didn't you make it clear? I even took a shower for this!"

"What part was confusing? Didn't you say you had three days off? We'll save the fun for tonight."

"Can I hit you?"

"Then go ahead and try."

The gym, spacious enough, became a playground for Aldrich and Melanie as they donned their gloves and engaged in their usual workout of boxing.

...

Later that evening, Aldrich drove Melanie back to her parents' villa in East End for dinner.

He was still driving the BMW that Arthur had given him, and Melanie looked somewhat displeased.

"Do you dislike the car I got you?"

"Not at all; I love it! It's just too flashy. It's fine for a casual cruise, but I don't need it for work or short trips, and parking it's inconvenient too."

Aldrich spoke truthfully, prompting Melanie to relax.

Yet, Aldrich's thoughts lingered deeper; his and Melanie's relationship felt like that Lamborghini—an indulgence for relaxation, but their time apart had kept them in a perpetual "dating" phase, never progressing further.

Arriving at his parents' villa, his mother Amelia and sister-in-law were busy preparing dinner. A lengthy table was already set with a hearty spread.

Andrew had come alone, cradling his three-year-old nephew Bowen as they watched cartoons.

As soon as Aldrich entered, Andrew held Bowen up, smiling, "Uncle Aldrich, congratulations!"

Aldrich approached, placing a hand on Andrew's head, "Thanks!"

He bent down, placing a kiss on Bowen's forehead as his nephew tugged at his sleeve, "Can I get a signature from Larsson?"

Aldrich chuckled, nodding in agreement.

"Where's Arthur?"

"He's still asleep in his room; I'll go wake him up!"

Amelia took a steak out of the oven and placed it on the table before heading upstairs.

"What happened? Did Arthur party too hard again?"

Aldrich asked Andrew.

Andrew shrugged, "Yeah, he barely made it onto the plane this morning. When those old brutes brought him back, he thought he was still in a hotel in Rotterdam, and he gave me twenty pounds as a tip."

"Haha, funny enough, I didn't get to see him in the Netherlands either."

Millwall had arrived in Rotterdam early. As the club's staff, Arthur and the CEO Adam didn't arrive until match day. They basically acted as spectators, heading straight to the VIP box at the stadium. Aldrich hadn't even greeted his father before they rushed to leave post-game.

"Hehe, yesterday he was in a box with Nú?ez from Barcelona. According to those old-timers, they were living it up in Rotterdam, and Arthur kept hurling insults at Nú?ez, calling him an annoying idiot. Barcelona was clueless; Nú?ez thought that Arthur had the power to influence player transfers, so he kept probing Arthur about bringing in Larsson. Arthur wasn't in the mood to chat, but he couldn't shake off the pestering..."

Aldrich laughed, "So he's clearly not fond of watching matches from the box."

At the Lions' Den Stadium, Arthur was no longer watching the match from the box but sitting in the stands with Puskás and Yvonne. However, since it was the European final, he had to go back to the box as a representative of the club, considering how it affected the club's image.

If it were other Premier League club owners or executives, Arthur could easily banter and argue with them for two hours in the box. After all, even if they were caught on camera outside, no one would know what they were really saying.After all, Premier League owners and executives meet every three months, and most of the time they end up clashing over interests at the league's roundtable meetings. They may smile in public, but behind the scenes, they're not all saints.

In European competitions, when Arthur faces executives or owners of clubs outside England, this seemingly reckless guy tries to avoid conflict. In England, there is a common set of unspoken rules that prevent public conflict, but for club owners or executives elsewhere, who knows if they are little firecrackers ready to explode at the slightest push?

As thrilling as the final had been, Arthur, for those two hours, sat uneasy, tired of Nú?ez's relentless banter.

After realizing he had forgotten something important yesterday, Aldrich's expression changed.

"Why do you look puzzled?"

Andrew asked, perplexed.

"I think I missed something yesterday."

"C'mon, was it the post-match press conference? UEFA sent a warning, but since Millwall has another final tomorrow, they've accepted your absence this time. But they expect an advance notice next time. What kind of nonsense is it to leave reporters hanging while you fly off?"

Aldrich slapped his forehead, sighing, "You're right, I lost track of everything with my excitement."

"Oh, Aldrich, come over here and let me kiss you!"

Arthur, dressed in pajamas, came down halfway and, seeing Aldrich, rushed toward him with his messy hair.

But before he could get too far, he tripped and fell onto the living room carpet.

"Grandpa!"

"Oh my God!"

Bowen and Amelia exclaimed in unison.

Aldrich and Andrew hurried over to help him up.

Whether it was the cushioning effect of Arthur's chubby belly or the soft carpet, he sprang up as if nothing had happened, hugging Aldrich tightly and planting a kiss on his cheek, laughing heartily, "Long live Millwall! We're European champions! No regrets!"

"I'd say if you died right now, that'd be the biggest regret!"

Aldrich smiled as he replied.

Arthur paused, confused, and asked, "Why?"

"Because you'd miss out on more championship moments with Millwall."

"Oh, haha! You're right! Son, I'm not going anywhere. I plan to live to be two hundred years old to see Millwall lift twenty, thirty, a hundred more trophies!"