Chapter 254: Rookies at the Draw

Chapter 254: Rookies at the Draw The night before heading to Switzerland, Aldrich spent a calm evening at home with Melanie.

Suddenly, the news of Princess Diana's tragic death shocked the entire country. People had lost a national icon.

Especially for girls like Melanie, who was born in Liverpool, Princess Diana, who dared to break free from the constraints of the royal family, was someone they genuinely admired. It's no exaggeration to say that there weren't many public figures for their generation to look up to, and the positive, charity-loving image of Princess Diana embodied the hopes and dreams of the people.

Although Melanie wasn't the type to scream and cry, her mood was visibly down, deeply saddened by the news.

When she felt upset, she couldn't control her appetite.

Aldrich pulled her up from the couch, where she was curled up with a bunch of snacks.

"What are you doing? I don't want to move."

"Nothing. You just need to vent a little. Overeating like this is bad for your health. Sometimes when you're feeling down, you just need to let it all out."

They headed to the gym, where Aldrich tossed her a pair of gloves, while he strapped on protective pads. Raising his arms in defense, he said, "Go ahead, hit me with everything you've got. Whatever is bothering you, get it out of your system. Honestly, you've never hit me hard enough to hurt me. Are you just playing the part of a fitness girl?"

Melanie rolled her eyes, her irritation rising as she flipped her hair. "Fine, you want me angry? You've succeeded."

With that, she started wildly punching at Aldrich...

Twenty minutes later, they sat against the gym wall. Aldrich was perfectly fine, while Melanie's arms ached, and she was drenched in sweat.

Resting her head on Aldrich's shoulder, she said softly, "Aldrich, will you always be this good to me?"

"Heh, touched?"

"Yeah. Why is it I've never seen you upset?"

"Maybe I just take everything with a light heart."

"You have the mindset of an old man."

"This way at least I won't hurt myself. What about you? Don't take everything to heart. When you feel down, find ways to cheer yourself up. Instead of overeating and hurting yourself.

"Hahaha, alright, let's do some more exercise then. I'm out of strength, now it's your turn to work."

Melanie shifted into Aldrich's embrace, gazing deeply into his eyes. Slowly, she began unbuttoning his shirt, one button at a time...

Due to the media being partially blamed for Princess Diana's death, there was a public outcry against the intrusive nature of the press. Aldrich figured things would be a bit quieter for a while—at least the media might tone it down for a bit.

---

Switzerland, Nyon.

At the 97-98 UEFA Champions League group stage draw.

Aldrich, dressed sharply in a suit, stood out like a sore thumb—he was far too young. Among the gathered coaches, none were less than a decade older than him.

This event was a gathering of legendary managers. Aldrich saw many familiar faces, including Real Madrid's new head coach, Jupp Heynckes, Barcelona's Louis van Gaal, Parma's Carlo Ancelotti, Juventus' Marcello Lippi, and Bayern Munich's Giovanni Trapattoni...

On Aldrich's left sat a semi-familiar face—Monaco's head coach Jean Tigana—and on his right, Carlo Ancelotti, with whom he had once discussed Thuram's transfer over the phone.

Though both Tigana and Aldrich had won their respective league titles last season, Ancelotti's achievement of finishing runner-up in Serie A—often dubbed the "mini World Cup"—with Parma was no small feat. The three of them huddled together, chatting about the season's prospects and speculating about potential groupings, while exchanging assessments of other teams.

"Dortmund's done for. Sure, they won the Champions League last season, but with Hitzfeld gone and their squad aging, they're finished. Just look at their domestic season—they didn't even make it to second place. If it weren't for their Champions League win, we wouldn't even be talking about them now."

"What about the two Dutch teams?"

"I don't expect much. PSV and Feyenoord have always been regulars in European competition, but they're not Champions League material. With the expansion to 24 teams this year, the competition's gotten even tougher. Honestly, the gap between strong and weak teams is going to be huge."

Aldrich listened to the two of them chatting energetically and couldn't help but interrupt, "Hey, hey, hey! We're all Champions League rookies here, so let's not be too quick to say others can't make it! Firstly, check the rules: six group winners advance, plus the two best second-placed teams. If we end up in a death group, whether we can qualify is a big question mark!"

Ancelotti and Tigana both turned to stare at Aldrich for three seconds before bursting into laughter.

"Hahaha, you're right. We're all rookies here."

In fact, Ancelotti had started his managerial career a year later than Aldrich, only beginning in 1995. Just two years later, he had made it to the Champions League stage, a meteoric rise.

Perhaps it was this rookie confidence that kept them from looking as tense as the more seasoned managers like Ferguson and Heynckes, who both wore heavy, serious expressions.

Regardless of the draw, they were ready to fight.

The Champions League group stage was brutally competitive at that time. With 24 teams split into six groups, only the group winners and the two best second-placed teams advanced to the knockout stage, starting with the quarterfinals.

Johnson, the current president of UEFA, took the stage to deliver a speech and presented a number of awards. Millwall were named the best team in Europe last season. That caught Aldridge's attention, and he thanked UEFA. After all, Dortmund won the Champions League last season, but their league performance was mediocre. Millwall won the treble, breaking their long winning streak in the mainstream leagues. Their dominance is undeniable, so this selection comes as no surprise. However, such awards are usually awarded by UEFA and are usually awarded to the winning team without much controversy, as it is difficult to compare champions from different leagues. Sёarch* The nôvel_Fire.ηet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

As the draw began, all the club managers watched anxiously, as if awaiting judgment.

Aldrich remained calm throughout the process.

When the draw results were announced, Tigana smiled, and so did Ancelotti.

Both managers were satisfied with their groups.

Monaco was grouped with Bayer Leverkusen, Sporting Lisbon, and Lierse S.K, avoiding the champions from England, Italy, and Spain.

Tigana was confident about their chances of advancing.

Ancelotti's draw wasn't quite as favorable.

Parma was grouped with Dortmund, Sparta Prague, and Galatasaray.

But since he had already dismissed the defending champions Dortmund, Ancelotti felt that as long as they took down Dortmund, they had a good shot at advancing. He was confident.

The two managers shook hands, congratulating each other, then looked at Aldrich with sympathetic eyes.

Millwall's draw wasn't great.

In their group were Spanish giants Barcelona, Dutch champions PSV Eindhoven, and Ukrainian champions Dynamo Kyiv.

This group had no weak teams, and with Barcelona in the mix, even if Millwall managed to grab second place, they might not have enough points to outdo the other second-placed teams from the other groups.

Seeing their looks of pity, Aldrich extended both hands to shake theirs with a smile. "Good draw, good draw."

It was no wonder they felt sorry for him. Even though Millwall had beaten Barcelona just a few months ago, people still saw it as an upset. In terms of overall strength, the general perception was that Millwall couldn't match Barcelona yet, and that was normal. Big clubs bought star players regularly, and their popularity reflected their perceived strength.

But these "perceptions" were often wrong. Look at Real Madrid, the so-called Galácticos—they kept getting knocked out in the round of 16...

"Sigh, your Premier League champion draw is even worse than the runner-up's over there," Tigana remarked, glancing at Manchester United's group.

Manchester United had been grouped with Juventus, Feyenoord, and Kosice.

Apart from Serie A champions Juventus, who were formidable, Feyenoord was the Dutch runner-up, and Kosice from Slovakia was practically a punching bag. Even if United couldn't beat Juventus, they could still knock out Feyenoord and rack up points against Kosice to secure a top-two finish.

Aldrich wasn't envious in the least. Laughing, he said, "If I were going to be jealous, why not envy Real Madrid? Look at their group: Rosenborg from Norway, Olympiacos from Greece, Porto from Portugal. Is there any doubt they'll advance? I think my draw is great. Barcelona's the favorite to advance, and Millwall can sneak through."

Aldrich meant every word.

In the Premier League, they were always the target, practically beaten down by defensive counterattacks. It was better not to be the favorite. He hoped that every team they faced thought they had a chance. Don't turtle up—give him a real fight!

Just as he finished speaking, Aldrich heard two cold snorts behind him.

Turning around with Ancelotti and Tigana, he saw that sitting behind them was none other than Barcelona's head coach, Louis van Gaal. His expression was cold as he glanced disdain

Aldrich turned around casually and sat back down.

Tigana chuckled as he gave Aldrich a light pat on the back of his hand, and Aldrich responded with a cheeky face.

Meanwhile, all the first-team players from Millwall were watching the live broadcast at home in London. Once the group draw for Millwall was confirmed, they eagerly picked up the phone to share the news with their teammates.

"Did you see the draw?"

"Yeah, what a good draw!"

"Right? Barcelona, PSV, Dynamo Kyiv—there's no way we can't advance."

"Absolutely! Last night I dreamed we were drawn into a group with Real Madrid, Juventus, and Barcelona. It scared the life out of me!"

"Huh? How's that even possible? Teams from the same country avoid each other in the group stage."

"Who can control their dreams? That's just how it went down, and it felt like a battle royale."

"So, did we make it through in your dream?"

"No idea! I woke up because I had to pee right when I was fighting Juventus in the fourth match."

"What about the first three games?"

"Huh? I forgot the result, but I scored four goals. I took off my shirt at the Bernabeu to celebrate."

"And what about me?"

"Let me think... I don't think you scored. Yeah, who was playing right-back? I can't remember."

Just drop ?dead!

This exchange happened between Trezeguet and Schneider.