Chapter 350: Whistle of Injustice

Chapter 350: Whistle of Injustice After leaving the Ritz hotel, Aldrich didn't head straight home. Instead, he parked his car by the banks of the Thames and stood at the railing, smoking an anxious cigarette.

Deep down, he felt a surge of irritation.

Why do these people think he can be manipulated?

The FA wanted him to do something, and as soon as Aldrich refused, they sulked immediately. The world didn't revolve around him or Weisman. Everyone should stay calm—cooperate when possible, and if not, there's no need to fall out.

After finishing a cigarette, Aldrich leaned tiredly against the stone railing, gazing at the undisturbed river surface. If he and Weisman shared the same age, his refusal might not have provoked such a reaction, but at 22, openly rejecting someone—particularly when they'd been kind and eager to compliment him—made it hard for Weisman to save face. thinking it over and later giving a private answer might have been smart, but it would have been less awkward than a direct refusal. S~eaʀᴄh the NôvelFire.nёt website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

Although the FA's control over the Premier League is largely nominal, the league has operated independently since its inception. The Premier League manages itself, even keeping all its revenues without sharing them with the FA. The long-standing tension between the FA and the Premier League committee stems from the fact that the Premier League's success has come at the expense of three lower-tier leagues in England.

The FA couldn't manage the Premier League, but conveyed immense power over individual clubs. Over the years, Aldrich had been running his club, navigating diplomacy in addition to internal management. Fleet Street was a megaphone for some major newspapers, which held a special interest in Millwall, portraying a positive image of the club. In return, Millwall would leak inside information to them, fostering a cooperative relationship.

To avoid suspicion regarding the FA, Aldrich rarely intervened there; Arthur handled dealings with the Premier League committee, while Andrew worked on connections with the FA. Though not exactly omnipotent, he had advantageous contacts.

Now, with his fallout with Weisman, Aldrich worried about the potential impact on Millwall's relationship with the FA.

After enjoying over half an hour gazing at the Thames at night, Aldrich brushed aside his worries and drove home for a shower and some sleep.

After the FIFA fixtures concluded, the players returned to training.

On the training ground, the returning players spotted a familiar face.

Klinsmann had completed all the necessary formalities and officially joined Millwall.

Fortunately, Klinsmann's assistant coaching credentials were resolved before Aldridge fell out with Weisman. Failure to do so may result in further complications, but the transaction is nevertheless completed. The FA will not be foolish enough to retract its decision.

Klinsmann's arrival excited the players. He was a legend on the field, especially the tearful moment of lifting the World Cup in 1990, which left a lasting impression on this generation.

Schneider walked up to Klinsmann and smiled: "Do you believe it? We were opponents half a year ago, and now we are the same team!"

Klinsmann, dressed in sports gear, crossed his arms and laughed, "My experience against you guys wasn't pleasant. Now, if you dare slack off, just wait!"

He'd played for Tottenham for a season and a half, scoring an incredible 30 goals in 56 league matches. However, during his first stint at Tottenham, Millwall still sat in the lower division, so they never faced each other. Their match last season was their only encounter, where Millwall successfully contained him, handing Tottenham a loss.

Schneider raised an eyebrow and replied with a grin, "Don't worry, you won't have the chance."

As other players trickled out, the team began warming up before training. Aldrich pulled Klinsmann aside as he and Jansen briefly outlined the training tasks for the day.

Having spent nearly two decades as a player, Klinsmann was no stranger to training, spending over 100 days a year on it. His experience in various leagues and clubs made it second nature.

However, the difference between training as a player and coaching players was significant.

Aldrich aimed to establish Klinsmann's coaching persona.

Klinsmann listened attentively, jotting down key points. He wasn't trying to assert his own opinions; he simply absorbed Aldrich's description of tasks and accepted his instructions. Once he was comfortable in his new role, he would start sharing his insights. For now, any suggestions he made would largely stem from a player's perspective, which wasn't quite mature.

With Klinsmann's involvement, the players were noticeably more enthusiastic in training. Perhaps deep down, they wanted to show him, "Do you know why we're strong? Just look at our training attitude and results!"

During breaks, Klinsmann could share his expertise, providing young players with match advice and striking techniques.

After the first day of training, Aldrich invited Klinsmann over for dinner. They strolled to Aldrich's apartment together with the setting sun, but Klinsmann appeared deep in thought.

Aldrich shifted his gaze from the stunning sunset and turned to Klinsmann, jokingly asking, "Was my invitation too abrupt?"

Klinsmann snapped back to reality and shook his head, frowning as he said, "I find Millwall's training too easy, with a low intensity. Is that the secret? Letting the players conserve energy during training and unleash it during matches? Is that why the team performs so well?"

Aldrich chuckled, "Not really. The past couple of days were just an exception; many players just returned from national duty and were jet-lagged. If we pushed them too hard, they'd not only be physically drained but mentally resistant as well."

Klinsmann realized this, self-deprecatingly remarking, "It seems I've forgotten everything since retiring."

"You'll get back into the groove in a week or two, ha."

"It won't take that long. Starting tomorrow, I'll be Assistant Coach Jürgen Klinsmann."

---

On the weekend, Millwall faced Wimbledon in a London Derby at home.

As the poorest club in the Premier League, Wimbledon's strength had diminished despite the lucrative broadcasting contracts; lacking their own stadium, many of their better players had been poached by other teams, leaving behind a crew of blue-collar warriors.

Aldrich intended to keep it simple; playing clean and tough was essential against this team.

With a Champions League match the following week, he also decided to give some starters a rest. Ronaldinho and Gronkjaer would sit out, and Aldrich unusually set out a 3-4-3 formation as the starting lineup.

The defense included Mills, Materazzi, and Neil.

The midfield was made up of Van der Meyde, Lampard, Gattuso, and Duff.

Upfront, he had the twin forwards, Van Nistelrooy and Klose, with Nedved lurking behind them.

Wimbledon is certainly going to play defensively, which has become quite predictable. Over the past few seasons, their approach against Millwall has steadily declined from a fearless attacking style to a hope-for-a-draw mentality, with one constant: their rough-and-tumble style of play.

As the match kicked off at the Den, Wimbledon employed their classic strategy—starting with rough tackles to assert dominance.

When Duff attempted to break down the left flank, he pushed the ball past his defender, only to be knocked off the pitch, landing hard and not getting up again.

Aldrich had just settled into his seat when he exploded from the bench, shouting at the fourth official, "F**k! That's not a foul? Is the assistant blind? You gave them a throw-in?"

Indeed, the assistant referee hadn't raised his flag for a foul, nor had the referee Horne blown the whistle for a Wimbledon foul; instead, they awarded a throw-in to the opposition.

As Duff had been thrown out of bounds, the game continued uninterrupted. Millwall's medical team began to circle around, but Aldrich grabbed the medic's arm and pointed to the pitch, saying, "You can enter from here!"

Changing direction, the medic hurried onto the field as the referee had to pause the match. The Den erupted with deafening boos directed at Wimbledon and the officials.

The assistant referee under immense pressure from the crowd, with fans hurling insults at him for being blind.

The medic assessed Duff's injury and gestured to Aldrich that a substitution was necessary.

Glaring, Aldrich instructed Zambrotta to warm up. A wing-back, Zambrotta was also capable in that position, as he'd made his name as one.

Duff was carried off the pitch, having twisted his ankle and expected to miss only a short period.

Aldrich had initially planned to avoid standing on the sideline constantly, fearing it would distract the players. During the European Super Cup ten days prior, he had almost stayed seated the entire match.

But today's game was feeling a bit off.

Very off!

Wimbledon's rough start went unpunished, setting a concerning precedent for the match. Their players frequently committed aggressive fouls to stifle Millwall's attacks; every time a Millwall player came within a meter, they would be immediately hacked down without hesitation.

Some fouls were called, while others were ignored; astonishingly, not a single yellow card had been shown.

After thirty minutes of watching the game unfold from the sidelines, Aldrich shook his head and issued new instructions: forget about short passes—hit long balls instead!

This shift rendered the match somewhat dull, with spectators watching the ball soar through the air, rarely witnessing any exciting moments.

Just before halftime, Klose controlled the ball with his chest in the box and laid it off to Van Nistelrooy, who, surrounded by three defenders, poked the ball home into the bottom corner. Just as Van Nistelrooy prepared to celebrate, the referee waved the goal off, signaling for a handball during Klose's control.

Aldrich's expression mirrored that of nearly 20,000 spectators—shock and disbelief.

Though Klose's arms were raised during the chest control, they remained by his sides. From a sidelong view, it could appear dubious; however, from the front, it was clear the ball hadn't touched his arms at all. The referee couldn't have moved to the side for a better angle, as he was near the center, and even at an angle, he wouldn't miss by much, being no more than five meters away from Klose. How could he call a handball?

Once the referee's decision was announced, Audrich knew it—he understood completely.

"Wiseman, what a small-minded play!"

Was this a threat or retaliation? Were you trying to force my hand or provoke a conflict?

It was truly contemptible.