The Rise of Millwal

Chapter 208: Master-Disciple Breakup

The news of Millwall reaching the FA Cup final didn't have the explosive impact one might expect. From the very beginning of the FA Cup, Millwall had been one of the favorites to win it all, and defeating Middlesbrough was hardly a surprising outcome.

As Aldrich's team returned to London, he found himself surrounded by reporters.

Countless journalists gathered outside the club, including those from Fleet Street and sports reporters from other European countries stationed in London. They crowded around Aldrich, unable to physically block him but bombarding him with questions.

"Is it true that Stam is transferring?"

"Why is Millwall selling him?"

"What will the transfer fee be?"

"Which club will Stam go to? Is he leaving England?"

...

The news that Aldrich had dropped about Stam's potential transfer before the FA Cup semi-final had finally taken the British media by storm.

Premier League giants and top clubs were closely monitoring the situation, and other leading European clubs were following the unfolding events.

Everyone knew that Millwall was burdened with debts of over a hundred million pounds due to their new stadium, and once Aldrich revealed Stam's transfer, other clubs with itchy feet began to stir.

Was Millwall about to hold a clearance sale?

Even mid-table Premier League teams were trying to verify the authenticity of this news, as losing a key defender like Stam meant something significant—most directly, it indicated a decrease in strength!

Just as Aldrich was about to enter the club, he suddenly stopped, turned around to face all the reporters, and waited for the crowd to quiet down. He replied flatly, "Unless something unexpected happens, Stam will leave Millwall when the summer transfer window opens. Where he goes, you'll know when that day arrives. Millwall will not make any further comments on Stam's transfer. Thank you."

With that, Aldrich walked through the club's door, the reporters blocked outside by security, and he quickly drove away from the club.

The next day, Stam's jersey was taken off the shelves.

The fans of the Lions couldn't accept this sudden news; they gathered at the club's entrance wanting to know the inside story. Brady, who knew Aldrich best, recalled the day a year and a half ago when he confronted Aldrich about Larsson's transfer, and knew Aldrich's seriousness regarding the club.

Aldrich would never do anything to harm Millwall.

Even if Stam were to transfer, it shouldn't have been revealed at this time, but Aldrich couldn't keep using Stam. For the sake of the team's development, he had to let others step up quickly. Therefore, Brady believed that Stam was surely determined to leave.

So, while Brady was heartbroken, he was also filled with rage as he and members of the Lion's Roar fans club held up signs outside the reserve team's training ground.

"Traitor! Get out! You don't deserve the Lions' jersey!"

Stam's personal fans might not have reacted much, but for the loyal fans of the club, they clearly couldn't tolerate Stam's transfer.

The deeper the love, the harsher the criticism. Fans pour all their passion into you; when outsiders criticize, we stand silently behind you. When others point out your poor performance, we, the loyal supporters, accept that. Even when other fans insult you, we risk our lives to fight back!

How could you decide to leave at such a critical moment?

We are in the thick of a title chase!

Stam was training with the reserves when the fans, just a few dozen meters away, were passionately accusing and insulting him, calling him a traitor. This was unbearable, and he wanted to run over and argue with them, but he was ultimately stopped by the coach.

Stam shook off the coach's hand and left the training ground alone.

That afternoon's training was disastrous.

Aldrich observed that the first-team players were all sullen; everyone had turned silent due to Stam's potential transfer.

Because they all knew how important Stam was to the team.

This season, Millwall was not only the most potent team in the Premier League, but also had the most solid defense, conceding the fewest goals. This was undeniably thanks to Stam's contributions.

After training, Aldrich entered the locker room. The players hadn't left yet, and Trezeguet was discussing the matter with Makélélé.

"Why? Is there something wrong with his brain?"

Trezeguet was perplexed, a hint of complexity on his face.

Makélélé responded, "What do you mean? Maybe he'll earn more at another club. Sometimes, it's not that complicated; it's simple."

Trezeguet rubbed his bald head, still sounding doubtful.

"We only won one Premier League title; what does that mean? We're going to compete in the Champions League next season. Achieving something significant on that stage is what truly matters, right? It's just so damn hard to understand."

Makélélé fell silent as he noticed Aldrich walking in and closing the locker room door.

Trezeguet also spotted Aldrich and instinctively shrank back.

His earlier words felt a bit inappropriate, suggesting that Millwall was merely a stepping stone.

Aldrich had heard him but wasn't angry; after all, it was human nature, nothing to take to heart.

Some players were showering, others were relaxing with music, but when they saw Aldrich walk in after training, everyone instinctively returned to their lockers.

Aldrich leaned against the wall by the door, his calm eyes scanning each player's face. Most players appeared calm, though some, like Ferdinand, stood tall with determination in their eyes. For him, Stam's departure would certainly be a good thing, as it would eliminate a strong competitor, especially since he was on the weaker side.

Aldrich spoke quietly, "In the past, this place wasn't the focus of England, not even of London. We've struggled in lower leagues for years without winning any significant trophies. Now, we're starting to win medals and gain attention—Stam is among our top stars—but his time with us has come to an end. What I want to emphasize today is that I can't tolerate anything that disrupts the unity of the team or distracts our focus. I wish all of you could retire here, but I know that's not realistic. Still, I hope we can respect and understand each other. When you wear the Millwall jersey, hold onto your loyalty. Please think only of contributing to this team. If anyone wants to leave, let me know. I won't deliberately stop anyone. I'll do my best to persuade you to stay. But those who want to move on need to convince themselves: is leaving Millwall the right choice for your career? Will you achieve greater honors at the new club? Or just tell me straight up: the new club will make me richer. But I still think that idea is utterly foolish. Only through sustained glory will there be broader opportunities for success. This club has laid out long-term plans for transformation over the next five to ten years, and I firmly believe that Millwall will become the most successful club on this planet, and I will keep striving for that goal."

The players listened intently, their eyes locked on Aldrich. After he finished speaking, a bittersweet smile crossed his face, and he began to leave.

Just then, the locker room door was shoved open violently from the outside.

Bang.

The door slammed against the wall with a deafening sound.

Stam burst in like a wild animal, scanning the room furiously until his gaze finally fell upon the calm figure of Aldrich standing beside him.

"How could you do this? How could you call me a traitor? I 've always respected you from the bottom of my heart, and this is how you repay me?"

Stam didn't physically confront anyone; instead, he turned, rage etched across his face as he roared at Aldrich.

The players all stood up , and Aldrich raised a hand, indicating for them to stay back.

Aldrich met Stam's furious stare, unflinching, and softly asked, "Examine your inner self and ask yourself: when Manchester United approached you privately, when you reached a verbal agreement with them , what can your actions be called if not treachery?"

"We had a deal last summer! You told me I could leave this summer! That was your promise!"

Stam yelled, his voice cracking under the weight of the emotion.

Aldrich glared at him, his expression fierce as he snapped back, "But summer isn't here yet! Our season's not done! Your damn heart's already in Old Trafford! You made this mess happen! You just had to wait a couple of months. When you're finally ready to ask to leave, I won't block you! But you went behind my back and made a deal with Manchester United. Go ask any owner or manager if they'd take this crap! You're trampling Millwall's dignity, and you claim you respect me? This is how you show respect?"

The other players standing by looked shocked.

They never imagined the transfer saga behind Stam was such a process!

They had speculated about the insider details, maybe it would be a peaceful separation: Stam wanted a transfer, Aldrich would let him, and they would agree to let Stam train with the reserves.

Other players had received contacts from clubs privately, but they all declined. Some were uninterested, while others maintained professionalism, and a few considered listening to offers. But for many young players, very few would reach top clubs. Even if there were offers, they couldn't guarantee a starting position. Why leave Millwall? Everyone knew that as long as they fought for their place here, success was attainable. Meanwhile, other top clubs swoop in during transfer windows, directly shrinking the playing time for young players.

Stam still wasn't willing to back down, furiously shouting, "What was Millwall when I came here? A pile of garbage in League One! And now? Premier League champions! I've sacrificed three years of my life here! My efforts and contributions have earned you the right to call me a traitor?"

Aldrich let out a cold laugh, as if hearing the greatest joke in the world.

"But don't forget, you were nothing when you came here either! Who were your efforts for? That was your career! Don't frame your sweat and hard work as selfless dedication! It's your life! If you don't put in the effort, you ruin yourself! And what has Millwall given you? Here, you became a top defender, you earned honors that many envy! I won't deny your contributions to the team, but don't overlook the fact that Millwall has achieved your success!"

Stam was rendered speechless, the veins on his temple throbbing, clenching his fists but unable to retort.

Southgate stepped forward, standing in front of Stam. He spoke calmly, "Please leave. Since you've decided to transfer, I wish you luck on behalf of your teammates, but this is a locker room. Outsiders shouldn't be here."

Outsiders!

Stam turned to look at the teammates he had battled alongside until half a month ago. Although many had calm expressions, a few gazed at him with hostility.

Yes, he was already an outsider!

The locker room, the most closed space in the team, was not a place he should be in.

Stam quickly regained his composure, the previous flames of anger dissipating like smoke. He turned away, somewhat despondent.

At this moment, Aldrich's heart ached like a blade. He watched as Stam's figure disappeared out the door. Slowly, he walked to the row of lockers, standing before Stam's locker. He reached out, gently tearing off the nameplate with Stam's name and pocketing it. With his head down, Aldrich walked outside.

The players watched Aldrich the entire time, and Nedved saw a tear slip to the floor just before Aldrich left.

Aldrich and Stam, the bond between the master and disciple had come to an end, and from this point on, they became strangers...