The Rise of Millwal

In just a few short days, the atmosphere in the England national team had taken a positive turn. In competitive sports, success was the bedrock of stability. With good results, chaos was less likely to brew. The Aldrich era for England seemed to be off to a promising start, with everything appearing to flourish.

As the friendly against Spain drew closer, Fleet Street focused intensely on the upcoming match.

The new national team under Aldrich looks refreshingly young, with nearly every player under 30—except for the trusty Seaman in goal and the ever-reliable Southgate as captain. The media's predicted lineup wasn't far off the mark, packed with players in the peak of their careers, and it's all looking very promising. But they got it wrong with the left-back spot, thinking Aldrich would still stick with Phil Neville.

Before departing for Spain, Aldrich downplayed the match's significance in an interview. "It's just a friendly," he said nonchalantly. "I want to assess the team's spirit and form, that's all. Winning or losing doesn't matter."

Aldrich's words didn't sit well with Fleet Street.

How could he take charge of the national team and already start backing down?

Was he setting up an escape route for himself?

The journalists, like a dog with a bone, wouldn't let go.

They were digging in, trying to push Aldrich into a corner, forcing him to raise the stakes and make a bold declaration: the Lions had only one mission—win at all costs!

Journalists pointed out that the FIFA ranking points from the friendly could impact England's World Cup seeding. Ignoring the match could have far-reaching consequences.

Aldrich was puzzled and shot back, "Given England's current situation, is it even appropriate to talk about the World Cup?"

After all, just qualifying for the tournament was already a challenge. Talking about FIFA rankings felt like putting the cart before the horse.

Initially, the media tried to save face for Aldrich, but his refusal to play along left them frustrated. How could the glorious England national team act so low-key?

Fleet Street shifted its focus from the friendly to past controversies. They scrutinized Aldrich's squad selection, accusing him of favoritism toward Millwall players. Counting fingers, those with Millwall connections made up nearly half the squad. Was Aldrich following in Kevin Keegan's footsteps, accused of nepotism?

Aldrich was fed up with the baseless allegations. Just days ago, the press had praised his inclusiveness and merit-based selections. They even highlighted his decision to call up Alan Smith, a player he had previously clashed with, as an example of his gentlemanly demeanor.

Eventually, Aldrich stormed out of the interview.

The next day, Fleet Street's reports were mostly pessimistic. They predicted that Aldrich's team, though focused on experimentation, would return from Spain with a crushing defeat. And the excuse? Aldrich had already provided one: Winning a friendly doesn't matter!

Who was their opponent? Spain!

By historical comparison, England should still have the upper hand. Spain's most notable achievement was a European Championship win in 1964, with their best World Cup result being a fourth-place finish. Meanwhile, England boasted a World Cup title.

But Spain had recently earned a formidable reputation: the "Kings of the Qualifiers."

In Europe, it wasn't uncommon for top-tier teams to face minnows like San Marino or the Faroe Islands, racking up six or eight goals in a match. Spain, however, had taken it a step further—scoring nine goals against Austria just over a year ago!

During the recent European Championship qualifiers, Spain's offensive firepower was staggering, with over 40 goals scored. In the early stages of the World Cup qualifiers, they were already blazing through their opponents.

So why would England arrange a friendly against Spain, and in their backyard no less? It felt like walking into a lion's den.

Fleet Street's outlook was grim, doubting England's chances in Spain.

Aldrich, however, remained composed. For him, friendlies weren't worth losing sleep over. They were an opportunity to test tactics, identify weaknesses, and fix problems, allowing the team to gel through live matches.

Under Aldrich, the England team maintained a unified image. Dressed in sharp suits, a squad full of dashing players departed for Valencia, followed by a sizable contingent of England fans.

Unlike England's fixed home at Wembley, Spain's national team rotated its venues among cities with stadiums meeting specific standards. This time, the match was set for the Mestalla in Valencia.

The English fans arrived in droves—over ten thousand of them, brimming with excitement. Regardless of what the media might have written, it was only natural to show up in support of England's finest native manager making his debut in an A-level competition.

The Spanish fans, on the other hand, came with a different energy, more interested in seeing England stumble.

England?

Big deal.

We Spanish matadors, with our relentless attacking style, will make mincemeat of you.

And that young coach of yours—sure, he might shine at club level, but the national team? That's an entirely different beast. Today, we'll give him a proper wake-up call!

As Aldrich stepped onto the pitch, the English fans erupted in cheers, but the Spanish fans were equally loud, determined to drown out their rivals.

"Strange," remarked one English commentator. "Hall's managing England, but he's not starting Owen? Today, Owen's on the bench, and Heskey's the lone forward in the starting lineup."

Even the English commentators were baffled.

Sure, England had moved on from the traditional 4-4-2. No one could argue—years of sticking to it hadn't yielded any real success. But to leave Michael Owen out of the starting lineup? That was a head-scratcher.

Owen, England's brightest star and most reliable goal scorer, relegated to the bench? It didn't make sense.

If not for Aldrich's earlier spat with the press at the pre-match conference, he might've explained his decision to start Owen as a substitute during this friendly. But now, all the speculation was left unanswered.

The reasoning behind it was simple, if unfortunate.

Owen was undoubtedly the biggest star in the squad, but Aldrich was unwilling to push him to the brink physically. After all, Owen wasn't even 21 yet. Since bursting onto the scene at Liverpool, he had played virtually every game, staying injury-free but logging an incredible number of minutes between club and country. How much rest did he actually get during a season?

Aldrich wasn't willing to gamble. Sure, he could use Owen now without immediate consequences, but the long-term toll on his body was a risk Aldrich wasn't willing to take—frequent injuries, an early decline from his peak form.

Doing what he could, Aldrich made sure to give Owen as much rest as possible. They'd even discussed it in private. "It's just a friendly," Aldrich had told him. "Take the time to recharge."

Aldrich stood at the touchline, waiting for the match to begin. However, when he saw Spain's starting lineup, his expression changed entirely. He stared in disbelief at the Spanish head coach, Camacho.

"Camacho, what on earth are you doing?"

"Are you kidding me?"

When Aldrich had suggested the FA arrange a friendly against a strong European team, he had specifically targeted top-tier sides.

Spain was a perfect choice, and he was fairly satisfied with the decision.

They were the kings of the qualifiers, a team capable of truly testing his squad.

Spain, with their fast-paced, attacking style, was always going to be a handful. If they ran riot over England, Aldrich wouldn't be bothered—he'd see it as an opportunity to spot the cracks in his team's defense and fix them.

He was hoping to see Spain field their best squad.

But what was Camacho playing at today?

Albelda, Xavi, Joaquín, Vicente, Tristán...

Sure, these were talented players, but this wasn't Spain's A-team. Not the lineup that would really push his squad to the limit.

Aldrich's face tightened with frustration.

He had a thought.

He had hoped to use this game to test his defense against Spain's relentless attacking waves.

But Spain had no intention of letting him have it his way.

Spain, often called the kings of the qualifiers, always seemed to stumble when it came to the real tournaments. During this summer's European Championship, they barely made it out of the group stages before being knocked out by the red-hot French, who were reigning champions.

Now, Camacho had set about overhauling the team, trying to correct Spain's over-the-top attacking style and steer them towards a more balanced approach, while also experimenting with new players.

England and Spain appeared to be on the same page, both aiming to use the match as a testing ground. But neither side seemed likely to get what they wanted.

Aldrich was left feeling disillusioned. The plan for the friendly was clear—to use it as an opportunity to gain experience and improve. But it turned out Spain had the same idea, wanting to use England to test out their own squad.

The match hadn't even started, and Aldrich was already feeling exasperated.

However, when the game finally kicked off, Spain's attack seemed to be flowing smoothly.

Albelda held the center, Xavi organized the play, Joaquín and Vicente flew down the wings, while Raúl and Tristan led the charge up front.

Within five minutes of the match, England's fans and commentators were already feeling frustrated.

What was this?

What on earth are they doing out there?

Why is the defense sitting so far back?

Vicente and Joaquín were doing their best to make an impact on the wings, but Aldrich wasn't the least bit concerned.

The two of them were products of Millwall's system, known for a straightforward, no-frills approach. When there was open space, they were excellent at dribbling and breaking through, especially in the area between midfield and 35 yards from goal.

But as soon as they entered the final third, they ran into trouble, getting surrounded by defenders and losing all room to maneuver.

Southgate was the busiest player on the field, but not because he was running around. His voice was hoarse from shouting instructions.

"David, press him! Nicky, keep up! Frank, move inside!"

Southgate was directing the three defensive midfielders, making sure they maintained their defensive shape. When the timing was right, he ordered them to press and intercept decisively.

There was no one-size-fits-all defensive strategy on the field. Tackling required precision—what if you went for the ball and missed?

The right time to press was when the distance between teammates was just right. Even if one player failed to tackle, the defensive shape would prevent any gaps from forming and expose new opportunities for interceptions as the opponent tried to break through.

This was the first time Beckham, Butt, and Lampard had played together in a formal match, so their defensive chemistry needed time to develop. Southgate's leadership was crucial.

When Vicente received the ball on the left flank and moved into a dangerous area, he found himself trapped in a double team. Beckham had closed off his inside route, and Neville, instead of rushing to challenge, was blocking his forward progress.

Vicente either had to pass back or try to break through. Xavi's support in the middle was closely marked by Scholes, and Butt was covering the forward run, while also waiting to offer support behind Beckham.

With the ball on the left wing, the defense on the right was more relaxed. Southgate directed the midfielders to shift towards Vicente's side. If Spain overcommitted to the attack, England could make the necessary adjustments with three players providing horizontal coverage, so no one had to move too far.

In that moment, Aldrich nodded.

Spain's attacking formation was being effectively cut off by England's well-positioned defense, and England had a numerical advantage in their defensive setup.