The Rise of Millwal

Chapter 197: A Report as Heavy as a Mountain

Millwall was on track for a triple crown, and the atmosphere within the team was excellent. Substitute players were getting more chances to shine in matches, while the key players were preparing diligently for the crucial battles ahead. During this period, Aldrich remained focused and serious in training, pleased with the team's form. He felt nostalgic about this relatively simpler time, where players were dedicated solely to football without any hidden agendas. However, he couldn't help but wonder how long this blissful phase would last.

Among the players, Aldrich was particularly concerned about one who had been out of the fans' sight for nearly a year: Lucas Neill.

In March, Neill finally returned to the training ground. As the head coach, Aldrich felt a deep sense of remorse and sympathy for him. Spending a year recovering from injury had cost Neill precious time—his skills hadn't improved, and even his physical condition had regressed.

Fate is unpredictable; sometimes one has to sigh about the whims of life. A year ago, he was the starting full-back, and now it seemed he couldn't even make the bench.

Capdevila had quickly risen to claim the starting position, while Zambrotta shared playing time with him. The competition between the two was fierce, and Aldrich adjusted their usage according to tactical needs. When the emphasis was on attack, he favored the more skillful and tactically aware Capdevila. Conversely, when it was about defense, he chose Zambrotta for his toughness.

On the right side, Schneider firmly held the starting position, with Mills unable to shake that status due to his inconsistent performance. Regardless, the four full-backs clearly outperformed the recently recovered Neill.

As a result, Aldrich showed Neill more patience and attention during training, designing tailored training programs specifically for him. Still, Aldrich felt guilty. Neill's comeback was a bit late; even if he played in the remaining league matches this season, he wouldn't meet the minimum number of appearances required for a championship medal.

Privately, Aldrich had discussed with Neill the possibility of having him as a substitute in the last eight fixtures, playing ten to twenty minutes per game, then applying to the FA for a medal at the end of the season.

To Aldrich's surprise, Neill declined.

The young Australian seemed to have matured considerably in the past year following his severe injury. The playful scenes of him joking around with teammates were no longer present. Now, at nineteen, he sported a stubbly beard, looking more like a twenty-three or twenty-four-year-old.

His serious injury had robbed him of his youth and hampered his skill development, while it had also weakened his physical capabilities. But, surprisingly, it had forged an unyielding will that few could imagine.

He was always the first to arrive at training and the last to leave. If he wasn't on the training field, he could be found in the gym, silently striving to make up for lost time, pouring sweat to fill the gap left by the past year.

Over the past year, Aldrich had visited Neill at least twice a month and had begun designing a light training program for him six months ago. Because of this, Neill felt comfortable discussing anything with Aldrich.

He spoke candidly, saying, "This year's championship for Millwall is not connected to me; I don't deserve a championship medal!"

Objectively speaking, his statement was fair.

From an external perspective, it was clear that few would consider Neill to have made any contribution to Millwall's league title.

Aldrich's proposal was driven purely by goodwill; he couldn't be as cold-hearted as an observer, especially when it came to his own players.

Still, Neill appreciated Aldrich's concern but had his own pride.

He even countered Aldrich with the coach's earlier bold proclamations: "I'm not here to just collect a championship title."

Like David Batty, who rejected his Premier League champion medal due to his injury and minimal playing time while at Blackburn two years ago, Neill valued honor and wanted to rightfully earn it.

In response, Aldrich could only continue encouraging and supporting Neill while urging him not to overtrain and push his body too far.

Aldrich admired Neill's determination. Before the weekend league match, he was in his office contemplating the summer renewal plans for players.

Veterans and key players like Larsson, Nedved, Southgate, Makelele, Schneider, and Trezeguet definitely needed pay raises and contract renewals.

Additionally, players like Pirlo, Shevchenko, and Capdevila, who had solidified their positions this season, would also need contract updates, and their salaries would rank in the third tier of the team.

Aldrich envisioned a salary structure resembling a pyramid.

At the top were the three captains: Southgate, Nedved, and Larsson.

Not only did their status as team leaders matter, but it also reflected his approach of not focusing solely on attacking players, ensuring representation from all areas of the pitch. Moreover, they had the longest tenure with the club, which indicated their loyalty. Aldrich planned to include loyalty clauses in the new contracts as well.

For instance, if Nedved played for the club for more than five years, he would receive an annual bonus of one hundred thousand pounds in his sixth year, and if he surpassed ten years, that would increase to one hundred fifty thousand pounds annually. If he retired at the club, Millwall would offer him a loyalty bonus of five hundred thousand pounds on the day of his retirement!

Although discussing money felt trivial, the trend of capitalizing on football was evident, and the rising financial stakes served as solid evidence.

Millwall might not be able to offer the highest wages in the Premier League, but Aldrich had played his cards carefully in the contracts. The loyalty clause was one of them. If Nedved remained at the club, he could earn an extra one hundred thousand pounds as a bonus in 2000, which seemed insignificant; after all, if he transferred, other clubs would likely offer him higher signing bonuses and inflated wages. However, introducing such a clause now would undoubtedly be very appealing.

Even if it makes him look more like a merchant, how can football, a great sport, depend on money to attract players? Isn't this a slight against the loyalty of players like Nedvěd?

But Aldrich had no choice. He had to leverage the future of the club. On top of that, he didn't want to undermine the players' worth. If he were merely a businessman, he'd hope every player would want to renew their contract without a raise, like Gerrard... but that's disheartening, isn't it? How could he possibly attract more quality players here?

Players in the second salary tier would have salaries that reflected their tenure and status within the team, such as Makelele, Butte, Schneider, and Trezeguet. Their pay wouldn't differ greatly from those in tier one.

In the third category are standout young talents and key substitutes, like Elgla, Materazzi, Pirlo, Shevchenko, and Capdevila.

Below them would be the rest of the players.

Aldrich aimed to construct a healthy salary structure, as the tiered approach would allow players to rise based on their performance on the field and their loyalty to the club.

He adjusted Neil's contract to the third tier. Given Neil's current ability and condition, he would normally be at the bottom tier. But after all, Neil is a veteran of Millwall, even if he's still quite young. His experience speaks for itself; he's not living off past glories at the club. Instead, he's actively working to regain his form and improve his skills. He remains an important part of the club's future plans. Aldrich can't let him down and needs to show other players how Millwall treats a player who's been injured for a year—with unwavering support!

After Aldrich clarified the general salary structure, he printed the document, ready to share it with Adam, while the specific details of the contracts would be handled by others.

Just then, Dr. Thompson, the head of the medical department, knocked on his office door.

Aldrich glanced at the time; it was already 7:40 PM. He had lost track of time in his work, not realizing someone was still there.

"Doctor, haven't you left yet?"

Aldrich had become accustomed to addressing him as "Dr.," a term of respect in Britain, where it was rare to meet someone with such a title. Earning that designation was tenfold more difficult than graduating from a prestigious school.

Thompson sat down with a report in hand, his expression somber. He remained silent, causing Aldrich's heart to sink.

When a doctor comes to you with a grim face, most people sense that the news won't be good.

Thompson adjusted his glasses and finally spoke with difficulty, "Mr. Hall, I'm very sorry, but we have a player with health issues, and unfortunately, we can't pinpoint the cause."

Aldrich raised his hand to request the report Thompson was holding. When he received it, he opened it and felt his face turn pale.

Dean Richards.

This center-back had played a few matches earlier this year, but he hadn't been on the field since the New Year due to discomfort during training. Out of caution, Aldrich had advised him to rest and get checked.

The medical department had delayed sending his examination report. As time went on, every time Aldrich inquired, he received vague responses—only that the detailed report hadn't been completed.

"What's actually going on?"

Thompson replied hesitantly, "We don't know. He initially only felt dizzy and recovered after some rest. However, out of caution, we conducted further examinations and discovered irregularities in his brain, particularly after intense exertion. Initially, we thought it might have been too many headers causing it, but that doesn't seem to be the case, as he felt unwell only after two training sessions in the past three months. The symptoms were dizziness and nausea, which didn't significantly affect his training or matches. The problem is, we can't predict when he might experience it again."

Aldrich frowned, deep in thought. He had initially brought Richards to the team because he remembered him as a fierce center-back who had once played for Tottenham, but he had gradually vanished from sight. Aldrich hadn't cared to track where he had gone; after all, as a former fan, his attention had been primarily on the top leagues.

"You can't find the cause?"

Thompson shook his head, feeling embarrassed about the situation.

"Although we haven't pinpointed the cause, our recommendation is that he must refrain from engaging in intense physical activity. Until we understand what's wrong, any exacerbation of this irregular condition could potentially endanger his health."

Aldrich propped his chin in his hand, pondering. Thompson continued, "Mr. Hall, I know the club paid to bring Richards here and gave him a decent salary, but first and foremost, he is a person, then a player. If the club insists on having him engage in the rigorous demands of football and it results in irreversible consequences, that would be an unforgivable act by society."

Aldrich waved his hand. "I understand. I'm just considering how to talk to him. I don't want to be the one to deliver such news. You may not comprehend this, but for many players, football is their life; it's not just about ideals but their means of survival."

Thompson paused for a moment and then nodded. "If you can think of it this way, I'll be relieved. Additionally, I hope the club will allow Richards to stay within the medical department. We'll try to monitor and observe his condition as closely as possible. Even if we can't find a permanent solution, at least he'll receive the best care."

After Aldrich sighed in agreement, he held the medical report tightly, feeling its weight heavier than a mountain.