Chapter 416: Losing Control
With the arrival of the Internet, signs of a revival in British football hooliganism had begun to show. Especially in the 21st century, hooligans learned to assemble their crews online, discuss strategies for fighting rival firms, and map out routes to their destinations—making it nearly impossible for the police to defend effectively.
Richard was not a saint who loved the world altruistically, nor could he stop these young men stuffed with muscle and alcohol. At the very least, he only hoped that a tragedy which had already happened would not repeat itself. For him, football was never supposed to harm anyone else in his life.
Snapping out of his contemplation, behind the bus—or rather, in his Rolls-Royce—Richard noticed the atmosphere shift. On both sides of the road, as they passed through South London, Millwall fans were already throwing sinister looks. He glanced to the front, then back again. When he saw someone pointing at their bus and whispering to others, he knew something was about to happen.
He reached for his phone, wanting to call the police, but then stopped. First, policing around football grounds in London was already stretched thin. After the Hillsborough disaster (1989), much of police focus went into crowd control inside stadiums, not outside on the streets.
South London itself was known for their narrow streets, estates, and back-alleys near The Den. This made it hard for police to control hooligan gatherings before or after games. Resources were limited—they couldn’t always deploy heavy numbers to every "risk match."
Moreover, the sight of police cars would provoke the crowd into violence rather than calm them. Among hooligan circles, the police were seen as outsiders and enemies. Calling them could make things worse with the fans. Moreover, the roads might be sealed off, trapping them entirely.
For example, the area around New Cross and Bermondsey was difficult to lock down completely. Rival firms—like West Ham’s ICF or Chelsea’s Headhunters—could slip in and clash with Millwall’s Bushwackers despite the police presence. With no other choice, Richard could only pin his hopes on Carl Morran to deter the Millwall fans first, before turning to the police.
The Den
When the Millwall fans in the stands saw the sorry sight of the Manchester City players hurriedly running out, they roared with laughter. It set the tone for the match—this was not going to be a civilized, friendly game, but a fight-to-the-death knockout match.
Most of the crowd didn’t know what had just happened outside. Only a few minutes later, as more fans arrived and spread the word, did the story begin to circulate. Once they learned, the Millwall supporters were even happier to jeer at the nearly late Manchester City players.
"BOOO~"
As for reporters—just like the police—in football culture, especially in hooligan circles, the media were seen as outsiders and enemies. Bringing them in could only make things worse with the fans.
City staff emerged from the passageway and stopped at the sidelines, glancing up at the stands. Vast sections of deep blue were broken by streaks of white, while the red of City’s away supporters was squeezed into one corner, surrounded on all sides by Millwall’s colors, yet still stubbornly waving and jumping.
’An away match? Jeering? We’ll give you something to laugh about later,’
O’Neill snorted to himself as he walked into the technical area.On the field, Zanetti, wearing the captain’s armband, stood with the referee and Millwall’s captain for the coin toss. When it was done, he noticed O’Neill beckoning him over. Zanetti jogged across, leaned in to listen, then gave a sharp nod before heading back to prepare.
PHWEEEEE~
A sharp whistle sounded, immediately followed by a surge of a tremendous earth-shattering clamor, and jolted everyone awake.
As Richard glanced around the stadium and looked at the crazy fans in the stands, he knew the match had a high chance of ending in chaos—especially if City won!
Pires had originally wanted to show off his personal skills in front of the Millwall players, but he had barely moved the ball before it was snatched away by Maurice Doyle. The referee’s whistle blew, followed immediately by a chorus of hissing and jeers from the Millwall stands.
Glaring at Doyle, his face full of frustration, and hearing the endless stream of boos and abuse, Pires realized that today’s match was going to be far more difficult than he had imagined.
O’Neill, watching from the technical area on the sidelines, muttered to himself, "Bloody hell." He now regretted not fielding all of his backup players and failing to give the team clearer tactics after the earlier incident.
If football could be paused like basketball, he would have made changes immediately. Unfortunately, he could only wait until the halftime break and hope their opponents didn’t score before then.
For the defensive counterattack, the two defensive midfielders were crucial. He could only hope that Makélélé and Pirlo would be able to hold the line. He asked the players to do more ground coordination, even in front of the penalty area, they must pass the ball as far as possible into the goal area before shooting a goal.
At that time on Sky Sports, Andy Gray and Martin Tyler began their commentary.
"Another long-range shot from Manchester City!"
"I think O’Neill is hoping his striker can get past the goalkeeper and finish when the goalmouth is empty."
This style of play looked very good, but it was too complicated and difficult to score a goal.
On the Millwall sideline, manager Neil Harris applauded. To counter Manchester City’s style of play, he had specifically designed an offensive tactic built on pressing and relentless tackling. For now, it was working perfectly.
The momentum Millwall showed on their home ground completely intimidated the Manchester City players, who were already exhausted and unsettled after being blocked on their way here.
They had encountered a group of seemingly vicious fans and ended up battling with them. On top of that, they had to deal with the tension and panic of sprinting hundreds of meters in a hurry to change and get ready, only to pathetically emerge onto the field just three minutes before kickoff.
Of course, Neil Harris had heard about the situation, but rather than offering sympathy or apologies, he decided it was better to take full advantage of it. He could always say sorry later—after the match was done.
Yes, that was exactly what was happening in the match.
Manchester City was gradually losing control. It was almost impossible to say that the events before the match hadn’t affected the team. But what could they do? That was just luck. Every CIty fans could only hope the team would make it through until halftime, when he would have enough time to make adjustments. They still believed there would be no problem defeating Manchester City.
The key for Millwall was to defend their core against wave after wave of attacks from Manchester City while making the most of their counterattacks. The situation was far from ideal. Pirlo and Pires were overwhelmed and in a frenzy. The pressure on their shins and thighs was intense, forcing them to play very cautiously.
As for Millwall, within their formation, besides Andy Gray—who would later become infamous for breaking the leg of Liverpool defender Jamie Carragher—there was another player Richard recognized: an Australian attacking midfielder wearing the number 18 jersey, the 17-year-old Tim Cahill.
With Millwall’s rough play, Marc Bircham and Bobby Bowry got injured, forcing them to reluctantly bring in Tim Cahill, who had just joined from Sydney United after completing his trial.
At the moment, Cahill was not fully mature, but his attacking ability was enough to surprise Richard. Energetic and gifted with incredible jumping ability and heading skills, he was a constant threat. On every corner kick, he was dangerous—out of six attempts, he managed to win four headers, even if not all resulted in goals.
Manchester City finally had a chance to threaten in Millwall’s final third. The ball had just been passed to Zidane’s feet when it was intercepted by Millwall midfielder Maurice Doyle with a ferocious tackle.
"Foul!" Richard leapt up from his seat. It had clearly been a tackle from behind!
Not only Richard, but everyone shouted, yet the referee ignored them all. While Zidane lay on the ground in pain, Maurice Doyle kicked the ball to Andy Gray, who returned it to assist Phil Smith.
Millwall 1 - 0 Manchester City
"Bastard! He didn’t even whistle for that tackle from behind!" Mourinho and the other City staff waved their fists and cursed. But aside from the fourth official, who paid him a little attention and glanced his way, no one else heeded his complaints.
While they were badgering the fourth official, Millwall manager Neil Harris decided to step in. He said sarcastically to the City staff, "Hey, hey, you’d better mind your own problems and stop troubling the referee."
Mourinho widened his eyes and glared at him. "You’re a bastard who’s just gotten off lightly, and now you come to gloat?!" He felt like pouncing on the nasty jerk and giving him a punch... and, well... the Special One was really special.
The stands erupted. Fans leapt to their feet, cheering, shouting, and whistling. Even Richard was momentarily speechless.
The tension exploded as Mourinho and Harris squared off. Harris shoved Mourinho; the special one instinctively pushed back. O’Neill, sensing trouble, jumped in to hold Mourinho steady—and pushed Harris back.
From Mourinho’s point of view, he watched as Harris and O’Neill started butting heads like two rams—before Harris somehow head-butted O’Neill right on the nose! The poor man toppled backward.
PHWEEEE~
The referee blew the whistle sharply, halting the match. Players froze mid-action as he dashed to the sidelines, trying to restore order amid the storm of shouting managers, furious staff, and electrified fans.