Football Dynasty-Chapter 184: The Most Notorious One

Within the next three days, City secured a 2–0 victory over Southend United, extending their unbeaten run in the First Division to 15 consecutive matches.

Thanks to Sunderland’s loss to Reading and Derby County’s draw against Leicester City, Manchester City climbed back to the top of the table. However, in a surprising turn of events, City suffered their first league defeat of the season in their next fixture—an away match against Grimsby Town.

Before the match, O’Neill and the coaching staff were in a relaxed and confident mood, looking forward to the game.

After all, they had already set a club record with 15 unbeaten matches. Jokingly, they said City would surely go on to reach a 20-game unbeaten streak—or maybe even finish the season undefeated. They were taught a lesson to never underestimate their opponents.

For this match, O’Neill used the same squad that had defeated Blackburn, but took the opportunity to experiment, giving bench players valuable game time to showcase their progress—though the outcome was unexpected

Grimsby Town 1 – 0 Manchester City

"Why are you experimenting in the League? Is it because of Grimsby Town?"

When looking at the formation and the final score, Richard could not help but criticize O’Neill and his staff for this decision.

"Look, even if I say our targets this year include the FA Cup and the League Cup, everyone knows the league is still the priority."

After all, Grimsby was supposed to be an easy opponent, but unexpectedly, City lost. This wasn’t a defeat caused by bad luck or external factors, but because O’Neill and his staff clearly underestimated them by fielding a rotated squad.

Goalkeeper: Richard Wright

Defenders: Richard Jobson, Materazzi, Keith Curle, Steve Finnan

Midfielders: Steve Lomas, Jamie Pollock, Keith Gillespie, Graham fenton

Forwards: Andriy Shevchenko, Henrik Larsson

This is basically the formation he used when they were defeated by Grimsby Town.

The 4-4-2 system for the game was also basically copied from Blackburn’s strategy, where Steve Lomas and Graham Fenton were primarily given defensive duties, Jamie Pollock held the midfield, and Keith Gillespie played a holding role.

Despite this cautious setup, City faced relentless attacks from Grimsby Town. The home team fired off 10 shots, with 6 on target, while Manchester City managed less than half of that. The final score was 1–0, marking City’s first league loss of the season.

O’Neill argued that every player must get an equal opportunity, while Richard ruthlessly rejected that train of thought. For him, winning the game is the top priority.

For the next two matches, City earned one draw and one win against Wolverhampton and Luton Town. Then, in the third match, they welcomed guests from South London.

Richard looked at the calendar. Below the red circle around September 11—today—was a line of small print: their opponent’s name—Millwall.

He rubbed his temples instantly.

Millwall had the most notorious football hooligans in the U.K.

For Manchester City, today marked that time of year when the Greater Manchester Police were forced to partially abandon policing the Manchester United vs. Aston Villa game—all because Millwall had arrived.

About a hundred visiting fans had gathered outside the stadium and were slowly making their way toward Maine Road.

Most ordinary City fans would consciously detour around this blue phalanx when they saw it. As a result, the group advanced without much interference. Of course, some fans were afraid—and some were not.

In fact, as soon as the Millwall fans began entering the area near the pitch, a handful of City supporters wearing sky blue jerseys were already shouting, cursing, and making obscene gestures in their direction.The Millwall fans responded with taunts and gestures of their own. But neither side crossed the line into violence.

That was thanks to the presence of more than a dozen Greater Manchester Police officers in bright yellow vests, standing firmly between the two groups. Fully armed and hyper-alert, they watched both sides with sharp, unwavering focus.

Millwall was one of the few football clubs in the world whose fans were more infamous than the club itself.

As a small team from South London, Millwall had little to boast about in terms of trophies or star players. But they had something else—the most fearless group of fans in the U.K., and arguably, the world.

At a nearby intersection, Millwall Bushwackers came to a halt, tightly corralled by the surrounding police. They were held there temporarily, waiting for the Manchester City team bus to pass through. Even while standing still, the group radiated tension, surrounded by a chorus of jeers from nearby City fans.

Then came the signal: a horn blared three times from up ahead.

The crowd shifted as a large blue bus slowly rolled into view.

In an instant, the Millwall fans forgot the heckling from City supporters. Their eyes locked onto the team bus. A wave of aggression rippled through them. Some crouched down, searching the pavement for bricks or bottles—anything they could throw at the passing vehicle.

Thankfully, the two lines of police held their ground, shoving back the more unruly fans and keeping them from crossing the invisible boundary.

Even though the bus’s windows were tightly sealed and soundproofed, the players inside could still feel the venom from outside. Through the glass, they saw twisted faces and puckered lips hurling a relentless barrage of abuse—"fck this," "fck that"—and a sea of raised middle fingers.

Inside the bus, reactions varied. For those who had never experienced anything like this before, the tension was obvious. But for others—like O’Neill and the veteran players—it was nothing new. They’d seen it all before.

One of the most visibly shaken was Trezeguet. This was his first taste of a hostile sea of people with nothing but bad intentions.

Sitting beside him, Solskjær noticed the younger player’s nervous expression. He followed Trezeguet’s gaze to the chaos outside and gave a small chuckle, clearly unfazed.

"David," he said calmly, "this is kids’ stuff. Just wait till we get on the pitch. I promise—you haven’t seen anything yet."

When the match began, Trezeguet fully realized that what Ole had said was true. Just because their opponent was Millwall, the entire atmosphere of the stadium had changed.

The visiting fans were relentless—singing loudly from their stands, constantly changing the lyrics of their chants to mock City players. Though they were fewer in number, they easily overpowered the home crowd in volume.

Unable to stomach the humiliation, the die-hard City fans—led by none other than the same middle-aged man Richard had once met at the bar run by Ric Turner, founder of the BlueMoon website—launched a fiery counterattack of their own, hurling a barrage of foul-mouthed insults back at the Bushwackers.

And of course, just as roast turkey is a staple of Christmas dinner, no exchange of vulgarities would be complete without a volley of raised middle fingers.

From outside the stadium, anyone hearing the raucous noise might have assumed it was a sellout crowd.

For today’s match, Richard had chosen to close the director’s box—he had no interest in being present for such a volatile fixture.

For games like this, the club usually coordinated in advance with the FA, stadium management, and local police to deliberately reduce ticket sales. That freed up buffer zones in the stands to act as safety barriers between rival fan groups.

As for the match itself—it was far less thrilling than the war of words in the stands.

Millwall tried hard, but it was futile. Once City fielded their strongest lineup, Millwall never stood a chance. They were overrun and beaten with hardly a fight.

When Ronaldo scored his 16th goal of the season—City’s third of the match—the visitors completely lost their spirit. From that moment, the result was inevitable.

"And there it is—Ronaldo! Goal number sixteen this season, and what a way to do it! He makes it look effortless! Millwall are stunned, and you can feel the life drain out of their defense. That goal surely seals it—Manchester City are cruising now!"

But Millwall’s fans weren’t ready to concede defeat so easily.

From the stands, they resumed hurling abuse at City’s players and fans alike. Fights even broke out between some supporters and the police tasked with maintaining order.

Fortunately, the clashes were quickly brought under control. It wasn’t just the Millwall team fighting an uphill battle away from home—it was their fans, too. Only, they didn’t seem to realize that sometimes, hollering and a few curse words were the safest, and perhaps even healthiest, way to let it all out.

"Why did you close the director’s box?"

Standing beside Richard was his father, Bryan Maddox clad proudly in a full sky blue kit, scarf and all, looking both confused and slightly annoyed. He jabbed a thumb toward the upper stands. "We always sit up there for big matches. And now you’re telling me we’re watching from here? Not even in the crowd?"

Richard’s mouth twitched. ’Wasn’t the whole reason I closed it to keep you out of trouble up there? But he didn’t say it aloud.’

His father had changed—and so had his mother. The most obvious sign? His dad’s belly.

It had grown noticeably rounder, as if he’d swallowed a beach ball and decided to wear it to every game. He was also far more outspoken now—much more than Richard remembered from his younger days.

Maybe it was the result of all the traveling. Richard had always encouraged his parents to explore, to go overseas, and embrace life beyond the usual routine. Somewhere along the way, that openness to adventure had transformed them.

Leaving his father behind, Richard made his way over to his mother, Anna who was standing by one of the food stalls, eyeing a box of fish and chips with the kind of skeptical look usually reserved for suspicious meat pies.

"How is it, Mom?"

She squinted at the overly greasy fillet perched on a pile of soggy fries. "Richard, it’s too pilly," she said, her mouth still full of fried food.

"Too what?"

"Too oily. You probably need some fruit and juice to balance it out."

Richard chuckled. If they sold fruit at football matches, it would probably go bad before anyone bought it.

"Do you want me to get you another one?"

"No, love. I’m not queuing again for twenty minutes just to end up with another box of disappointment. I’ll manage." She dabbed at the excess oil with a napkin. "Anyway, what happened to your father?"

"Nah, no worries about that."

Hearing this, his mother shifted her attention back to another culinary adventure along Maine Road.

After finishing with his mother, Richard rejoined his father.

"Richard! Will there be any changes in this match?"

"What do you think will change? We’re already up by three goals."

"That’s good then. Remember what you said—you’re going to get the team into the Premier League next season!"

Richard wanted to laugh every time he heard his father say that.