Harbinger Of Glory

The seat he always used had a tiny wobble on the right leg, and that was how he knew he was truly back.

He pressed his palm against it, testing.

It was still loose, still annoying, but still home.

Around him, the DW buzzed in a kind of anticipation you couldn’t fake with that steady undercurrent of people settling in, trading guesses about lineups, complaining about the cold, passing drinks across rows.

It had been three straight matches watching this team on television, and it always felt good to be back in the stadium where it felt like he could contribute to the team’s win.

Out on the pitch, the last of the warmup cones were being scooped up.

A few kids leaned against the railing, waiting for players to jog past, while two older supporters behind him were arguing about who should be on the pitch in place of whom.

”To be honest, the last game we won was us getting lucky, but it’s going to run out eventually unless we do something about it,” one said, to which the other agreed.

”Well, the players are getting back from injury and stuff, so let’s hope it gets better. But what I wanted to know was what is up with Leo. That kid showed promise, but I haven’t seen him in the team until I checked today’s lineups.”

”Yeah, I even forgot what it looks like, but it seemed like he had been called up to his national team. The Italian U21 side.”

”Damn. Good for him then, but I hope he keeps turning up like he did before.”

While the duo were locked in conversation, the announcer’s voice rolled across the stands, firm and familiar, while the fans in the stands responded to his chants.

[The Announcer]

”Ladies and gentlemen, welcome back to the DW Stadium for tonight’s Sky Bet Championship fixture. It’s Wigan Athletic, and they take on Sunderland.”

People straightened without thinking, while a few clapped.

”Please turn your attention to the tunnel as both teams make their way onto the pitch.”

The tunnel lights came fully alive, and a moment later, the first players stepped out, boots tapping in rhythm as two clean lines formed and moved toward the grass.

The applause climbed, sections syncing together, giving the players a welcome that only home fans could give.

Back on the pitch, the players spread out across the touchline while the announcer ran through the starting elevens.

”Glad we are using more and more homegrown talents who seem to be actually good or decent at football,” one fan said while the Sunderland fans in their corner let themselves be heard, but Wigan’s response came quick and loud, rolling right back at them.

[On the Broadcast]

”Good evening and welcome to the DW,” the lead commentator said.

”The World Cup might be dominating the football landscape, but here in the Championship, everything carries on. Tonight, it’s Wigan Athletic hosting Sunderland.”

His co-commentator followed.

”And you can hear how much these fans missed this place. Three away games in a row aren’t easy on anyone. A proper home crowd can change things.”

”Well, they hope so if they want to still challenge for a playoff spot and a new face in the starting lineup as Wigan’s very own Ezra Doherty starts for Wigan for the very first time,” the lead added.

”We’ve seen him in flashes, but tonight is his first chance to show something in front of their own supporters.”

”Sunderland won’t roll over, though, as they also hope to keep their promotion hopes steady,” the analyst said.

”If anything, being away is when they’re at their best, judging from them winning 4 of their last five away games and drawing one. The press early, try to force mistakes, take the air out of the place, and things should start looking squirming for the home side if they do not have anything to combat that.”

The huddles broke as the referee checked both keepers, looked across the pitch, then raised the whistle.

”Perfect night for football,” the lead commentator said. ”And the DW is ready.”

The whistle cracked.

”And we’re underway,” the commentator said as Ellis Simms of Sunderland kicked off, and Sunderland wasted no time shifting it out to the right.

Amad Diallo took his first touch cleanly, letting the ball roll across his body as he faced up the pitch.

”There he is,” the analyst said.

”Diallo’s been their spark for weeks now. If he gets going early, Wigan will have trouble keeping him quiet.”

Diallo drove forward, each step sharper than the last, while the Wigan team retreated.

Tom Naylor stepped across to close him down, angling his body to force him toward the touchline.

But it didn’t matter for Diallo, who feinted inside, then slipped outside in one smooth motion, gliding past Naylor before the midfielder could plant his foot.

The Sunderland end roared, sensing a real opening as Diallo had space and the confidence.

”Too easy there,” the lead commentator said, but just as the attack looked ready to stretch Wigan’s back line, James McClean came cutting across from the opposite angle.

He timed it perfectly in one stride, and then he threw himself into a sliding challenge that took the ball cleanly off Diallo’s boot.

The tackle was crisp and exactly what the moment needed as the ball skidded out toward the sideline, and the home crowd erupted, their reaction louder than the Sunderland fans had been seconds earlier.

”That’s outstanding from McClean,” the analyst said. ”He’s filling in at left back today, and that’s a tackle to set the tone for the rest of the game. Perfect read, perfect execution.”

”Diallo looked like he was away there,” the lead added. ”But McClean shuts it down, and Wigan breathe again.”

The Sunderland attack stalled, their early surge broken in an instant, while McClean pushed himself back to his feet, brushing grass from his sleeve, and the fans offered another pulse of applause while Sunderland regrouped with a throw.

The match began to stretch out as the early burst settled.

Both sides traded half-chances, the kind that lifted a section of the crowd onto their feet before dropping them right back into their seats as a result of a bad pass or a player failing to convert a good chance.

A loose touch here, a mistimed run there.

The Championship had its fingerprints all over the rhythm of the game, full of small collisions and impatient shouts from players on both teams.

”Typical league football,” the analyst said as another challenge ended with both men on the turf. ”Honest, frantic, and not a lot of time to breathe.”

Neither team could pin the other back for long.

Wigan found pockets through midfield but couldn’t quite stitch the final ball together, while Sunderland tried to force quick breaks, but Wigan’s back line kept recovering at the last second.

Then the ball broke loose on the right, and Ezra reacted quicker than anyone.

He picked it up near the touchline, dropped his shoulder, and drove forward.

The space opened up more and more as his stride lengthened, and the crowd sensed it.

He skipped past the first challenge, toes dancing just above the grass as he accelerated.

”This is good from the youngster,” the lead commentator said.

”It’s been a positive showing all night from him,” the lead said just as Ezra knocked it ahead again, just enough to take Michut out of his angle.

The Sunderland midfielder panicked, and instead of tracking the run, he lunged in, swinging his leg across Ezra’s path.

The contact was ugly, and Ezra’s legs went out from under him as he hit the ground with a thud so loud the cameras on the sides picked it up.

The response from the stands was immediate as a low roar turned sharp and angry, rolling down toward the pitch.

”You can’t tackle like that,” the analyst snapped. ”That’s late, reckless, and nowhere near the ball.”

Ezra sat up, wincing, and Darikwa was already storming toward the referee, arms wide in disbelief as the official reached for his pocket.

Everyone expected red for how reckless and blatant the foul had been, but the referee pulled out a yellow instead.

The stadium erupted in outrage as Darikwa shouted something the referee didn’t appreciate, and the card flashed again, this time for dissent.

”Yellow for Michut? Really?” the lead commentator said.

”That’s a poor decision. He’s hacked him down at full speed with no attempt to win the ball. The reaction from the Wigan players tells you everything.”

Max Power grabbed Darikwa by the arm and dragged him backwards before the fullback talked his way into even more trouble.

Ezra pushed himself upright, still rubbing the spot where the tackle caught him.

The referee tried to usher players away, but the noise in the DW made it clear the moment wasn’t going to be forgotten anytime soon, as the ball was set down for a restart with a free kick.