Harbinger Of Glory

” ’The odds are against us as much as they are against them.’ ”

The commentator, sitting aloof in the gantry, let the quote breathe for a moment before continuing.

”Those were the words of Wigan manager Dawson ahead of this FA Cup quarter-final clash with Brighton. A reminder that while Brighton may be the Premier League side, cup football has never cared much for status.”

”Welcome to the quarter finals of the ever glorious FA Cup, folks!”

The moment these words left the mouth of the commentator, the broadcast camera swept across the Amex Stadium, rain drifting down in a steady curtain that glistened under the floodlights.

The stands were filling quickly despite the weather.

Fans in heavy coats and plastic ponchos stamped their feet against the cold, scarves pulled tight around their necks, while the buzz of anticipation in the stadium rose in waves as more supporters took their seats.

”South coast tonight,” the co-commentator added, ”and it’s a fight for a place in the semi-finals of one of the great competitions. For Brighton, a chance to continue building on what’s been an impressive domestic campaign. For Wigan, the opportunity to write another Chapter in what’s already been a memorable cup run.”

.....

Inside the Brighton dressing room, the mood was lighter than it might have been against another top-flight side.

Most of the strong starting eleven were already dressed and standing in loose circles, and from those, laughter floated around the room.

Then the door opened.

Roberto De Zerbi stepped in quietly, nodding towards one of the staff before turning his attention fully towards his men.

He didn’t speak at first and simply walked to the centre of the room.

When he got there, he stood with his hands resting loosely at his sides, and one by one, conversations faded as players noticed him watching.

He tilted his head slightly, like he was disappointed, before voicing his thoughts.

”You look comfortable,” he said dryly. ”Very comfortable.”

A few sheepish smiles flickered as the manager’s gaze went round.

”Tell me,” he continued, tone sharpening just enough, ”have we already won?”

Murmurs of ”No, boss,” circled back to him.

”Good,” he replied.

”Because there are no second chances tonight. One mistake, one moment of carelessness, and everything we’ve worked for is gone. If you think this is easy, you are already behind.”

He let the words settle, then turned and walked out without another sentence.

His assistant hurried after him.

”We’ve won four of our last 4 and drawn 1 of our last 5 matches across all competitions, so I get why they are a bit relaxed, but do you think that got through to them?” he asked once they were a few steps down the corridor.

From inside the dressing room, the chatter resumed, but it sounded different now, yet still no less loud than before.

De Zerbi exhaled. ”I hope so.”

—

On the opposite side of the stadium, rain hit the tunnel roof in a steady rhythm.

Nolan stepped out first and was met instantly by the roar of the Amex, a thick wall of sound mixed with the hiss of rain.

He blinked against the lights and turned toward Dawson.

”Was it really necessary to bring him?” Nolan asked, lowering his voice.

Dawson didn’t look at him immediately.

He was watching the pitch, the away section where the Wigan crowd were now settled, before turning to look at the former.

”Relax,” he said. ”I spoke to the doctor. He’s got a place down here. Checked him this morning.”

”That’s not what I meant.”

”I know what you meant,” Dawson replied calmly.

”But he wanted to be here, and the doctor also agrees that there is nothing wrong with it, so there is no problem. If this makes him feel inclusive, then I will gladly do it because we have to keep in mind that he is still just a kid.”

Nolan glanced back toward the tunnel just as Leo emerged.

He wore a thick black puffer coat zipped to his chin with the hood up against the rain.

The brace was still strapped around his leg beneath his trousers, noticeable only in the slight stiffness of his stride.

He moved carefully but without hesitation, passing Nolan with a small nod before making his way toward the bench where a couple of the bench players were waving him over.

Nolan watched him for a second longer than he intended, then followed Dawson out into the open air.

A few minutes later, the noise swelled again as both teams began to line up outside the tunnel, making their way onto the pitch with Brighton appearing in their very familiar blue and white while Wigan came out in their navy with red stripes shirt.

Leo settled onto the bench, eyes locked onto the pitch, particularly, Moises Caicedo.

Glancing back at Leo and following his gaze, Dawson could feel the longing in the eyes of the boy as it was the first time Wigan had met a Premier League side in the while and was a chance for Leo to play against one and experience how it felt.

Yet, Leo was injured and shouldn’t have even been on the bench.

”Your time will come, lad,” Dawson muttered before turning towards the pitch where the players were now in their respective positions, awaiting only the whistle of the official.

.....

[In the away stands]

”What a troll it was,” a fan said with a laugh, while around him, a few others nodded.

”Picked up my phone a few hours before the game and saw a post talking about how Leo was on the bench for the game against Brighton, and thought to myself how it was possible when they said he was out for possibly 3-4 months, only to read it and see that he was just there as a spectator.”

In the seat away, a man laughed, nodding slowly at that as he had also fallen victim.

”I personally wondered what killer methods they had used to bring the boy back early,” he added before his gaze turned towards the pitch.

”It would have been nice to see what he could do against this side,” he muttered a bit more silently while back on the pitch, Wigan immediately sent a long ball towards the final third of Brighton’s half.

Immediately, the ball began dropping, players of both sides swarmed the area of intent of the ball, but ultimately, and by some sheer power, Moises Caicedo got the ball under control without even rising to the skies when others were.

”Lovely touch by Caicedo,” the commentator noted as the Ecuadorian defensive midfielder glanced behind sharply and laid the ball off to Lewis Dunk, Brighton’s captain.

And that was the last Wigan saw of the ball for the following few minutes because Brighton, showing off their quality, immediately took reins of the game and began toying around with the Wigan players who kept chasing around like headless chickens.

When the away side won the ball back, it felt more like a pitiful give because Brighton immediately took the ball back, showing off their expert man-marking under Roberto De Zerbi.

”What a difference in quality between the two sides,” the commentary judged as Brighton began showing signs of attacking.

”We all knew it wasn’t going to be easy for them, but this...” the co-commentator added, not bothering to finish his words as the ball soon found Kaoru Mitoma on the left wing.

The Japanese international slowed down immediately he got the ball while from Wigan, Lang charged at him, only to feel the ball slipping through the gap between his legs and then in the next second, Mitoma exploded behind him, as the roar of the Amex crowd rose again.

”That’s what he’s known for. A phenom of dribbling and almost unstoppable when he’s on the move,” the commentator said as Mitoma pushed forward, edging closer and closer towards the box of Wigan, but as he tried to pivot towards the far left again, Darikwa cut him off, before Max Power dragged the ball back from the feet of Mitoma to complete the double team.

”But I guess that’s one way of stopping him,” the commentator continued with a chuckle as Wigan tried to string together a sequence of passes, but that led to nothing and almost half an hour later, both teams still hadn’t done enough to put the ball at the back of the net.

For the Amex fans in particular, it was very annoying as they had seen their team break down the Wigan defence and set up time and time again, only for the chance to be squandered or for Wigan’s Ben Amos to save it.

”You can feel Brighton inching closer and closer again,” the co-commentator said as the home side tried mounting another attack.

”Well, that’s what we’ve been saying for the past half hour,” the main commentator said almost in a sigh, but his sigh turned into a hitch of breath, as Brighton’s Undav made his way onto the edge of the box and slipped another pass to Mitoma on the left wing.

”It’s Mitoma!!!!” the commentator roared as the winger cut inside and let one fly, but all eyes could only watch as the ball smashed against the right post before going out for a goal kick.

”Ohhhh, almost,” the commentator said as the winger swept his hands over his face in anguish.

Rising to his feet, Ben Amos was almost reluctant to go and grab the ball, but one of the ball boys tossed one to him, keeping the game in flow.