Harbinger Of Glory

Leo’s attention was already on the Dortmund half before the whistle had fully faded, reading where the ball was being worked, and he began moving forward in small adjusting steps, keeping level with Max Power, who had pushed out slightly ahead of him.

Their opponents, though, were in no hurry.

They moved the ball across their back line with the comfort of a side that was ahead and knew it, and their crowd did too.

They rallied behind the team, roaring each player’s name and cheering when that player got the ball or passed.

After staying in that limbo for a while, Nmecha very briefly received and held the ball before he laid it to Sabitzer.

The latter indecisvely held onto the ball just twisting and turning and walking around with the ball until he got the angle he wanted, and when he did, he rolled the ball under his feet and onto his strong one before smashing a diagonal ball into the space ahead of Max Power, where Giovanni Reyna ran to meet it only to let it run across his body a split second later.

He had already seen Max Power coming, had already done the calculation.

When Max shifted to close him down, his weight went with the shift, and then his feet went from under him, with the grass offering nothing when he needed it.

And as he went down, Gio Reyna collected the ball and began cutting inside.

The crowd felt the moment open up.

Reyna came deeper toward the Wigan half, and as he did so, Leo backed off in the space in front of him, retreating, measuring the distance, and he kept backing until he understood there was nowhere left to go and that the ground behind him was shrinking.

He knew what his defensive ability was and what it wasn’t, and against Gio Reyna in space, it wasn’t going to be enough.

So he didn’t try.

Instead, he bid his time until the American forward got within reach before he stepped out of the picture deliberately.

The sudden movement caught Reyna off guard as his eyes followed Leo instead for a fraction of a second, and in that fraction, Whatmough arrived from behind like something that had been fired from a cannon.

When Reyna recovered enough to have his eyes settle on Whatmough, he had already been run through, with Whatmough’s shoulder hitting him like a bullet.

Whatmough gripped the ball cleanly despite the force, but the Dortmund fans called for the foul.

They rose to their feet, punching the air and cursing, but that referee had been close and had seen it all go on, so he waved it away.

Immediately after that, Whatmough left the ball, and Leo was already on it.

The moment it touched his foot, he laid it out wide immediately to Joe Bennett on the left.

Joe Bennett took one touch, glanced ahead after noticing movement and played it straight back to Leo because Bamba was already pressing and there was nowhere to go, which was exactly what Leo had wanted.

He had seen Bamba coming before the ball had even reached Bennett, and he had known the return pass was coming, and when it arrived, he was already set.

His stronger right foot set beside the ball before his left foot swung through it with everything he had in it, and as it did, the ball left his boot and looped in a long curling arc over the entire Dortmund backline and into the space on the left flank where Carlo had already gone.

”What a ball,” the commentator said, his voice lifting immediately.

”That is an exceptional pass from Leo Calderon to find Regutti in behind the Dortmund defence. Beautiful football from the eighteen-year-old, but now what?”

As a response to the question posed by the commentator, even though he hadn’t heard it, Carlo got to the ball and knocked it ahead to control his momentum.

And then as quickly as he’d gone ahead, he slowed, almost imperceptibly, as if he had suddenly found something interesting in the middle distance, and Ryerson, reading the hesitation, moved to position himself between Carlo and the box, setting his feet.

The Italian winger leaned over the ball subtly, making slight touches to it, and when he felt Ryerson move to sweep the ball, he hopped and leaned to his right.

Slightly, just enough to suggest he was going right, and Ryerson bought it, until Carlo nudged the ball with the inside of his foot to the left.

Ryerson’s right foot had already committed forward, and with no other out, he spun to chase only to realise that Carlo hadn’t gone in that direction, but had simply gone exactly where the feint had first pointed, straight ahead, through the space Ryerson had just vacated by spinning out of it.

”Oh, that is clever,” the co-commentator said.

”Ryerson absolutely sold himself there. Carlo just waited for him to move and went the other way. The composure of that.”

Carlo, reaching the edge of the box, cut it back into space for Reyes, who was just arriving.

And then the moment he met Reyes’s gaze, he immediately bolted into the area, and Reyes read it without needing to look twice.

He looped the ball over for Carlo arriving at the back post, where Carlo met it on the volley, hitting it cleanly, hitting it well and hitting it downward.

The ball looked destined for the back of the net until Kobel got in front of destiny and dropped fast to deny destiny at the near post.

The ball flew up and away from goal, and with it came the collective exhale of relief and disbelief.

”How has Kobel saved that?” the commentator bellowed.

”Just how? Carlo Regutti has hit that beautifully; the technique on the volley was exceptional, and somehow, Kobel has gotten down to it. That’s some extraordinary goalkeeping.”

Back on the pitch, Hummels collected the loose ball on the edge of the box and cleared it as Dortmund thanked their stars.

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This Chapter is mostly Joshua Brown, who’s been massive with the Golden Tickets. You guys have been good, and all, but bro is serving them like he owns NovelFire or something. Thank you!