Harbinger Of Glory

Although it was getting late, the streets of Milan weren’t getting any less lively.

After their little session, Vittoria hadn’t let Leo go until he told her about the curfew they had to follow.set

Currently, Leo was on his way back to the hotel they were staying at, with his phone in his face and his thumbs moving frantically across the screen of his phone.

I didn’t say yes, Vittoria had texted, talking about her reaction after Leo had officially asked her out.

Really, he typed back.

What more do you want from me he sent a moment later.

Her reply came with the anticipation of someone who had been watching the three dots appear on their screen and already had a reply waiting.

That’s for you to figure out, she typed, adding the smiling emoji with a hand over its mouth.

It was something he had come to understand was her way of being pleased with herself without fully admitting it.

After a few more messages and apologies since he kept bumping into a few people, he slid the phone into his pocket and focused on getting to the hotel.

The next morning, the Wigan players were spread across the pitch in various stages of stretching, some more committed to the process than others.

Behind them, the San Siro sat in the near distance, and as always, it was one of the most magnificent human architectural ingenuities one’s eyes would lay upon in life.

Carlo was working through his hamstring stretch when Leo’s head appeared to his right.

”When did you get back yesterday?” Leo said as Carlo leaned away, said nothing and then kept stretching.

”Carlo,” Leo mentioned again, but Carlo didn’t bother.

”You dirty dog,” Leo said, which made Carlo shove him sideways without looking up.

”I have to call Vittoria,” Leo said, recovering his balance, ”and make sure she checks in on Gianna or something.”

Carlo shoved him again, harder this time, as a smile invaded his expression.

One of the coaches walked past the two of them, bobbing his head from side to side in disapproval before coming up to the players.

”Get your muscles loose,” he said, not breaking stride.

”Both of you. Pick up an injury before the game, and I and my complaints will be the least of your problems.”

The two of them separated without further discussion and focused on their bodies, while some distance away from them, Dawson stood on the touchline.

He watched his players move through the stretching shapes and let his mind run where it wanted to run, which was the same place it had been running for the past week.

The lineup question.

He had two versions of this team in his head, and he couldn’t fully commit to either of them.

One was the combination of a youthful and experienced team, but as he had tried against Dortmund, they always found themselves coming short of something.

He knew the problems with that setup, but knowing and solving your problems weren’t the same.

On the other side, he could go for the purely youthful team or the experienced team, with both variations having their lacks but at the same time their strengths.

He watched the players go on for a bit before stepping out and clapping once to call for a switch in the drill.

After his instructions, the players switched and kept on with the morning and the rest of whatever was to come.

----

3 days later, the San Siro was ready to do the bidding of the players, though in moderate amounts.

Unlike how it was usually, the stands were not full.

A good portion of the seats sat empty, and the Milan supporters who had come were expressing their feelings about the fixture.

They were the fans who believed their club’s pre-season should have come with a higher calibre of opposition, and the murmuring had been going on since the lineups were announced and had not fully subsided.

Dawson stood on the touchline and looked at the stadium around him.

”We really took Dortmund for granted,” he said to Nolan beside him.

”They treated us with every inch of respect as opponents, but this.......”

Nolan looked at the stands and nodded in agreement, but then looked away a moment later.

On the pitch, the Milan players were young.

Noticeably young.

Dawson’s opposite number had made his calculations about the fixture and the lineup he’d fielded reflected them clearly, a collection of academy graduates and fringe players getting minutes in a game the club had filed under low risk.

Dawson looked at his own side.

He had done something similar and something different at the same time.

In goal was one of the younger keepers, while the back four had the new addition, Seriki, as the only senior presence, making his first appearance in a Wigan shirt and around him were players who had mainly known their places on the bench of Wigan.

The midfield pivot had a new face in Baba Adeeko.

The latter was a Nigerian from Wigan’s U23 squad who had spent the previous half of the season catching Dawson’s attention in training with the particular quality of someone who never stopped giving chase.

The literal definition of a tireless workhorse who moved almost like an unwashable stain on a white shirt.

Ahead of the two was Reyes, while Carlo sat on the left, with Ezra positioned in the opposite space.

And striking for the day was none other than Jake, whom Dawson had forgone Fletcher to choose.

It was currently the youngest starting eleven Wigan could field.

Just ahead of the Wigan defensive line and settled in the pivot with Baba Adeeko, Leo stood in his position and felt the armband sitting on his left arm and looked at it for a second.

In terms of seniority within this particular lineup, Dawson had made a straightforward call to have Leo have the armband on since he was much more established in the team than most.

But standing here now with it on, in the San Siro of all places, Leo was starting to feel what the skippers felt despite the game being just a pre-season game.

After a while, he looked up at the pitch ahead of him where the referee gathered himself at the centre.

Before he could look away, the referee glanced at their end, and then at Milan’s, before his whistle came through.

”Good evening and welcome to the Giuseppe Meazza,” the commentator said on the broadcast as the familiar shape of the stadium filled the pause left by his voice.

”Pre-season continues for Wigan Athletic, and what a venue to continue it in. AC Milan, the hosts tonight, and while both sides have fielded experimental lineups, there is plenty here to pay attention to.

One of such stories is the armband on the left arm of Leo Calderon, eighteen years old, captaining Wigan Athletic this evening inside one of the most storied stadiums in European football.”

”A statement of trust from Dawson,” the co-commentator said.

”And one that tells you exactly what this manager thinks of that player, regardless of his age.”

”Wigan get us underway,” the main voice said. ”Let’s see what this evening brings.”