Harbinger Of Glory

The tunnel released them into the afternoon sunlight, and the noise waiting outside wrapped around them immediately.

The Amex was full now.

Blue shirts covered almost every stand, but there were variations of them.

The Brighton supporters rose to greet their team as they emerged from the tunnel.

The team’s anthem rolled through the speakers, and beneath it all was the frantic energy of waving flags only visible on special matchdays like these.

Down the pitch, the Wigan and Brighton players spread across the pitch as the stadium announcer’s voice boomed through the ground.

”Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome today’s visitors, Wigan Athletic!”

The pocket of noise behind the goal erupted after hearing that, and it wasn’t any less loud despite the numbers.

The away end answered every cheer from the home supporters with one of their own, blue-and-white scarves lifting into the air as the announcer began reading through the team sheet.

”Starting in goal, number one... Ben Amos!”

The goalkeeper raised a hand toward the away section and was rewarded with a burst of applause.

”Number eighteen... Femi Seriki!”

Another roar followed.

”Number five... Jack Whatmough!”

The defender acknowledged it with a brief clap above his head before continuing his walk across the pitch.

One by one the names came.

O’Shea.

Power.

Bennet.

And each was greeted by supporters who had spent years waiting to see their club return to grounds like this.

The announcer paused briefly before reaching the final few names.

”Wearing Wigan’s number 8.....”

At the mention of this, the reaction from the fans started before the name was even spoken.

”...Leo Calderon!”

The cheers behind this name were audibly different and much louder compared to the other ones.

Several supporters near the front leaned over the railings, shouting his name again as the chant took hold of the section.

”LEO! LEO! LEO!”

He heard every bit of it, and the faith behind the shouts was beginning to scare him a bit.

The chant followed him a little longer before gradually fading into the wider noise of the stadium.

Then Brighton’s lineup announcement began.

The volume inside the Amex rose another level, and soon the commentary found the scene from the gantry.

”Both sides out now, and the atmosphere inside the Amex is building.

Brighton looking to make a statement in their opening home fixture, and Wigan Athletic looking to make one of their own.

The lineups are in, and Dawson has gone with what you’d consider his strongest available eleven.”

The co-commentator worked through them as the camera panned across the pitch.

In Italy, the television was on, but no one was really paying attention to it as Vittoria and Gianna went between the kitchen and the living room.

After being the last to go to the kitchen, Vittoria came back and dropped onto the couch beside Gianna, setting the bag of gummies and the other things she’d gathered on the cushion between them.

Gianna looked at the spread and then glanced back up at Vittoria.

”Just because weight doesn’t stick to you,” she said, ”doesn’t mean you should treat your body like a testing facility.”

Vittoria waved her off and pulled Gianna into her side and looked at the screen where the broadcast was showing the lineups.

At the mention of Leo’s name, Vittoria’s smile widened, but before Gianna could complain, Carlo’s mention also lit up her face, with Vittoria looking at her like, ”I wish you talked,” before bringing her attention back to the TV, where the camera had found Leo.

”Is it me or is Leo getting more handsome?” Vittoria muttered while leaning forward, which got a bit of an eye roll from Gianna.

Back at the Amex, Whatmough had gathered his mates around.

He wasn’t built for speeches or for players’ morale, and that was why Darikwa usually wore the armband, but with the latter out and the armband around his arm, he knew he had to step up.

”This matters,” he said, looking around at the faces.

”Not just for us but for the people up there,” he said, nodding towards the away end without looking at it.

”We are getting paid whether we win or lose, but they get nothing, so this is the least we can give them.

How we start today can set the rest of the season, and everything after it, so let’s go all out and start with a bang.”

The players listened and listened well.

After that, the huddle broke, and the players drifted into position as the noise around the Amex continued to swell.

Leo walked towards the left side of midfield and rolled his shoulders once, trying to ease whatever tension had swelled there in anticipation of the game, but it did nothing.

He looked around the stadium once more, and for a second, Leo realised that he might have made it.

A struggling kid almost 2 years ago, but now, there was proof of his struggle in the Premier League logo on the pitchside boards.

In the television cameras tracking every movement and in the packed stands with fans shouting and chanting his name.

Suddenly the occasion felt heavier to him now that he had realised that, and the game was seconds away from actually beginning.

Away from Leo and his thoughts, the match official checked both assistants before finally raising the whistle, and soon, the shrill sound of his whistle cut through the stadium and Brighton kicked off.

And immediately they did, the ball disappeared from Wigan’s reach.

One pass became three.

And then three became six, then twelve.

Brighton weren’t moving quickly.

That was the frustrating part.

Nothing about it looked rushed.

Nothing looked particularly dangerous, but the ball simply kept finding blue shirts despite Wigan’s attempts to cut them off.

Every pass arrived exactly where it needed to, and every receiving player seemed to have space.

Leo shuffled across with the rest of the midfield, keeping his shape while watching the movement unfold in front of him.

For a few seconds, everything looked under control.

Their passes were well stitched together, but at least he could keep up.

That was what he thought, but he spoke too soon because suddenly, Brighton accelerated.