Harbinger Of Glory

At first, the change was difficult to spot.

Brighton had been moving the ball comfortably since kickoff, but now there was a little more intent behind it.

A midfielder received possession and turned instead of recycling it backwards.

Another stepped into a pocket that hadn’t been there a second earlier.

The passes were still simple, yet each one seemed to pull Wigan a little further out of shape.

Before Leo fully recognised what was happening, Solly March had found space between the lines and was already facing forward, running with the ball, trying to make something happen.

Leo stepped across immediately while Max Power shifted over with him as the midfield duo worked in tandem to block the inside route, but March threaded the pass through it anyway.

The opening couldn’t have been much wider than a yard, but João Pedro had started his run before the ball even left March’s foot.

By the time Leo realised it and turned, Pedro collected the pass in stride and drove straight at the retreating defence.

The crowd sensed the danger before the chance had fully developed and began rising from their seats as Leo chased him down from behind.

The distance closed quickly, and for a moment it looked as though he might get there, but Joao Pedro thought otherwise.

Without breaking stride, he nudged the ball through Leo’s legs and burst beyond him, drawing a roar from the stands as he entered the penalty area.

”PEDRO’S THROUGH HERE!”

The commentator’s voice rose with the moment as Ben Amos came flying off his line, making himself as big as possible while Pedro opened his body and drove the ball across goal.

For a split second, the Amex was ready to celebrate.

Amos certainly thought it was heading in.

He launched himself full length, fingertips stretching desperately toward the shot as it flashed beyond him, but at the last second, the ball drifted inches wide of the far post while a collective groan swept around the stadium.

Behind the goal, the travelling Wigan supporters finally released the breath they had been holding.

”By a whisker and Wigan survive!” the commentator’s voice rose above the noise.

”And that is the closest either side has come this afternoon! It is still early here at the Amex!”

Leo remained bent over for a second longer than he wanted.

Not because he was tired but because he was trying to get his thoughts together.

In the Championship he would have usually spotted that run, but it seemed like the players at the level didn’t wait for you to catch up.

They punished hesitation immediately.

Amos placed the ball down for the goal kick and, for a moment, he looked at the short options, but each one of them disappeared in seconds.

The Brighton players moved forward, marking the spaces instead of the Wigan men, but that meant that the latter side were always under threat.

”Whatmough!” Amos called, but the latter shook his head.

”Just send it long!”

Amos nodded at that, and despite his averseness, he sent the ball long.

The ball travelled about fifty yards only for a Brighton defender to win it comfortably.

The second ball landed in midfield, and Brighton won that too.

Then another.

Then another.

And just like that, Wigan were defending again.

The ball kept moving.

The pitch seemed to stretch wider every time Brighton had possession.

One moment Wigan were compressed on the left.

The next they were sprinting across to the right, always chasing and yet never quite arriving where they wanted to be.

Eventually the minutes began to tick by.

Seven.

Eight.

Eleven

Then thirteen.

Wigan were still in the game, but for the first time since promotion became reality, the Premier League was looking more like a curse than a blessing.

”They’re dragging us around like dolls,” Nolan said on the touchline behind Dawson, who watched the pitch and the ongoing scenes with a calculative look.

”Leo needs a foothold,” he said.

”Once he gets one, they’ll settle. I am sure of that, but I really hope that break comes soon before we concede because that would kill our already dwindling morale further!”

As that talk went on the sidelines, Carlo, who hadn’t even gotten a sniff of the ball since the game began, dropped deeper.

And even with that, it wasn’t until after a couple of minutes and in a rare spell of ball possession by Wigan that he received the ball in a pocket of space between Brighton’s midfield and defensive lines, with Dahoud and Milner both moving to close him.

”Something to cheer for Wigan fans,” the commentator started, voice lifting slightly.

Carlo shifted with his quick feet and was through the gap between the two of them, but then suddenly, Milner’s boot got to the ball from behind, and before Carlo could recover, the ball was already gone.

”Ah, guess I spoke too soon,” the commentator said, earning a chuckle from his co-commentator beside him.

Back on the pitch, Milner was already up and pointing, organising the space ahead of him, and Joao Pedro responded to the call before the instruction had finished, making the diagonal run as Milner sent the ball diagonally through the Wigan lines.

Pedro touched it, just enough to redirect it around Leo, who had stepped across to intercept.

Being made to spin around involuntarily for the second time that game, Leo dropped low and went to the ground instead of running.

His leg extended and caught the ball cleanly enough to clip it sideways to Whatmough before rising immediately, already thinking about what came next.

Because Whatmough was going to need an option straight away and the Brighton press was going to arrive before that option had time to present itself naturally.

Whatmough received it and looked and found everything cut off.

Even Welbeck was pressing Amos out of the picture, and the angles to the wide players were also covered.

With no other out, he passed the ball right into the stride of Leo, who called for it.

Leo took it and turned, and Joao Pedro was on him immediately, tight and relentless as he used his body to make the space uncomfortable, all while Leo rolled the ball under his foot and looked to at least find a pass.

He found nothing, and when he didn’t, he decided to take it to the sidelines.

He drove along the touchline with Pedro beside him, the Brazilian leaning into him, pushing at the edge of what the referee was going to allow, but Leo held on, his body lower than Pedro expected, and pushed through the contact.