Harbinger Of Glory

The second half began with Chelsea doing exactly what teams tend to do when they’re trailing at home.

They took the ball and refused to give it back.

Possession moved from defender to defender, into midfield and out again as the home side tried to establish control and force Wigan deeper with every passing minute.

By the time the broadcast flashed the numbers on screen, Chelsea had enjoyed almost ninety per cent of the ball since the restart.

It sounded overwhelming, but for those watching, it looked far less convincing because Wigan still hadn’t conceded, nor did they even look particularly stretched.

And as another blue shirt received the ball thirty yards from goal, the frustration around Stamford Bridge continued to grow.

”Chelsea with the ball. Almost all of it and yet,” the main commentator said before halting as his partner took over.

”And yet Wigan are completely fine with this,” the co-commentator said.

”I mean it. They are not bothered in the slightest.

They’ve sat in their shape and absorbed everything Chelsea have tried to push through, and the moment anything gets into a dangerous area they’ve shut it down.

Calmly and without panic.”

”You think they’d settle for this for the remaining thirty minutes?” the main commentator asked after a while.

”I think if Chelsea keep playing like this, Wigan would defend for a hundred and thirty minutes and not lose sleep over it.

But it won’t stay like this.

The moment Chelsea gives the ball away, even for a second, there’s a counter waiting. And from what we’ve seen all day, Leo Calderon doesn’t need long.”

On the pitch, Enzo had the ball at his feet.

They’d been a bit relaxed earlier, but time was ticking by, and they needed to make something count soon if they were to go on and win the game.

With the ball still at his feet and no immediate threat of pressure, Enzo took up a wider position on the left and lifted his head, seeking to get a cross into the box, but before he could do so, Caicedo’s voice reached him almost immediately.

The Argentine spotted the Ecuadorian settled on the edge of the box, and immediately he did, he punched the pass through the gap between Ezra and Max Power, threading it through a space that looked too small until the ball was travelling through it.

Caicedo met it on the move, and suddenly Chelsea were advancing with purpose again.

Immediately Caicedo touched the ball, the Wigan players around rushed quickly, trying to get the ball off the midfielder, but before they could get there, Caicedo nudged the ball once and let it fly.

”HE HAD A SHOTTTTT!”

The commentary called as the ball travelled sharply and directly towards Wigan’s goal.

It looked dangerous, but it was a bit too easy in the end for Amos, who got across and pushed it over the bar.

The sound that followed came from a Chelsea crowd that had been waiting for something to grab onto.

It wasn’t a goal, but after spending much of the half watching Wigan sit comfortably in their shape, a dangerous attack was enough to bring Stamford Bridge to life again.

”Now that’s much better from Chelsea,” the commentator said.

”Caicedo with real intent and Amos has done well to keep it out. Corner.”

As the players began taking their positions, Leo drifted away from the penalty area.

There was little point in joining a contest against Whatmough, Thiago Silva and Disasi that he was unlikely to win, and both he and Max Power knew it.

As Leo moved away from the box, Power quietly dropped into the space he left behind.

Palmer’s delivery arrived a moment later, and Silva met it cleanly, directing a powerful header toward goal, but Amos had judged the flight early.

The goalkeeper came through the crowd decisively, caught it with both hands and, before Chelsea could even think about reorganising, immediately looked forward.

Leo, who had settled on the edge of the box, was already moving.

The ball was bowled towards him quickly by Amos, and immediately, he turned to carry it forward, but he’d barely taken two strides before he felt a sharp tug at the back of his shirt.

He tried to hold on, but the more he struggled, the more his shirt wrapped around his neck.

In the next second, the whistle came through, right as Leo fell to the ground.

When he turned around, Enzo Fernández already had both hands raised against the referee, who didn’t hesitate to pull out the yellow card.

”Correct decision,” the commentator said.

”Enzo has stopped what could’ve been a very promising break for Wigan and the referee’s dealt with it immediately.

No complaints from Fernández either. He knew exactly what he was doing.”

The interruption lasted only a few seconds.

Leo got right back up, placed the ball down and restarted quickly, finding Reyes nearby.

Reyes returned it immediately and started forward, looking to inject some pace into the move, but Leo chose otherwise.

Rather than forcing the attack, he kept the ball and carried it himself, taking small touches as he moved across the pitch and refusing to settle in one area long enough for Chelsea to close him down properly.

The game had become rushed again over the last few minutes, driven by Chelsea’s urgency to find an equaliser, but Leo wasn’t interested in playing at that speed.

If Wigan were going to move forward, they would do it when the spaces appeared, not when Chelsea wanted them to.

The Chelsea players tracked him and couldn’t quite get to him as his movement was always fractionally ahead of the commitment.

”Leo’s,” the main commentator said with a little chuckle in his voice.

”He’s almost toying with them!”

That was what the commentary thought, but Leo wasn’t thinking about what it looked like.

He was thinking about Fletcher’s run, which had started on the other side of the pitch and was almost where it needed to be.

The moment Cole Palmer stepped up, Leo pulled away.

The sudden acceleration subconsciously pulled the Chelsea players closer, and the moment he spotted that, his leg came through the ball, hooking it forward and into the sky.

That pass broke the Chelsea defensive line, finding Fletcher in the space behind it with the timing that made the run and the ball arrive as one thing rather than two.

”Leo Calderon and he’s picked out Fletcher in behind,” the commentator said, the voice rising.

”Fletcher through and it’s just him and......”

Sanchez.

That was the name the commentary couldn’t produce.

The Goalkeeper came fast.

Faster than most keepers should before committing, making his decision before he’d even thought it through.

He lunged right at the ball, trying to push it away, but his intent had already been spotted by Fletcher, who pushed the ball away to go around him, which was the right instinct.

Except that Sanchez’s momentum had already been committed, and there was no version of what happened next where the goalkeeper stopped in time.

The collision was heavy and immediate, and the sound of it reached the stands before the reaction did.

The Wigan fans found their voices and then lost them again as Fletcher went to the ground and didn’t get up.