Harbinger Of Glory

With nothing else but their grit and hope, West Ham kept coming for the remaining twenty minutes and kept finding nothing.

Every ball into the box met a Wigan body that had no business being there as quickly as it was.

West Ham kept finding ways out of their own half and were seeing more of the ball, but the issue with the team was what happened after they had the ball.

Bowen would break forward and find Seriki waiting.

Paquetá would drift into space and immediately have a blue shirt at his shoulder.

Benrahma would receive a wide pass, look up, and find the box crowded before he could even think about crossing.

The attacks never truly died, but they slowed and then eventually stalled, forcing them to backtrack.

Wigan’s shape kept swallowing them whole.

Every player seemed to know exactly where the next danger was coming from, and five minutes later, West Ham were beginning to discover something frustrating:

Getting through midfield was possible but getting through the last thirty yards was something else entirely.

Dawson watched it hold and decided not to gamble with it.

At the seventy-fifth minute he made his move.

He took off Jake and Reyes, the two most attacking-minded players on the pitch and replaced them with Leo’s deputy in midfield, Max Power and Adeeko.

After that, he switched to something that looked like a 4-5-1, except the 1 was Leo, who was leading the press.

Even Ezra and Carlo tucked in and began playing more like wingbacks, and even they were eventually replaced, with McClean coming on for Carlo in the 82nd minute and then Will Keane coming on for Ezra a minute later.

The West Ham attacks STILL kept arriving and kept faltering, each one a little more desperate than the last.

Moyes’s side threw bodies forward with urgency, but it didn’t matter.

A while later the whistle came, and the DW gave it back the only way it knew how, which was with everything it had left.

”That’s full time,” the commentator said as the noise of the stadium made its way even to the gantry after the referee blew his whistle.

”A convincing victory for Wigan Athletic against a West Ham side that arrived here on the back of two straight wins and were looking to make it three.

Well, it seems it won’t be today and certainly not against this Wigan team.”

On the pitch, Leo had been sitting on the grass for the final few seconds, and after resting for a bit, he got up and moved through the handshakes with the rest of his teammates, applauding the Wigan end as he went, the noise rolling down from every tier.

As the game began to wind down, the stadium announcer’s voice came through the speakers.

”Your man of the match. LEOOOOOOOOO!!! Calderon.”

The roar that followed was its own separate event, distinct from the full-time noise that had preceded it.

”Three games,” the commentator said on the broadcast after the announcer finished.

”And three man of the match awards. Talk about a statement player.

That takes Wigan to nine points from three games. Only Manchester City have matched that record so far this season. For a newly promoted side, that is an extraordinary achievement.”

”Yes James it is but it won’t stay this comfortable,” the co-commentator said.

”Their next match will be at Craven Cottage, and I am sure that it’ll get more challenging for them as the league gets used to them.

As it stands now, they are 3rd with 9 points on the table and a game in hand, but I’ll say this. I think Dawson and this group of players can handle whatever comes after all they’ve shown.”

The broadcast camera found Dawson on the touchline, just releasing Leo from a brief hug, his hand still on the back of the teenager’s neck for a second longer before letting go.

”Well, it has been a good fixture. It’s Wigan Athletic two, West Ham United nil,” the commentator said as he ended.

”Goodnight to you all and thank you for watching.”

.....

After the game ended, it didn’t take too long for the players to make their way towards the complex.

And after a short team meeting with Dawson, they all split off.

The feeling of the win was slowly draining, replaced by fatigue, and so when they got to the parking lot, all that happened were some silent goodbyes before all the players slid into their respective modes of transport and began walking away.

Eventually, Leo pulled into his spot outside the apartment building just shy of half an hour later.

He killed the headlights and sat for a second before getting out, feeling like he had to figure out how to walk again.

He made his way up, opened the door and sighed before he’d even fully stepped through it, but it was cut short when he faced the figure that was all smiles in front of him.

”Good evening, champ,” she said, and threw herself at him before he’d properly closed the door.

He caught her, one arm coming around her automatically as he shut the door behind him.

”How was your day?” he said as she leaned back just enough to look at him.

”I watched my boyfriend win his third man of the match award. And his team won. So I’m more than okay.”

Leo smiled and pecked her on the cheek before looking back at her.

”Glad to hear it.”

She stayed attached to him as he carried both of them toward the kitchen, setting his bag down on the counter, and then turned to find her still there, looking at him as if she wanted something.

Leo smiled but heeded, knowing what she wanted and lifted her onto the countertop.

”Yipee,” Vittoria joked as Leo leaned forward.

”I could get used to this,” he said, but Vittoria put a hand flat on his chest, stopping him from leaning any further and pecked him on the cheek instead.

”Shower,” she said as Leo laughed.

”Fair.”

He picked her back up off the counter and set her down on her feet, and then reached for the duffel bag he’d brought back from the stadium.

He slung that over his shoulder as he headed toward the hallway, leaving her standing in the kitchen with the smile still on her face.