Harbinger Of Glory

The apartment descended into chaos less than two minutes after Leo walked through the door.

He’d barely managed to drop his training bag beside the couch before Vittoria ran from the bedroom.

”Hello, love,” Leo muttered as he sat down, but a second later, a pillow was hurled at him.

There wasn’t too much power behind it, and so he caught it, but before he’d even lowered the first, the second arrived.

That one met the same fate.

Across the room, Vittoria stood with her phone in one hand and her last remaining pillow tucked under the other arm, staring at him like she’d already decided he deserved whatever happened next.

”I know,” she said, pointing the phone at him. ”I know I’m the one who told you to say you were single.”

Leo blinked, realising what was going on.

”...Okay?” he said, and couldn’t help a small smirk form on his face.

”I know I did.”

”You did,” he confirmed.

”But I still don’t like hearing it.”

The third pillow left her hands, which Leo swatted aside with one of the other two, and he looked at her helplessly.

”Tori...”

”Don’t ’Tori’ me,” she said and waved the phone again.

”Do you know what they were saying after that?”

”I made the mistake of opening the comments once.”

”’New catch for the ladies,’” she quoted, reading directly from the screen.

”’Too cute.’ ’How is he still single?’”

She lowered the phone just enough to glare at him.

”Then that presenter says you’re too cute to question.”

Leo pressed his lips together, very carefully, but unfortunately, the smile escaped anyway.

Vittoria caught it immediately.

”...You’re laughing.”

”It’s hard not to.”

”You’re actually laughing.”

”I really am trying.”

She narrowed her eyes, pretending like she was going to let it go, but she didn’t.

Turning sharply, Vittoria stepped onto the couch and launched herself over the back of it.

Leo once again caught her on instinct, the two of them going to the floor together with considerably less grace than either would have preferred.

Before they’d settled truly, she swept his arms away and sat on him.

A second later, she took his cheeks in her hands and pinched them.

”I have to hide you,” she said.

”I have a game tomorrow,” Leo said, from beneath the pinching.

”I’ll just announce it myself,” she said, releasing his cheeks.

”Before anyone else gets ideas.”

”No other girl can match up to you,” Leo said as she looked at him sideways with the slow smile of someone filing something away.

”Smooth talker,” she said but kept her whole form on Leo’s abdomen.

Leo raised himself off the floor until his face was close to hers, his hands finding her waist, and pressed his lips briefly to her cheek.

”If you want to tell the world,” he said, ”then we tell them. Leo Calderon belongs to Vittoria D’Averna and Vittoria D’Averna belongs to Leo Calderon.”

She leaned forward until the gap between them was barely anything at all.

”That’s very tempting,” she said.

Leo closed the remaining distance and caught her lower lip between his teeth gently.

She winced slightly, but it was more out of surprise and her feelings than pain as Leo pulled away.

After that, he began rising to his feet with his hands still around her, lifting her with him as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

”Now let’s go eat,” he said as Vittoria protested but let herself be taken away.

......

By late morning the following day, Wigan’s team bus had already made steady progress toward Merseyside.

The motorway gave way to the main road leading up to the stadium.

Inside the bus, conversation was scarce, mostly because there wasn’t too much to talk about.

A few slept with their heads resting against the windows.

Others disappeared beneath headphones while the rest simply watched the streets drift past in silence.

Leo sat by the window with the curtain pulled back, following the rows of houses outside until the driver’s voice broke the stillness.

”We’re here.”

At that, he leaned closer to the glass, and as he did, Goodison Park slowly came into view when the bus rounded another corner.

The old stadium rose from the middle of the surrounding neighbourhood as though it had always belonged there.

Terraced houses stood almost shoulder to shoulder with its walls, leaving barely any space between everyday life and Premier League football.

The closer they got, the busier the streets became as blue scarves and shirts filled the pavements.

Supporters streamed toward the turnstiles from every direction, while burger vans and food stalls did brisk business along the roadside.

Even through the closed windows, the hum of thousands of voices found its way inside.

At the front of the bus, Dawson watched it all through the windscreen.

”They’re giving us a warm welcome,” he said dryly as Nolan glanced outside before letting out a quiet laugh.

”They’re saving the real faces for inside.”

Dawson shook his head with a faint smile, gathered his notebook and jacket, and settled back just as the bus turned into the underground entrance beneath the stadium.

Once they made their way inside, daylight disappeared as large concrete walls replaced brick houses, and within moments the bus rolled to a stop.

The players began grabbing whatever they’d come in with a second after the bus came to a stop.

When they all got down, a member of Goodison Park staff was already waiting.

”This way, gentlemen,” he gestured before leading them through the maze of corridors, barely slowing at each turn before stopping outside the away dressing room.

It was exactly what Leo expected.

Functional and compact.

Nothing about it encouraged visitors to linger.

The players settled in quickly, changing boots, adjusting tape and making their final preparations before kickoff.

About half an hour later, the stadium announcer’s voice echoed faintly through the concrete walls.

”Goodison Park... are you ready?”

When the sound had reverberated around the stadium from the stadium’s speakers, a roar answered, rolling through the stadium and vibrating through the floor beneath their feet enough that it rattled the railings and support platforms around.

Several Wigan players exchanged brief glances in the tunnel.

Their gazes drifted to the players beside them, and in return the Everton players couldn’t help but size them up.

Before any of their gazes could linger, the match official appeared with two of his assistants.

And then a second later, he beckoned both sides forward.

Everton’s players emerged alongside the mascots, young children in blue kits doing their best to match the stride of seasoned professionals.

Lined up on the opposite side, the Wigan team did so alone.

When the teams finally walked out, Goodison Park rose as one.

The home side were welcomed with deafening applause while the visitors received something altogether different.

A wall of boos swept down from every stand, carrying decades of tradition and making it unmistakably clear that this was Everton’s ground.

High above it all, the commentary team came on air.

”Good afternoon and welcome to Goodison Park. And for those of you watching at home, are you as excited as the supporters in this ground right now?”

”You should be,” the co-commentator said immediately.

”Because this fixture, on paper, looked straightforward when the season began. Everton at home against a newly promoted side.

But the side they’re hosting tonight has won every single Premier League game they’ve played this season, the only side to do this aside from Pep Guardiola’s Manchester City.”

”Five from five,” the main commentator confirmed.

”Fifteen points from fifteen. And they’re technically third in the table despite being on matchday six rather than seven, still carrying that game in hand after the Burnley rescheduling. When that game is played, the table could look very different.”

”Everton are not without their own complications,” the co-commentator said.

”They started this season on the back foot after being deducted ten points for breaching the league’s profit and sustainability rules. A ten-point deduction that they have been able to get to just four points now.

They’re working uphill before a ball is kicked. But this is Goodison. And Goodison has a way of making those complications feel temporary.”

On the pitch, both sets of players had shed their warm-up jackets and found their positions, and the referee gathered himself in the centre circle.

Max Power settled into the space on Leo’s right, rolling his shoulders once before looking in the space beside him.

There, Leo slowly trudged and settled before also turning and looking ahead as the match official consulted with his assistants.

Everton, after winning the toss, had decided to kick off, and it had translated into Calvert-Lewin standing over the ball.

He looked at his half before glancing at the referee, who now had his hand to his ear and was making the final checks of his equipment.

When he saw everything fit, he took a few steps forward before bringing his whistle to his mouth.

And then a second later, he let it rip!

FWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!