Harbinger Of Glory

While he did so, Calvert-Lewin sprinted towards him, not trying to avoid the encounter.

He slid right beside Leo, trying to use his weight on the slightly lean Leo, but Leo, gathering his strength, planted his foot and shrugged off the challenge from Lewin, sending the latter to the ground instead while Leo kept on moving.

”And Calderon goes past Calvert-Lewin as if to make a point,” the commentator came through.

”That felt petty but we sometimes forget that Leo is also a kid and kids are the pettiest,” the co-commentator added!

On the pitch, Leo pointed briefly at his arm, the most subtle possible flex of strength before playing the ball forward.

Lewin, on the other hand, got up looking a bit embarrassed at the whole situation, but he was going to have it worse because what followed after this whole encounter was almost comic in its thoroughness.

Leo dropped into positions that happened to be exactly where Lewin wanted to receive the ball, blocking passing lanes by standing in them.

When Lewin tried to create space, Leo followed him there, and whenever Lewin shaped to shoot, Leo was somehow between him and the goal.

”Ball’s fallen nicely for Calvert Lewin,” the commentary called one time as the striker looked to place the ball in the back of the net, but out of nowhere Leo appeared again, outmuscling Calvert Lewin, who still tried to play the ball, but sent it out for a throw instead.

”Eighthieth minute now,” the commentator said.

”And Leo Calderon has essentially kept Calvert-Lewin out of this game for the last ten minutes personally. The frustration on the striker’s face is very visible.”

”It must be one of the most annoying experiences in football,” the co-commentator said.

”Having an eighteen-year-old follow you around the pitch and make everything you try to do disappear.”

Before the game could go on any longer, the referee paused the game and pointed towards the touchline where the fourth official’s board was up, signalling the changes to be made.

Wigan went first, making four changes at once.

First, McClean came off for Carlo.

And then Tiehi came on for Reyes to provide more defensive cover, while Leo filled the role of Reyes.

On the third, Jake came on for Will Keane, while lastly Seriki came on for Darikwa.

In response to that, Calvert-Lewin was taken off for Beto, Sean Dyche recognising the latter’s ineffectiveness in the game that was being played, while on the left flank, McNeil was replaced by Danjuma, the home side’s own acknowledgement that what they had been trying wasn’t working.

”Significant changes from both sides,” the commentator said, as Bennet gathered the ball for the throw-in.

”The game enters its final phase, and neither side has fully got what they came for. Everton, still searching for an equaliser and Wigan, very determined to deny them one.”

After the changes had been made, Bennet picked his spot with the ball and threw it in toward Whatmough, who got his chest to it and sent it long towards the left flank.

There a battle ensued between Young and Carlo, who was already reading the flight of it before it arrived.

When it did, he took it on his chest and somehow turned the control into a pass to himself in one motion, the ball rolling into the space ahead of him beyond Young’s reach.

Caught off guard, Young did the only thing he could and tried to grab Carlo’s arm, but the latter powered through it.

The referee waved play on as the arm came free, and suddenly Carlo was running with genuine space ahead of him while the away end found their voice immediately as the commentary came up behind him.

”Carlo Regutti, shrugging off that challenge from Young. He’s away here now!”

Carlo drove inside and then suddenly directed the ball at an angle, forcing him to cut towards goal.

He poised himself, using his left leg as a pivot to toss himself right into the direction of the ball he had knocked ahead, all while he picked his head up, searching for an angle, but he met a body instead.

Branthwaite stepped up with the timing of a centre back who has decided to deal with something before it becomes worse, but at the last second, Carlo improvised using a touch so subtle it barely registered as a decision.

And it did just enough to redirect the ball past the outstretched leg.

As Carlo bent, pushing himself off the ground to adjust his balance, Branthwaite’s follow-through caught his leg, and before he could even huff or puff, Carlo went down.

”That’s a foul, and that was something,” the co-commentator said right as the whistle came.

Carlo stayed on the turf for a second, one hand on the grass as he caught his breath.

The away end had already risen during his run, every touch dragging more noise out of that corner of Goodison.

When Branthwaite had finally brought him down, the roar broke apart into a mixture of frustration and anticipation.

Though there was still fortune in the foul they’d won, it never felt right to stop something so beautiful.

Back on the pitch, the referee approached the scene of the offence before putting his hands into his pocket and then fishing out a yellow card for Branthwaite.

The latter accepted it with a brief shake of his head, while Carlo climbed back to his feet and rubbed the back of his calf before looking toward the ball that Leo was already walking over to collect.

”He was so close to getting through there,” the commentator said again.

”Carlo Regutti has driven nearly forty yards with the ball before Branthwaite finally brings him down, and now one can even fault him because he had to. One more touch and Carlo was in.”

”And now,” the co-commentator added, ”Wigan have exactly the kind of free kick they would have wanted. Close enough to shoot, far enough away to make the goalkeeper think. Jordan Pickford won’t be enjoying this.”