Harbinger Of Glory

[A moment before kickoff]

Leo made his way along the edge of the pitch as he did; the crowd closest to the dugout couldn’t help but call his name.

He turned slightly and acknowledged them before moving forward.

Even sitting among the substitutes, still wearing his training top, still unable to influence the game directly, there was an undeniable shift in the crowd.

The cameras caught him walking toward a different section of the bench area before eventually finding a seat beside Darikwa, and the captain immediately glanced over.

”You alright?” Darikwa asked as Leo looked at him for a second before scoffing.

”I’m fine.”

Darikwa raised an eyebrow.

”You don’t sound fine,” he said as Leo leaned back into his seat.

”I said I’m fine. Apart from the fact that we’re two goals down.”

That earned a small laugh from Darikwa.

”The game isn’t finished yet.”

At that, Leo turned his head toward him.

”Do you actually believe we’re getting back into this?”

Darikwa looked back toward the pitch where Tottenham’s players were settling into their new half after the switch.

”They’re a good team, Leo.”

”That’s not an answer.”

The captain smiled slightly before shrugging.

”Yeah, I believe it.”

”Because if I don’t believe it, who does?” Darikwa continued.

The answer was simple.

Darikwa had been through the difficult moments with this team.

The losses, the relegation battles, the long journeys, the matches where nobody expected anything from them.

He knew exactly what kind of squad they were.

”Look, if we lose, it’s not the end of the world.”

Hearing that, Leo frowned slightly, but Darikwa continued.

”Look at them. Their squad value is almost six times ours.”

He pointed toward the pitch.

”And that’s after even talking about the players we’ve brought in.”

His eyes moved back toward Leo.

”You, Reyes, Ezra and the other signings. You lot have probably increased our value more than anyone expected. If you weren’t around, this time would be worth pennies.”

Leo listened quietly, his thoughts running amok a bit as he thought about his captain’s words.

Because recently, everything had been about winning: winning the next game.

Winning the next challenge or winning because losing felt impossible.

And maybe that had become a problem for him as he couldn’t sit with the idea of losing, which wasn’t a bad thing, but the expectation had grown so quickly that he had started treating every possible defeat like a disaster.

Like one bad result could break everything they had built.

But looking around now, sitting beside the captain, hearing him speak so calmly about the situation, Leo realised something.

They were still Wigan.

They were still a team that had climbed from places nobody wanted to be.

A team that was supposed to be fighting just to survive.

Not a team that should crumble because Tottenham had taken a two-goal lead.

Leo slowly lifted his head as his eyes returned to the pitch and in that short moment, something changed.

The frustration was still there, but underneath that was a kind of challenge.

The kind that had always brought out the best in him.

........

[Present!]

”And we’re back underway at the DW Stadium,” the commentator announced.

”Wigan trailing Tottenham by two goals, and they have forty-five minutes to try and find a way back into this.”

From the first whistle, Wigan pushed forward.

Yes, they were down, but that was also some form of motivation.

There was no patience in their build-up.

No attempt to slow the game down and regain control.

Every pass was played with more urgency, every run made with more purpose.

They needed a goal, and everyone inside the DW Stadium knew it.

”Wigan have come out with a completely different attitude here,” the commentator said as the home side flooded forward.

”They’re pressing higher, they’re committing more players forward, and they’re clearly desperate to find a way back into this match.”

But that desperation came with a risk.

Tottenham were too experienced to ignore the spaces being left behind.

They waited, they absorbed the pressure, and when they got the chance, they attacked.

The ball moved quickly through midfield, with James Maddison finding pockets of space while Richarlison pulled defenders away with his movement.

Then suddenly, Kulusevski appeared.

The Swedish winger had drifted into the gap behind Wigan’s midfield, and when the pass arrived, he was already turning toward goal.

The stadium immediately fell quiet and almost everyone knew what was coming.

Kulusevski drove forward, entering the box with defenders scrambling back.

He opened his body and then struck, foregoing the passing options to his side.

But Ben Amos was ready.

The goalkeeper stood his ground and took the shot directly against his chest.

The ball bounced away awkwardly, but the danger had been stopped.

A huge roar came from the Wigan supporters, but then, almost immediately, the assistant referee’s flag went up for an offside.

Even if it had ended up in the back of the net, it wouldn’t have counted.

A collective sigh of relief travelled around the stadium as Kulusevski, smiling wryly, turned towards his half.

”Well, Wigan have certainly had a warning there,” the commentator said.

”They’re throwing everything at Tottenham, but they have to be careful. Against a side with this much quality, one mistake can completely kill the game for them.”

Dawson on the touchline finally had enough and began demanding more from his players.

”Calm down!” the manager said as he waved his arms toward the pitch.

”Stay together! Stay organised!”

He understood what was happening.

His players were chasing the equaliser so badly that they were beginning to abandon their shape.

Their desire was keeping Tottenham under pressure, but it was also leaving them vulnerable.

One more careless moment could end everything.

The players reset, and when they did, it was like all the instructions had fallen on deaf ears.

They did not stop, and somehow, that disobedience helped the pressure build as they pinned the away side to their half with no intention of releasing their foothold.

Crosses started flying into the box, second balls were being won, and the away side was being forced to throw their bodies in the way.

Tottenham, who had faced some adversity in the first half, were now being made to look like they were the ones losing.

The home crowd sensed it, and with it the belief returned.