Harbinger Of Glory

Ingram didn’t wait for the celebrations to die down.

He was already shouting.

”Where are you?!” he barked, arms spread wide as he turned on his back line.

”He’s a fullback! How’s he free there?!”

His backline couldn’t answer him.

Doughty pointed once, then stopped halfway through the gesture while Clark shook his head.

Watson just looked away, hands on his hips, still trying to piece together how the ball had slipped through them like that.

Ingram let out one last frustrated shout before turning and jogging back toward his goal, still muttering under his breath.

On the other side, the Wigan players huddled together in celebration near the corner.

They stayed for a while before they turned as one, almost instinctively, backs to the away end as the noise poured down on them.

The wall of sound from the away end followed them all the way back toward the halfway line.

”Wigan! Wigan! Wigan!”

The chant rolled and rolled, gathering weight with every second.

Leo walked ahead of his mates, with some of the players still barraging him with pats on the back and little shoves while Joe Bennet knelt, taking Leo’s leg on his thigh before slipping his hands over it like he was shining it.

Leo laughed at that before the referee beckoned them back.

Up on the touchline, Dawson wasn’t walking.

He was already moving.

”Come on! Come on!” he shouted, waving them forward with both hands. ”Get set! Get set!”

His celebration had long since ended.

He pointed toward the centre, then toward their shape, voice cutting through the fading noise as he pushed them to reset quickly, to stay sharp.

On the broadcast, the gantry picked him out.

”Look at Dawson there,” the commentator said.

”He knows this isn’t done. Not even close.”

”They’ve got the lead,” the co-commentator added, ”but the way this game’s been played... You don’t sit on anything here.”

Back on the pitch, Luton gathered around the centre circle.

There was no delay, just a quiet urgency.

The whistle went, and they were off again.

As if the goal had flipped a switch in them, they began playing way differently.

The passes came quicker now as if they already knew what to do before the ball came.

It was good at first but then it started to fracture, because they were trying to fix everything all at once instead of taking it slowly.

”They’re rushing it,” the co-commentator noted.

”You can see it already.”

”They feel it slipping,” came the reply. ”But they don’t need to. We’ve still got a whole half of football left.”

Luton kept on pushing.

They worked the ball wide, then inside, then wide again, probing, searching, but every time they looked like they might settle into something, the move broke down.

And more often than not, it broke down around the same area.

Leo but the funny thing was he wasn’t even tackling them.

He just... stood where he needed to be and that made angles close before they opened.

The passing lanes that looked available disappeared the moment a Luton player tried to use them, which caused the home side to make more mistakes.

”Interesting role he’s playing,” the commentator said, voice tightening slightly with curiosity.

”He’s rendering the work of the home side useless.”

”It’s very brilliant work from a player with less than a year of professional football under his belt,” the co-commentator replied.

”Wigan will be very pleased with him should they make it past the finish line.”

As the commentators spoke, another Luton move stalled forcing a back pass but that back pass ended at the feet of Fletcher who immediately passed it past the Wigan midfield line towards Whatmough.

Applause rained down from the stands as Whatmough passed to Max Power, who in turn found Leo with a simple pass.

But the moment it reached him, Leo decided to sharpen things up.

With a single touch to shield the ball, Leo smashed the ball over the Luton backline towards the right flank.

The Luton wingback tried to head it but he had anticipated wrongly as the ball bounced right in front of him and then over him.

In the next moment, it settled right into the space that had opened up, weighted perfectly into the path of Ezra, who had already started his run before anyone else realised what Leo had seen.

”It’s Wigan again!” the commentator said, sharper now.

”He’s found him again!”

Ezra took it in stride, drove into the box, and cut back onto his right, opening his body before letting the shot go low toward the near post as the commentary bellowed expectedly.

This time though, Ingram got down quickly, hands strong, gathering it cleanly before anything could spill.

He stayed on the ground for a second longer than necessary, holding the ball to his chest and letting his defenders recover.

”Better,” he muttered, pushing himself up.

The clock ticked on as Luton kept pushing, but the edge had dulled slightly.

Not for lack of effort, but because every move now had a shadow hanging over it.

One mistake had cost them.

And the longer it stayed like this, the heavier that mistake felt.

”Not plenty of time left in the first half,” the commentator said, almost as a reminder as much as a statement.

”But Wigan look very comfortable with how this is shaping up now.”

The final minutes of the half came and went without anything breaking clean.

And then the whistle sounded bringing the ball half to a close.

”Wigan go into the break with the lead,” the commentator said, his voice settling as the players began to drift off the pitch.

”And you have to say, they’ve grown into this game in a way Luton haven’t quite managed since going behind.”

”They’ve found control,” the co-commentator added. ”And a lot of that has come from that young man in the middle. He’s not doing too much... but he’s doing everything right.”

The camera cut away from the pitch towards an area where a group of Luton fans stood with hands on their heads, talking over each other, frustration clear even from a distance.

In the away section, it was the opposite.

Scarves were raised in celebration while the names of their players resonated through their numbers.

Down on the pitch, Leo walked toward the tunnel with the rest of his mates in tow.

.....

As the staff filed into the dressing room, the players took their seats, some reaching for water, others just sitting there with hands on their knees while others took the opportunity to breathe out properly for the first time since kickoff.

Dawson stepped up to the centre and began after the noise had settled.

”That,” he said simply, ”is what we talked about.”

”That was a nice team effort and I’m proud of how compact we were in the half.”

A few heads nodded as Dawson continued turning his gaze elsewhere.

”They came out trying to make it messy,” Dawson continued.

”But we stayed it. That deserves some commendation.”

He glanced around the room, making sure they were with him.

”But listen,” he added, tone tightening just slightly, ”they’re not done. Not even close. You’ve all played enough football to know what this next forty-five looks like.”

That got a couple of faint smirks.

”They’ll come harder,” he said. ”Probably dirtier too. And if we lose our heads for even five minutes, we’re right back where we started.”

He let that settle.

”So don’t change everything,” he went on. ”Same intensity and the same vigour you showed. That’s what we need.”

The players nodded at his last words as Dawson moved towards Leo.

”You good?”

Leo looked up before shrugging slightly.

”I don’t feel anything I haven’t already. It’s just a bit stiff but I think it’s because I stopped moving.”

Dawson held his gaze for a moment, then gave a short nod.

”Alright,” he said. ”Still be smart with it. No need to prove anything stupid.”

Leo nodded back and before anything else could be said the door opened.

Nolan leaned in slightly. ”Our time’s up.”

That was all he needed to say.

The room shifted again as those with their boots off slipped them on while the rest stood to their feet.

They were up for another half

The noise hit them again as they stepped into the light, the second half already alive before a ball had been kicked.

”Welcome back,” the commentator’s voice came in, settling over the moment as both sides moved into position.

”If you’re just joining us, Wigan Athletic lead two-one on aggregate after a composed first half here at Kenilworth Road.”

On the pitch, the players spread out across the pitch once more as Leo drifted into his space, glancing once to either side before settling.

The match official settled with both teams, seeing to it that both sides were okay before he brought his whistle to his mouth and let the whistle sound.