Harbinger Of Glory

The Manchester City team bus pulled into Wembley about forty minutes after Wigan’s.

It wasn’t their first rodeo, but the fanfare that met them outside the stadium made what they’d already done before feel new each time.

It didn’t take too long as the players soon found themselves on the cusp of the dressing room, where Pep was already waiting!

Once they made their way inside, he acknowledged them with a round of nods before turning back to the tablet his assistant had handed him a while ago.

The players, on the other hand, got changed into their training kits and made their way out for warmups without needing to be rushed.

Wigan were already on the pitch when the City players emerged from the tunnel.

The noise around the stadium reached a crescendo as the Manchester City fans cheered on their players, and the Wigan players couldn’t help but ’scout’ their opponents, in person this time.

Jake had been passing the ball back and forth with Leo and Ezra in a loose triangle when the blue training kits appeared in his peripheral vision, and he turned to look properly.

Kevin De Bruyne.

Erling Haaland.

Rodri.

Ruben Dias.

Gundogan.

Bernardo Silva.

All of them were moving through their drills like it was a Tuesday morning session, relaxed and sharp at the same time.

Jake looked at them for a long moment.

Then he looked back at Leo and Ezra.

”That’s their weak lineup?” he said as his mind tuned to all the talk online about City fielding a ’weak’ lineup for the FA cup final in anticipation of the UEFA Champions League final.

And yet, the players in front of him were anything but weak.

Leo glanced over without turning his whole body, and he found Carlo almost immediately, standing with Foden and Coler Palmer, the trio laughing about something while fully at ease among players who had won everything there was to win.

”Hmmph,” Leo said. ”He looks jolly.”

As if he’d heard it, Carlo looked across the pitch and spotted Leo.

He smiled at that, but then, slowly, he raised his hand and drew his finger across his throat.

Just as slowly, he remembered where he was, looked around at the cameras dotted everywhere around the pitch, and put his hand down like he was pretending it had never happened.

Leo laughed, bobbing his head at the unawareness, while Carlo turned back toward his group, hoping nobody had caught that and found Foden looking at him with raised eyebrows.

”What was that?” Foden said.

”Nothing, Phil,” Carlo said.

”Let’s go again.”

Bernardo had been watching the Wigan players with mild interest, and he nodded in Leo’s direction as Haaland drifted over.

”You see that one,” Bernardo said. ”Semi curly hair. The eyes that look different depending on the light.”

Haaland looked across and found Leo.

He then watched him for a few seconds as if to confirm what Bernado had said about the eyes.

”Hazel?” Haaland said, causing Bernado to shake his head at the keen observation, but that wasn’t what he was hoping to be asked.

”Not to discredit the others, but he was the one who brought them here,” Bernardo said.

”I think that kid, Carlo, plays with him for the same National team, and I must say, that kid was running circles around the United players that day.”

Haaland nodded slowly, registering something he considered worth noting.

”Then I do not think we should give him the chance to run those circles”, he said simply, and jogged forward as the warm-up was called in.

The Wigan players also followed suit, making their way back into the tunnel and then through to their dressing rooms.

When Dawson walked in again, all eyes found him, before the players continued their respective preparations, with some wrapping tapes while others seemed to say a silent prayer.

Dawson looked around at his players and did so for a while before speaking up when he saw that most of the starters were done.

”I’m looking at a bunch of winners,” Dawson said as the low chatter died down.

”I know that because of how we got here. The injuries, the results we scraped, the games we had no business winning.” He paused.

”Some of you old bones are still carrying knocks you took two months ago.”

A few of the senior players smiled at that, just like the younger players.

”And that’s fine,” Dawson continued.

”We give everything we have until that final whistle. That’s all I’m asking.”

He looked around once more, then said, ”That’s all I’ve got.”

Joe Bennet looked up, glancing around like he was searching for more words.

”That’s it? For a final?”

The room laughed, some of it is genuine, some of it nerves finding a release.

”You already know what to do,” Dawson said, smiling slightly. ”I’m proud of you. All of you.”

”Gaffer, you’re making it sound like you’re dying,” Darikwa said from the back as he stepped to the front.

Dawson smirked at that before a second later, Darikwa gathered his mates in, arms pulling the group together.

They huddled and said their thing before they turned towards the door, ready to take the tunnels!

They’d stood there in the semi-finals, but this time, it still felt like a whole different ball game.

Side by side with the City players would make most teams feel inadequate, but that wasn’t Wigan’s football.

They held their heads up, chest out with proud expressions on their face but the Manchester City players didn’t so much as spare them a glance.

To some, it might have looked like arrogance.

To others, it might have looked like focus.

But to each their own.

Leo looked up the line toward the front, then brought his gaze back down.

Then he looked further back along the City line and found the number 27 shirt.

Carlo was already looking at him.

Leo stuck his hand out before mockingly bringing it to his neck, trying to imitate what the former had done earlier, while Carlo shook his head with a smile of his own, then faced forward.

A moment later, the match officials moved to the front of the line and signalled and just like that, they began to walk out.

The noise hit them like a wall, ninety thousand people releasing everything they had been saving since the teams were announced, and the pitch opened up ahead of them under the Wembley afternoon sky.

On the broadcast, the commentary came through the roar.

”Welcome to Wembley Stadium. The FA Cup final. Manchester City against Wigan Athletic, and if you’ve been following football this season, you already know the story that has brought this Championship club to the biggest stage in English domestic football, but now,” the commentator paused slightly, probably for effect, ”we find out how it ends.”

Both sets of players spread out across the pitch, facing the supporters, the noise still going, and for a moment, the game hadn’t started yet, and anything was still possible for both sides, at least, that’s how the fans viewed it!