Harbinger Of Glory

As the gantry told its story, the Yellow Wall shifted before anyone else in the ground seemed to notice something was happening.

Settled on the left flank, Sancho had the ball again, and this time, he took the inside route.

He came at Max Power with the ball close to his feet, unhurried, and then the stepovers started, one, two, three, each one pulling Power’s weight fractionally in the wrong direction, until Sancho stopped, and transitioned into an elastico that began and then halted halfway.

The sudden end to the move shifted the ball across his body and onto his left foot in a movement that was too quick to track cleanly.

And the second he looked up again, he whipped a low ball that almost tempted Ben Amos to come out, across the face of the box.

”Sancho again,” the commentator said, his voice coming up.

”And he has been the standout player on this pitch tonight, he has been absolutely.....”

Before the commentary could finish, the crowd saw action from the right flank where Bamba was running onto it inside the box, and O’Shea was covering across, and for a moment it looked like he might get there.

Until he didn’t quite do so.

Bamba, getting within reach of the ball, didn’t halt and just cut it back across the six-yard area before O’Shea could commit, pulling it away from him.

In the next moment, the ball ran across the face of the goal where Fullkrug arrived at it and touched it in, and Whatmough’s sliding intervention came a fraction too late, his boot going through empty air as the ball crossed the line and behind the posts, the yellow wall went up.

”GOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAALLLLLL BVBB!!” the announcer rained as the Wigan players came to a halt.

The sound came down from behind the goal in a single wave and spread through the rest of the ground in the second after.

The Signal Iduna Park was on its feet with the particular release of a crowd that had been expecting this and was glad it had finally come.

Back on the pitch, Fullkrug didn’t celebrate.

He raised a hand and accepted the high fives of the teammates arriving around him, and then he turned and walked back toward the centre circle with the matter-of-fact manner of a man who had done his job and expected as much.

”And there it is,” the commentator said.

”Borussia Dortmund take the lead, and it is Fullkrug with the finish. It is the simplest kind of goal: the ball cut back across the goal, and a striker arriving at the near post to tap it home.

But look at the work that went into it. Sancho was breathtaking on that run, the elastico, the weight of the cross, the movement before it. Wigan couldn’t deal with it when it mattered.”

”No, they couldn’t,” the co-commentator said.

”And Dawson will look at that, and he’ll know where the problem was. But I want to give Dortmund credit. They were patient, they built it well, and when the chance came, they were clinical.”

”One-nil here in Dortmund, and it’s almost as if a switch’s flipped in the space of a few seconds and now Wigan find themselves behind. Not entirely surprising given the balance of the half, but it will sting nonetheless.”

The Dortmund players dispersed back toward their half while the crowd settled back into its steady noise, satisfied for now, and the clock above the scoreboard showed thirty-four minutes played with Dortmund one, Wigan nil.

In the pub near the DW, one of the men had put his pint down.

”O’Shea,” he said to the screen. ”What are you doing. What are you actually doing?”

”He was caught between two decisions,” the man beside him said.

”Well, pick one. Pick either one. Just don’t stand there.”

”I’m not disagreeing with you.”

”Slow,” the third man judged.

”Too slow to come across. Should’ve been there before the ball was.”

Back in the Signal Iduna, the ball was placed at the centre circle and quickly, Wigan kicked off, not wanting the game to settle into a lull.

Reyes received it almost immediately, dropping deep to collect.

Nmecha and Sabitzer came to him together, trying to nip the Wigan attack in the bud before it spurred.

For a moment, it looked like they had him as Reyes had Nmecha on one side and Sabitzer cutting off the other.

But then, Reyes rolled the ball under his foot once, shifted his weight just enough to open a gap that hadn’t been there, and then he was through it, leaving both Dortmund players staring at each other.

”Matheus Reyes,” the commentator said, ”and he has gotten out of that somehow. Nmecha and Sabitzer had him surrounded, and he has simply wriggled free. Hate him or not, this boy is good.”

Reyes came forward now with his head up and the picture in front of him changing as his teammates read the moment and began pulling their runs.

The Dortmund defensive shape shifted to cover him, and he let them shift, drawing them toward him until he looked right.

There, Ezra had timed his run to the exact moment Reyes looked up, cutting behind him and into the channel, and Reyes didn’t hesitate.

The flick was subtle as he guided the ball with the outside of his boot into the space Ezra was already moving into, while he continued his run into the box, dragging two yellow shirts with him as Ezra collected it.

”Beautiful combination,” the co-commentator rapped as Ezra came into the box with the ball and shaped to shoot first time.

In reaction to that, the Dortmund defender in front of him dropped to block it, only for Ezra to nudge the ball forward, opening the angle once more, and once it did, he curled it with his left foot from just outside the box.

The ball bent, further and further from the outstretched hand of Kobel, right up until it hit the post. and bounced off the woodwork and then back into play while the Yellow and black crowd groaned.

For a second, it looked like McClean would get to the ball, but from behind him, Ryerson lunged first and pushed the ball away for a corner, sending McClean tumbling down as the shouts of penalty began to invade the pitch, but the referee only pointed towards the corner flag.

”Corner,” the commentator said, composing himself.

”Ryerson gets it away, and it is a corner to Wigan. But goodness me, they came so close. The post, the rebound, McClean arriving and Ryerson somehow getting across to clear it. What a sequence of play that we’ve just witnessed here.”

”That,” the co-commentator said firmly, ”is more like it from Wigan. That is exactly what I want to see from them.

Don’t sit in, don’t let Dortmund come at you in waves and gradually push you back.

Be proactive, be direct, and you make them uncomfortable.

Reyes and Ezra combined brilliantly there, and Wigan should take real encouragement from it.”

”Yes, lil Timmy, they absolutely should,” the commentator agreed.

”And the question now is whether they can make this corner count. Wigan with the chance to put a dangerous ball into the Dortmund box. Can they take advantage of it?”