Harbinger Of Glory

The two lines broke apart and moved toward their respective halves as the noise around Stamford Bridge continued to build.

Near the centre circle, Chilwell and Darikwa met the referee for the final formality before kickoff.

The official exchanged a glance with both players before holding the coin up.

”Call it.”

Darikwa did, and just as he finished, the coin spun, dropped, and the referee caught it before giving the result.

After that, a few brief instructions followed.

”I want a clean game, guys. I know you just can’t stop sometimes, but stop the ones you can, and we’re good!”

Both players nodded, and after that, there wasn’t much else to say.

They shook hands and turned away, heading back toward their teammates.

Around them, the stadium seemed to swell another notch.

The anticipation that had been building all afternoon was finally running out of road.

Kickoff was moments away.

”Right,” the commentator said on the broadcast.

”Both sides set, and we can have a look at how they’ve lined up.

Starting with Chelsea, who are coming into this game with a three-four-two-one formation.

Thiago Silva, Colwill and Disasi forming the back three, Chilwell and Gusto as the wingbacks, Caicedo and Gallagher in the middle.

Just ahead of them will be Palmer and Enzo Fernandez operating in the half spaces, and leading the line is Nicolas Jackson.”

”Quality throughout,” the co-commentator said.

”Despite this not being their best, wherever you look in that Chelsea side there is Premier League pedigree, and in most positions there is considerably more than that.”

”And Wigan,” the main commentator continued, ”have made a change from the Brighton game that is worth noting.

They’ve gone from a four-two-one-three to a three-four-three. Whatmough and O’Shea in the back three, as you might expect.”

”And completing that back three will be a very uncanny face in Leo Calderon.”

At that, the co-commentator laughed, quietly and with genuine amusement.

”I had to look at that one twice.

Leo Calderon, Wigan’s defensive midfielder, one, if not their most creative player in many respects last season, has been asked to play as part of a back three against Chelsea at Stamford Bridge.”

”We will absolutely be keeping an eye on how that develops,” the main commentator said before continuing.

”Darikwa and McClean will be the wingbacks while Max Power and Matheus Reyes stay central with Reyes possibly being given more freedom to get forward.

And the front three of Carlo on the left, Fletcher through the middle, Ezra on the right is what Wigan have to finish it all!”

Through it all, the stadium camera found Dawson on the touchline.

He was already watching the pitch with the focused stillness, his eyes moving across the shape of his players as they settled into their positions.

Internally, the calculation was simple and significant.

The formation only worked if Leo read it correctly, if his instincts in possession translated to a deeper role where the demands were different and the margin for error was smaller.

Dawson had spent three days convincing himself it would work and one night convincing himself it wouldn’t and had arrived at the conclusion the previous morning back at yes.

Back on the pitch, Fletcher stood behind the ball, standing on his toes for a bit.

The referee raised his whistle, and the sound of Stamford Bridge compressed itself into the moment before it.

Then the whistle came.

FWEEEEEEEEE!

Fletcher rolled it back at that, and instantly, Chelsea were on them.

Leading the charge was Nicholas Jackson, who started chasing the ball, a man on a mission to win it back.

His run was designed to reduce the time and space available to whoever received it, and when Max Power took it, he immediately felt Jackson’s presence behind him.

With little time on the ball, he moved it quickly to Darikwa on the right, who only had it for half a second before Enzo Fernandez was there, arriving at a speed that the broadcast camera almost didn’t track in time.

”Chelsea pressing immediately and pressing hard. They are not giving Wigan a moment to settle, and you can feel why.

After two poor results, they need this to start well, and they are making that clear from the very first exchange.”

Darikwa looked up and went wide to Ezra rather than backward, which was the right instinct, except that in the fraction of a second between the decision and the execution, Enzo adjusted.

Just as the ball left Darikwa’s foot, it caught the shin of the Argentine, which was not enough to stop it, but it was enough to redirect it.

In the next second, the ball found Chilwell instead of Ezra, with Chelsea winning the ball back and not even 30 seconds on the clock.

”And just like that Chelsea have it back,” the commentator said.

”Enzo Fernandez with a brilliant piece of anticipation and Wigan’s first attempt to build from the back has lasted approximately 7 seconds.”

Chilwell went immediately, not holding it, playing it first time in behind Darikwa for Enzo to chase.

The geometry of the pass sought to get the Argentine running toward the Wigan goal with momentum, and it did exactly that as Max Power also immediately began to give chase.

The moment Enzo collected it, he cut inward, and as he did, Whatmough came to meet him, which was exactly what the ball into the channel had been designed to produce, because it pulled a centre back out of position.

Enzo bid his time and didn’t take the contact, nudging the ball right instead.

Then just as it seemed like Whatmough would lunge, he nudged it right again, sending a curling ball into the box from twenty-five yards.

The ball bent away from Amos, and then back at him, the curve of it finding the space between the goalkeeper and his near post.

Nicolas Jackson had read the flight of it from the moment it left Enzo’s foot, and once he saw fit, he rose to the skies.

Ben Amos reacted quickly, taking measures and then moving to his right to try and cover the angles, but the header came downward and firm.

And in the next second, it went through his legs and into the net.

Then in the next second, the Stamford Bridge came apart.

”GOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL. It’s Nicolas Jackson.

And it has taken Chelsea exactly a minute and a half to answer whatever questions were being asked of them this afternoon.

Wigan have been undone before they’ve had a chance to breathe!!”

Jackson was already at the corner flag with his teammates arriving around him in a wave of blue and the Bridge giving him everything it had.

The noise ran for a moment before the commentary came back on the broadcast!

”Is this reality hitting Wigan?” the co-commentator asked.

”The one people were expecting? Because that goal was ruthless. From Enzo winning the ball back to the ball in the net, Wigan didn’t touch it once.”

In the Wigan half, the players stood slumped.

They had known the possibility, but that didn’t mean they were prepared to face it.

The camera moved along the touchline where Pochettino stood with his arms folded in his coaching box, expression unchanged despite his team scoring.

And standing in the coaching box beside his was Dawson, who stood equally still, equally unreadable, his eyes already moving past the goal and onto whatever came next.

Back on the pitch, Leo pulled the ball from the net.

He had been keeping tabs on Cole Palmer the whole time that he’d forgotten about Nicholas Jackson.

He turned and tossed it forward toward the centre circle, just enough to get it there, but for the first time, Leo’s confidence that he had built gradually was waning.