Harbinger Of Glory

The arc of it, the weight and the curve, was uncomfortably similar to the one that had produced the first goal, and before anyone else could, the commentary asked the question.

”Is this a repeat? Jackson in position and—”

The Cameroonian, who was towering in the skies, waiting for the ball to come, suddenly had his view blocked by none other than Whatmough, who had gotten there after Leo pointed towards Jackson.

The situation, which had gotten a number of the Chelsea fans on their feet, suddenly turned anticlimactic as Whatmough headed it down firmly.

And before any thoughts of a rebound could form, Ben Amos stuck his hands out, grabbed the ball, pulled it into his chest and stood with it, and in the same moment Leo had already taken the step out of the box.

Just one, but it triggered everything.

Seeing Leo, who had been playing all game, begin to move forward set off a chain of reaction as the Wigan players all turned their backs towards their own goal.

Chelsea caught on quickly too, spinning to recover, but by then the ball had already left Amos’s hands.

The throw was long and flat, travelling over midfield with purpose.

Leo met it on the half-turn and the first touch looked awkward for a split second, the ball dropping slightly behind him, but his trailing foot hooked it back into his path without breaking stride.

Then he was away.

”Leo Calderon forward now,” the commentator said, urgency already present in his voice.

”Chelsea are caught in transition here!”

Once more, Gallagher was the first man in his path.

He stood sideways, trying to force Leo to the left, a direction Leo had set his sights on anyway, but he couldn’t let Gallagher know.

And so with a little shimmy and drag, Leo moved slightly to the right, forcing Gallagher to try and correct but in that same swift motion, Leo nudged the ball left and dipped his shoulder with it.

The movement was small, but it was enough to make Gallagher pause.

Realising it a fraction too late, Gallagher reached out and grabbed at Leo’s shirt, but Leo ran through the contact like a freight train.

The fabric stretched, the grip held for a moment, and then gave way as Leo powered on, leaving Gallagher behind.

At this point, most of the Wigan fans were on their feet, and Chelsea fans on the edge of their seats.

”Dangerous,” the commentator said. ”This is dangerous now.”

With space to run, Leo moved the ball, all while keeping his eyes on the changing landscape in front of him.

Finally, Leo committed.

He pushed the ball wider toward the left flank, carrying it into the space as though he intended to drive all the way down the line himself.

Gusto reacted immediately, and so did the nearest Chelsea player.

At the same time, Carlo peeled away from the touchline and drifted inside, cutting across the defensive shape.

At this point, the two Chelsea players were caught between two options.

Stay on Leo and double-team him and risk him sending the pass to Carlo, who was free of spread their effort.

They chose the latter, as Colwill retreated.

They had to.

Carlo had already hurt teams from those positions before, and leaving him alone in the middle was a risk they weren’t willing to take.

For a moment, their attention shifted, and that was all it took.

The space behind Gusto began to open, not all at once but gradually, stretching wider with every step the Chelsea full-back took toward the inside.

Leo saw it immediately and slowed, just slightly and just enough to weigh it properly.

His right leg curled through the ball and sent it on a low, bending trajectory that went behind Gusto as the full back twisted to intercept, his boot skipping it rather than stopping it, and the ball ran into the space behind him and into Fletcher’s diagonal run perfectly.

Fletcher was in behind.

”Big chance for Wigan here,” the commentator warned, his voice rising with it.

Sanchez came running the moment he saw Fletcher get onto the end of the ball.

He threw himself at it, making himself as long and as wide as his body allowed, dropping to the turf without hesitation, knowing one more thought and he’d concede.

Fletcher’s foot went through the ball and dragged through the grass, but it caught Sanchez’s leg instead of the net.

The save was made, and the Wigan end groaned with the agony of a crowd that had watched a chance arrive and leave in the same breath.

”SAVED!!!,” the commentator bellowed.

”Sanchez gets something on it somehow and—”

Before he could finish, a flash of red and black entered the scene.

Carlo had been hiding in the chaos.

He had followed the run and had arrived exactly the moment the ball broke loose from Sanchez’s save.

And without a single thought, he hit it on the volley.

Thiago Silva recovered sharply, moving towards goal, but the ball moved faster.

The Brazilian slid, knowing he had to, if he was going to get to the ball, and he did, but that didn’t deter the ball from smashing into the back of the net.

And when it did, the stadium came apart in two different ways.

”GOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALLLLLLLLLLLL!”

The Wigan fans roared into the sky like they were trying to tear through something.

”CARLO REGUTTI!!!!! IT’S TWO ONE. TWO ONE AT STAMFORD BRIDGE AND WIGAN ATHLETIC HAVE THE LEAD. WHAT A GAME THIS IS TURNING OUT TO BE!”

Carlo was already sliding toward the Wigan fans, and they welcomed him.

He launched into a slide, sprang back to his feet and reached the corner flag, giving it a sharp kick as the noise crashed down around him.

Leo had been near the touchline when the ball went in, and the moment it did, he spun and charged into the bench area, jumping into the mess of a crowd that was already celebrating with Dawson.

”A comeback and a half,” the commentator said on the broadcast.

”Invaluable. From one-nil down. What Wigan Athletic are doing right now is remarkable. Right now, they’re daring to believe.”