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Harbinger Of Glory

Chapter 359: A Goal For The Fallen · Oct 18, 2026

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Chapter List (629)

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351 Chapter 351: Reality Hits! 2026-10-18
352 Chapter 352: Something Uncomfortable! 2026-10-18
353 Chapter 353: Wrong Man To Press! 2026-10-18
354 Chapter 354 - 20 Minute War! 2026-10-18
355 Chapter 355: London’s Bridge Falls Down! 2026-10-18
356 Chapter 356: Half Time Across the country! 2026-10-18
357 Chapter 357: Second 45! 2026-10-18
358 Chapter 358: Down And Down! 2026-10-18
359 Chapter 359: A Goal For The Fallen 2026-10-18
360 Chapter 360: Unsettling! 2026-10-18
361 Chapter 361: Not A Fluke! 2026-10-18
362 Chapter 362: Aftermath Of The London Success! [GT - !] 2026-10-18
363 Chapter 363: Bad Decisions! 2026-10-18
364 Chapter 364: The Story Grows Legs! 2026-10-18
365 Chapter 365: Nothing Is Ever Enough! 2026-10-18
366 Chapter 366: A Boyhood Dream! 2026-10-18
367 Chapter 367: Girl And A Golf! 2026-10-18
368 Chapter 368: Playing House! 2026-10-18
369 Chapter 369: You’ll Be Alright Kid! 2026-10-18
370 Chapter 370: A Homecoming Eleven Years in the Making 2026-10-18
371 Chapter 371: Who Else! 2026-10-18
372 Chapter 372: Hammers’ Equalizer? 2026-10-18
373 Chapter 373: Rising Expectations! 2026-10-18
374 Chapter 374: A Tremor! 2026-10-18
375 Chapter 375: On Course! 2026-10-18
376 Chapter 376: Three From Three! 2026-10-18
377 Chapter 377: Do You Know Calderon? 2026-10-18
378 Chapter 378: The Calderon Paradox! 2026-10-18
379 Chapter 379: Back In Rome! 2026-10-18
380 Chapter 380: Back In Rome! [2] 2026-10-18
381 Chapter 381: A Welcome Protocol! 2026-10-18
382 Chapter 382: Eyes! 2026-10-18
383 Chapter 383: An Oldhead! 2026-10-18
384 Chapter 384: No Time To Waste! 2026-10-18
385 Chapter 385: A White Bib! 2026-10-18
386 Chapter 386: Under The Tricolore! 2026-10-18
387 Chapter 387: The New Italian Football! 2026-10-18
388 Chapter 388: Spalletti’s Lesson! 2026-10-18
389 Chapter 389: Nothing New! 2026-10-18
390 Chapter 390: European Qualifier! 2026-10-18
391 Chapter 391: Honeymoon Ends! 2026-10-18
392 Chapter 392: No Excuses! 2026-10-18
393 Chapter 393: A Necessary Shock! 2026-10-18
394 Chapter 394: Disrupting The Order! 2026-10-18
395 Chapter 395: Underway! 2026-10-18
396 Chapter 396: GO! 2026-10-18
397 Chapter 397: As Intended 2026-10-18
398 Chapter 398: A Reward For Their Football. 2026-10-18
399 Chapter 399: Finding The Target Man! 2026-10-18
400 Chapter 400: A Deadball Situation! 2026-10-18

Immediately, the Wigan players came from every direction, getting to their teammate.

Leo, coming from his half, pushed through the players and squatted right behind the striker.

”Fletch,” he said.

”Yo, Fletcher. You okay?”

Fletcher shook his head, and that was enough.

Dawson had already waved the medics on before the referee’s whistle had fully faded.

They were moving almost immediately, weaving through the cluster of players and dropping to Fletcher’s side as the noise around Stamford Bridge softened into an uneasy murmur.

”This doesn’t look good,” the commentator said, his voice noticeably more subdued than it had been moments earlier.

”Fletcher took the full force of Sánchez coming out there, and everyone will be hoping it’s nothing too serious.”

Around them, players from both teams stood back and watched, and for the person in question, he knew what was coming.

The referee reached into his pocket, and with little hesitation, he pulled out the red card.

Sánchez looked at it for a moment, then at the referee, but there wasn’t much to say.

He turned and began the walk towards the tunnel while the Chelsea supporters watched in silence.

As he passed the technical area, Pochettino’s eyes followed him briefly, but the Chelsea manager’s attention soon drifted back toward the group of medics surrounding Fletcher.

The stoppage stretched on, and eventually the stretcher was brought on as the medical staff carefully secured Fletcher before lifting him from the turf.

As they carried him towards the touchline, applause began to rise from the Wigan end.

Before long it had spread around parts of Stamford Bridge, with some of the Chelsea supporters adding their own applause as Fletcher was taken from the pitch.

Leo watched him go, and then a moment later, his gaze went towards the touchline, wondering who was coming on.

But before he could, he felt something press against his chest.

He looked at the ball pressing against his chest and then at the hand holding up the ball.

Jake was standing in front of him, holding the ball against him with one hand, now in his kit and an eyebrow raised.

Leo genuinely had not seen him come on.

”When did you come on?”

”Just now,” Jake said as Leo took the ball and nodded.

On the other side, Lucas Bergstrom jogged on to take Sanchez’s place in goal and in his place, Chilwell went off as Gusto tucked in with the rest of the back three to form a back four.

On the sidelines, Pochettino watched the proceedings, his mind immediately carrying out the arithmetic about what the next thirty minutes were going to cost him.

And in all his calculations, nothing less than extraordinary was going to suffice if they were still going to win this game.

On the broadcast, the commentary confirmed what everyone in the stadium already knew.

”Ten against eleven now. Chelsea down to ten men with a new goalkeeper, and Wigan leading two-one with however long remains.

This afternoon has produced everything.”

Now in the thick of it, Leo and Reyes stood over the ball together, hands hovering over mouths to cover what they were trying to convey to each other.

”Flick it right,” Leo said quietly.

”Just a touch to give me the angle.”

Reyes looked at where Leo wanted it and nodded once.

”Sure, but the next one,” he said, ”Issa mine for the taking!”

Leo nodded before looking ahead.

In the box, the remaining players waited until the referee finished his business.

After that, they still went back to their tussling and dog-play as the referee pulled out of the box.

”Here we go then,” the commentator said. ”Wigan have a free-kick in a dangerous position, and you just wonder if they’ve got one more moment in them.”

The sight of Leo and Reyes alone was enough to keep Stamford Bridge restless.

Bergström adjusted his position, still instructing his wall, right before the referee’s whistle sounded.

For a second, none could tell who was going to be taking the freekick.

But the moment Reyes began moving, all doubts died because it seemed like Leo was just a decoy.

He sprinted towards the ball with enough conviction that half the Chelsea line reacted instantly, bodies surging forward to close the angle they thought he was about to attack.

But Reyes never struck it.

Instead, at the very last moment, he nudged it sideways.

And in the split second that followed, he continued across the ball, his body briefly blocking the view of everyone behind him.

And when he cleared the lane, Leo appeared.

”CALDERON!”

The commentator’s voice cracked upward as Leo’s effort came through, but there was no disguise and nothing pretty about his effort.

His foot crashed through the ball as the strike exploded off the turf and tore through the gap before Chelsea could react.

For a fraction of a second it seemed too straight until everyone realised how quickly it was travelling.

Lucas Bergström, who had been moving towards the far side, where he thought the ball was coming, backtracked and then launched himself back towards where he was coming from.

Every inch of his body was thrown towards it, but it didn’t matter.

The ball flew past his fingertips and just as the fans rose to their seats. the net snapped backwards, like it was trying to give way.

And Stamford Bridge detonated.

”IT’S CALDERON AGAIN!”

The commentator was practically shouting over the noise.

”IT’S HIM AGAIN! LEO CALDERON! THIS BOY IS ABSOLUTELY INCREDIBLE! IT’S 2 GOALS IN 2 FOR HIM. WHAT A PLAYER HE IS!”

The Wigan end erupted as Wigan players exploded from the bench.

The substitutes were sprinting, and the players on the pitch were charging towards Leo.

But Leo spun away from them.

”Where’s he going?” the co-commentator blurted as Leo darted between bodies.

Past an utterly confused Dawson.

The substitutes tried to grab him and missed, and while this went on, the crowd watched him break through the chaos and sprint straight towards the technical area.

Leo reached the kitman and the poor man barely had time to react before Leo grabbed a shirt from his hands and turned away again.

Now the confusion spread through the stadium.

Leo took off running, this time toward the corner with the jersey clenched in his fist.

Finally, the understanding came and with it came a loud roar.

Because they could see the name before everyone else could.

The name behind the jersey: FLETCHER.

And suddenly everything clicked into place.

”Oh...” the commentator breathed.

”Oh, that’s brilliant.”

Leo reached the corner flag and held the shirt high as the away end exploded again.

And Leo roared right back at them.

Then he swung his arm and launched the jersey towards the supporters as the red fabric disappeared into a sea of reaching hands.

And the noise somehow became even louder.

”THAT IS FOR ASHLEY FLETCHER!” the commentator shouted. ”THAT IS FOR THEIR TEAMMATE! WHAT A MOMENT FOR WIGAN ATHLETIC!”

It was only then that Leo let himself be caught!

And within seconds he disappeared beneath a wave of red shirts, swallowed whole by a celebration that had long since become bigger than the goal itself.

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