Harbinger Of Glory

For half a second the away end exploded as thousands of arms shot into the air and some of the West Ham players began to wheel away, but then everything stopped.

The assistant referee already had his flag raised.

Antonio had drifted beyond the last defender before the shot was struck and not by inches either.

The decision wasn’t close, and the celebration died almost as quickly as it had begun.

”The flag’s up,” the commentator said.

”And West Ham won’t get this one. Ward-Prowse nearly produces something special, but Antonio is clearly offside when the shot comes in.”2

”No complaints with that decision,” the co-commentator replied. ”It’s frustrating if you’re a West Ham supporter, but he’s well beyond the line.

This is one of the easiest decisions the match official has made all day.”

On the touchline, David Moyes spread his arms briefly before letting them drop again.

He wanted to argue, but what was he even going to say?

Back on the pitch, Ward-Prowse looked toward the assistant, then toward the goal, and after a moment simply turned and jogged back into position.

”Free kick to Wigan,” the commentator said as the players reset. ”Thirty-three minutes gone and the home side still lead.”

”And this game hasn’t slowed down for a second,” the co-commentator added.

”West Ham have threatened and so have Wigan. I think that it gets much more proactive from here.”

And just like he’d said, the co-commentator’s words came true.

The next chance arrived almost out of nowhere.

It looked like any ordinary ball, until Tiehi stepped in with a sharp interception in midfield and the ball broke kindly for Ezra, and that was enough.

With a blistering sort of pace, the winger began bearing down on the West Ham final third, keeping all the players guessing until he singled one out.

He drove straight at Emerson, forcing the defender backwards before firing a low cross across the face of goal before West Ham could get themselves organised.

The ball flashed through the six-yard box with any leg getting a touch to it.

Eventually the ball made it towards the far left flank, where Carlo got to it and, without a single hint of hesitation and without breaking stride, the Manchester City loanee whipped it back across goal.

This time, Jake had seen it developing before anyone else.

By the time the cross left Carlo’s foot, he was already attacking the space at the near post and sticking beside him like a second skin; Zouma went with him.

The two collided shoulder to shoulder as the striker launched himself upward, and Jake met the ball with a thumping header that bounced hard toward the bottom corner.

The DW was already rising, anticipation running through the atmosphere as fans got halfway out of their seats, with some already celebrating, but Areola had other ideas of his own.

The goalkeeper got down brilliantly, throwing both hands behind the ball and pushing it wide of the post as a collective groan rolled around the stadium, though one felt more energetic and relieved than the other.

”AREOLA HAS SAVED IT!” the commentator shouted.

”What a stop by the West Ham shot stopper. Jake gets everything right. The run is excellent, the header is powerful, but just before it hits the net, Areola pulls off an excellent save to keep the score as it is.”

Jake landed, spun around and immediately put both hands on top of his head.

For a moment he simply stared at the corner flag where the ball had gone, and he knew that was his chance gone.

While he lingered, Carlo jogged over and gave him a shove between the shoulders.

”Next one,” he said.

”That was brilliant movement by the young striker,” the co-commentator said after a while.

”He loses Zouma, attacks the space, wins the header and nine times out of ten that’s a goal, but the goalkeeper has bailed West Ham out.

It seems the shot stoppers on both sides aren’t ready to concede. At least not without a fight!”

In the Wigan section, the supporters responded with applause as the Wigan players began to invade the West Ham box, waiting on the corner from Ezra, which came a moment later but didn’t really amount to anything too dangerous.

After that, minute after minute ticked by, with both sides finally playing steadily and without much risk as the attacks dwindled out towards the end of the game.

Most momentum shifts in games happened at halftime as a result of a team equalising or consolidating their lead, and as it stood in the game, neither side wanted to find out why it was so.

Eventually, the referee’s whistle sounded, relieving both sides of their responsibilities, at least for a quarter of an hour.

Around the DW Stadium, people got to their feet almost immediately, with some applauding while some headed for the concourses.

Some stayed exactly where they were as down on the pitch, the players began making their way toward the tunnel.

”And that is half-time here at the DW Stadium,” the commentator said.

”Wigan Athletic lead West Ham United by a goal to nil, but I think it’s fair to say both sides have had opportunities.”

”Absolutely,” the co-commentator replied.

”West Ham grew into the game after a difficult opening twenty minutes. Ward-Prowse hit the post, they had the disallowed goal, and Wigan needed Amos at his best on a couple of occasions.”

”But they still go into the break ahead.”

Across Wigan, thousands of people finally exhaled.

In one living room, a man who had spent most of the half leaning forward on the edge of his sofa finally leaned back and rubbed both hands over his face.

”Thank God for that,” he muttered as his wife walked in carrying two mugs of tea.

”Are we still winning?”

”Barely,” he said as she set the mugs down.

”Well, we’ll take it,” she said as she fell into the seat beside her husband.

”We’ve come so far that we’ve started to have qualms about losing to a well-established side like West Ham,” she said with a little smile before looking at the television.

That little sentence made the man shudder because the more he thought about it, the more truthful it became.

Since when had his club started being a team expected to win games against sides that they couldn’t really compete with just a couple of seasons ago?

”I guess you are right, my love,” he said with a little scoff, seeing the whole situation as ridiculous before shaking it off as the half-time game analysis flashed across the screen.