Harbinger Of Glory

Carlo met the ball in his stride and accelerated.

Suddenly, the Wolves players who had pushed forward for the counter were now the ones scrambling to get back; the situation reversed completely in the space of one Amos throw.

Carlo drove forward with two Wolves shirts closing from either side, carrying the ball until the space around him began to disappear.

Just before they could box him in, he slipped a diagonal pass into Reyes.

Reyes took it without rushing.

Semedo had recovered brilliantly and was already flying toward him, but Reyes waited until the full-back committed before nudging the ball beyond his reach with his first touch.

He opened his body in the same movement and swept it out wide onto the right flank before Semedo could recover his footing.

From behind the rush, Leo had joined the run and was calling for it from Ezra’s side, pointing at the space opening ahead of him.

Ezra took the ball and shaped to cross as Leo bore down on the arc of the penalty area, and for a second, the game looked like it was opening up again.

Until Leo felt a resistance in his form.

And then in the next second, something grabbed his neck.

The collar of the jersey pulled sharply backwards and awkwardly.

The pressure was sudden enough that it cut off his breath completely as Leo’s legs went from under him and he went to the ground with Ezra’s cross coming in over the top of where he should have been standing.

In the next second, the atmosphere of the DW was charged with fury, with curses and words that could cut flying around the stadium as the fans showed their outrage.

The referee’s whistle cut through it shortly, right as Bellegarde grabbed the possession of the ball he obtained through dubious means.

”Now surely that’s a red card!” the commentator burst out before the replay had even appeared.

”Bellegarde has his hand around Leo Calderon’s throat. Around his throat! That’s miles beyond a shirt pull. You cannot do that in football!”

Bellegarde had already picked the ball up by the time the referee reached him, looking the most brazen he’d ever been all season.

The referee wasn’t convinced enough to ignore it and reached into his pocket.

A second later, a yellow card came out, to the sheer delight of the away crowd.

The home crowd, not so much.

”What?” Max Power shouted, already striding toward the referee as he pointed at his own neck.

”He grabbed him here!”

The referee took a step back, but Max Power followed.

The referee, taking that as a confrontation, barely let him finish before reaching into the same pocket again and pulling another yellow card, this time for the Wigan veteran.

Max threw his arms into the air in disbelief, looking like he himself could strangle the referee any moment as his eyes almost popped out of their sockets.

Before he could, Tiehi was on him almost immediately, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and dragging him away before the argument went any further.

”Leave it,” Tiehi muttered.

”He’ll only book you again.”

Max let himself be pulled back, though not without one last shake of his head toward the official.

A few yards away, Leo remained on the turf with one hand resting lightly against his throat as he drew in a careful breath.

After the initial strain, it didn’t hurt too much, but he had to make sure that everything still worked the way it should.

He stayed there for another second before pushing himself onto one knee.

Reyes was beside him almost immediately as he rested a hand over Leo’s head.

”You alright?”

Leo swallowed once as his voice came out rougher than usual.

”I’ll be fine.”

A moment later, Jake arrived carrying the ball under one arm.

”You sure?”

Leo gave a small nod as the referee wandered over, ready to check on him, but Leo simply raised a hand before the official could speak.

”I’m okay.”

The referee accepted it with a nod before turning away to mark out the position of the free kick.

On the touchline, Nolan had both hands on Dawson’s shoulders, not out of comfort but to stop him before anything bad happened.

When it came to Leo, it seemed that his friend and boss seemed to always lose his reasoning a bit faster than most players would have done to him.

The Wigan manager had already started marching toward the fourth official before Nolan intercepted him, steadily guiding him back toward the technical area.

Dawson kept looking over Nolan’s shoulder, still trying to catch someone’s eye.

”So we’re waiting for someone to be strangled before it’s a red now?” he called out, loud enough for everyone nearby to hear.

Nolan sighed as Dawson finally stopped resisting, though the look he sent toward the officials made it abundantly clear the conversation wasn’t over in his mind.

Leo got to his feet eventually and walked forward and took the ball from Jake’s hands.

”Let it go,” he said to the players gathered around him.

”We aren’t out of the woods yet. Let’s focus on making it count.”

He set the ball down where the referee pointed and looked at Jake.

”We can’t afford to waste time. Get in the box and be annoying.”

Jake nodded once and went.

The referee adjusted the position of the ball with the toe of his boot before backing away.

Ahead of him, the Wolves wall came together quickly, every yellow shirt fixed on Leo but nobody in it looked particularly comfortable.

”This is an interesting one,” the commentator said.

”It’s not quite central, not quite out wide. You can whip it in from there... or you can have a go yourself.

And after everything we’ve seen from Leo Calderon this season, Wolves won’t be taking any chances.”

The whistle sounded a moment later, and then following that, Leo accelerated toward the ball.

His body opened as though he was about to strike it first time, and the wall reacted instinctively, several players leaving the ground.

Instead, he nudged it sideways where Reyes was already moving towards the ball.