Harbinger Of Glory

Keane touched it back to Reyes, and while he did, the commentary opened behind the action on the gantry.

”Second half underway at Goodison and it’s still two sides of a coin here. Everton need to find an equaliser and Wigan need to find a way to keep what they have or add to it before they regret!”

As the second half progressed, the early exchanges repeated the pattern of the first half to a degree, with Everton keeping the ball and moving it carefully while Wigan absorbed and waited.

While the two sides went at it, the commentary filled the spaces by pointing out the changes both managers had made during the break.

But it wasn’t all dull.

3 minutes later, McNeil tried his luck down Everton’s left again, but this time Bennet stayed with him all the way and forced the winger backwards.

A minute after that effort, Doucoure spotted space from thirty yards and let fly, only to send his effort harmlessly wide of Ben Amos’ post.

At the other end, Wigan almost broke through after winning possession high up the pitch, but Keane’s first touch skipped just far enough away from him for Tarkowski to recover and snuff the move out.

Just like that, 15 minutes slipped by and during that, Everton made the first change of the afternoon, introducing more width down the flank, and the crowd responded immediately, sensing their side was preparing for one final push.

”You can feel the urgency growing around Goodison,” the commentator said.

”Everton know they can’t let this drift much longer because the longer it does, the harder it becomes to put the ball in the back of the opponent’s net.”

On the pitch, Leo received the ball just inside his own half and lifted his head.

Just like it had been happening the whole game, every passing lane ahead of him disappeared.

Blue shirts clung tightly to every white one, with Everton abandoning space to commit fully to man-marking.

The gap through the middle practically begged him to carry the ball himself, and for a split second, he considered it, but he knew what it was and the risks it came with, so he let the temptation pass.

Instead, he slowed the game and chose the safest options.

He passed it back to Max Power, who sent it straight back.

Following that, he played another pass, this time to Bennet, who’d abandoned his attacking responsibilities and dropped back.

It was nothing ambitious, not anything that looked dangerous.

Just enough simple passes to make Everton edge forward another few yards, but it was exactly what Wigan needed because their setup unravelled after Doucoure tried to press Max Power, who sent the ball back.

Without taking a touch, Leo made a firm pass that zipped along the turf into Reyes’ feet, arriving with enough pace to eliminate any chance of interception.

Reyes cushioned it with the sole of his boot before turning in one smooth movement.

In that same motion, Gueye lunged in, convinced he’d timed it perfectly, but he couldn’t have been more wrong.

The former rolled the ball around him with his first touch and accelerated into the space beyond, leaving the Everton midfielder reaching for nothing but air.

”Wigan moving now,” the commentator said as Reyes galloped forward.

Reyes had options on both sides and for a second, looked like he’d pass the ball to them, but a second later, he ignored both of them and went himself, driving toward goal before smashing it hard and low toward the bottom left corner.

The ball streaked past bodies, even some that stuck their legs out to clear it, but it evaded all of them only to smash against the left post.

”What an effort,” the commentary called on the broadcast as the ball nd came back out at pace, but the Everton players scrambled to clear it before anyone in a Wigan shirt could react.

”The post denies Reyes again,” the commentator said.

”And that is the second time this game he’s found the woodwork. The Everton goal is living a charmed existence.”

”They genuinely cannot handle his inventiveness,” the co-commentator said. ”Every time he gets it in a dangerous position, something almost happens.”

Reyes, who’d already envisioned his celebrations, slipped his palms around the back of his net before shaking his head.

The game resumed almost immediately as McClean threw it to Bennett, who went back to Leo.

The latter had dropped slightly deeper, and as Leo took it forward, Calvert-Lewin arrived, but he didn’t do so well.

He stepped directly on his foot, the contact clear and deliberate, causing Leo to fall, the whistle coming a second later.

Lewin was already standing over him before the sound had faded.

”Get up,” he said, even reaching down to pull Leo’s arm.

”That was nothing. You go down from that?”

Leo, clinching his toe, glanced up at Lewin, but before he could do anything, Whatmough appeared.

The latter stepped between them, putting both hands on Lewin’s chest and pushing him back firmly.

”Watch yourself,” Whatmough said as Lewin made a scornful expression.

Before it could escalate any further, the referee, as well as players from both sides, appeared to really separate the two players.

The official produced the yellow card and held it in Lewin’s face.

Still, Calvert-Lewin didn’t back down, almost looking to antagonise the official, but Tarkowski appeared and pulled him away, poking Calvert’s shoulder while screaming curses at him.

It was only then that Lewin walked away, waving his hand at the whole situation as though it had been conducted unfairly.

”Frustration from Calvert-Lewin,” the commentator said.

”And you understand where it comes from. He’s been peripheral today, unable to get into the game, and that kind of afternoon tests patience.”

Leo, who had gotten comfortable on the ground while watching the whole scene, got to his feet and passed the free kick to Whatmough, who gave it straight back to Leo.

And when he got the ball, Leo took it and drove directly into the space he’d been avoiding for the better part of an hour, going into the channel as if he had something to prove.