Harbinger Of Glory

When the players returned to their half for the restart, the Wigan team held the remaining two minutes without drama.

The ball moved around their back line and their midfield, but they kept their cool, only stepping in to clear the ball when it was needed rather than going out to win the ball back.

Eventually, the referee’s whistle ended the half to a resounding cheer by the away crowd knowing they’d completed a very hard half of football and had gained a goal from it.

"So that’s it for the first forty-five minutes here at Goodison Park with the home side trailing at the break. What are your thoughts on this half, Pete?"

"It was okay," the co-commentator answered earnestly on the broadcast.

"It isn’t the best half of football that we’ve seen from these two sides this season, especially Wigan, even though they are a goal up, but Everton haven’t really pushed them back too, so I understand.

They haven’t been forced to play to the best of their abilities here, and that is why the whole session feels lacklustre.

As I said earlier, Wigan feed off the energy of the team they are playing with, and that is why they always seem to play better when going against a very good side because that forces them to react and they do so very well."

"Well," the main commentator said as the last of the players made their way off the pitch, "there’s still another half to play, but at the moment, it’s time for the managers to work on what hasn’t worked for the half. We’ll be right back after the break!"

.....

Leo walked toward the tunnel amid the mixed stream of players from both sides, each group finding their way toward opposite ends of the corridor.

He had only made the left towards the hallway leading up to the away locker room when Dawson appeared by his side.

"You okay?" the manager said as Leo nodded.

"As in physically or...."

"Either," Dawson said with a smirk.

"They’re very aware of me," Leo said. "And it’s making the game very annoying to enjoy."

"Enjoy, huh? But wouldn’t it be stranger if they weren’t very aware of you?" Dawson said.

"Four goals and four assists in your first Premier League season. As a deep midfielder," he said before pausing to avoid a staff of the stadium wheeling away a sort of box on wheels!

"Some players don’t see those numbers across an entire season playing further forward. And you’re four contributions away from matching what you did in the Championship. In a harder league."

Leo said nothing as the manager tapped him on the shoulder.

"Keep calm," Dawson said, as they reached the dressing room door.

"Play your ball and the game will come to you."

Away from the locker room and in one of the executive sections of Goodison Park, three men sat almost ceremoniously, their posture suggesting that they were watching the game for nothing less than their professions.

One of them had been brushing his beard with the back of his hand for the last ten minutes, a habit that arrived when he was processing things.

"The weaknesses are there if you look," he said.

"Aerially, he’s limited. Physically, he’s still developing, meaning injury risks. He’s not complete yet," he suddenly muttered while he set his hand down.

"But the strengths. The passing range, the reading of the game, the way he controls tempo and that underrated shooting range!"

He shook his head slightly.

"The Wigan manager has built something specific around him and the more time that continues, the better he becomes."

One of the other two coughed.

"Which is exactly the problem," he said.

"Leave him another eighteen months in that environment and the release clause won’t be the number we’re looking at now. The club has already priced him well past a hundred million pounds at least from what we know"

At that, the first man sighed.

"I still don’t entirely understand why we’re here. We signed one of the best defensive midfielders in the league just a couple of months ago for well past a hundred million pounds, and he is just 22 years old, meaning there isn’t the subject of investing in the future."

"So why are we here?"

"We’ve been asked to look," the second man said.

"With intent to buy," the third said, which had been sitting quietly in the exchange until it arrived.

The second man looked at him and then looked at the pitch.

"That’s not our decision," he said before grabbing a bottle of water beside his seat.

While he did so, a roar came from outside the glass, rolling up from the stands below, and all three of them turned toward it.

The players were coming back out, both sets of them emerging from the tunnel and spreading across the pitch as the Goodison crowd received them expectantly.

The second man, who had been the quietest of the three, exhaled slowly.

"We’ve still got forty-five minutes so let’s talk after then," he said.

On the pitch Leo was pushing the fringe of his hair away from his forehead with his fingers, muttering something under his breath when Ezra went past him.

"What?" the latter said, turning to face Leo, who brought his hand down from his hair.

"I need a haircut," Leo repeated, louder this time.

"Oh, okay," Ezra said, without stopping. "Tell me when you’re ready, and we’ll go together. I also think I need one!"

Leo snorted and turned back to the centre where Keane was settling over the ball with the Everton players taking up their positions on the other side of the halfway line while the referee checked both ends before raising his whistle.

When he glanced at his watch again, he blew his whistle before picking his head up as the second half began.

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

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