Harbinger Of Glory

The referee raised his whistle to his mouth, blew it, and Brentford immediately sent the free kick into the box.

The delivery carried high toward the far side, dropping into an area where Wigan had little room for error.

Any lapse and they would find themselves staring at the net, but that was exactly what happened.

From deep, Wissa had already started his run.

He raced beyond the last line of Wigan players, attacking the ball with everything he had, and Ben Amos saw him.

For a moment, the goalkeeper simply tensed.

He could see the trajectory, and he could see Wissa arriving, but the Brentford forward lunged despite the obstruction the Wigan players tried to provide.

His forehead met the ball cleanly, sending it forward and beyond Amos before the goalkeeper could react, and all Amos could do was turn as the ball flew past him.

His heart sank, and around him, so did the hearts of everyone inside the DW.

Wigan supporters stood frozen, watching the ball travel toward the empty space behind their goalkeeper.

It looked as though it was going in.

It looked certain, but then, "OH, CLEARED OFF THE LINE!"

The commentary exploded as Whatmough’s leg had appeared from nowhere.

He had thrown himself across the goalmouth, stretching every inch of his body toward the ball, and his boot had met it just before it crossed the line.

The impact sent a sharp vibration through his leg as the ball flew back upward.

It bounced off the clearance and climbed into the air again, drawing every set of eyes toward it as bodies prepared to contest for it, but Amos reacted first.

He scrambled forward, tracking the descending ball as it dropped toward him, and this time, there was no hesitation nor any lapse in concentration.

He stepped forward, raised both hands and claimed it firmly against his chest.

The goalkeeper landed on the turf with the ball secured, and the DW erupted around him as the scare was over.

Heavy applause rained down from every section of the stadium as Whatmough pushed himself back onto his feet.

His teammates turned toward Amos, who stayed down for a moment, clutching the ball and taking a breath while letting the frantic pace of the game pass.

They had survived.

Somehow, they had survived, but still there was no time to celebrate.

The minute that had remained had finally counted down.

WELL INTO THE FINAL SECONDS OF THE GAME!"

The commentator’s voice rose above the noise.

"Wigan have somehow survived that! What a clearance from Whatmough!"

His co-commentator could barely believe what he had seen.

"I thought that was in. I genuinely thought that was in, and from the look on the face of Ben Amos as well as the Wigan fans in the stadium, they thought so too."

Amos finally rose with the ball, and he had no intention of looking towards his defenders.

He looked toward the halfway line.

Then he took several steps back.

There was no reason to waste another second as the added minute was already over.

It was sad to see the streak end, but at least they weren’t leaving the stadium empty-handed.

After the referee beckoned him to play the ball, he launched it long.

It climbed high over the midfield and began descending toward the Brentford half.

The Wigan players immediately moved forward, waiting for when the whistle would sound, but it never did.

Despite the ball dropping, the referee’s whistle didn’t end the game.

The ball dropped some more, and finally Reyes reached it first.

Despite the pressure on him, he didn’t flinch and leaned further into the Brentford body stuck to him and then, without warning and with a touch of instinctive flair, he hooked his leg around the ball and flicked it into the space behind him.

The Brentford supporters saw the ball travel, and then they saw who was running onto it.

He had left his leg behind just long enough to meet the ball and guide it into the open space ahead, but then in the next second, Leo was gone.

The Brentford defensive line stopped almost as one.

Several players immediately threw their hands into the air without stopping their run!

"OFFSIDE!"

The shouts came from everywhere, but Leo didn’t even look back, not bothering to let that affect him.

He had already started running, and through his run, the assistant referee’s flag remained down, and Leo kept going.

"OH MY GOODNESS! CALDERON IS THROUGH HERE!"

The commentator suddenly found another notch.

"THE FLAG HASN’T GONE UP! LEO CALDERON IS THROUGH!"

His legs pumped, but running with the ball meant he would slow a bit, giving one of the faster Brentford players a chance to catch up.

The defender began retreating desperately, trying to judge whether to attack Leo or continue protecting the space behind him and through it all, Leo kept charging.

He could have gone down the left, but instead, he bent his run inward.

The defender adjusted with him, but Leo went on, changing his gaze every second he ran and forcing the defender to keep guessing.

Then another Wigan shirt appeared in Ezra.

He had sprinted after the play from deep, using every ounce of pace he had, and suddenly the defender had another problem.

His teammates were catching up, but it wasn’t enough now that it was 2 on 2.

Ezra bent his run too, moving into the space Leo had just vacated and forcing the Brentford defender to glance toward him.

Taking advantage of that lapse, Leo entered the box and the Wigan supporters were screaming now.

They could see it, and they could feel it.

Some miracle was unfolding in front of them.

Leo, seeing the tight angle, knew he’d ruin the chance if he tried to slow down, so he glanced toward Ezra, and the goalkeeper saw it too.

He stepped slightly toward the centre, anticipating the pass across goal to position himself well as Leo adjusted his body.

His next movement made the intention obvious.

He was going to bend it across the face of goal where Ezra was arriving.

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