Harbinger Of Glory

The goalkeeper took another step as Leo brought his leg down, but then, just like Leo’s leg, the goalkeeper’s whole reality crashed down because instead of passing, Leo struck the ball, hard and straight toward the near post.

"AND NOW CALDE-RONNNNNNNN"

The goalkeeper’s movement had left the smallest gap beside him, which Leo had seen.

He had waited for it, and he had taken it.

The commentary screamed, watching as the ball left the goalkeeper locked in place before smashing into the back of the net, and the net snapped backwards from the force of the shot.

And then just like a meteor, the DW shook.

It was as though something had struck the ground beneath it, and the Brentford goalkeeper could only turn helplessly toward the ball in the back of the net while Leo had already turned away.

"GOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAALLLLLLLLLLLL!" the crowd roared as he sprinted toward the Wigan supporters at the base of the stadium, and it grew louder with every step.

"NUMBERS NUMBERS NUMBERS! AMIDST THE DISADVANTAGE, LEO CALDERON HAS DONE IT AGAIN FOR WIGAN!"

The commentator was almost shouting himself hoarse.

"WITH NINE MEN! WIGAN HAVE FOUND A WAY! NO WAY BACK IT SEEMED, BUT THERE IS ALWAYS ONE WAY FOR WIGAN, AND THAT IS CALDERON!"

Leo reached the advertising boards and jumped, and it didn’t take too long for him to disappear into the swarm of fans.

Arms wrapped around him immediately as hands grabbed at his shirt, and the rest were screaming directly into his ears.

The rest of the Wigan players raced toward them; even those who had barely been able to move seconds earlier suddenly found something left in their legs.

As the camera stayed on the chaos, Leo was somewhere in the middle of it, being pulled from one embrace into another.

And high above, the scoreboard changed.

WIGAN 2–1 BRENTFORD

"TIME AND TIME AGAIN, THEY ALWAYS SEEM TO COME UP WITH AN ANSWER, AND WIGAN HAVE DONE SO ONCE MORE AT THEIR GROUNDS"

The commentator continued.

"THE NUMBERS WERE AGAINST THEM! TEN MEN, AND THEN NINE, BUT WIGAN HAVE SOMEHOW PULLED THROUGH!"

His co-commentator could only shake his head.

"This is ridiculous."

He paused, still trying to process it.

"Absolutely ridiculous. They were a minute away from dropping points. They were seconds away from losing the winning run, and Calderon has lit up the fire in this streak!"

Down on the pitch, Brentford’s players had already surrounded the referee.

They were pointing toward the halfway line.

One of them was shouting toward the assistant referee while another turned toward the technical area, demanding an explanation.

"He was offside!"

"He was off!"

"He took it from Reyes!"

Through it all, the referee held both hands out and tried to push the players away from him.

"I’ve heard you," he said, but the Brentford players continued protesting.

Still, the referee remained firm.

The assistant referee’s flag had stayed down, and the goal was already undergoing the routine VAR check and soon enough, the referee touched his earpiece, listened briefly, then shook his head.

There was nothing to overturn.

No offside had been identified, and no foul had been found in the build-up; therefore, there were no grounds for him to chalk off the goal!

"The referee has spoken to the Brentford players," the commentator explained.

"There has been no intervention from VAR, and the assistant referee never raised his flag. The goal stands!"

That sent another wave through the stadium as Leo finally emerged from the crowd.

His shirt was being pulled back into place, his hair was dishevelled, and his face was flushed from the celebration.

The stadium announcer’s voice suddenly thundered through the speakers.

"NUMBER EIGHT..."

"LEOOOOOOOOOO!" he said, and the response shook the stadium.

"CALDERONNNNN!"

Leo tapped both palms against his chest, and then he pointed toward the supporters.

They answered him again.

"LEOOOOOOOOOO!"

Behind him, the Wigan players began returning toward their half.

Including him, there were eight outfield players, as Amos remained in his goal, also celebrating with the Wigan fans on the other end.

They walked past Brentford players who stood scattered around the pitch, staring at the scoreboard, with some having even brought up the argument of regular and added time being over.

They had believed the game was theirs, but at the last end, their view had been spun inside out by the goal!

They had spent the last seven minutes with the numerical advantage, and they had watched Wigan reduced to nine, yet somehow, they were losing.

"Wigan have turned this around in the most extraordinary circumstances," the commentator said.

"They were defending a draw with nine men, and somehow they’ve scored the winner."

His co-commentator exhaled.

"And look at the clock. There can’t be much left."

There wasn’t as Wissa stood over the ball.

The Brentford players slowly moved into position, and Wigan’s players were already back inside their own half.

Leo stood among them, breathing heavily with his eyes remaining fixed on the ball.

The referee checked his watch, and then he raised his whistle to restart the game.

Wissa passed immediately, and Brentford didn’t waste a second.

Their players, looking to launch a last attack, burst in their numbers into the Wigan half as the ball, which had been hit deep, descended.

They looked poised to get the ball, but Whatmough tracked it.

He got there before the Brentford attacker and positioned his body between the player and the ball, and after that, he didn’t try anything clever.

He simply shielded it as the Brentford player pushed, but Whatmough held his ground until the ball rolled toward the edge of the penalty area where Amos came out, dropped low and gathered it safely into his hands.

Then he fell onto the turf.

"Surely this is it," the commentators said as Amos stayed down.

There was nothing Brentford could do as the away side began turning and walking back into their half.

While they did so, the referee looked at his watch, then, finally, he raised his whistle and the sound came a second later.

PEEEEEEEEEEEP!

The match was over.

Amos remained on the ground as Whatmough collapsed backwards onto the grass and the DW erupted all over again.

Wigan had won once more.

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