Harbinger Of Glory

Chapter 342: Squandered!

"Not at all what many people expected when they sat down for this one," the commentator said, as the players disappeared into the tunnel.

"Brighton have had more of the ball, more of the chances, and more of everything that usually produces goals. And yet it is Wigan who go in at the break with something to show for their afternoon."

"It’s halftime. And at the moment, Wigan are in the lead."

While the Wigan players went into the half, almost on top of the world, the Brighton dressing room couldn’t say the same.

Aside from rehydrating themselves, nobody talked.

The silence wasn’t forced.

It was just there because they always knew what came after halves like these.

When De Zerbi entered, he stopped in front of the whiteboard and looked around the room, and immediately, March looked down.

Dunk was staring at the floor, and a few players couldn’t help but shift in their seats like kids caught making trouble.

"We should have scored," he said, and nobody could argue about that.

Meeting the silent crowd, De Zerbi grabbed a marker.

"Here."

He drew a quick line across the board.

"March," he said as he placed another mark on the board.

"And here."

After that, he turned back toward them.

"Three chances. Good chances."

The marker tapped lightly against his palm.

"We don’t need twenty chances to win this game. We need just one and then maybe another."

"Instead, we are one-nil down from a goal we didn’t need to concede!"

"We are making it harder than it needs to be," he gestured before he turned and pointed toward the board again.

"They are organised. They are working hard. Their manager has prepared them well."

"But we are not playing our football."

"We know who we are. We know what we can do," he almost whispered as he dropped the marker onto the tray.

"So do it."

As he finished, his assistant stepped forward immediately, already holding a tablet.

"Right," he said. "A couple of adjustments."

De Zerbi, on the other hand, gave a small nod and headed for the door.

Out in the corridor, Dawson and Nolan were standing a few metres away, deep in discussion over something on a tactics sheet.

De Zerbi glanced at it as he approached.

"I guess this is the second time we’ve met," he said, causing Dawson and Nolan to snap their heads up.

-----

A quarter of an hour later, the tunnel began to fill as both sets of players emerged in ones and twos, the noise from the Amex rising to meet them as they came out into the second half light.

Dawson caught Leo near the mouth of the tunnel and fell into step beside him.

"Leave Max behind more," he said, keeping his voice low.

"I want your output pointed forward from here. They’re going to come at us, and when they do, you’re the one who starts the counter."

Leo nodded.

"But if you can’t get back, call for cover. Don’t leave Max exposed alone."

"Understood," Leo said as he looked down at his arms as he walked out.

The undersleeves were gone, left in the dressing room deliberately.

The Brighton players had been using them all half to grip and drag when the referee wasn’t looking, and he hadn’t felt like providing the service anymore.

Up in the gantry, the commentary picked up as both sides settled into their positions.

"No changes from either manager," the commentator said.

"Both sides keeping the same shape going into the second half. The question is whether Brighton can find the performance I know De Zerbi will have demanded at the interval."

The referee looked at Fletcher standing behind the ball in the centre circle, waited, and then blew his whistle to get the game underway again.

Fletcher played it to Reyes and Reyes sent it back to Leo in one motion as the Brighton players invaded the Wigan half, leaving only their backline in their half.

Leo took it, and half turned as if he was going to play it back to

Whatmough, and in reaction to that, the Brighton forwards who had been pressing high read it and pushed forward, anticipating the pass and already moving to press the defender.

Instead, Leo adjusted at the last and nudged it the other way.

Back in the direction it had come from, and he went with it, following the ball into the space the Brighton press had just vacated by moving forward.

Behind him, Joao Pedro, who had committed to the press, tried to turn and correct but his feet went from under him on the turf, sending him to the ground hard.

"Oh that is disgusting," the commentator said. "Leo Calderon has just sent Joao Pedro to the grass without touching him, and he is away."

Leo pushed forward, and as he made ground in the Brighton half, Milner inverted to meet him.

He wasn’t alone though as Dahoud arrived from the other side to close the lane.

The two of them converged and just as it seemed they’d squeezed Leo, the midfielder slowed and the ball went to Reyes who gave it back immediately.

The simple exchange opened the gap between Milner and Dahoud just wide enough, and Leo came through it onto the ball with both of them on either side of him as the commentary came.

"IS HE GOING TO SHOOT? LEO CALDERON THROUGH THE MIDDLE AND THE BRIGHTON DEFENCE IS OPEN."

Leo passed it wide to Carlo, and because Milner had drifted inside with Leo, Carlo saw daylight.

He took the pass and attacked it immediately, with Van Hecke being one of the remaining obstacles ahead.

The Brighton defender came across aggressively, trying to meet him before he could turn the corner, but Carlo never looked hurried.

He carried the ball at him, waited, and waited a fraction longer.

Then, just as Van Hecke committed, Carlo hooked the ball away with the underside of his boot and let the challenge run past him.

The defender turned to recover and found Carlo already gone.

The Italian burst down the outside, reached the byline and whipped the ball low toward the six-yard area before the pitch ran out beneath him and right then and there, Fletcher arrived, from six yards out.

The goal was open, almost begging for him to put the ball into the back of the net.

Jason Steele was moving but nowhere near it.

But a moment later, the groan that came from the away end behind the goal was agonising.

Fletcher’s touch caught the ball at the wrong angle, and it rolled past the far post rather than through it.

"How on God’s good earth has he missed that?" the commentator said.

"I think Steele may have gotten the slightest of touches," the co-commentator offered as the referee pointed towards the corner flag.

"But I want to be clear that even if he did, Fletcher from that range and with that much of the goal to aim at has to score. He has to."

While Fletcher slipped his hands over his head in surprise, Leo was already jogging toward it.