Harbinger Of Glory

Chapter 353: Wrong Man To Press!

A few thousand Chelsea supporters had started leaning forward in their seats, watching what would unfold next.

But watching that unfold, it felt like Leo had reached a dead end.

Moises Caicedo came next, bidding his time unlike the other players who had reacted to Leo instead of waiting for him to react.

There was no rush.

Just the position of a midfielder who understood exactly how dangerous one wrong step could be, but Leo knew he didn’t have that time.

He’d gotten away, but he knew that the two were now possibly on him, and for a moment it looked like he’d trapped him.

"A pass any time now," the commentary called sharply as it seemed like the duo hadn’t moved for ages, but in truth, only a second had passed.

That was how tuned in both players were, but that was also something that could be used against you.

Tuning in to one thing, so much so that you miss the whole picture.

And that was exactly what Leo avoided.

For Moises Caicedo, not so much because while he focused on Leo, Darikwa crept up on him, doing something almost similar to a screen in basketball.

By the time Caicedo recovered from Darikwa’s form and tried to get to Leo, he realised he’d been fooled as Leo went the other way instead.

And for Leo, he was finally out of the entrapment, and with gaps of grass and space right in front of him.

"He has beaten three Chelsea players!" the commentator exclaimed, his voice climbing with each word.

"Three of them, inside his own half!"

The noise around Stamford Bridge changed completely.

A few seconds earlier the crowd had been waiting for a mistake.

Now they were watching to see what happened next.

And that was a far more dangerous situation for Chelsea.

The Chelsea midfield, having committed forward to press, had left a gap between themselves and the defensive line.

Leo looked up and what he saw was not what most players would see from that position.

He felt like he knew where Thiago Silva was going to be, the trajectory of his movement as well as the possible angle he would take to cover the most dangerous pass.

So with all that in mind, Leo played to the space that Silva would arrive at a half second too late to close.

The ball left his right foot without him even looking at it.

The execution was almost criminal because for the fans in the stands, the pass felt like something one shouldn’t be able to see while standing on the pitch.

It went past the Chelsea midfield line in a flat arc that dropped precisely into the channel behind the last defender, weighted for a run rather than a position, and Thiago Silva stretched everything he had, sticking his toes out for effect, but the ball went anyway.

And in behind all that, Ezra was already running.

"OH," the commentator said, stunned and left it there for a moment because the word was doing more work alone than a sentence would have.

Ezra took it in his stride and went at the Chelsea defence with everything he had.

With the ball under control, he met his first obstacle in Connor Gallagher, with the scenes unfolding towards something like a matchup, but it wasn’t even close.

With a subtle touch, Ezra skipped past him on the outside, forcing Gallagher to suddenly try and adjust, but it was easier said than done.

His form locked up suddenly because the body wasn’t built for turns like that, and before anyone could guess, he stumbled, only keeping his head up to catch a glimpse of Ezra as he cut inside.

The commentary called for the pass, but that was for those on the broadcast.

On the pitch, Ezra’s left leg swung over the ball, the feint selling the shot as almost every Chelsea body in the vicinity moved with it.

And then his right foot pushed the ball left, right into the space the previous movement had made.

It didn’t look like it was going in.

It looked like it was going across the face of the goal and past the far post, the angle all wrong.

Sanchez was already shifting his weight to cover the near post because that was where his eyes told him the danger was.

But the ball kept moving, and then it was in the net.

That was all that unfolded.

One moment the ball was at the feet of Ezra, and then in the next, the net had snapped back, leaving Sanchez rooted to the spot.

And the sound that came from the Wigan section of Stamford Bridge was immediate and enormous and completely disproportionate to the size of the group making it.

"EZRA. IT’S EZRA. ONE ONE AND WIGAN HAVE RESPONDED AND HOW THEY HAVE RESPONDED."

Ezra was already running, not toward his teammates but toward the corner where the Wigan fans were, and the fans were already moving toward him, leaning over everything in their way.

He slid in front of them, and they came down at him from above with their scarves and their voices and whatever else they had.

"There," the co-commentator said, when he could get a word in.

"There is the Wigan response. And yes, Ezra has finished it brilliantly, but there is one boy all the eyes should look to. What in the world did he even see to attempt that pass?"

As if in tune with the commentary, the camera found Leo.

He had been swarmed by the half of the team that hadn’t chased Ezra to the corner.

And at the moment, Whatmough had both hands on his face and was looking at him with the expression of a man who had just found something gorgeous that he could only caress to process.

And then a second later, he pulled Leo’s head toward him and pressed his lips to his forehead.

"You beautiful boy," Whatmough said as Leo accepted, the emotions and weight of the goal overriding the embarrassment he might have felt on a normal day.

Back on the broadcast, the camera swept across the Chelsea end.

The noise that had filled Stamford Bridge after Jackson’s opener had drained noticeably.

Supporters who had been on their feet a few minutes earlier were back in their seats now, and across the stands, conversations were breaking out in small pockets as they tried to make sense of what they had just watched.

Wigan weren’t supposed to be making this uncomfortable, yet they were currently level.

"It’s their turn," the commentator said simply.

Back on the pitch, Ezra surfaced from under Fletcher, Reyes, Power, Carlo and Darikwa.

He stood up, looked around and found the Wigan fans still going in the corner.

He pointed at them, and they pointed back as the players walked towards their half.

"One one," the commentator said.

"One one and the contest has been reignited. This Chelsea side who came into this afternoon needing a response are now the ones who need to find an answer."

Standing over the ball this time, Jackson shook his head at the scenes before looking towards the referee, who brought his whistle to his lips and restarted the game for the third time in 14 minutes.