Harbinger Of Glory

Chapter 350: Nervy!

The bus pulled into the underground area of Stamford Bridge, the engine thrumming for a second before cutting off, and as it did, nobody moved.

The players sat still until Dawson rose to his feet, and it was then that the players began to rise from their seats.

The doors opened, and the Wigan players got down, and waiting at the bottom of the steps was a staff member from Chelsea.

He extended an arm in the direction of the corridor and said, "This way, please."

With that, they began moving.

Leo pulled his headphones off as they walked until Dawson appeared beside him and fell into step.

"How are you feeling?" Dawson said as Leo glanced at him.

"Are you going to ask the whole team that?"

"No," Dawson said. "Just you."

"Then I must be in a bad enough mood that you’re worried."

"You cracked a joke," Dawson said.

"Which means you’re in a good enough mood that I’m not."

"It won’t be your first time playing out of position, so relax!"

Leo shook his head.

"I played as a central midfielder that time, so it doesn’t count. It’ll be the first time really playing out of position for Wigan."

"You’ll be fine."

Leo said nothing to that as they kept walking until the corridor opened into the away dressing room.

The staff member stopped and indicated the space before leaving them to it.

...

Outside, Mia had been looking at Stamford Bridge for about thirty seconds before she got tugged a bit by the shoulder.

"What? Are you starstruck!"

"More like stadium-struck," Mia replied as he looked again at the infrastructure.

"He better score," she said as Sofia looked at her sideways.

"You’re still upset about Brighton."

"He told us to stay home and watch when we wanted to go and watch," Mia turned toward the entrance where the supporters were streaming in.

"And then he goes and scores his first Premier League goal without us there."

"He didn’t plan the goal around your travel arrangements."

"Well, he still should have."

Sofia smiled and touched her arm, and they joined the stream of supporters moving through the gates, the blue and white of Wigan mixed into the crowd.

The away contingent was easy enough to spot even amongst the sea of Chelsea shirts.

"Who knows," Sofia said as they followed the flow of people through the concourse.

"Maybe he surprises us again today."

Mia glanced toward the opening ahead where the pitch was beginning to come into view.

"He better," she said.

Down beneath the stands, Leo sat with his head lowered, hands clasped loosely together, and his attention turned inward more than outward.

At least until Dawson spoke.

"Today matters."

"Not because Chelsea are Chelsea, though they are. It matters because of what a result here says about us."

"If we can come here and get something from this game, people are going to stop talking about us like we’re just happy to be here."

"Fight for it," he ended as the players rose and began making their way toward the tunnel.

Whatmough slowed slightly as he came alongside Leo and gave his shoulder a brief pat.

"You’ll be fine."

Leo looked at him, like he’d just been asked to give away a kidney.

"Easy for you to say."

That earned a laugh from the defender.

"That’s literally why I’m saying it."

Leo tried smiling, but it wasn’t easy making it out with what was ahead of him while Whatmough grinned and carried on toward the front of the group.

The tunnel walls at Stamford Bridge carried years of photographs and history, reminders of where they were without needing to shout about it.

Chelsea’s players emerged from the opposite side, and the two teams gradually formed their lines.

Leo found himself near the back of Wigan’s.

Further ahead, Carlo had already found an acquaintance of his.

"Fancy seeing you here," Carlo said as Palmer looked at him and immediately shook his head.

"I knew you’d say something."

"I’ve been waiting all week."

A smile threatened to appear on Palmer’s face before he got rid of it.

Before he could answer properly, an official walked between the lines.

"See you on the pitch," Palmer managed as Carlo nodded.

"See you on the pitch."

Then the line began to move, and the first thing Leo saw were the floodlights.

It felt even brighter than the sun.

And then the noise.

It poured down the tunnel before the pitch came into view, swelling with every step.

A second later, the full brunt of the stadium came down on the players, with the confidence emanating from the Chelsea fans feeling like that of a crowd that expected their team to win, and the away end answered them in kind.

It occupied only a corner of the stadium, but it was impossible to miss.

They sang as the players walked out.

Leo looked toward them for a moment before turning his attention back to the pitch where the line settled.

Then he took a slow breath to calm his nerves.

Up in the gantry, the commentary opened.

"Good afternoon and welcome to Stamford Bridge," the commentator said.

"The weather isn’t looking all that favourable, but at the moment we haven’t gotten rain.

It’s Chelsea against Wigan Athletic, and the hosts come into this one in a position they would not have anticipated when the season began.

One draw, one loss from their opening two games. It is, to put it plainly, a poor start."

"It is," the co-commentator agreed.

"And the pressure that comes with results like that at a club like Chelsea is considerable. They need this today."

"They have the opportunity," the main commentator said.

"Wigan Athletic, newly promoted, one win from one game. The assumption in most quarters is that this is where Chelsea put their early season right."

"That assumption has been tested before with this Wigan side," the co-commentator said.

"It has," the main commentator agreed.

"The only reason this club is in the Premier League is precisely because they kept doing the thing people said they couldn’t do."

"But I won’t be predicting. I’ve learned better than that with this team."

He let the crowd noise come through for a moment.

"As of now," he said, "we await the whistle."