The roar ca down from the stands like a wave breaking over the pitch.
Not a neat chant, but a roar kind of chant coming from fans that had completely lost themselves in the chaos and excitent.
A long, rollingahhhhhhhhmixed with scattered shouts and a few high-pitched "whoooooops!" prevailed from the crowd below as they clung to Leo for that extra second before finally letting him go.
He stumbled back onto the patch of grass near the corner flag, breath still lodged in his throat, when the announcer’s voice cracked through the speakers.
"Goal for Wigan. Number twenty-two, LEEEOOOOOO—"
The rest never ca from him as the crowd took it, swallowed it, and hurled it back.
"CAAALDEERROOON!"
Leo turned, chest rising, adrenaline buzzing under his skin.
He raised a fist to them, thanking them in the only way his body rembered how, while Mclean, following behind, ruffled his hair, laughing under his breath before patting him on the back and heading off toward his position.
"What a mont from young Calderon... and what a finish. Wigan needed sothing special, and he’s given them exactly that."
The broadcast continued with the co-comntator/ analyst talking while on the pitch, the Sunderland players gathered the ball and nudged it toward the centre spot.
Shoulders dropped, but not fully beaten.
There was still ti, they thought, even with the clock ticking well over the 3rd added minute.
A few of them exchanged quiet words, urging each other to stay switched on while the referee walked into the centre circle, checked both sides with a quick glance, then lifted the whistle to his lips.
The restart barely lasted more than a heartbeat.
Sunderland knocked it back and imdiately launched a desperate long ball into Wigan’s half as the comntary followed the flight.
"They’ve gone long straight away. Last chance here..."
Tilt t it with a commanding header, sending it out for a throw.
The referee didn’t look at his watch, and that encouraged the Sunderland players as they lined up one more ti, heaving bodies forward.
The ball ca flying in again, but Tilt rose for a second header, clearing it even further out.
It bounced toward the touchline as Dajaku and Sze chased it, but the latter ultimately got there first with his headstart and slid in, keeping it alive, scraping it away from going out, while Dajaku turned to chase the ball.
But Leo had tracked the play and stepped up to et the loose ball.
And when the ball got to his feet, he smashed it upfield, clearing the danger, and the whistle sounded right as the ball crossed halfway.
Relief.
Release.
The entire stadium erupted again, this ti in a rolling cheer that the players could feel in their being.
Applause rained down from all sides of the DW, pockets of fans shouting Leo’s na while others hamred the advertising boards.
The comntary layered over the scene as the cara panned to the touchline.
"And that’s full ti. Wigan take all three points. A massive result for Coach Dawson and his n in their quest for a possible promotion, like every other Championship club dreams of."
Dawson was already shaking hands with Tony Mowbray, a respectful nod from both managers.
After that, Dawson stepped onto the pitch, greeting Sunderland players he crossed paths with before wrapping an arm around his own boys one by one.
Every player looked spent but proud.
The cara caught the mont he reached Leo.
Dawson pulled him into a tight hug, lifting him an inch off the ground for a second before setting him back down, a grin breaking across his face.
"That’s what I am talking about," he said quietly.
"That’s my fucking boy," and then added loudly, causing Leo to chuckle after the cara hovering around them possibly caught his speech, and the comntary continued over it.
"With this win, Wigan move up to ninth, officially jumping three points ahead of Sunderland, who had been just above them on goal difference before the ga. They now sit four points clear of the team in eleventh and keep their push for the playoff places very much alive."
The final shot drifted back to Leo, who now stood near the centre circle, turning slowly as he applauded every stand, taking in the noise and the faces while the crowd answered with another swell of cheers that filled the cold evening air.
Leo finally drifted toward the tunnel afterwards with the rest of the team, still trying to co down from the rush of it all.
A few fans along the front rows leaned over the barriers, shouting his na as he passed.
He gave them a quick smile and a small wave just before Nolan ca up beside him and bumped his shoulder lightly.
"That’s a topper, son," he said, voice low but warm.
He gave Leo another nudge, this ti angling him toward a small podium that had been set up a few tres away for the post-match interview.
Leo let out a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding.
"Right... yeah," he said, though it ca out softer than he ant.
"Go on," Nolan added.
"You’ll be fine. Just breathe and say what you actually think. They like that more than any polished stuff."
Leo nodded, even if his stomach still felt tight.
He had done one of these before, but that didn’t make the second any easier.
He walked toward the setup, boots scrunching lightly on the turf.
A few crew mbers were around the small stage, adjusting a microphone, checking the framing of a portable cara.
One of them saw Leo coming and gave him a quick thumbs up, as if to say he was in the right spot.
"And with , I have today’s match winner, Wigan’s own, Leo Calderon," the interviewer said after things got in order, to which Leo just nodded before the interview began.
.....
In the forecourt outside the DW, where clusters of fans were still hanging around, riding the high of the win, a regional news crew stood among them, lights up, mic in hand, trying to catch the raw mood before everyone drifted off into the night.
The reporter turned to a man in his mid-thirties in a Wigan jacket, cheeks still flushed from the cold and the shouting, while people who seed to be his friends surrounded him.
"So, what did you make of that finish?" the reporter asked as the man let out a long breath and shook his head with a grin.
"He’s goated, mate. Proper goated. That kid’s the only one out there who looks like he wakes up wanting to play football. You can see it in how he moves. So players jog around. Calderon goes hunting."
"Honestly, this is the first proper match of his, and the kid didn’t even start, but wow, he did well with the little ti given to him."
A couple of fans behind him shouted their agreent, one of them leaning in with a laugh.
"We might as well call ourselves Coback FC at this point. Every ti we go down, you just know we’re gonna pull sothing mad out of nowhere. It’s horrible for your nerves, but it gets your blood bumping like nothing else."
The crowd chuckled, a few still buzzing, bouncing on their feet in the glow of the stadium lights as another fan stepped closer to the mic, half raising a hand, half invited by the cara’s attention.
"My thoughts are, we should give the captaincy to the kid at this rate," he said.
"He’s the only one out there barking, dragging us up the pitch, fighting for every ball. Six gas I’ve seen him in. Five of them he was man of the match in my head, and even the one he wasn’t, he still put in a shift, even though it was his first on the professional scene."
He tapped his finger on the reporter’s mic to drive the point ho.
"And I rember when I first heard an academy lad was getting four grand a week. Four grand. I nearly lost it. I thought he better be Ryan Giggs’ lost nephew or sothing. But after this? Pay him more."
The reporter tried to keep a straight face, but the man wasn’t finished.
"Fuck, I’ll pay him myself if the club can’t!" he added, hands raised like a man ready to pass a collection bowl around.
That cracked everyone up as laughter rolled through the group.
Even the reporter let out a chuckle before turning back to the cara, still smiling as the scene settled.
"Well, any last thoughts on your expectations and what you make of this team?" the reporter posed the question to the group.
After a mont, a middle-aged man ca into view.
"It’s still a bit early since we haven’t even played half the season yet, but I like our odds. We still have players like Fletcher, Whatmough, Joe Bennett and more out. But I guess I can say," he paused, slowing down, while the little pause pulled the crowd and reporter in before we continued.
"Wigan are back!"
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