The woman slid the licence across the counter, before picking it up and then putting it in a little plastic casing, almost like so Pokémon card.
Then she looked up and said, "Congratulations."
Leo looked up too, eting the smile of the woman.
"On passing," she continued.
"Oh. Yeah, thank you!"
He picked up the card and glanced down at it.
The photo was exactly as bad as every driving licence photo seed determined to be.
He looked tired, slightly annoyed, and vaguely suspicious of whoever had been behind the cara, but at least it looked like him.
"Thank you," Leo said again as the woman nodded, then seed to think about sothing.
"Would it be alright if I got a picture with you?"
That caught Leo a bit off guard, but he smiled and nodded.
"Yeah, that’s fine."
She ca around the counter while handing her phone over to her colleague who was standing beside her.
The photo took all of ten seconds before she pulled away from the side of Leo.
"Thank you so much."
"No problem."
"Seriously, thank you."
Leo laughed lightly, then nodded.
"It’s alright."
A minute later, he was heading through the glass doors and back outside.
Behind the counter, the woman was already looking at the photo.
Just then, her colleague leaned over.
"Who was that?"
She looked up.
"He’s a footballer! I think he plays for Wigan."
"Really?"
"Yeah," she said, grinning at the screen more and more.
"My brother’s obsessed with him. He’s been talking about him since last season, and that is even why I recognised him from his na."
At that, her colleague laughed.
"Well, get ready for your brother to be unbearable when he sees that picture."
"Well, he is already so this is to rile him up more."
Outside, Leo slipped the licence into his wallet and stood for a mont on the pavent.
It was a small thing.
Millions of people passed their driving test every year, at least in other countries.
Still, the UK seed determined to make the process as difficult as possible, and after lessons, theory tests, practical tests and paperwork, it was finally done.
The little plastic card in his pocket felt strangely satisfying.
A second later, he walked to the bus stop, not in a rush to go ho.
The mood the next morning was exactly what Dawson had expected.
They’d won two days ago, but the fever they had gotten from it still carried over.
Nobody was floating off the ceiling, but there was a lightness around the dressing room that hadn’t been there before they played their first ga.
Murmurs prevailed in the squad with snippets of conversations that saw a few reliving monts from the Brighton ga.
Across the room, Jake was in the middle of a story.
"I had explosive diarrhoea after the ga."
At that, the room went quiet.
It might have gone unnoticed, but the room went silent right before he said it, and now, he had a dozen heads turned towards him.
"What?"
Before anybody could answer, Dawson walked in.
The manager took one look at the room and imdiately knew he didn’t want context.
He clapped his hands once.
"Morning."
The heads that were previously on Jake began turning towards the forr.
Dawson waited until he had everyone’s attention before speaking.
"Good result at Brighton. We had the three points, got a clean sheet, and I couldn’t have asked for much more."
A few players nodded as the manager raised his hand to stop the murmurs.
"But that’s all it was. It was just a single ga."
"I don’t want us to be the team that spends the whole of the season after this, talking about getting to the Premier League again. We’ve done it once, and we know it’s not the most fun thing to do.
That landed better.
"We have a week and a day to prepare for our next ga," he said as he folded his arms.
"We belong here," Dawson continued.
"Nothing should tell us otherwise, so let us start playing like it."
A few heads nodded again as the manager glanced around the room.
"From today, our training schedule’s changing. There will be two sessions. Morning work stays intense, and afternoon sessions will focus more on structure and relationships on the pitch."
"I need you guys to gel so well together that, you know, the nas of the last person’s dog."
That got a laugh out of the players before he nodded once and then turned to look at Nolan, who just pointed to his watch.
"Right," Dawson said as he turned to face his players and then pointed towards the door.
"Let’s have so positional etings first before we move to work on the pitch."
"Let’s get to work."
The players also nodded in response as they began splitting off, as always, into the defence, midfield and the attack.
And after that, the week began to run.
It wasn’t easy for the players who had morning sessions that left them breathing hard by nine-thirty and afternoon sessions that were easier in terms of load but demanded concentration in different ways and patterns of movent that Dawson wanted embedded deeply enough to beco instinct.
It wasn’t the easiest thing they’d done, but they managed.
On the other end of their next match was Burnley, a side they had history with.
A side they had lost to in the Championship when the stakes had been high.
This ti, Wigan was seeking retribution mainly because Dawson had called it a must-win with the bluntness he brought to most things, and the players too had no intention of losing them.
It wasn’t going to be easy, but they were going to do it.
Then two days out from the ga, the rescheduling notice ca through, citing reasons that the ga had been moved because of structural damage to the pitch at the Turf Moor.
Leo heard about it in the changing room the morning after the news had been released.
He wasn’t particularly angry at it, but it was frustrating, which was the sa reaction most of his teammates had.
The fans heard it shortly after, and their reaction was louder.
It had currently been 6 days since their team played, and now they had to wait at least 8 more days to see their team in action.
With nothing to do but accept it after their appeal to have the ga played at the DW Arena was rejected, Dawson gave the players a couple of days off.
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