Harbinger Of Glory-Chapter 204: One Win, One Draw!

"It’s back to square one again," the broadcast gantry described after the game restarted!

Norwich, eager to put the ball in the back of the Wigan net now more than ever, poured forward again, stung by the goal, moving the ball quickly from flank to flank as if trying to stretch Wigan until something snapped.

Crosses kept coming, low and whipped, high and hanging, each one greeted by a swell from the stands that rose and fell with the flight of the ball.

In response, Wigan, not really known for their defensive capabilities, collapsed in on itself, with the defensive midfield duo joining the back four to form what looked like a six-back defence, headed by Tiehi.

Meanwhile, Max Power and the remaining front three, with the aid of Cousins, did their best to keep Norwich on their feet, as whenever the home side lost the ball, it was almost like Wigan was going to score!

It went on and went on even after the halftime break, when Sargent rifled one from beyond 40 yards after seeing no way through the Wigan defence.

"OOOOHHHHH! Just past the post," the main commentator exclaimed as Josh Sargent slapped his hands on his forehead!

The next Norwich attack resulted in another header being skimmed over the bar, while a cutback in the seventy-fourth minute ricocheted off two sets of legs before being hacked clear by Whatmough, who landed awkwardly and stayed down for a second too long, and the home fans didn’t like that!

"Get up, you fraud," they shouted as the referee checked up on Whatmough, and that made Carrow Road groan even more.

The Wigan fans, on the other hand, kept to prayer, hoping that they could get over the finish line with at least a draw, and every little second that passed was slowly boosting their confidence.

In the cafeteria at Wigan’s training facility, Leo leaned forward in his chair, elbows on his knees, fingers interlocked so tightly his knuckles had paled.

The massage oil still clung faintly to his skin, with the ache in his leg being a dull reminder of why he was here and not there.

A handful of staff members stood behind him, coffee cups forgotten in their hands.

They tried not to stare, but their eyes kept drifting toward him, watching how he reacted to every near miss.

On the screen, Norwich broke again through one of their wingers, and for once, it looked like a certain goal as he pulled his leg back and smashed the effort.

"Has it gone in?" the commentary rattled from the broadcast while Leo inhaled sharply, but in the last second, Amos suddenly got down like he was being pulled by a magnet and pushed it away.

"Clear it," Leo muttered under his breath, as if they could hear him.

Well, it looked as though Tiehi did because in the next second, he stepped in front of the second ball and sent it long into the Norwich half, buying precious seconds.

Leo leaned back slightly, exhaling through his nose, but his gaze never left the screen.

His body swayed with the rhythm of the match, shoulders tensing when Wigan retreated, relaxing only when the ball crossed the halfway line.

Back at Carrow Road, it eventually got to that time when the fourth official signalled added time.

A wave of noise crashed down from all sides, the home crowd sensing one final chance.

Norwich threw everything forward, even their centre-backs stepping into midfield, leaving acres behind them that Wigan were too exhausted to exploit.

When the final cross came, it was hopeful rather than precise.

Amos claimed it cleanly and fell to the ground, cradling the ball against his chest as seconds drained away, and when the whistle followed a moment later, it was like comfort to the away fans and a death note to the home fans.

"Well, there you have it," the commentary judged on the broadcast!

"They’ve had to suffer for it," he said. "Barrages of pressure, waves of attacks, but Wigan have stood firm."

The camera panned to the scoreboard glowing above the stands.

Norwich 0. Wigan 1.

"It’s been a long game for the Latics, but they’ve done well and done just enough," the co-commentator added. "One moment of quality from James McClean, and it proves decisive."

Players in white collapsed into each other near the centre circle, relief etched across tired faces, while on the bench, Dawson shook hands briskly with the opponent manager before turning toward his bench and offering a small nod betraying satisfaction rather than celebration.

"Dawson’s men continue the promotion charge," the main commentator concluded as the crowd began to thin.

"They edge closer still, and depending on results tomorrow, they could find themselves four points clear of West Brom. In a run of five straight away games, this is a statement, and this is something for Wigan to hold onto in this tough stretch!"

Three days later, Wigan stepped onto Preston North End’s turf, a mid-table side content with steady performances but never far from a threat.

The game unfolded as a cautious affair.

Wigan controlled possession intermittently, probing, passing through the midfield with Max Power and Cousins trying to orchestrate moves, yet nothing found a decisive finish.

Preston defended compactly, denying space in the final third, forcing Wigan to take shots from difficult angles.

Moments of frustration crept into the away side until they eventually got a penalty to break the deadlock.

Broadhead stepped up, a bead of sweat on his brow reflecting the floodlights, only to see his shot saved sharply.

Despite Wigan’s efforts, the match ended 0-0.

They had kept Preston at bay, yes, but the inability to convert their opportunities gnawed at the squad.

The small reprieve came courtesy of West Bromwich’s stumble elsewhere.

The gap that had shrunk back to a point like usual after West Bromwich played their game in hand stretched to two points!

As the media waited outside the training ground later that day, Dawson took a moment for a pre-game interview, the upcoming FA Cup quarter-final against Brighton already on everyone’s minds.

"We can absolutely not bring the same level of performance into the next game," he said, eyes scanning the reporters.

"If we want to advance against the team that is performing so well in the Premier League, then there’s no margin for error. Some might say the odds are against us, but I think it is also against Brighton as much as it is against us! All we have to do is play without regrets on the day!"