Harbinger Of Glory

Chapter 254: Lost Presence!

Darikwa and Gundogan met the referee in the centre circle, both nodding to each other as the official went through the formalities.

The referee held the coin up before flicking it.

"Gentlemen," he said as it landed.

"I’d love a clean one today. No drama right?"

Gundogan smiled at that before nudging his head in Darikwa’s direction.

"That depends on them."

Darikwa glanced at him replicating what Gundogan had just done.

"Sam’s goes for them too."

The referee chuckled and pointed toward the result of the toss a second later

Darikwa had won it and made his decision without much deliberation, City would kick off and Wigan would have the second half start.

The two captains shook hands and went their separate ways.

"Right," the commentator said as the players took their positions.

"Everything is in place. The coin has been tossed, the formalities are done, and now ninety thousand people inside Wembley Stadium are waiting for one thing."

The referee raised his whistle to his mouth, checking his watch in before motioning towards both sides to see if they were ready.

And when he saw fit, he blew it.

The roar that came from the stands was immediate and full.

Both sets of supporters released what they had been holding on to at the same time, and the FA Cup final was alive.

Manchester City passed it back.

Then sideways.

Then back again.

Then sideways again to someone else who had found space to receive it, until the whole thing felt like a training match.

It wasn’t just the possession.

City were cutting through Wigan’s press like water finding its way around rocks.

And just like that seven minutes passed and not a single Wigan player had touched the ball.

Not once.

The City fans loved it.

They had seen this a hundred times before and it never got old, watching their team make the opposition run themselves into the ground chasing something they couldn’t catch.

A few of them were already laughing at the Wigan players darting around the pitch trying to figure out which direction to press next.

The Wigan fans were less entertained.

You could feel the frustration building on their end, the chants slowing, the energy shifting from noise into something more anxious.

They knew their players were working.

They could see them working.

But watching your team sprint in circles for seven minutes without getting anywhere near the ball is its own kind of torture.

Then someone in the Wigan end started it.

"BORING. YOU’RE JUST BORING."

It spread quickly, the way chants do when they capture exactly what a crowd is feeling.

"YOU’RE JUST BORING. YOU’RE JUST BORING."

Then it shifted, getting sharper, a little less polite, the specific flavour of frustration that football crowds arrive at when they’ve been patient long enough and decided they’re done being patient.

"ATTACK IF YOU DARE. ATTACK IF YOU DARE."

Some City fans turned toward the Wigan end, amused.

A few shook their heads smiling while others just watched, a quiet pride in their eyes at what their team was doing.

The Wigan chants kept on growing and getting louder by the second but then City began to move forward.

It was as if they were fed up with the noise from the Wigan crowd and in truth, some of the players were irked by the constant cussing.

Attacking though they were, they were still doing things at the same pace.

Wigan sensing Manchester City’s intentions began to converge towards the middle hoping to overload that area but a sudden glance from Ruben Dias and all Wigan’s defence did was unravel.

"Finally," the commentator said, sitting forward slightly. "Some action."

The ball from Dias was spectacular to say the least, arcing toward the left where a sea blue blur was also in the move.

When it began descending, Carlo was waiting.

He didn’t check back for it nor did he step toward the ball like most would.

He held his position wide, almost inviting the space to stay open, and when it dropped, he took it on the move.

Darikwa was forced to think fast and for a second, it looked like a proper contest.

Carlo shaped his body left, shoulder dipping just enough to sell it, and Darikwa followed.

It was just half a step, but it was just enough for Carlo.

The latter poked the ball through his legs with the outside of his right foot and was already gone before Darikwa could even turn.

The crowd rose in reaction as Carlo surged into the box.

"Carlo’s in here!" the commentator’s voice snapped to life.

Darikwa tried to recover, but he was chasing now.

The angle was wrong but Carlo wasn’t going to let the moment slip.

Instead of forcing a shot, he sent a low hard ball across the face of the goal.

"Across the goal!" The commentary bellowed.

Haaland threw himself at it, stretching every inch of his frame to meet the ball, but just as it looked certain, Amos moved.

He lunged across his line, arms extended, body low, and got there first, wrapping both hands around the ball just before Haaland could stab it home.

Haaland’s foot swung through empty space before the stadium let out a guttural groan a while later.

"WHAT A BALL AND WHAT A SAVE!" the commentator roared, voice cracking with the speed of it.

"Carlo tears through down that left side, leaves his man behind, and that is begging to be finished, but Ben Amos reads it and gets there first!"

"That’s outstanding from the goalkeeper," the co-commentator added quickly. "If he’s half a second late, that’s one-nil. Simple as that."

Carlo slowed to a jog inside the box, turning back toward the edge with a small shake of his head.

He glanced once toward Haaland, who was already walking away from the opponent’s box and while he did so, the broadcast cameras settled on him.

"You can see it there," the main voice continued, settling slightly but still charged. "City’s young winger has just taken this game by the scruff."

Then the camera shifted towards Leo as if on cue.

The Wigan midfielder stood deeper, hands resting briefly on his hips as he walked around scanning a few times as he did so.

He hadn’t moved much in the last few minutes, at least not in the way the game demanded.

"You look at the other side," the co-commentator said, tone changing just a touch, "and we’ve not really felt Leo Calderón presence yet."

Back on the pitch, the ball was still in Amos’ hands.

He got to his feet, scanning the space ahead.

It was their first possession since the start of the game and he wasn’t going to waste it.