Harbinger Of Glory

Sofia’s mouth was still slightly open, her unfinished sentence stranded somewhere between her thoughts and her tongue.

Vittoria slowly turned towards her while Mia appeared from the hallway, took one look at their faces, and burst out laughing.

"Can we eat now," Mia said, grinning as she reached for a piece of food from the counter.

After that, she walked over to the couch and then plopped onto it before looking back at the duo behind her.

"He doesn’t know what’s waiting for him outside," she said with another grin and then proceeded to mind her own business.

...

"What the hell?"

Leo stared through the windscreen, one hand resting on the steering wheel as his car crawled towards the entrance of Wigan’s training centre.

There were people everywhere, and even that felt like an understatement.

It almost felt like a smaller version of a matchday crowd streaming towards a stadium, only this time it was the Wigan training centre.

Journalists stood along the pavement with cameras hanging from their necks, while others held microphones and checked their phones.

Several photographers had already positioned themselves near the gates, ready to capture anyone who arrived.

Mixed among them were Wigan supporters in club shirts and scarves, some holding homemade signs and others simply waiting with their phones raised.

Leo slowed down and then glanced at the entrance, then at the crowd gathered around it, still oblivious to what was going on.

"What’s going on?"

He hadn’t seen anything about this before leaving home.

He had checked his phone for messages from the club earlier that morning, but nothing had suggested that arriving for recovery would involve driving into a crowd of people.

As his golf continued towards the gates, a security guard recognised the car.

A slightly surprised expression was on his face, but he waved him through without problem, opening enough space for him to enter without stopping.

Outside, a few people glanced towards the approaching vehicle.

One photographer lifted his camera, only to lower it again when he got a better look.

The car was hardly worth a second glance.

A reporter standing beside him followed his gaze.

"Could that be one of the players?"

And at that, his colleague snorted.

"Which player?"

"I don’t know. Could be one of them arriving late."

"Come on. These are Premier League footballers. They’ve got sponsors, public appearances, the whole lot. You really think one of them is going to turn up in a car like that?"

The first reporter looked at the Volkswagen Golf rolling towards the entrance.

"What’s wrong with the car?"

"Nothing’s wrong with it. I’m just saying, look at the sort of money these lads make."

"Hmmm. What car would Leo drive, then?"

The other reporter turned to look at the Golf again.

He watched it disappear through the gates before looking back at his colleague.

"Well, not that."

His colleague gave him a doubtful look but didn’t push.

They returned their attention to the entrance, waiting for the next arrival.

Inside, Leo parked in his usual spot and got out, still wondering why the entrance had attracted so much attention.

He checked his phone once more as he walked towards the building, but there was nothing new from Dawson or the coaching staff.

Perhaps something had happened overnight or just that morning.

Leo passed through reception, exchanged a brief greeting with the staff member behind the desk, and made his way towards the cafeteria.

He was already thinking about how long the recovery session might take when he pushed open the door, but what greeted him was only a handful of his mates.

Besides them, Nolan sat at one of the tables with several members of the coaching staff.

Dawson was also among them, though he was occupied with finishing the plate in front of him.

A few other players sat nearby, their conversations trailing off the moment Leo walked in.

One by one, they turned to look at him.

Leo stopped just inside the doorway and looked from one face to another.

"What?"

Dawson slowly lowered his fork.

Then, still seated, he leaned sideways to get a better look at Leo, as though he wasn’t entirely convinced the person standing by the door was real.

"Leo?"

"Yeah?"

"What are you doing here?"

Leo glanced around the cafeteria.

"Recovery?"

Dawson stared at him and then looked past him like he was expecting more than him.

"How did you even get in?"

Leo frowned.

"Through the front door."

For a moment, the only sound was the quiet clatter of cutlery from the other end of the room.

Then Nolan leaned back in his chair and laughed under his breath.

"You came through the front entrance?"

"Yeah. The security guard opened the gate. I drove in, parked, and walked through reception."

Leo paused.

"Was I supposed to do something else?"

"You’ve missed quite a bit this morning, then."

"Clearly."

"The journalists and supporters have been outside since early morning," Nolan explained.

"After yesterday, everyone wants a piece of the club. They started gathering before the lads could get here."

Leo looked towards the windows, although there was little he could see from where he stood.

"Why?"

Nolan gave him a flat look.

"Seriously?"

"What? I knew there’d be attention after the match, but I didn’t think they’d be waiting outside the training ground."

"It’s not just attention," Dawson said, finally returning his fork to his plate.

"They’ve been stopping players as they arrive. Cameras in their faces, questions being shouted from every direction. Security couldn’t get everyone through without a problem."

Leo pulled out a chair but remained standing beside it.

"Why didn’t you use the back entrance?"

One of the staff members let out a tired laugh.

"We tried but only got a few players in when they found that one, too."

"Of course they did."

"They’d been asking people where the players usually came in," the coach continued.

"Once they realised the front entrance wasn’t working for everyone, they moved around to the back. We couldn’t have the lads walking through that crowd just to get into the building."

Leo glanced between them.

"So what happened? Did you cancel training?"

"Not exactly," Nolan replied and then looked towards Dawson who Dawson who looked up from his food.

"I decided I wasn’t going to spend half the morning fighting a crowd just to get the players into a recovery session."

"You could’ve told me," Leo said.

"I tried telling everyone who was already here. You were the only one who apparently missed the entire situation."

Leo rubbed a hand over his face.

"Right."

"Besides," Dawson continued, gesturing towards the empty chair, "you’re here now. Sit down and eat something. If you’ve made the journey, you might as well get something out of it."

Leo finally sat, but there was still a strange look on Dawson’s face.

"What?" Leo asked.

Dawson pointed his fork at him.

"No, I’m still trying to understand how you managed it. We’ve had people standing outside for hours, players couldn’t get through either entrance, and you’ve just walked straight in."

Leo reached for a piece of bread from the basket in the middle of the table and then answered again.

"Through the front door."